Oh, and have I mentioned that he has amazing biceps?

I look at the men in our neighborhood, my friends’ husbands who coach their kids’ teams, host bbqs, show up to school open houses, cook dinners, stay home with the kids so their wife can go to work, stay home with the kids so the women can go away for a whole. entire. 24. hours.  And I am blown away.  We ask them the do all this (and so much more!) and also to be proficient at careers, providing some, most, or all of the income for their families.   These men not only take it all on, but they do it pretty darn well…considering that they are not women. 

There are days when I think I could simply get by without a man in my life.  I mean, who needs another freakin day of tripping over those giant shoes in my kitchen.  Or of explaining that cream cheese does not go in the freezer.  Or of sharing a bathroom with someone with that much hair. 

But I get over it.

So, today I celebrate the dads I know:  Dave, Steve, Jim, both Ryans, Ben, Tom, Darin, Mike, Jonathan, and all the others that have turned Father’s Day into something to really celebrate.

Happy Father’s Day!

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

But more than the numbers, this past year has been one of exploration for me.  One that first day when I went “out there” and live with my blog, I have placed a part of myself in my reader’s hands.  It was not easy for me to open myself up through my craft — to expose my writing and my life to anyone and everyone.  I have struggled with what it means to talk about kids on a public forum — to put their names nad faces out into the world for anyone to see (some may say that once we appeared on national TV the horse was outta the barn on that one!!).  I have to face my own inner demons of what kind of approval I have needed from my own readership, soaking up comments like a comment-glutton.  I have studied Google Analytics (which tells one how many people are visiting one’s blog) and I have also walked away from statistics and fasted for months — not knowing if anyone anywhere ever read a word I was writing — and contemplating whether or not that was even important.  I have been pursued by advetisers, product reviews, even other bloggers, to put up posts about what they want. 

But a year ago blogging wasn’t really an option.  I mean, I had to start this blog.  I was bursting to write, to document my family, to put my thoughts “out there.”  I knew that starting a blog was a MUST the day Dave decided to perform a dubious (at best) home surgery.  A few years back we discovered that much like Chandler on the show Friends  it seemed that Dave had grown, well, a third nipple.  He liked to call it his “love bump.”  So, one day he got tired of it and asked the family at the dinner table, “Who would like to cut off my love bump??”  The look on my face communicated, what kind of freakin question is that to ask of these lovely, genteel children?  But, I was wrong.  Lily (age 7 at the time) was all for it.  So, the two of them grabbed the fingernail clippers and scurried down the hall to the bathroom, where all home-surgeries are performed.  The rest of us hid under a blanket.  I then knew that I needed a blog.

But more than the personal rewards that come with writing, it has been a good discipline for me to write regularly.  Some weeks I have to force myself to sit down and try to come up with something to say.  Some weeks stories just burst out of me.  I have had to be very open to the process of creation through writing.  And that process has opened me up to myself.

But now it is more of an option.  I sit here tonight wrestling with where to go from here.  I feel pulled to both keep the blog going and to stop and take a break.  I honestly cannot say which is right for me.  I keep looking for a sign to tell me where to go.  When I was younger, I used to ask God for signs that went something like this, God if you want me to do this thing, make a blue bird land on my windowsill in the next 10 seconds.  Yeah, seriously.  I can picture God listening to me and saying, “Yeah, seriously?  I am not a performing pony.  But I like your creativity.”   The blue bird never seemed to come and I have learned since that “signs” do not usually come on demand.  Instead they require an atuned ear to the universe that is sometimes hard to muster inbetween diaper changes, band concerts, dinners, clean ups, and sore feet.  But I do trust that the path will be revealed.

But no matter what happens, on this lovely first birthday slash anniversary, I want to say THANK YOU to all my readers. Your comments have meant so much.  You subscriptions have meant so much.  Just knowing that there are people “out there” reading my words has meant so much.  Truly.  Each reader has been a blessing to me in his or her own way.  I really have such a great group of readers — some of you I knew before, some of you I have met since I started this journey.  You have all treated me with kindness and honestly, and I love you all.

So, here’s to all of YOU!  The thousands of you who have shared this last year with me.  Thank you and Cheers!!!!

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

In a lot of cultures and religions there are rites of passage that mark the passing from childhood to adulthood — the bar mitzva, the quinceanera, etc.  But the it seems like this ritual is missing from so many of our lives.   Especially for girls.

Enter the 13.

