A Dream Come True

Growing up I dreamed of being a lot of different things. After the '92 Olympic Games, I had a somewhat brief, but rather intense love affair with gymnastics. I would unravel the garden hose in and stretch it into a square in the front yard so that I could perform floor routines pretending that I was competing for a gold medal against the likes of Shannon Miller or Dominque Dawes (if you recognize these names, I'm betting you were cartwheeling through your living room at about this time also). I took a couple of years of classes at the YMCA and my dad even made me my own beam to practice on in the back yard. By the time I was about thirteen, however, I realized that I had started my training about ten years too late and that my body was not made to be a competitive gymnast. My seventh grade experience on the Jr. High team confirmed this.

About the time my gymnastics dream was winding down, I remember going to a church activity where we had been assigned to come dressed as what we wanted to be when we grew up. I wore my plaid skirt with real nylons, stole some of my mom's heels and my dad's suit jacket and went as a lawyer. In ninth grade I did a semester of debate and realized that although the tournaments were fun, I wasn't a fan of all the research involved and that in reality I really didn't like arguing with people. So lawyer was crossed off the list.

I also remember wanting to be a nutritionist, a coach, an interpreter for sign language, and a teacher. I did end up getting my degree in elementary education and the time that I spent teaching sixth grade was an invaluable experience for me and one that I wouldn't trade for anything.

Through all of those dreams and plans, however, I always hoped that whatever I decided to do that I would be blessed with the opportunity to be a wife and a mother. I dreamed of falling in love and marrying Prince Charming. And I always knew I wanted children. Thoughts of the future weren't complete without chubby little cheeks, trips to the parks, bike rides, reading books, and taking care of the precious children that I dreamed I'd someday have. When I worked as a day camp counselor in the summer, I would watch the moms with their kids and look forward to the day that I wouldn't be counting twenty yellow shirts, but would be at the summer concert with my own children.

And here I am, right in the middle of it. Mike might not arrive home every night on a white horse carrying roses, but we love each other and I would still run away with him any day (although if it was for more then a week, the three little attachments would need to come too).

In real life being a mother involves a lot more work, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, then I could have ever imagined. My daydreams did not not usually include so many crumbs, so many runny noses, so many diaper blow outs (Mason has to hold some sort of baby record) and so much crying and whining.

On the other hand, however, my day dreams never captured the absolute soul expanding love I would feel for these little babies. They could not to justice to baby smiles, toddler kisses, and five year old hugs. Nothing could have prepared me for the way my heart feels like bursting with joy for every accomplishment or breaking when I think of them feeling heartaches, disappointment, or hurt.

Life is a funny thing. The illusive future is always brighter, and good memories turn into the "good old days." It's so hard to be content with where we are. Today, however, I was getting ready while little Mason was jumping in his Johnny Jump up, the sun was streaming in through the windows and music was playing. I looked over at my baby with his little half smile, stopped what I was doing, picked him up and danced and twirled around the bathroom. He squealed and looked at me adoringly and so completely trusting with those blue eyes and I melted. And in that moment I realized that I'm living one of my dreams.

And although I often get caught up in the day to day things, I am so grateful and so blessed for the moments that remind me that for this stage of my life, I'm exactly where I want to be.

I am so in love with this little bear.

Kiwi and I painting our "bottom nails." She loves that our toe nails are matching.

A couple of weeks ago we were searching for something fun to do on a Saturday night. We ended up creating our own mini golf course inside the house and even let the kids use real clubs and balls (which were immediately put back in the garage of course. I don't even want to imagine this activity unsupervised). We then made our own ice cream sundaes. The kids loved it and it was much cheaper then taking them to do the real thing.