I have a lot to marvel at... over a few glasses of wine... in the midst of the midnight hour...

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

My Birthday - Year After Year

My 29th birthday wasn’t so bad… until everyone kept reminding me that I was actually 36th. But for this story I will have to admit my age because my 30th birthday (yes, six years ago) holds a distinct memory where I learned a compelling lesson – a recollection that I can marvel at on each anniversary with a moral that has shaped how I offer peace, comfort and love to my children and molded my style of parenting.

Being a self admitted control freak and having only one very agreeable, soft spoken, content child I was feeling quite joyous about this special occasion. I was fulfilled and wholeheartedly believing that I was entirely in control of everything (my career, my finances, my house, my husband and my quite adorable, happy, well rounded, agreeable son).

I was up at the crack of dawn organizing old clothes, toys and furniture, meticulously pricing every item in preparation for my first attempt at a garage sale. Riley ventured out of bed making an early morning appearance to organize his goods along side me. He was full of anticipation speculating how much money his old toys would yield him. But after an hour of manning his station the Murphy’s arrived with their fair share of goods to sell and Riley quickly became distracted and ventured off to play with Jacob and Aaron. Mid-afternoon when the shoppers began to dwindle the boys lost all interest in making money and they were off on their own adventures down the street.

A rush of afternoon bargain hunters found us scrambling to keep up with the five million questions from each customer and dreading their idle chit chat as they inquired about every object in our garage. So when Jacob came running and between haggard breaths announcing that Riley needed me I was quick to dismiss his request:

Me: “Can Riley walk?”

Jacob: “Yes”, still panting and wearing a confused look his face.

Me: “Well, tell him I am in the middle of helping this customer so if he needs something he’ll have to come home.”

Jacob ran off and I returned to my conversation with a customer - trying desperately to explain the nuances of an old stubborn baby gate to a very demanding and talkative 90 year old woman. Jacob returned seconds later with Riley in tow. Behind the woman (who was still talking) I looked up to see Riley sauntering up the lawn looking forlorn but not clearly displaying any life threatening injuries so once again I began demonstrating how the baby gate should work.

One short second later I’m sure my heart stopped beating when I heard Elizabeth gasp and whisper “Oh my gosh”.

You see, Elizabeth is one of those really easy going parents that we all wish we could be. She is not a control freak, she does not obsessively worry about her children getting hurt, she does not inhale every last bit of oxygen in the room and gasp or shriek a high pitched squeal each time her children appear to be headed toward a skinned knee or an impending bruise. She contends to keep her children well and happy but she so easily recognizes that bumps, scrapes and bruises are all part of life as a child (or an adult if you’re inherently clumsy like me!). She takes these inevitable accidents in stride – no gasping, squealing or drama – just a hug, a kiss and a band-aid and sends them on their way. Obviously I am much more about the drama. I come by the gasping, squealing and incessant worrying by nature. It’s something I consciously have to monitor and keep under control.

So when I heard the gasp escape from Elizabeth I knew it was much more than a bruise or a bump. I turned to see Elizabeth cradling Riley’s face in her hands as she mouthed the words “it’s his tooth” to me.

I dropped the baby gate, left the old woman still talking and ran to Riley preparing myself for the worst. I cupped his face in my hands, took one look at his gnarled mouth and felt the tears well up in my eyes. I was sure my beautiful babe was maimed for life and I envisioned him enduring years of ridicule as he went to school with a missing front tooth. I abandoned the garage sale and carried him inside laying him gently on the bathroom floor. I was panicking and overridden with anxiety as I used a warm washcloth to wipe the dirt and blood of his teeth and absorb with the damage. Riley was quiet, obviously unscathed other than the broken tooth. No other cuts or bruises and only a minimal amount of blood seeping from his permanent front tooth that broke off cleanly just slightly below his gum line.

