paint by numbers

We have started counting in the Swanson household.


2 months of summer have almost come and gone.

18 things have been crossed of our summer to do list, with 10 more remaining.

54 days of summer have been enjoyed.

Corn has been shucked, steak has been grilled, the swings have been in motion. Swimsuits have stayed consistently wet. Hair has been sun kissed. Enough water has been used to start a drought. Giggles have been heard late into the night. Forts have been made and demolished and made again.

School starts in 31 days.

I am a little too excited to go shopping for pencils and notebooks and crayons and backpacks and shoes.
I am silently craving the quite morning routine I enjoy after the kids have been sent out the door for school.
The short rain storm yesterday made me giddy for fall.
And as I was shucking corn on the porch I found myself exited to bake pies.

All of that confessed, I also have to admit that summer is flying by a little too fast for my liking.

So I have decided to do nothing else,
to think of nothing else,
to anticipate nothing else;

to instead, just stop. Breathe. And enjoy these last few weeks of summer...
And those kids who make it all worth while.


But I swear the next kid who hits or yells is getting sent to school whether or not it is in session.

camp normal

Every child wants to be normal.
until they are a teenager and normalcy suddenly becomes too bland and the need to shock kicks in, and they are desperate for hair dye or torn clothes, or strange music... anything that will push normalcy far from their minds. (was that just me?)

But at this moment in time for the children in the Swanson household, normalcy is where they long to be.

Since November 19th of last year, Hailey has been struggling to earn that normalcy badge again. She is embarrassed of diabetes, and shots, and blood tests, and glucose meters, and that dang pink bag that carries it all:



She won't be seen holding it.
She won't be seen getting her blood checked.
She hates an audience with her shots.
She is mortified by diabetes conversations.

But yesterday, I took Hailey to diabetes camp.

A camp where everyone counted carbs like a religion.
A camp where a bell rang and everyone checked their blood sugar.
A camp where every girl had the same humiliating, scarlet letter pink bag.
A camp where she had fun and laughed and played and she felt normal.
A camp where she came home with treats, but also a sheet informing us of the carb count.

I could see that she felt included again, less alone, lifted up, heard, understood, educated, and empowered.


And when we left, Hailey carried her pink bag.

I am not going to lie, tears were involved.

sharing my wealth

Sometimes I can be really stupid.
Okay, maybe more than sometimes.
I try, I really do, but I think having four children has caused my brain to deteriorate to the point that I am starting to wonder if my IQ level has been lowered to the point of no return.
There is the usual stupid stuff like busting my car mirror while backing out of the driveway, blowing up my microwave, forgetting to pick up kids from school, loosing children temporarily…
Those are just the everyday sort of things.
But last week, I really messed up.
We went to the library without Jonas (he was rounding up cattle with his grandpa).
He asked me to select a couple books for him. As I was strolling the childrens non-fiction section, I came across the joke books. I thought to myself, Jonas loves humor. He appreciates the funny. So I perused until I came upon this book:



The description:

"The greatest leaders and geniuses in history were mischief makers. They were the brave women who looked at how unfair the world was and said, "I can do better than that." They were the stalwart men who saw stupidity and asked, "Why do we have to do it that way?" And they were the delightful children who ganged up on the neighborhood bully and hit him with wet noodles until he said, "Uncle!"

So cute, right? Well I checked it out and a few days later when Jonas came home safe and sound and very smelly, I handed it over to him. It was love at first glance. The book stayed in his hands for hours. He told me the book inspired him.

At this point I smiled to myself and took a moment to pat myself on the back. What a good mom that I am. I totally know my kid.

Then I went to get a drink.
"Someone" had done the old rubber band the sink's spray nozzle trick so it sprays all over you and EVERY INCH OF THE FLOOR.
Then I went into my bedroom and found it covered with dozens of notes all informing me that :
"Jonas is a genius.."
Then I found money glued to the kitchen floor.
And disparaging remarks about my age on my bathroom mirror.

I showed Brian, who reminded me it was my own stupid fault.
He is nice like that.

I went to bed that night, nervous about what is coming tomorrow and also more than a little ashamed of my own density. I was blinded by my desires to be mother of the year.But I vowed to will learn from my mistake.
I always do.

Next time instead of attempting mother of the year I will be shooting for best friend of the year and get my best friend's 10 year old this little gem of a book for his birthday.
I hate to keep all of the fun to myself.