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A nice scan of Baby Blues was here until the awful admin pulled it down to prevent potential copyright problems. A link to the strip will be put up when it appears on www.babyblues.com. In the mean time reach for your newspaper and look for the strip from June 1st, 2005.
Not long ago I wrote this post about how being a stay at home mom is not the “hardest job in the world.” Rather, I think having to put on pantyhose and go to a job would be much harder for me in many ways. I wrote:
To me, having to wear pantyhose 40+ hours a week would be difficult. Having to deal with office politics, employee-lounge festering and crusty microwaves, nametags, cubicles, endless meetings, and commuting seems far more distasteful than anything that confronts me at home.
I want to make it clear that I am not putting down moms who work outside the home—many of my favorite people are moms who work. It just isn’t for me or for our family (what would the daycare bill look like for five (six!) kids, anyway?). I genuinely feel I have been called to stay at home and I have been richly blessed by the experience. My greater point was that it is insulting to people who really do have difficult lives to claim that American stay at home moms have it rough. We don’t.
So when I saw this comic strip in this past Wednesday’s Rocky Mountain News I could readily identify. Of course the issue goes much deeper than pantyhose. If only it were as easy as squeezing into a pair of Hanes Control Tops.
Today is all about my neices nieces and nephews. This weekend holds special things for all five of them. From oldest to youngest:
Happy Birthday to Coco, who is turning 10 on Sunday! She is my sister’s daughter, sweet and talented. They live on the east coast so we rarely see them. One of the funniest (to me because I can picture my sister) stories I have heard was when my sister had just given birth to Coco and was in a first-time mom daze. The nurse said to my sister, “honey, could you lift your arm?” Thinking they were doing yet another medical thing she lifted her arm only to have the nurse slide a big hamburger right under her chin. This was literally minutes after Coco was born. Nothing tops off giving birth like a hospital hamburger.
Welcome home to Nini and Mikey’s Bug! He just spent a week with grandparents in Albuquerque on his first big-boy solo visit, which was a reward for embracing potty training. I know he had a blast and probably consumed 20 gallons of chocolate shake. They are traveling home today.
Happy First Birthday to Nini and Mikey’s Babygirl. She is one today! She is adorable, just like a little pixie. We are looking forward to her birthday party tomorrow. No brie, Nini. Here are pictures of the birthday girl when she was just a week old and Bug, passed out in his dinner during a visit to our house:
 
Finally, I will give a twin update: We visited the boys, my brother, and my sister-in-law at the hospital last night. The little guys have been moved to their own private room in the NICU and they are in the same crib! This is something everyone has been waiting for—reuniting the boys, who obviously missed each other. They are now three weeks old, nursing and drinking from bottles. They are back on oxygen through nose canulas because their pulse-oximeter readings kept slipping down to the 80’s. I got to hold Ben, hubby got to hold Alex. They are precious living miracles. The prayers of so many people were with them during the scary twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome days before they were born. Pictures of Alex and Ben, and hubby holding Alex (hat turned backwards to prevent pecking Alex, not as a fashion statement):
 
I can smell the Coppertone. I see us at the local kiddie amusement park, Heritage Square, baking in the shadeless lines so the kids can ride the Mixer. Another summer of sidewalk chalk and popsicle-stained patios (and hands) and the phrase “we’re grilling again tonight”. Another summer of thinking I can make it to the mailbox barefoot, but halfway there I am prancing like a Clydesdale trying to keep the bottom of my feet from frying on the driveway.
Thank God for another summer. Even the germs go on vacation. Even the little things, like not having to put socks on the kids because they are wearing sandals, make me want to pinch summer’s cheeks and hold its hand as long as I can. I love summer so much it might consider requesting a restraining order on me…I want to embrace it, and revel in the knowledge that I don’t have to remember to stuff Kleenex in my coat pockets or scrape the windows or fire up the Crock Pot for hearty dinners.
I have to laugh at myself though. I know that by mid-August I will be rhapsodizing over football season, sweaters, hot cocoa, pumpkin patches, and crisp autumn air.
In a few hours, I will be the mother of a brand new third-grader and a brand new first-grader. Today is their last day of school.
When I was in elementary school, I was always nervous on the last day as the teacher passed out the final report cards. My heart pounded as I read the “Grade Assignment for the Following School Year” line at the bottom of the canary yellow page. I was a great student, teacher’s-pet type, but still got worried for some reason (perhaps my deplorable handwriting which still plagues me to this day) I wouldn’t be promoted to the next grade. Seeing the next grade level typed on my report card made my heart soar each year. I did it! Even with bad handwriting.
I hope my kids feel a sense of accomplishment as we head home today, knowing how hard they worked and how much they grew academically, socially, and spiritually.
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