I was near bawling when I called the dentist to convey the accident. The dentist asked us to find the tooth and put it milk but warned me that there might not be much he could do right now. Depending on where the break was he explained that the tooth might have to be pulled and a bridge put in place once all the surrounding permanent teeth were in place. Well that could be years and I began contemplating Riley’s return to school in the fall minus his front tooth and I lost it. Through my tears I almost angrily asked if he was telling me that Riley would have to go through life without a front tooth. Apparently they make you take psycho therapy in dental school because my dentist was so patient and tried desperately to calm my fears but set realistic expectations. It didn’t help me – my mind was set – Riley would be ridiculed when he went to school without his front tooth.

I got off the phone, sent the boys out in search of the missing tooth and found Riley now crying. I wet the washcloth and got the Tylenol worried that he was now feeling some pain - but when I asked him where it hurt he just barely whispered that he was sad that he would be ugly without his tooth.

I never realized my reaction could cause him more pain as he saw through my tears and realized my panic. I was simply overwhelmed with unsubstantiated worry and shallow pity – unable to think clearly and remedy this situation myself I was obviously out of control. I was in utter agony over his imagined life long suffering (all conjured up in my anxious thoughts). I mistakenly desired to shield him from any and all suffering – something I realistically would not be able to control. And now I was the one who was causing him to suffer because I was so worried over a simple broken tooth and anxious about a future I would not be able to control. He saw my tears and felt my fear for his well-being and my heart was breaking all over again as I watched the reality of my reaction set in, polluting his innocent mind with needless worry.

But Riley’s tears and innocent reaction to my desperation quickly made me realize that the only thing I could control in this situation was my reaction. I always preached that beauty and confidence are found deep within. But I was clearly advocating a different message that day when I cried over his broken tooth – sure that he was ruined for life I lost sight of the fact that Riley still had all his arms and legs and most importantly his heart and brain and all senses were unscathed. I was unconsciously invading his thoughts with worry and he too began to focus on an unrealistic reality. I overreacted when I found myself in a situation I could not control – an injury I could not fix with a band-aid and a hug and a kiss.

My worst case scenario mindset led me to panic and my panic clearly clouded my reality. But I now knew what I had to do. Somewhat reluctantly I let go of that which I could not control and focused on the attainable. I couldn’t fix Riley’s tooth but I could calm his fears.

My tears subsided, my thoughts were no longer clouded with panic and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace – finally grasping the reality of the situation and realizing that everything would be all right. I laid Riley’s head in my lap as I reminded him it was just a tooth. Missing teeth do no determine or alter our paths in life. They are simply cosmetic and have no bearing on who are, what choices we make or how happy and fulfilled we choose to be. I held him tight, quieted my mind, opened my heart and offered peace instead – trying desperately to start all over and erase his worry. Riley quickly understood – that’s probably what he thought all along (until my near panic attack). He proceeded to ask me if he’d have to go to the dentist today and if he’d still be able to play with his friends. My impractical worry and unlikely fears were no longer polluting our minds.

We laughed when the boys returned with the tooth and we bravely made our way into the dentist office. Dr. Tran was able to bond the tooth back on (albeit temporarily he warned) using Portland cement of all things. In less than an hour’s work we were back home, Riley was teasing his friends about only imagining he broke his tooth and we were off to my 30th birthday party at Sarah’s house. I was feeling completely out of control, knowing that Riley would probably have many more accidents that I could not shield him from or fix with a kiss and a band aid, but nevertheless feeling very confident in my newfound insight – remembering that what I could control would be my reaction.

This “temporary fix” stayed in place for 5 ½ years and took a head on collision with a sled and a parked car to dismantle the tooth once again. Needless to say I handled that accident much, much more maturely… insisting Riley pose for numerous pictures of his mangled wires, which dangled his dismantled tooth and laughing hysterically when he conveyed the story of covering his mouth, feeling his floating tooth, walking over to his friend and smiling widely, asking how it looked - only to hear his friends gasp and stutter “oh, oh, oh” (progressively getting louder) “you should call your mom”.