This idea was thought up by a friend of a friend and a former co-youth leader of mine that noticed this deficit and decided to do something about it.  It goes like this.  When a girls turns 13, she gets a party.  But not a party full of other teens brimming with emotions and hormones.  A party full of adult women.  Women who will say to her:  you are valued,  we are with you, we love you.   Think The Red Tent but in the suburbs. 

So, last weekend was Izzy’s 13.  She had been looking forward to this weekend away since her big sister turned 13 a year and a half ago. 

Fourteen of us packed up and drove to the mountains and nestled into a cabin.

We then told her of her value, her worth.  We formed a circle of women around her.  We read to her the Word of God.  We gave her gifts.  We prayed. We showered her with advice. We cried. 

And then we partied.  We ate lots and lots of carbs.  We played party games.  We decorated our hands and feet with henna.  We created an art project so she could carry this weekend with her forever. We laughed until our sides and our faces hurt.  And we kept it PG-13…barely.  When we got in the van to leave, Izzy burst out with “That was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO much fun!”  It was like she had been waiting all weekend to tell me that; to get Jade and me alone so she could reveal how awesome everything was.  And it was.  We not only told her that she was wonderful, we showed her what it was like to be a woman.  To cook together.  To talk about the things WE wanted to talk about.  To sit all huddled in front of the fire.  To show her the sisterhood that will, indeed, get you through your life intact.

When it was my turn in the circle, I reminder her of the words of Jesus, “You are the Light of the World.” 

And she is.

————–

To see more pictures from the weekend, click here to go to Christiana Childers Photography.

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

A few years back I introduced my own version of the vocabulary game. 

Each year, I pick a word or phrase that is organically grown out of our everyday language at home.  By this I mean, that I actually have used this word in front of my kids and then said kids look at me askance, wrinkle their browns, and say,”huh?”  Anyway, I pick a word and challenge them to use it when speaking to an adult in their lives.  IF they can do so, they win the game.  At first I thought about delivering some sort of prize to any kid who can pull this off.  But, soon it became apparent that the legendary status that comes with using the yearly challenge word appropriately with a teacher or coach is reward enough for my sweet little nerds.

So, a few years back the challenge phrase was “CARTE BLANCHE” — you should have heard the story of Jade going up to her then 5th grade teacher asking her for “Carte Blanche bathroom priveledges.” 

In case you were wondering, the answer was “no!”

Last year I picked a phrase I heard Dr. Phil use one time, “No matter how flat you make a pancake, it still has two sides!”  Seriously, the kids had to weave that into a conversation with a grown up?  Yup.  The winner?  Izzy.  She used it in a book report over the book  Swindle
when the protagonists had to break the law, but for a good reason —  her 6th grade teacher was there, so it counts.  Well done, Izzy, well done. 

This year the word is REMISS.

I mean, THAT is a great word.

Think of all the real-word applications.  “So sorry, I have been remiss at feeding my fish and, thus, it has perished.”  “Excuse me, but I have been remiss in informing you that I need a ride to soccer practice tomorrow.”  “Mrs. Smith, I fear you have been remiss in giving me that grade I deserve.”  Okay, maybe not that last one.

Or maybe the example I just used moments ago when talking to Izzy, “I have been remiss in telling you that this year’s word is… remiss.”

Nevertheless, my kids will be out there looking for reasons to use the word REMISS.  Watch out, they could be looking for you!  So, try not to judge them too harshly when they point out that you have been… well… remiss.

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

If you have something to say, let MamaBloo give you the platform.  I am most interested in the topics of photography, interior design, food/drink, education, books, travel, kids, writing/blogging, marriage, and…. I am probably forgetting something.  You do not have to have your own blog to apply.  I am looking for moms who have a reflection or article on motherhood and/or marriage.  I am also looking for a mom or non-mom who has an interest (see above) that would like to share her expertise in that area.  The tone of the articles should be either funny or poignant and target women.

Some possible ideas to get the juices flowing:

The list goes on!

Send me an email at kari@mamabloo.com with the topic GUEST BLOGGER in the subject line.

Please give me a short (50-100 word) pitch as to the kind of article you want to write.  One guideline to consider, most of my blog posts are not any longer than 500 words.  So when you pitch your ideas, know that if you start to get up into the 1000+ word category for your article idea (not the pitch, the article itself) than you will be asked to break it into parts.

Please give include the URL of your own blog, if you have one,

If you do have a blog, lets talk about a reciprical article, if you’d like. 

Be sure to include a contact email so I can get back to you.

If you have a product or service to promote this does not automatically disqualifiy you from submitting an article BUT I am not looking for reviews or promotions.  Your product or service should be an organic part of some story or confession or reflection or angle or tip that constitutes interesting reading. 

