Vista Point

If you’ve ever taken a scenic drive, I’m sure you’ve noticed the signs that direct you to those pullout spots where travelers can stop to take in the view and maybe even snap a couple pictures. It is here that the driver is relieved from the challenge of trying to experience the majestic scenery amidst managing the wheel of the car, the winding roads, and the safety of the passengers. No more multitasking and fleeting views. Instead everyone can inhale deeply, take their time, and soak in all the beauty that nature has to offer. It is here that the details can emerge. The visual intricacies, the smells, the feel of the breeze on your skin…

I’m beginning to think that spending quality time with my kids serves as a sort of vista point in my life. So often, in the process of racing through my day (working, cooking dinner, picking up the house, throwing in a load of laundry, etc), the little faces of my kiddos begin to mimic the blurred images that race past my side window when I’m driving in my car. I don’t fully listen to the words they say. I neglect to notice the expressions on their face. I lose touch with the texture of who they are.

Yesterday was my day to spend a little quality time with my middle daughter. We enjoyed a tasty breakfast together at one of our favorite spots and then headed out for a wonderful hike in the foothills near our home. In the ½ day we spent together, I was able to notice so many things. Released from the rush of a busy schedule, I studied her little body as she climbed in the car. I noticed the contour and size of her little legs. They seemed so small and cute compared to mine. I noticed the awkwardness of her gait as one who has not quite yet mastered coordination and control of her 6-year-old body. In spite of her lean build, my eyes were drawn to the soft roundness of her arms. It really hasn’t been that long since she was a baby.

As I reflected on my day, I was filled with gratitude for the opportunity to move beyond simply meeting her various needs for food, clean clothes, and assistance with her homework, to simply look at her as the beautiful creation that God has made her to be. I feasted on the joy of a deeper kind of listening to the feelings behind her words. I made mental notes of how her little hand felt in mine as we traversed the steepness of the trail. I tried to memorize her giggle as I cooled her pony-tailed head with my drinking water.

I sit here this morning with lingering feelings of a delightful inner warmth. I took in a gorgeous view and I am challenged. I want to find ways to enjoy my kids even more. To recognize when I’m becoming a mindless driver who races through the winding mountain road never stopping to take a look at the breathtaking beauty around me. I hope to learn to be more mindful of those signs pointing in the direction of a vista point.

A Romantic SEND-away

Sometimes, as a busy working mom who is part of a busy family, I have had a difficult time redefining my definition of fun in a way that is true for me now. Fun used to be synonymous with “going.” There was nothing fun about staying home. Staying home meant boring, monotonous, isolating. Fun conjured up words like beach, party, amusement park, shopping, restaurant, driving, visiting, laughing, and mingling. Fun meant a cute outfit and make-up. In my grown up life as a working mom of three, I confess that those kinds of things sound fun in theory, but on most days would require a gigantic vitamin B-12 shot in the butt in order for me to pull them off. No matter how many times I tell myself that going out is fun, truthfully, it doesn’t always sound fun anymore.

Despite this personal change, I oftentimes succumb to the voice that tells me what I should find fun. Usually, I drag myself to my “fun”, feign engagement, and then drag myself home. Every once in a while, I put my foot down in favor of naps, mindless puttering around the house, and staying in my pajamas. I don’t do this near enough.

This weekend, my husband and I had the unexpected opportunity to leave my children overnight with my parents. Thrilled at the newfound freedom, I was like a child in a candy shop. I planned and replanned the next 36 hours in my head ten times on the drive home from my parents’ house. First we were going to breakfast and then Disneyland. Then I decided we were going to eat breakfast and then head to the Getty Museum. Finally, I landed on a hike to the Hollywood sign and a late lunch in Pasadena. I was exhausted by the time I got home simply from thinking about it. Even so, I mustered up some energy and enthusiasm in order to explore these many “fun” options with my husband. After a brief discussion of our options, no longer able to ignore my fatigue, still feeling ashamed of my boringness, I sheepishly asked my husband, “What would you think if we stayed home and worked around the house? Would that be too pathetic?” As it turns out, he was holding out for the same kind of fun. He appeared to sigh a sigh of relief as he admitted, “I had been thinking that might be nice.”

And so we did it. Instead of painting the town red, we chose the “romantic send-away.” The kids were gone and we stayed home. We completed our sentences, took NO breaks for changing diapers or refilling sippy cups, and got a few things done. At the end of the day, we felt refreshed, connected, and a little less stressed. While it didn’t exactly make for exciting reporting (I do apologize...) and I’m still not sure if it was technically romantic, if you ask my husband or me, it made for a great day! And if given the choice, we'd do it all over again!

P.S. A little housework didn’t stop me from wearing some make-up and putting on a skirt!

One of the MANY reasons why I love my husband…

Every morning when I see this little guy’s feet, I’m reminded of yet another reason why I love my husband. I guess you could say that I’m a little bit of an absent-minded professor when it comes to tending to some of my children’s more basic needs. Though I obsessively reflect and incessantly pontificate on the deeper values of parenting, I have been known to forget things like jackets or food.

For the sake of the kids, I’m grateful to report that my husband is just the opposite. While I’m lost in my own world, thinking things to death, he faithfully tends to many important details. One of which is the following:

Every night before he climbs into bed, he makes the rounds to each one of our children. It is at their bedside that he gently and imperceptibly places his hand on their leg or arm for a temperature check. He diligently makes any necessary adjustments. If it’s summer time, he’s turning up the fan. In the winter, it’s often pulling covers tight around the little restless bodies that have inadvertently worked their way out of the blankets. More recently, it’s been addressing Jonas’s cold feet by accessorizing the little guy with slipper socks.

Morning after morning, as I’m greeted by this little boy in his Dr. Seuss-like attire bumbling around the house, I think of the tender-hearted man that I am privileged to call my husband and I can’t help but smile.