After all, it is just a tooth.

Now, I can understand how sledding into a parked car can knock out a tooth but on that first fateful break, my 30th birthday, he was simply walking across the street when he tripped and fell - falling face first, perfectly planting his tooth directly on the edge of the curb, cleanly breaking it off, devoid of any other scrapes, cuts or bruises in, on or around his mouth. How does that happen? Each year on my birthday I ponder that question and remember this lesson that Riley so innocently taught me… so many years ago.

And just a side note… if I could figure out how to download pictures from my phone to my computer I would share the dangling tooth with you all… until then just let your imaginations run wild! It was quite a sight.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Where is Susan??

Hello - it's ME! Where in the world have I been lately?

Well, I haven't been off touring the intricacies of an ancient historical land but I have been tirelessly prepping for school in the Fall and desperately trying to enjoy the last few moments of summer.

Dentist appointments, school registration, before/after school sign ups, immersing myself in the Twilight series, working out (yes, ME), daily double football caravans - that's all I've really been up to lately - busy, busy, busy but not all that exciting (except for my time spent vicariously living through Bella and Edward in the Twilight serious - that is some serious entertainment - even when you are 36 years old).

But most of all, I've put a part of my life (or rather my blog) on hold - anxiously awaiting the birth of Baby Renker... I think that will inspire me to share my emotions and document my experiences a lot more than dental appointments and school preparations do.

Hopefully more (about Baby Renker) very, very soon...

Friday, August 14, 2009

Beloved Blog Editor

Way back when (ok, only 9 short months ago) Barb introduced me to the blogging world. I had heard of blogs but really had no idea what they were all about – although I was (and still am) an avid “googler” (researching all my burning questions, interests, curiosities, etc. on the internet) I never once stumbled across a blog. But Barb sent me a few links, she peaked my interest and I was immediately hooked. I fell in love with the idea of an online journal – documenting my life, my thoughts and keeping family updated on the rapidly growing Gronke children (not that they’re growing in number but growing in size).

I wrote hundreds of blog posts in my head for about a month before I got up the gusto to start a blog of my own. My first post came easy, the thoughts flew off my fingertips, and my reality became words splattered across the page precisely as I envisioned them. I discovered I actually enjoyed writing. Most nights I can easily convert my thoughts into words on paper, documenting the simple memorable moments or conveying my thoughts, my desires, my prayers, my love for my family – all that I want to remember. I find my blog therapeutic and I dwell in comfort and peace as I document my life.

And I am content knowing my blog rarely contains errors because you see, I have my own personal blog editor. With a vast audience of 4 or 5 people I want to make sure I convey my thoughts concisely and the events truthfully, all while making sure my grammar is precise.

Most of you laugh at my mishaps and find humor in my chaotic life. I’m sure some of you have shed a few tears when you find me getting all sappy. And my mother, although in retirement, will be an English teacher until the day she dies –she never misses a grammatical mistake and methodically lists out each error on my blog for me to correct.

Writing is something neither I nor my mother probably ever thought would worm its way into my heart - considering she had to rewrite many high school and college papers just to get me a passing grade. But she is delighted to find me falling in love with her calling, her passion. She spent many countless hours teaching others the exquisiteness in a well written piece of literature – but the splendor of her passion appeared to evade her closest of kin (particularly me!). Mom laughs and cries with the rest of you but her eye is inevitably trained to catch all my grammatical mistakes. Her comments are always heartfelt… she laughs at my crazy antidotes, she cries when I tug at her heartstrings, she marvels at my novice attempt to document my life and she always concludes her responses with a meticulous list of misspellings and grammatical mistakes. And I’m certain she is horrified with my over (and improper) use of commas and infatuation with ellipses. But I’m finally ready to learn – I have the thoughts, the feelings and a wonderful life worth documenting. Only now is my heart open to the delicate intricacies of my mother’s life work.

