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Ancestry.com has become very popular in the past 10-15 years. I decided to join Ancestry.com in 2019. My husband and I took our tests initially and then I bought my parents the tests a few months later. Ancestry can be as public or as private as you like. You also have the option to delete your DNA results at any time. If you have been thinking about joining Ancestry.com but are on the fence, check out a few of the features listed below. I pay a little extra to see the detailed documents because those interest me, but the basic plan also gives you tons of information into your family history. One of the new features of ancestry.com breaks down which parts of your ethnicity you obtained from which parent. The technology allows for this even without your parents' DNA - which as a scientist by trade - amazes me! I love that I have access to so many historical documents through Ancestry.com. I have seen marriage records, birth and death certificates, census records, military paperwork, and immigration records.
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Legos and Laundry. These have been in my living room and dining room for over 10 years now. Should legos be in the rooms where we eat or relax? Should laundry? I say - YES. I have wanted to be a mother since I can remember. I babysat most of the kids in my neighborhood. Back when 12-year-olds could safely keep a few toddlers without any cell phones to reach any adults. Back when toddlers were thrilled to have said 12-year-old-neighbor-girl to make them pretend-school-worksheets and teach them how to hopscotch. Those were the days. Back to the legos and the laundry, there are many days where "I can't wait until this house is in order and everything is in its place and nobody's dirty socks or underwear will be on the floor!". But now that I've had one successfully leave the nest, I don't catch myself wincing over the legos or the laundry as much. See I know those cleats will be gone one day. I know that clarinet practice I hear from upstairs will be a distant memory. I know the messy rooms and the slammed doors and the "WHATTTTT?" of a teenager (with the required eye roll) will soon be in my rearview. And sometimes it catches my breath. Because I know. I know I will go from discussions around algebra to conversations about mortgages. From little league to stadiums. From junior Broadway productions to a college stage, perhaps. It's the perhaps that gets me too. See they were little, hard to believe but true. No bigger than my short arms could nuzzle. And I rocked them every night. And I picked out their nursery furniture and their first backpack and their first set of beliefs in many ways. But they're growing up. And they're SO smart. They can think for themselves and they challenge me, too. Make my brain stretch. Make my heart explode. I didn't know it could feel so good and so awful at the same time. Good that they're becoming themselves and that they're happy. Awful that I can't protect them and keep them from getting bumped and bruised like we all did. Now when I hang up that uniform or listen to the show soundtrack for the 100th time, I just smile. I let the legos pile up. I keep the clean clothes folded in the basket on the dining room table. And I hold my breath just a few more years and soak in every minute that I can get with them. How many more loads of laundry will I get? I think any mother would agree there is never enough. Written by one sappy mom to anyone else who feels this. Written when my boys are 10, 12, and 20. Written when I'm sandwiched between launching children and caring for aging parents. Written when the world seems automated and conversations seem rare. Written with my own youth creeping toward my rearview, with a coffee mug in my hand, and a knowing heart swollen in my chest. Godspeed. Honors Day comes every May and with it comes some pain Pain for those who watch from afar Pain for those who were never the star and sometimes, a feeling unnamed This feeling of reeling from dealing with life and school and kids and daily strife There's work and marriage and laundry and dishes and unfulfilled goals, broken promises, forgotten wishes And all of a sudden we are all 16 again full of both awkwardness & confidence with our acne and our hormones watching the principal hold the microphone And we wait for our names to be called 1 2 3 and the teacher didn't call it they didn't pick me Pick me or my kid? What's going on in my head? Am I rejected for their rejection? Is this about me instead? Oh Honors Day, dread Honors Day I love you when you call my name I hate you when forget about me Wasn't I good enough? Don't you see? The joke is on us friends for life is its own Honors Day Your boss, your friend group they always pick who they want to stay We want to belong we want to matter to feel seen and heard But what I have just realized What I have finally learned Is that I throw my own Honors Day EVERY DAY for myself for my kids, for my spouse WE are the trophy, WE are the shelf I won plenty of ribbons and plaques and awards But they're somewhere in a box And now my family is my sword to keep fighting this fight we call life every day so when your lovely looks up to you disappointed from Honors Day just tell them, no SHOW them, about the true trophies in life Like kindness and empathy and perseverance. Hold that baby tight. Look right in their eyes and tell them YOU are their shelf. And no matter how good someone measures them to be, they are HELD. Don't push your sweet lovelies to climb to the top. Let them be who they will be. Let them stop if they need to stop. Honors Day comes every May and with it comes some pain just let it go on and do its thing. Don't let it determine the gain. Brought to you by a trophy-winning, plaque-possessing, still-trying-to-figure-it-out 16 year old stuck in a midlife body. Honors Day is just another day. Your sweet babies