With a family like mine you get used to it.
How something’s always just a little off.
You learn to stop being overly concerned by what people may think.
Like how this summer the dog had completely chewed off the straps of Chloe’s only brand new pair of dress shoes the morning of my oldest daughter, Alena’s, wedding,
and how I had done the only thing I could think of to do:
I had sewed those suckers in a clammy panic terribly with the completely wrong colored thread.
And I am no seamstress or shoe cobbler, friends.
Good thing all eyes were on the bride.
Chewed up, sewn up wedding shoes is the exact kind of way that we Greens usually roll:
Lopsided,
but, still, we move forward.
And this is the precise type of reason that I didn’t bat an eye as we stood singing hymns at a church Thanksgiving potluck last night at Alena’s new church when I looked over and saw my seven year old, Paige, looking the way that she did.
She had borrowed a hoodie from a friend that day that looked like a NASA space suit.
It was two sizes too small,
and what I hadn’t yet known was that the hood of it was made so that it could be zipped over the child’s entire face, resulting in them looking like they were wearing some kind of tight space helmet.
Which is exactly what she had done.
While we were seated near the front of the church.
There she was
singing along to “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” through the mesh in that hood, except for the brief moment she stopped to loudly shout out,
“MAMA! TRY TO SEE IF YOU CAN FIND MY MOUTH!”
I made eye contact with Alena.
All she did was shake her head.
She had already told me just the day before that her sisters were proof that she had moved out at the exact perfect time.
A gaze to the left of me landed on my 11 year old, Tessa, who was tap, tap, tapping the table to the hymn-singing beat with a glittery set of too-big press-on nails she had just spent some gift money on.
Tessa always spends gift money on press-on nails.
Every red hot chance that she gets.
Tessa doesn’t care if her hair is combed in the back, or if her teeth look kind of fuzzy,
but those nails –
They will be on Jersey Shore-looking POINT.
Next to Tessa was Chloe,
who is now almost 13 years old.
The unfamiliar surroundings, and the fact that she could not hiss enough commands to make Tessa stop tapping, or Paige take off the astronaut hoodie in public was enough to be this near-teen’s undoing.
We’re at the phase where everything mortifies her.
So, while everyone else was singing hymns of thanksgiving,
Chloe was mouthing that she was starting to panic.
She asked me to come with her outside.
She left the room first, and I followed behind, to make sure that she was OK.
I was no sooner wrapping her in a comforting hug, though, when bursting through the rear church doors of the sanctuary with the force of a jilted love come to stop a wedding
came Astronaut Paige.
Tapping Theresa Tesconi was in tow.
“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“Please, just go back inside.”
“I need to…um…I just need to wash my hands,” scrambled The Astronaut,
but test results
(and the sound of 45 paper towels being torn from an automatic dispenser 3 seconds later)
determined that this was a lie.
I spent a bulk of that Thanksgiving service in the hallway of a church I do not know,
hugging one highly anxious kid,
shooing Tessa and her nails,
and instructing an astronaut through a closed bathroom door that
THAT WAS ENOUGH WITH THE TOWELS.
As I stood there, looking through a cry room window into the sanctuary at all of the other families still calmly in their seats,
for a brief second I thought,
“They all seemed so NORMAL compared to this.”
I wondered if they could see me.
I wondered if they could see Justin, like I could, using prayer time to slyly look up the football scores on his phone.
But something happened in my heart as I stood on the outside looking in.
I saw the other families through the glass,
but, at the same time, I saw our own reflection, too,
I smiled at the reflection.
I loved even more all that I have.
Yes, we had all come spilling out,
but Thanksgiving was being ushered in.
I thought about how much I’m entertained by Tapping Theresa Tesconi.
She makes me laugh every single day.
I realized how often Paige has got the right idea, and that sometimes I wish I had a hoodie that zipped over my whole face, as well.
I saw the image of myself standing hugging Chloe.
The baby I had prayed for.
The baby that came after a devastating pregnancy loss,
and I remembered how
out of all of my dreams,
holding my children one day had always been number one.
When we had to be evacuated from our home last month due to California wildfire threat,
we stayed in two different, gorgeous homes.
Beautiful floors, ample space,
lovely, soft furniture.
I took a bath every night that week in a large soaker tub –
A thing that I love and have missed so much since moving from our last home.
But looking around our tiny little home once we were able to return to it, while seated in my favorite chair,
I saw the warm glow of the candles I chose,
and Justin’s slippered feet.
I saw the crack of light through Chloe’s bedroom door, and knew the dog was asleep on her bed.
I saw my collected tins,
and the kids’ framed kindergarten photos.
I saw my grandmother’s worn-out rolling pin.
I realized even more, then, that in this life it is not about the size of your house,
or its amenities –
About the number of rooms you may have,
or the sometimes crazy things your family does in them.
It’s about what space and people best cradle you’re heart,
even if it’s in a lopsided way.
When I was younger I prayed for a family one day.
I had imagined myself with all boys.
I could not have imagined these 6,
stand-out people would be the family that I got.
Last night I saw through more than just a church cry room window,
and so tonight I would like to say how very thankful I am for all of the answers to prayers answered in ways that I never could have expected.
Even ones getting way too many paper towels while dressed up like an astronaut.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