So should you uncover one of my random misspellings or grammatical mistakes just know that the expert will eventually catch them and they will (hopefully) all be corrected over time.

Thank goodness for my Mother’s expert eye. My blog thanks you and my vast audience thanks you. Now if you could just learn a bit of web design to spruce up my blog…

So here’s to my highly underpaid but much appreciated beloved blog editor!


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Destruct and Destroy

While most people covet peace and quiet I instinctively get very nervous. Two minutes of quiet in my house inevitably signals trouble… as my littlest babe is all about destruction.

Don’t let his adorable little smile fool you!

He has emptied more diaper cream tubes (all over my carpet) than I can count.

He has annihilated every compact of makeup that I foolishly continue purchasing.

I have found numerous valuables floating in our toilet (including toothbrushes and cologne).

He can slither out of the tightest car seat buckle (each and every trip we take).

And all that he can accomplish in the first ten minutes of his day.

He’s only two and he’s already attempted to steal the car…
He loves anything of Hope's...

I had to invest in my first baby gate when Nico started moving. I broke down and bought baby proof door latches to keep my child in my house and out of closets and rooms that offered too much opportunity for destruction.

So, it should have come to no surprise when I awoke to find this pile of destruction…
Yes, he tore all those clothes out of his drawers.

Yes, he removed the dresser drawers from their rightful place.

Yes, he was sleeping in the dresser drawer – smack dab in the middle of his mess.

Nico is fascinated with all that is off limits. He is proud of his destruction and he is relentless in his pursuit to destroy.

And I am exhausted…


Hells Canyon - A Trip Down Memory Lane

Just over a week ago I turned 36 (YIKES!!!) but shortly thereafter I was taken back 20+ years to a place where I could be a kid, all over again. We loaded up the kids and ALL their gear and took a trip… right down memory lane. Eight hours to Boise, a midnight trip to the grocery store and some more last minute packing found us winding around the recognizable hair pin curves, steep grades and memorable dams – on our way to Hells Canyon.

Hells Canyon – a place that holds some of my fondest childhood memories… I spent many summers camping there, carving our initials in trees, lying on our backs watching the bats at night, jumping off the dock to cool off from the summer heat, waiting out a summer thunderstorm inside our cramped camper, fishing for crappie, catching carp and eating fresh fish fried up in cornmeal. I can so easily recall the countless hours spent in these great outdoors – the beating sun, the cold river water, the deep canyon walls speckled with bat caves.

A place I have neglected to visit for nearly 20 years but a place that I could never forget. A place that beckoned me back…

Three or four years ago Riley made his first trek to my childhood retreat when he visited the Murphy’s. His return from each visit elicited jealousy from me as he recounted the events and the scenery as if he took a page from my book of memories. As it turns out Elizabeth spent many of her childhood summers up at Hells Canyon as well and passed on the camping tradition with her own children, Riley included. Perhaps our paths crossed one of those fateful summers years and years ago… long before we met as neighbors in Scappoose and became the greatest of friends.

This summer when the opportunity presented itself I could not pass it up – I knew it was time to introduce the rest of the Gronke clan to our childhood retreat. The canyon is exactly as I remember.

The trees had grown larger but everything else was still in tact. We stayed 6 miles up the road at Big Bar – most of us in tents, the big boys sleeping underneath the stars. The blackberries were growing wild, sweet ripe plums covering the ground, peaches falling steadily from the trees – a delightful treat that sustained the kids all week.

The river was warm and shallow – the kids rarely left its comforting coolness and retreated from the endless fun only to eat and sleep. Hope caught her first fish and reeled them in like a pro – one right after the other. I jumped off the dock time and time again – just like I did so many years ago. I cheated and picked up a pole (despite my lack of a fishing license) and reeled in my fair share of fish erasing my 20 year hiatus. Roger fished on the pontoon. We all took turns on the canoe. Riley and Jacob boated out to Big Bar to chase deer. We’d see a herd of deer bounding across the island, run off by Riley and Jacob. We were just waiting for the dear to turn on them (camera ready in hand) and could just picture the boys running wildly with the herd of deer in close pursuit.