are the TROPHY. Please be a kind and loving SHELF. Godspeed. I didn't know it was going to happen. He was four and grinning and hit a whopper to the grassy outfield off the tee. The crowd cheered, we took pictures, and we loaded up with Paw Patrol on the van DVD player. I didn't know he was going to ask to play every season. I didn't know he was going to grip a baseball expertly in his hand and deliver it with such speed and accuracy off the mound past the anxious batters from the other team. I didn't know I would be washing uniforms at 10 pm just to put them on him again at 6 am the next day. I never knew I would love the crisp air, smell of grass and burgers, muddy cleats, and sweaty jerseys like I do. I never knew my heart could swell and shatter all within one inning. I didn't know it was going to happen. But it did. Here are 15 things I wish I had known as a first-time baseball mom:
I think we should dig into each one of these for further understanding:
I hope you found this post helpful. I remember being a first-time baseball mom and I had so many questions and not many answers. I never really thought to look online for those answers, but I have reached out to my veteran softball and baseball mom friends for advice and tips over the years. Baseball really is a culture, a family, a lifestyle in many ways. Your child will learn invaluable life lessons both on and off the field. Hopefully, you will too. ⚾️ Godspeed. I recently finished The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah. As I listen to books on my commute, I often pause the recording when I hear a lovely or heart-wrenching quote and voice text it into my iPhone notes. With The Four Winds, I captured 11 quotes. One that has settled into me is this:
"You're wearing your worried face"
said the daughter to her mother. "It's my love face" said the mother to her daughter.
*** I chose mother and daughter instead of character names for context
As I reflect upon ALL THE THINGS (#overanalyzersunite), I cannot get those words out of my head. I am embarrassed (or not?) to tell you the number of times one of my 3 boys has asked "are you okay mom? Your face looks funny like you're mad at me or worried." All the while, I'm thinking "I am cooking supper, I have just folded a million tiny boxer briefs, I signed your agenda, AND I am making a conscious effort to smile ever so slightly." I realize as I pass the hall mirror that my forced smile is only on the bottom half of my face and that the top half is riddled with the heavy and the unknown that I am carrying that day. In my previous post on motherhood, I mention that I sing my children awake. It is quirky and I don't know how it started, but it is ritual in this house. If ever a morning passes without music in the house, the boys know "mommy ain't right." (sidebar: the writer in me abhors "ain't" while the Kentucky in me knows it infers just another level of wrong that the word "not" misses). Laugh if you agree. As my boys get older, and as my therapy bill reaches the thousands of dollars, I am learning that pretending everything is okay:
With boys ages 19, 11, and 9, my Worried / Love Face has rested above my shoulders on so many different days and in so many different ways.
So what next? Is there a moral to this story? I think of my own Mama and both my grandmothers. I remember seeing their Worried / Love faces too and not knowing what they meant. I remember telling both grandmothers goodbye when they BOTH knew they were dying from lung cancer, one as a spitfire 60 year old and the other as a content great-grandmother in her 80s. Even if you are not a mother as you read these words, you have or had a mother. She may be a great mother, or she may be one of the worst. She may not be here to show you her Worried / Love face anymore, and for that my heart aches for you.
I will leave you with this. Another The Four Winds quote.
"Believe me Elsa, this little girl (or boy) will love you as no one ever has and make you crazy and try your soul. Often. And all at the same time." You either have a little girl or boy or you were a little girl or boy. If you have seen any parent figure's Worried Face, then just KNOW that you are or were or will always be LOVED beyond measure and without end. My pledge going forward is to tell my boys as much truth as they can handle at that moment about my Worried Face so that they will KNOW that it really just means that I love them. Forever and Always. Godspeed. I am the mother of THREE boys! Three boys who will all become young men with driver's licenses and whom will require car insurance. I predict they will be as busy as Husband and I were in high school between work and school activities, so I envision a used car lot in my driveway. Boys are EXPENSIVE to insure, and two of mine are only 20 months apart in age. That said, Mommy needed a gameplan for CARS (or trucks if you live in Georgia like we do). I knew that college savings needed to be different from a car fund, and I have always been a Dave Ramsey fan. I remembered Dave saying that he would match whatever his children saved for a vehicle, and I really liked that idea. I wasn't 100% sure what I was doing, but I wanted to have an account open to at least get started. I will lay out how I use the car fund system in our household. The boys have never known any differently than this, so it has worked well. If you are starting this with older children, there might be some mutiny and a learning curve at the beginning.
A few closing thoughts:
I hope you consider starting a car fund. You can even use these tips if you don't have children. Use them for yourself! All of us can benefit from these basic principles. Happy Saving and Godspeed. I started these accounts for my boys when Braden was a baby, Jake was 2, and Cameron was 10. This just shows I practice what I preach and it has worked well for our family. Best of luck as you save for your kiddos! Less Stress is Always Best!!! |