Moms of Stillwater: Living the Dream

Moms of Stillwater
Moms of Stillwater

Livin’ the dream.

That has been my response of choice recently, whenever someone asks me how I’m doing.

“Oh, you know. Just livin’ the dream,” I reply with a snort.

But I actually mean it.

We are.

Early weekday mornings, we’re slow to rise, as if preparing our bodies for summer.

Little toes stay tucked well past 8 a.m. and have to be tugged gently awake for school.

The lovely (yes, slightly depressing) rain-soaked days, now a thing of the past.

That precious place of green and sunshine and earth giving life to budding branches, before suffocating humidity and throbbing air conditioners are upon us.

Cool, May-in-Minnesota evenings packed with baseball.

Our weekday nights all spoken for, when our mini van becomes our home away from home.

From one ball field to the next, no time for sit-down dinners. Instead we unravel Jimmy John’s subs from their paper, maybe Chipotle, Subway and back around again the next week.

Thinking, hoping, as summer approaches that life will slow down.

But it just seems to be ramping up.

So we abuse any down time we have, with utter laziness.

Despite slow mornings and sun-shiney afternoons, it’s not always this way.

I often find my children to be terribly annoying. With all the whining and complaining and bickering and begging. The learned sarcasm and sass — which some days I think is a good thing, that at such young ages they have the ability to find humor in everything, that they’re learning the art of laughter to cope with life and each other.

But they often use it inappropriately.

My fault.

The few hours I’m actually WITH them during the day when they’re not at school, their questions have no answers and seem to be strung together in one long paragraph, never-ending.

They follow me around from room to room, always underfoot and inquisitive

Which is beautiful … AND annoying.

It’s easy to love our children, hard to LIKE them some days.

We’re often in need of reminders, to be patient with them.




To stop what we’re doing and sink down to their level,

make eye contact, really see and hear them.

If we’re truly awake, we are forced in the moments of stillness — in the doctors’ waiting rooms, the tee-ball bleachers, spring concerts, bedtimes and teeth brushing — to be reminded in all these ordinary moments that make up a life in parenting, of the extraordinary in this ordinary life.