We laid out the rollerblades and padding and explained each piece of equipment. We showed them how to put everything on and make sure it was secure. I drilled it into their fragile little heads how much trouble they would be in if I caught them skating without their pads, and most importantly, their helmets. I told them all the ways they could get hurt if they forgot to take the safety measures that they were being taught.

Then we took off. I had a blast skating with them even though I hadn’t worn my rollerblades in years.

We skated each of the next few days and I was feeling good about my balance and proud that I hadn’t fallen once despite being out of practice.

When Kai slammed into me from behind with his bike causing me to flip up and back onto the pavement, landing on the back of my head, I thought, “You idiot.”

After all my nagging to the kids about pads and helmets I thought I was okay with just my wrist guards and knee pads because I “knew how to fall”.

After laying stunned in the road for a couple of minutes and thinking, “What have I done?” I shakily got up and took Kai in the house.

The kids hadn’t been skating long and they were doing so well and I knew they would be disappointed if we stopped so I put my helmet on and went back out. My head was still numb and I skated slowly around with them for a few minutes until I realized I felt like I needed to throw up. I didn’t, but it made me realize it was time to go lay down.

I spent the next 21 of 24 hours in bed with a horrendous headache and feeling exhausted and thinking how lucky I was that it wasn’t worse.

As a mom of four I should have realized sooner that it was just as important for me to protect myself (their mother) as it was for me to make sure they were protected. I have a responsibility to them to keep myself as safe and healthy as I am trying to keep them.

I am sure as the headache and nausea fade over the next few days it will give me ample time for me to think about how hypocritical my actions were to my kids.

Lesson learned!

I had been wanting a laptop for a long time and was kindly given an older one a few weeks ago that did everything I needed it to. I could read my email and friend’s blogs as I settled in for bed, or write in my journal or look up “sandboxes” on Craigslist. It was perfect!

I walked into my bedroom tonight and Kai said, “look Mommy!” and pointed to the laptop with several buttons from the keyboard scattered around the room.

Brett tinkered with it for nearly an hour and determined that too many pieces were snapped off and not a single key could be replaced. We are still not sure if it can be repaired or used again.

I smoldered at the dinner table while I thought about the computer. I also thought about the pen that Kai had snapped in half yesterday, dumping half of the ink on my carpet and the other half on my favorite quilt.

I could not get the kids in bed fast enough and then I aggressively cleaned my kitchen in a huff. It didn’t make me feel better.

As I walked through the living room on the way downstairs I stopped at the piano. When I really need to unwind or let off some steam, pounding it out on the piano is just what I need.

I didn’t have anything in mind to play so I reached into one of my bags stuffed with music and pulled out a book. I threw it up on the piano and flipped it open to one of the songs I was familiar with. As I started to play I felt the tension leaving, but the sadness building. It took me a minute to realize that I was playing a song that I played years ago at the funeral for a baby girl. The mother was the little sister of a friend of mine and it was her second child and her second funeral as a mother. It was also the last child they would have because of their fear of burying another baby. I don’t remember all of the details, but because of an incompatibility genetically, their chances of having a baby that did not get terminally sick were very low. I remember keeping it together as I viewed their beautiful baby girl in her coffin, as I played “Love One Another” as the family entered the chapel, as I played “In the Arms of His Love” as a special number, and as I played, “Families Can Be Together Forever” as the coffin was carried to the hearse. As soon as the chapel doors shut behind the last family member I collapsed into tears.

I went straight home and scooped up my three babies and smothered them in kisses.

I also smothered Kai in kisses tonight as I went to check on him a couple of hours after putting him to bed. He had awakened and Lincoln had just finished reading to him. He was finally drowsy again and starting to drift off to sleep. He gave me a tired half-smile and wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

“I love you Kai,” I said.

“Yuh you too,” he softly replied.

I thank a loving Heavenly Father for guiding me to pull out my old piano book tonight so that I could be reminded of the blessings in my life. Carpet, quilts, and computers are temporary. I would give them all up in a heartbeat for the promise of endless more nights of hugs, kisses, and “I yuh you too"’s.

We had joined a family in town for a Memorial Day barbecue and I couldn’t help but notice my daughter’s attempts to catch the eye of her classmate.