Also, please remember that MamaBloo retains the right to edit your article for content and appropriateness. The actual number of guest bloggers selected will be determined by MamaBloo.

What’s in it for YOU?: 

* MamaBloo gets 3000+ page views per month

* Those page views come from all over the United States, Canada and Europe.

* MamaBloo has a substantial subcriber list — which I will not sell to you, but it will give you a guarenteed readership.

* MamaBloo is in the top 28% of all websites — according to Alexa.

* Guest blogging is a great way to drive readership to your own site!

* Or, Guest blogging is an even better way to just try out blogging and see if you like it!

* A chance to tell your story, your way!

Okay, lets see what happens.  Good luck!

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

As for Liar, that is a bit more complicated.  I think we moms and wives actually lie a lot.  And let’s face it, telling the truth can be really overrated.  It did not work to my advantage when, after seeing the movie Troy,  my husband asked me if he looked like Brad Pitt (I kid you not) and I, well, told the truth. “Not even close, honey… not even close.”  The look of utter disbelief and betrayal on his face snapped me right our of my truth-telling high and I quickly countered with, “But I am sure by the time you are 40, you’ll be a spitting image of the god Achilles, uhem, I mean Brad Pitt.”  Remarkably, this little gem seemed to work.   I cannot remember the last time I told the truth about one of the worksheets containing triangles, squares, and circles with chicken-scratched pencil marks along the photocopied edges that my kids bring home from school to show me.  I say, “Wow, good job, you are amazing!”  And my kids do do a good job and they are amazing, but this is hardly represented by a worksheet.  But, isn’t it my duty to pretend it is?  I don’t think Lily would ever quite recover if she came home to show me her schoolwork and I said, “Explain to me the pedagogical objective that your teacher accomplished by giving you this work and which of the state’s learning requirements does this meet?” Or, even better yet, really get them thinking with, “What did you learn about yourself by doing this busy work?”  I am guessing that going with the “WOW, Good Job” is better suited for the psyche of a 10 year old little girl.

The more powerful lies are the ones we moms tell ourselves.  We tell ourselves that we can do it all, that we can do it alone, and that the endless hours of taking care of everyone else won’t really take its toll on us.  We tell ourselves that the burnt toast tastes as good as the yummy golden brown one we just sacrificed for our first born.  We claim that we don’t mind that we turned in our sporty red BMW for a mini-van and that our children don’t really define who we are. We lie about how much we need our husbands to understand us and our girlfriends to validate our choices.  And we lie to ourselves that we will ever ever be able to have a flat stomach again  — because the truth about that one is just too much to take.

But the truth is this. That when we become mothers we are transformed.  The old passes away and we are a new creation.  We understand viscerally the meaning of sacrificial and unconditional love.  And in this state I think we would willingly forfeit our lives so that our children can live richer fuller ones than we ever had.  A lunatic?  A liar?  Nah,  just a good mom.

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

Well, guess what.  I am there.

In fact, I am so there that I have started this blog to help me accomplish just that.

It is not that I don’t love literature and politics.  I mean, I do. (I do admit, though, that it is my husband who likes the lingerie, not me). I used to be an avid NPR listener.  I used to read Shakespeare for fun, for goodness sakes.  But when faced with the chance to bring up something funny my four year old son said, or to lament with another mom about the perils of 13 year old girls, I cannot resist.  It is like a reflex. At first, I tried my own intervention.  But all I could come up with was a subscription to Entertainment Weekly and so now I can talk about my kids and the entertainment industry, not exactly the Ivy-league solution I was hoping for.

So, there is no doubt that motherhood has changed me.  I feel that in many ways I am the sequel to myself.  The first part of the story was the flashy, sexy version that knew something about wine, music, and art.  Someone who wore heels and drank fancy beers and drove a sports car.  But, part II (as most sequels tend to be) is a bit “off” from the original.  Not bad, not bad at all, just so wildly not what you expected that it causes you to tilt your head and wonder is this comfortable-clothes-wearing, covered-in-sweet potatoes, messy-ponytail, PTA mom the same person as before? 

Well. I am the same person but different, too.  I can still talk about Barrack Obama, Dante’s Inferno, and the pros and cons to wearing thong underwear.  But, I can also steer each and every one of those conversations back to the 5 most incredible, wonderful, amazing, awe-inspiring people I know…my kids.

The Kiddos: Age 13, 12, 9, 4 (the only boy) and a baby!

©2012 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.