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Nature Walk

November 28, 2019

Today I took my three children on a nature hike that proved to be a very brief encounter with the woods. I had imagined myself a Scouts leader who could seamlessly guide my little brood on a simple nature trail. I knew was wrong when my eldest read a sign at the trail’s entrance and began to panic. There was promise of poison ivy, strange animals, and snakes on this trail! His hesitance was matched by the fears of his brother and sister who both insisted that this path could not be safe if there was actual nature to be found in it.

After a few moments of reasoning with my hesitant travelers, I was able to assuage their fears or, perhaps, just redirect their attention to the dirt path that lay before them. However, when we stepped foot into the shaded wood, more than the temperature changed. Our world was transformed. We went from blinding white light to a palette of delicious browns and greens. Twigs snapped as we walked tentatively on fallen leaves and wandering vines.

My three little ones, who had clung to me like a blanket tightly swaddling a newborn, were now venturing further from me taking in the assorted buffet of trees. Tears became giggles and observations. The thick oaks sprinkled themselves among the rows of pencil-thin trees. Our eyes followed the path of the interlocking branches which created a canopy of shade.

One ant, on his way down through the crevices of a large oak, caught our attention. We held our breath as we witnessed the fluid movements of his shiny black body. We marveled at his strategic meandering.

And then—without warning—my youngest burst into tears as he pointed out a log set to the side of the beaten path. After convincing him that the poor tree had not suffered the fate of a thoughtless lumberjack, I seized the opportunity to snap a picture of my three explorers. I encouraged them to smile and so they did­—in their own unique way. One looked to his right—refusing to face the camera. Another held up a magazine clipping inadvertently blocking her face. My first-born—positioned himself perfectly in the center and smiled tenderly at the camera.

As the shutter closed on my fifteenth attempt at an acceptable candid, we were interrupted by a text message from my husband. He was off work early and wanted to take us out to dinner. I told the children it was time to go and, for the first time in the history of childhood, they each compliantly and exuberantly followed me out of the pseudo-forest.

Casting a longing glance at the path now behind me, I sighed. “We need to get out more.”

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Raising kids who are kind, generous and thoughtful takes work! Want some help? Here's a download to get you started.

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Kindness is not weakness. Kindness is strength in Kindness is not weakness. Kindness is strength in action. 
Today we’ll walk for a friend we’ve never met but today he would have been 26. 
His life was snuffed out not because of anything he did. Rather, because his skin color was *wrong*. So today we walk because our skin color is *right*. And we just can’t take these lies any more. 
Because kindness can be shown  with words but it flexes its strength when it moves. When it stands up for others who are created equal but not treated equal. 
Today we walk with our brothers and sisters of color—beautiful color—who need to be heard. Need to be seen. 
Who need to walk/run/jog/laugh/smile/enter a room without fear that their life may be in danger. 
My children will learn that kindness is strength in action. And it starts today— with a walk.  #ahmaudarbery 
#runforahmaud #runforahmaudarbery
“Dom. Charlee. Come meet your baby brother, Devi “Dom. Charlee. Come meet your baby brother, Devin.” My 4 year old son and 18 month old daughter peered at the little red ball yawning and stretching in my arms. “Can I hold him mommy?” Dom held out his arms to hold his new little brother. 
Throughout the day, he came over to stare at his sleeping sibling; offering  hugs before rushing off to play. 
Charlee was equally smitten. With her own baby in her arms, she followed me wherever I went. When I changed the baby’s diaper, she changed her baby doll’s diaper. When I rocked Devin, she rocked her own bundle of joy. 
A family of five felt wonderful. Until—“Mommy, I don’t feel well.” Marshall took Dom to the Doctor. I put my fretting to good use while rocking the baby with Charlee by my side. “It’s pneumonia,” read the text. 
A few days later, Charlee began tugging at her ears. “Looks like an ear infection,” said the dr. “I’ll prescribe an antibiotic.” Worried about the baby, we began Operation Sibling Quarantine. Too late. 
Devin tested positive for RSV at two weeks old. 
Little did I know this was just a taste of what was ahead for our family. Dom would get sick. Two days later, Charlee would come down with a fever. Two days later, I wouldn’t feel so hot. The cycle continued—each family member generously taking his turn with a bout of sickness. “What are you doing?” Marshall asked. 
I stood facing our wall calendar. “I’m tracking who gets sick. Maybe it’s not as bad as it feels.” A month in, I stopped. It was as bad as it felt. 
The struggles extended into nap schedules, car seat arrangements, laundry, bathing, and clothing our family. “It’s our third baby! Shouldn’t we know what we are doing by now?!” At a MOPS meeting, seated across from a mom of three grown boys, I got my answer.
“It takes at least a year to find a new normal after having a baby. Every time.” She continued, “Every time a child is added into the picture, the entire family will need to get a handle on the changes that come with the new addition.” Oh.
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Want to read more? I’m looking for feedback from moms with more than one kid or preparing to have that second or third bundle of joy. 
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