Eternal Preschool

I have a confession to make. I'm scared of teenagers. Well, I'm not really scared of them as persons... I'm scared of having some of my own.

At church yesterday, I was talking to a parent of a teen. He was telling me how quickly time has passed and that having a teenager is so different.  Then it suddenly dawned on me.  I'm going to have some of those one day. I got scared. It's not that I'm realizing this for the first time. Obviously, I know that kids grow up  and that it's all natural and we can't stop it from happening.  But you see, I'm a mom of preschoolers. The world I live in seems eternal.  My days are very much the same: feed them, clean them, play with them, clean up after them, feed them, feed them,clean up, put them to bed.

Both of my kids love to pretend.  Abby pretends to be everything from tigers to princesses. Caedmon prefers to be a fireman or one of the characters from Busytown Mysteries. And they like for me to pretend too, usually at the same time. So most days I'm Sleeping Beauty Sally Cat.

And I often get frustrated with the same conversations and same pretend play day after day. And not only that, but the endless cycle that is laundry and cleaning the house! It's enough to make a person crazy some days!

But I realized yesterday that eventually they will be teenagers, and these days of eternal preschool will be a distant memory.  Some day my little boy that looks up at me with those deep blue eyes and says "Holda me. I loves you, Sally!" will be asking me for the car keys.  And my precious little girl that begs me to play make-up with her and then smears eye shadow all over my face will one day think I have no sense of style and will keep her own private diary! <gasp!>

And then I realize how much of my day I spend rushing onto the next errand. Pushing towards the next task. Trying to achieve the perfect home. I don't want to rush this time or waste it on the unimportant.  I want to enjoy it.


This is my reminder to myself:

"Why are you always rushing?
Always worried, always toiling.
The house can wait. Your children can't.
The dishes will have to be washed again later. Let them wait.
Childhood is calling. Play. Pretend.
The days of pirates and princesses will not always linger.
Race cars and choo-choo trains do not wait.
Stop playing with "instruction" and "teachable moments" always on your mind.
Leave your grown-up world. Enter your child's.
Be amazed. Wonder. Dream.
Have camp-outs under the kitchen table.
Picnic in the grass next to the sandbox.
For soon that imaginative child that never seems to stop talking and has boundless energy
will be all grown up.
The trucks will be placed in the attic.
The dress-up clothes that carpet the floor will no longer fit.
The toys which never seem to be put away and the markers with mismatched lids will not be your permanent decor.
This is a season. The best advice I've ever received for this season: Enjoy your kids."


So, if you will excuse me, both of my kids are now awake and it's time for Sleeping Beauty Sally Cat to solve some mysteries in the princess beauty salon.

A Treasure of a Car

I like to name cars. I feel like if you name your car, then it will, overall, be a better car to you...it will be like part of the family.

Growing up, we always named our cars. We named beautiful, big, station wagon after beautiful, big, paneled station wagon: Betsy.  More concisely, they were named Betsy 1, Betsy 2, Betsy  3 and so on.  We may have even had wild one in there named Annie 888 (after a license plate we saw during a family road trip).

The problem, however, when you name your cars and make them part of the family...it's very bitter to trade one of them in for a newer model.  My heart is sick even thinking about it. How can we trade Betsy 12, she's been through a lot with us? I distinctly remember when mom and dad decided to upgrade to a paneled mini van. My brother and I sat inside Betsy #? and cried. It was like losing a sister...in fact, I think my brother may have even been willing to trade me in if it meant he could keep Betsy.

I've gotten over my trauma of that day, and have continued to name my vehicles.  My car in college was a beautiful hunter green Dodge Neon.  I named her Hadassah. Hadassah is the name of a very strong, faithful character in a book series called The Mark of the Lion. My parents gave me this car during a time when I needed to remember what it is like to be faithful and strong. My car was very symbolic to me at the time.  Even to this day, my family refers to that car as Hadassah.

PJ, my dear hubby, had a green truck with equal amount of personality as Hadassah.  His name was Stan.  Oh Stan, how we miss you almost daily!!!  We never should have sold you! If you have ever met Stan, you would know right away that his name was Stan.  He looks like a Stan. He smells like a Stan. He. Is. Stan.  Stan even took PJ and I out on our first date. Nice Stan!

Stan and Hadassah came into marriage with PJ and I, and we four had a very happy arrangement.  Unfortunately, Hadassah had had better days and became very sick.  In addition, we were about to add an addition to our family and Hadassah's 2 door sporty style along with  her low safety ratings were not pleasing to me any longer. So, we sold her to a good family in WV. I still see her, from time to time (still donning the NRG bumper sticker).

Around the same time that Hadassah left our family, we adopted another vehicle. We bought a gold Santa Fe. This was our version of a family car (in effort to avoid having a mini-van).   Roomy and faithful we loved her...or him. (I never could discern if it was a he or she).  It survived 2 accidents with us and kept us safe.  It was our first big purchase as husband and wife, and more importantly, it carried home both of my babies from the hospital.  We love this car...especially now that she's paid for!

But...this car has...shall we say...loads of personality. For example, there are many unidentifiable noises that come from her. You can always hear us coming because it rattles, kind of like the Care Bear cloud car, from the 1980's cartoon.  There is some squeaking from the back that sounds like a rubber bouncy ball is being squished.  A flapping noise that comes from the vents periodically as if the car has swallowed a flock of geese. And an almost deafening roar from it's lack of aerodynamic design since we've put the racks on top.  Several times I've been on the phone with my dad while I'm driving and he has commented on the sound of the wind blocking our conversation...only the windows were up at the time.

Another, very strange attribute of our car is that every year for the past 3 years, the air conditioner fan has stopped working during the hottest week of the summer and began working again in the fall once the weather cools down to the 80's.  Yes. We have taken it in to different mechanics, paid bunches o' money to get it "fixed" and it works for about a week then stops.  To make it even more strange, it usually happens when my father-in-law rides in the car. If it's not working, he rides in it and it starts working again. On the next visit, if it is working, my father-in-law rides in it and it stops working.  It really  is strange.

So, we stopped spending money on it. We suffer through the hot days of summer with the windows down and my kids always look wind-blown and sweaty. But it's paid for and gets us places.  It hasn't worked since the beginning of June this year.  However, even though my father-in-law is not in town this week, the AC suddenly began working yesterday. Of course it did! It's 80 degrees again. Thank you, AC. Thank you Santa Fe. Perhaps the car felt the need to celebrate its own personal milestone. This week, the odometer reached 123456! 

In other news, after owning this car for almost 5 years, it finally has a name.  Abby informed me today that it is, in fact, a girl and it's name is Treasure.  Yes, Dear Child, this car is a true Treasure...especially when the AC is working...now can you speak up? I can't hear you over the rattling, roaring, squeaking and flapping!!

Treasure's Big Day!