The heat was sweltering but the river was a cool retreat and the evening thunderstorms brought a welcome breeze when it rumbled through the canyon.

The company was superb… three teenage boys, three princess girls, one baby boy who tried desperately to keep up with all. Elizabeth and I were reliving our childhood, now with families of our own. I’m sure there is a similar pictures of us girls jumping off the dock – somewhere in the old black and white archives…

My memory did not disappoint me. Hells Canyon still holds all its beauty, warmth and entertainment now that I’m all grown up. I am just biding my time until we can make our (now dubbed) annual trip to my (now our) childhood retreat with the Murphy’s once again.

To view more of our Hells Canyon adventures click here.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Have I Failed You Miserably?

That is the age old question that haunts all great parents…

As we opted to forego college or fail miserably at it, as I brought a child into this world when I was probably much too young and naïve, when my mother had to write papers for me when I eventually did go to college, when my Dad had to bail me out financially before I learned about fiscal responsibility…Through all this I watched my parents reluctantly let go of their dreams for us all and support our own happiness, allowing our own dreams to flourish. I watched them reinvent their wishes for their grown children as they turned to hoping for individual happiness for us all – despite the different paths we all desired.

The success of this outlook is ever present today. My parents never once gave up on us and they embrace us all with loving open arms regardless of our quirks, the choices we have made, or the challenges we have faced. They are genuinely interested in our success – where we all now define success as happiness.

They like the distance but they love us more… desiring to be a part of our lives without interfering. In my mother’s own words, “…I read your blogs and realize you must have garnered smatterings of wisdom, despite our utter lack of wisdom. We had nothing but unadulterated love for you all, young, stupid, and only desperately in love with our daughters with no insight whatsoever, no internet, no cell phones, no iPods, just four beauties dropped in our laps to love and adore.”

My role with my own children is not an exact replica of my parent’s role. This is an entirely different era, Riley is not exactly like any one of us four girls (although Hope shows signs that she may just turn out to be exactly like Sarah), and I am not my mother. But my parents taught me the most important lessons in life – a foundation that I strive to teach my own children. They taught me about unconditional love, how to learn from my mistakes and move on, and how to be happy. With the birth of my first babe I quickly understood how my much my parents loved me and as I grew into an adult I learned that their love remains constant despite the years and the distance.

I don’t yet know what my children will become. I don’t know where their choices will lead them or what path they’ll choose to follow. I don’t yet know what all their dreams entail. But I want my children to know that I love them unconditionally despite my many mistakes throughout their youth. I want to see them fulfilled and happy. I want to delight in their laughter always. I want them to follow their hearts wherever it may lead them. I want them to know that they all hold my heart in their hands and “I am hopelessly in love with them all, slave to their wishes, deep in prayer for their hopes, and utterly joyous that, undeserving, they are mine”!

This is what my parents taught me.

This is exactly how they feel about all four of their own girls.

And this is precisely what I want to impart on my own children…

…my own children whose paths my already be determined but are unknown to us earthly inhabitants… whose choices will undoubtedly bring pain or sorrow at times but will hopefully find them right back amidst the firm foundation of love and happiness that has been passed from my parents to me, and from me on to my own children. And I am committed to embracing each child’s uniqueness, supporting their own dreams and loving them with all my heart…

This same gift my parents have given me and my three sisters. No mistake or flaw as parents could overshadow this commitment or undermine their love.

My parents have not ever failed me despite our occasional quarrels, minor miscommunications, some frustrating teenage years, different paths in life, conflicting opinions, etc. They embrace me for ME. And I love them for who they are.

My children will undoubtedly encounter a phase where they focus on my flaws as their mother. But I hope it’s brief and I hope they find a way to love me through it all and realize that they are my whole world – they hold my heart in their hands.

Otherwise I will have failed miserably…