My Chaotic Kitchen

We had a busy morning.  I started the coffee, made breakfast for three, packed lunches for three, brushed hair, brushed teeth, dressed, put shoes on, backpacks on, family photo-shoot, and off to school.

The girls were a little nervous, but mostly excited about starting kindergarten.  My son watched the clock from the moment he awoke, and despite my reassurance that “we don’t need to leave yet,” he kept urging us out the door with,  “We gotta go, Mom.  Can we please go now?!”  When we got to school, we walked my daughters to their classroom and my son told us he would see us later and that he was going to “go do my thing”.   A quick hug and he was off, confidently heading into the 3rd Grade.

Warning: I’ve been reflective this morning.   You see, my twin daughters were born early, at 29 weeks.  Looking back on that time, I almost can’t understand how we made it through.  I won’t tell you the whole story.  The full-length version is too long for this blog post, and it isn’t the reason I write.  I only mention it because it was a difficult time and there was a point at which we weren’t sure if we’d ever have the opportunity to take our girls to kindergarten.  Hard to believe, as I took them to school today, snapping pictures of them outside their classroom.  They were smiling, nervous, holding hands.   They made it!  And it is just the beginning.  They will have a great time, learn so much, meet new friends.

I thought I might be more emotional today, when I saw my babies off to school.  But, I wasn’t.  I was happy.  Happy that they are growing up.  It is a wonderful thing.   I won’t lie, I even had a few high-five moments with some other moms I know who were sending their youngest ones out the door, too.   There is a sense of accomplishment, like “I made it! Yes!”  Another chapter of motherhood ends, as one begins.  Of course, when the bell rang, and my husband and I walked back to our car after saying our final goodbyes and blowing kisses, I did get a little choked up.  And I laughed at myself when tears fell down my cheeks, because I’m really not sad at all.  I just know that this is exactly what is supposed to happen, and the kids, my husband and I, are all exactly where we are meant to be, right now.  It’s a good day.

Now, I sit at my computer and type this story, uninterrupted and in complete silence.   I feel good.   I see the kids’ breakfast dishes sitting on the counter and I do miss the little rascals.  I hope they are having a good day, too.  I think I will pour another cup of coffee and make some phone calls.  Strange, but for the first time in a long time, my kitchen is not chaotic at all.

-Michelle

When our family dog, Sadie, passed away last year, my kids had lots of interest and confusion about the ins and outs of death.  My son, who was six years old at the time, understood the situation pretty well.  However, my 3-year-old twin daughters didn’t quite grasp the concept.

I blame myself for their confusion, as I find it difficult to explain such topics shortly and sweetly.   I explained to them that Sadie grew to be very old.  She had lived a very long, full and exciting life and there was nothing more the animal doctor could do for her.  So, Sadie passed away.

“Why did she die?”  Good question.  I told them her body became very old and simply didn’t work the way it should anymore.  My daughter, Shelby, said, “We should get new batteries for her.”  (When you are three and things stop working, it’s almost always due to bad batteries.)  My son, visibly irritated, jumped into the conversation at this point, as if to save me from further confusing my daughters.  He told them, “you can’t put batteries in animals and people.”  He told them that Sadie was just like Great Grandma Corky and Great Grammie… “They just got really old and they died.”

The next question was inevitable, “Where did Great Grandma go?”

I decided to attempt the short and sweet at this point.   So, I told them, “She is in heaven.”  There.  That outta do it.

But, Taylor’s immediate response was, “Is she an angel?”

“Well, not exactly”, I said.  “But I know she is still with us and watches over us.”

Both of my daughters, wide-eyed,  looked all around the room.   ”Where is she?”

I said, confidently, “When people die, we can’t see them with our eyes anymore, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t with us.  They stay in our hearts forever.”  Good answer, Michelle!  I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for that one.

Taylor scowled and Shelby looked down her shirt, apparently searching for Grandma.  I began to develop a headache at this point.   My son, again quite irritated, said curtly, “Shelby, she isn’t really INSIDE you!  She is in heaven.  You can’t see her.  Heaven is far away.  It’s way, way, way, way, WAY, WAY up there!”  He pointed upward dramatically.

It was at this time that my husband walked in and asked what was going on.  “Oh sure”, I thought.  “NOW he shows up.”  I told him we were discussing what happens when people die.  Taylor said confidently, “Yes, Daddy.  You can’t put batteries in people, so Grandma Corky died and she is WAY, WAY up in the ceiling.”

Shelby nodded her head and added, “With Sadie.”

I am so glad I cleared things up for them.

-Michelle