Ode to August

I'm immersed in summer.

Schedules are loose. Only a suggestion, really.

We rely on energy levels and weather to tell us what to do that day.

It's a respite from the sounds of school bells.

We eat lunch at a different time each day. But we start each day the same: with quietness, reading, coffee and conversation. 6:30am coffee and conversation. Beautiful.

I shun things that look like paperwork. I laugh at the intricacies of insurance companies. I play their game for now. I only vaguely remember the harried season of school days just 2 months ago.

Friends are eager for their children to be in school. But this is Chicago. We need to soak in every last pool day and sun-drenched morning. We need to resist looking at winter coats in catalogs. Pretend we live on an island. A very, very hot island. Winter is never coming. It is only warm every day.

It's time to quiet the mind before fall returns. Unplug.

Five Things, Four Ways

Things I Do Well:
- Play "taco" with Eve... I hold her in my arms, legs on one side, head on the other and let her bum drop down so she is the shape of a taco. Then I ask her what she wants on her taco "Cheese, hamburgers, lollipops" as I pretend to put on ingredients and then chomp her up.
- Laugh at Morgan's jokes. She's hilarious. She's almost as funny as Dan.
- Connect emotionally. It oozes from me. Can't be helped. It irritates some people. :)
- Make cookies. 
- Have coffee with Dan in the morning. He's a joy to listen to.

Things I Don't Do Well:
- Exercise with regularity. *sigh*
- Plan laundry, cleaning and dinner making. I don't like schedules but I need them. So I flounder.
- Read. I SHOULD read more, but don't.
- Watch TV.
- High levels of details. I like to be simpler.

Things That Make Me Sad:
- How the sam heck am I going to lose these last 10 pounds?
- When I get mad at people for doing small, selfish things. It seems I can handle big, ugly things in life better than small, vain, irritating things.
- Rotten veggies in my fridge. :( Sorry, veggies.
- When I think badly about myself; Most of this has come from being a stay at home mom. Chaos does not make me feel successful. Or loving. Or smart.
- When people like to be victims in life. No matter what you say or do, victims love to be unhappy and to be hurt. I don't get it.

Things That Make Me Feel Happy:
- When I start the day trusting God for how the hours will unfold.
- When I make a pie.
- When I kick butt in my workout.
- When I finish something. Like my design collection. Or iron Dan's shirts. I love doing both.
- When a friend says something to build me up.

From Maryland

I just returned from a two week visit to Maryland.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with living in Chicagoland. It's perfectly wonderful. I can enjoy rural or urban life easily. I can get my groceries from at least 6 stores. Our school district is very good. But when your heart longs for another place, you'll find yourself saying bad things about certain situations, even if they are good.

For example: 
Last summer my family had a delightful vacation to South Haven, Michigan. I love beach towns. I grew up working at the beach. It's in my blood. At one point I remember telling my daughters, "This is a lake. It has no waves. It's not a real beach. One day I'll show you an ocean."

Yes, that was a direct stab at landlocked midwest. I love where I live here in Chicagoland. But try as it might to woo me, I am an east coast girl at heart.

Another factor in my visit was probably my parents' divorce. Even two years after the closing of that chapter, I find myself trying to cobble together some understanding of what just happened. Of how a loving, tight family became a scattered tribe. I still can't fully swallow the word "divorce"; it hangs in my throat like a broken Dorito.

I went back to Maryland to show my children an ocean, to remind myself where I came from, to eat picnic food with my really great family, and to celebrate the "new normal" of a life where parents have two different homes.

I didn't tell my children about my agenda.
I told my 8 year old that we were visiting family.
I told my 3 year old that we were going to the beach. She hopped right into the car.

I can't fully explain what happened in Maryland, but somehow the air and the food and the laughter of all the people I saw filled my cup.