“Mmmm, sure,” he replied without turning his head to see new glasses that she was referring to. He couldn’t have been less interested.

I saw disappointment briefly flash across her face before she shrugged and skipped away to find someone else to show her new frames to.

I wanted to take the little boy’s hand and turn him around and point to her glasses and say, “See! See how cute they are? Don’t they frame her eyes so beautifully and bring out the natural blush color in her cheeks? Can’t you see that?!”

I cared more than she did. I didn’t want her to feel hurt or rejection, until I realized…she didn’t. She had moved on. She was now singing and twirling in the other corner of the yard.

How many times have I told my children, “don’t worry what anyone else thinks!”? Too many. I am now wondering if caring what others think is something kids learn from adults.

Next time someone hurts my feelings I am going to try shrugging, smiling, and skipping off. I think it will feel great!

Yes, you read that right.

I realized today that my inner me and my outer me are a little out of sync. My inner me cusses like a sailor and my outer me cringes at the utterance of most swear words.

My internal voice has had the vocabulary of a Hell’s Angel since my early teenage years, but rarely does it break free and slide past my lips. I am sure most (with the exception of a couple of friends from my middle school years) would be surprised by this. Even my husband will be surprised by this.

Things are about to change, damnit!

I have good intentions with this resolve. I figure if I release a little bit of the steam once in awhile it won’t build up to an onslaught of profanity worthy of a college football tailgate party inside my head.

The other day, In a moment of extreme frustration, I let a word slip (twice! Oops.) that I abhor. It is one I have made a major stink about when Brett has let it fly so he seemed more than a little stunned when it flew out of my mouth. And then out it flew again. It was probably the first time he heard me use it. (If only he had known how common it was inside my head, he may have recovered his speech quicker!)

So here I go. My little experiment might result in an even more abject inner dialogue, but “Hear! Hear!” for good intentions!

I glanced up from time to time to see to see the kids chasing up the stairs or racing down the slides. Their heads bobbed in and out of the various tunnels and tubes.

One time I looked up to watch them playing hide and seek with a young boy and girl who had arrived with their mother. I waved to the mom to show her that I was close by and watching them.

The next time I looked up I saw an old man standing at the corner of the park with his little dog.

A few minutes later he was walking very slowly down the sidewalk next to the playground. His dog running circles around him as he puttered along.

Then he was sitting on the park bench just a few feet away from my children.

His sweats were rolled up high above his ankles and knee socks were scrunched down, leaving a few inches of skin peeking out between them. He had a fanny pack on over an oversized Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. The old golf cap was pulled low and silver hair was poking out the back.

I didn’t look back down, but watched him as he watched the children play. I had an uneasy feeling. He hadn’t taken his eyes off my kids since I saw him standing at the corner. What was this man doing at a playground without children or grandchildren with him?

I had just read an article the week before about a convicted child molester who had been discovered hanging out at a city pool watching the children. Possibly looking for his next victim. He had gone day after day and sat on a bench watching until finally one of the regulars got concerned and had him checked out, thank goodness.

I got out of the car and walked a little closer as one of my children got close enough to him to ask him about his dog.

“Oh, she is friendly. You can pet her.” a shaky high-pitched voice responded.

It wasn’t an old man. It was a woman.

My heart instantly softened and my mind was filled with pictures of a lonely widow who came to the park to watch the kids play as she thought of the years she had raised her own children. 

I stepped back to my van, still in listening distance of the conversation. My other two children had joined them by this time and she was directing them on how her dog liked to be scratched behind the ears.

I felt shame.

I don’t like to misjudge people and I don’t like to jump to conclusions. It made me wonder why I had felt so alarmed when I saw this person near my children. I am sure the article I read had something to do with it, but it didn’t make me feel any better. It shouldn’t have mattered whether it was a man or woman watching the kids, but for some reason my reaction was different as my perspective changed.

This happened last summer and I still think about it. How often do I misjudge others? What can I do to keep my children safe, without letting my worry for them interfere with a realistic view of the world and those around me?

As a parent it is my responsibility to figure out the balance between guarding and protecting my children and letting them discover their surroundings and develop who they really are.

I am a little bit better at it now than I was last summer.