I had a wonderful time with my dad at the Chesapeake Bay, where a scant half dozen children ran in and out of the house, wood screen door slamming, as they played in water and got stung by jellyfish. The laughter was thick, the mothers who watched them were tired and my dad, who went by the name "Captain Mike" took the children on rafts and boat rides and even offered a kayaking lesson.

I saw my friend Lauren who made me immediately jealous that she has gotten more beautiful over the past 10 years. Her eyes became bluer and her laugh became richer. We had forgotten the years between us.


I saw my friend Patti, who was one my marriage mentors. She said a great deal of wisdom in the few hours I was with her. She encouraged me as a mother with her gracious words. She smiled on my 3 year old who cried for nearly 20 minutes when we arrived. And since Patti's children (a bit older) are gracious and accomplished, confident and transparent, I saw how her words became, well, people. Amazing people.

I listened to my friend Rheba's journey in life with illness. And how she refuses to let it hold her down.

I watched my Dad's side of the family as they scooped up my children, made them laugh, let them share their feelings and told them family stories.

I delighted as my husband and daughters saw how my Mom's side of the family requires the dessert table to be almost bigger than the entree table. I watched as my daughters were effortlessly brought into the fold, laughing with relatives they just met as if they knew them all their life.

And then...we had Hawaiian shaved ice at Brian and Renee's house. Get this: They have a shaved ice machine in their basement. They bought it after they honeymooned in Hawaii. It rained most of the time they were there, so they ate shaved ice the whole time to enjoy the time. Essentially they redeemed a bad vacation into kitschy fun and now... now they're hooked on shaved ice and spreading the word to their 3 darling children and anyone else who will try it. 

I ate crabs. Eve says they are "berry ouchy" and also "gross" but at least she saw them.

I tried fried Oreos and fried Twinkies on the Ocean City, Maryland boardwalk.
I won't eat friend Oreos again, but I dream of the Twinkies.

We drove home the long way so I could try Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams. Food became art. I tried Lavender ice cream. Lavender! It tasted like a spring day. My husband, who is selfless and kind, was eyeing my Chocolate Cayenne ice cream with big, big eyes. "Go ahead, have it," I told him. "You sure?" he said, spoon ready.

My heart is full.
The scale in my bathroom is unkind.
My memories are refreshed.

I came home tired, but renewed, knowing who I was.

Of Numbers and Letters

To my Daughters:

In the course of life you will be assigned buckets of numbers.

You have your social security numbers.
Bank account numbers.
Birthdates.
Birth weights.
IQ.
School ID numbers.


There's your age and your income and your phone numbers. You'll see numbers whiz past your life like the digits on the gasoline pump, rising and flying and growing.

Everywhere you go, people will ask you for your credit card number. You, in turn, will grant them your credit card number in exchange for more numbers.


Friends will ask you for numbers in order to determine what time to meet you for coffee. You'll exchange phone numbers and clock numbers ("Is 3pm okay?") in order to meet.


There's nothing wrong with numbers in and of themselves. For all I know one of you might become an accountant and numbers will be your livelihood. I'm not discounting the importance of numbers.

But I will say this: If you feel that your name-- you know the one that I carefully selected with your father?-- If your name starts to become erased and the letters in your name begin to become replaced with grade point averages or income levels, then you'll know that numbers are ruling your life.


Your name was given to you at birth. Whether you like your name or not doesn't matter. What DOES matter is that the letters that make up your name reflect what you do, who you are and what choices you make. When your friends string together that special combination of letters that forms your name and they smile upon hearing it, then you know you're on the right path.


I'm not sure why numbers win so often. Within minutes people can size others up by their weight, their income level and their material possessions. Perhaps it's easier to get to know someone by adding numbers or subtracting numbers rather than getting to know the person. I'm just not sure.

I do know that when I let my life be defined by riches, I felt impoverished in soul. And when I let God take my income to places I'd never considered before, I was glad of heart. This is one reason I am a stay at home mother. You two enrich my life more than all the acclaim I could receive in a corporate setting.



When you meet a new person and they introduce themselves to you, repeat their name three times in your head. Say it out loud to them as well. Say, "Wow, Lisa, it's so nice to meet you." And then as your friendship grows, watch how they make a simple arrangement of letters turn into a life, into choices... hopefully good ones.


If someone wants to compete numerically with you, disqualify yourself as soon as possible.
It's never worth it.
Not for respect.
Not for money.
Not for boys or friends or things.
Nothing.

Do not be ashamed of the numbers in your life.
Don't be ashamed of weight. Don't ever talk badly about your body.
Even after giving birth. Scratch that-- ESPECIALLY after giving birth.
Don't be ashamed of your height. You are both going to be taller than me. Hold your head high.
Any number that is associated with you, beam brighter than those digits.


Become more than numbers.
Be letters.
Be yourself.

Diary of a Mother

I am in the thick of motherhood.
And every single one of my other friends with young children can relate to the term "thick".

I'm not saying this to receive praise or pity. It just is.

And so I don't forget what the "thick" looks like, I'll document it so I remember.
This is not to make me sound important or whiny or busy or incredible. It just is.

It. Just. Is.

Yesterday woke up with great plans to do sewing with Morgan (who had a day off).
Woke up darling, crazy-haired Eve. Love her hugs.
Marveled at how beautiful Morgan is, especially her beautiful heart.
Said goodbye to wonderful mother and father in law who visited for the weekend.
Wished they could stay.
Folded laundry with children. Talked with them. Talked at them.
Eve went upstairs and took all the clean washclothes she could find, put them in a sink and filled them with water. Left them there. Then she took liquid soap and "fed" my plant.
I found them when I was supposed to be off for the gym.
Don't leave wet things around; we have a moth problem and moths like moist things... I think.
Eve wets pants. Convince Eve she needs to have her pants changed. Bribe Eve. Commit to fully potty training her after the MOPS Garage Sale. Commit! Commit!
Now we're off to the gym.
Really enjoyed Morgan's conversation. Something about how people who are in game shows who don't win should get Starbucks gift cards. Her idea. We don't even watch game shows. (?)
Went to gym. Enjoyed new Katie Herzig songs while I worked out. Still trying to get back in the swing of working out since the car collision/whiplash thing.
Went to McDs to get lemonade for children. "We only serve Strawberry Lemonade, ma'am... the icy kind."
Me, baptizing new car in Strawberry Lemonade sludge as I divide it for children. Note to self: Bad idea. Very bad idea.
Off to Lowes to buy plants for our veggie garden. Girls picked some beauties.
Came home to plant garden. After 2 minutes of starting said venture, daughter #1 immediately declares "I hate summer. I hate bugs" and bails on mission. We have a chat and start over.
Eve is in need of a pants change again but is happily playing at the water table.
Water table= Best investment ever.
Girls go inside for "quiet time" and I call back insurance guy. Who needs me to call medical billing. Then insurance guy again. Then medical billing again. Insurance guy recommends hiring attorney.
My brain begins to vomit about needing mulch in yard, needing to mow yard, need fence repaired, need to wear orthodontic retainer, need to fix A/C unit and many other things.
Blue eyed, wild haired child invites me to play on swingset. I go to second level of playset with her, grimace at the one piece of rotting wood and draw with her. I have her sit in my lap and feel her wispy hair tickle my chin. We're drawing. I'm happy. I'm happy to hold her in my lap for a little while. Such a treasure. She goes to collect more treasures and bring them up. "Don't leave, Mommy," she warns. I don't leave. I don't want to go in the house. The phone keeps ringing. I'm safe here.
We have leftovers for dinner.
We marvel at the funny little floppy headed baby robins in our pergola. That mother must be exhausted from feeding them.
Dan and I put the children in bed and head into bed at 8:30.
I dream of living on a desert island with my family.
Oh yeah, do sewing with Morgan some day.
Love my family.

Communicator 2000

Today I am showing you my brand new, never been seen "Eve Communicator 2000." It's made of chipboard, Velcro® and pictures which I printed at home and "laminated" by covering them with lots of tape.

Very fancy schmancy.

The "Eve Communicator" is one strategy (among many) that we're using to help our daughter understand what she needs to do. She's often looking into outer space or running aimlessly around the house. The only time we REALLY get her attention without the use of strategies is when we say "LOLLIPOP!" which causes her to run with great haste to us.



So here's how it works. When I need Eve to get ready to go on errands, I show her the socks, shoes and car images. I say, "Eve, FIRST we are going to get socks. NEXT we are going to get shoes. THEN we will get in the car."

I have printed other images which I can also use to show her the order of what we're doing and what to expect next.

She's not jazzed about errands, but the communicating device has been somewhat helpful. And at this point, I don't even care that it looks like something that belongs in the recycling bin, I'm just glad to communicate clearer with Eve and see her respond.

This morning, for example, I dropped her off at the gym. I showed her the socks, shoes and car images. It took some time, but she did follow through.

You know, sometimes being a parent means taking a page out of God's plan, shedding our skin and becoming someone else. It means remembering that in order to communicate with others, sometimes it helps to get in their shoes, learn their language, get inside their schedule and their head.

In this case, it means that I should be listening to the big blue eyed girl who keeps asking, "Wan build tower, Mom? Wan build tower?" and then building a tower 17 times and watching the little girl dance with glee when she knocks it down every single time.

I'm not doing it because it's my cup of tea.

I'm doing it because she is mine.

Mommy Manifesto

"Excuse me, Mrs. Dykstra... Are you missing any income as a result of this car collision?"

"I'm a stay-at-home-Mom."

"Okay, good."

_____________________________________

I take the emotional temperature of my family; when they need to rest, I try to provide that.

I listen to the coughs of my children at night and pray for them.

I recognize the abilities and inabilities of my children and push them to their appropriate success limits.

I shed the negativity of this world on a daily basis and direct the gaze of my children to the good in life.

I let my children express their personalities as much as I am able; their rooms are full of murals and mayhem.

I don't listen to the evening news. I declare dance parties when evenings start to become humdrum.

I pray for my friends making sure to leave room for my home team.

I cry at every TV show that shows a birth story, remembering that being a mother has been the most significant thing that has ever happened to me.

I continue to design with all my might, recognizing that my designs brought healing to my life and might offer the same to someone else.

I dance the delicate line of knowing when to save my family money and when it's best to loosen the purse strings so that they can enjoy something special.

I refuse to serve yucky food.

I choose my battles every day, taking care that no one gets caught in the cross fire. Battles about fashion have decreased 99% since my eldest was born.

I have set aside my aspirations for a magazine-ready photo shoot of my home. Nothing matches anymore and most of my worldly possessions are sticky, broken or lost.

My heart takes flight when my 8 year old tells me about a boy; I pray that she'll always feel carefree enough to tell me about this.

My three year old pushes me to the limits of my own selfish core; she is the reason I am graying. She is also the reason that I can't stop loving and dancing and giving and living.

I save my energy for the most important people in my life; I shun drama queens because they cost too much energy.

I still can't figure out the propensity of midwest women to just "grin and bear" life. But I'm trying to fit in as best I can.

Wooing the most handsome and funny man in the world is one of my best accomplishments.

I pretend like the tall grasses of the midwest are ocean waves; I'm acutely aware that I am and always will be a transplant to the midwest.

There are always 12 thoughts running in my mind at any given time. I struggle to be "present" in any situation.

I don't receive an income for any of my work but feel compelled to do what I'm doing for the health of my family. I don't care if women are working in or outside the home; they know in their hearts if what they are doing is best for their family.

I never say I'm JUST a stay at home mother because the word "JUST" diminishes the value of a person by 97%.

So, no, I haven't lost any income.

Motherhood: It's the best job I was never hired for.