Innocence

There is nothing like a fresh pressed kissed on your cheek from someone that is one of the be-all, end-all people in your world; your sun, moon and stars. This tiny little gesture means so much and gives a warm feeling inside. The little lip puckered push against the side of your face makes you feel loved and makes you feel safe. As adults, we tend to let the moment slip away and we move on with what we were about to do before the peck. But what do my children do? Without much thought, a quick automatic flow of motion of the palm of their hand presses in the smooch so tight. They don't want it to blow away! "Push it in Mommy! Before it goes away! Quick!" The moment means the world to them. The kiss is their way to show this overflow of feelings. You must take that seriously. If only I could think like this.

I say it all the time, how much my children teach me. But the innocence that exudes from their daily habits and thoughts is amazing to me and I want to learn. I hope I am teaching them about common sense and factual information about this world. But in so many ways, I want to reverse my "adultarian" attitude and look at life from their hearts; their gigantic, innocent, full of true love hearts.

My children are truest of true in situations like when they collapse on the dining room floor because they are honestly losing the battle of tired versus awake. "I want tacos!" "I don't want tacos. I wanted milk." "I don't want milk!" "Can I have dessert?" At the end of these types of meltdowns, I find that sometimes I wish I was crying and stamping my feet right with them. But I am the adult keeping composure and patience. Come on, don't you wish you would just give in to the dragon inside you sometimes and just let it all out even if it did not make any sense to anyone else but you?

I love it when the little amazements creep out of my children's thoughts like someone left the door open a crack and I can see the small line of light from the next room. It's a small peek into their sweet & innocent brain playroom. They didn't mean to let me in, but there I am soaking it all in until they realize and slam the door shut. Like tonight, Kyle was so excited to tell me that he knows where the North Pole is. He was so proud and happy about his knowledge about something so important. "Santa lives near Madeline and Dakota. We walk there from their house at Christmas time when we go to tell him what we want for Christmas." He went on with his grand thoughts and details about how cool it is that he lives near us and that it's really not as far away as everyone says. Charlie sat in awe with those big eyes of his fixed on Kyle and hanging on every word that fell out of his mouth about the subject. I was right there with them, in their world of believing this magical place being right here in our very town. There I was in Kyle's brain-playroom. I was in and instead of copping a squat and staying a while, I opened my mouth. In my Mommyness adult-like nature, the door was slammed shut on me when I began to tell them that the North Pole really is far away, that Santa only visits our town at Christmas and meets us at the firehouse near Madeline and Dakota's house each year. I related to him and expressed my true understanding of his ideas. But it was too late and inside, I felt like I was destroying a little bit of innocent childhood thinking.

I believe that singing and laughing are qualities of our childhood that stick around if we let them. They must be the strongest of the traits because as we keep those, we tend to lose and completely forget the others. Today, Kyle and Charlie were playing together and in their own way, added their own soundtrack to those moments of my observation. It wasn't fighting or arguing over a toy, but a sort of music to my ears as they both hummed and sang out little bits and pieces of a song I had never heard before. It was the most beautiful melody I had ever heard and it made me laugh out loud. I think it was actually a few songs all mixed up together and only they knew the words. Who says we need to sing just one song that everyone would know? Kyle was even singing little tunes under his breath as we walked through the grocery store today. Not loud, not obnoxious....just a little sing-song that only he knew. It was precious to me and helped me groove through the aisles a little easier with my little helper.

I don't know, I suppose I just wish I was not as tainted with less than magical thoughts for the majority of my days. So yet again, I am setting out to learn more lessons from my children. To just jump into the snow drifts & make snow angels, to give validation to those thoughts that first come to my mind and to sing my own little tunes throughout my day. Although, I do have to admit that experiencing heart ache, loss, disappointment, pain and fear in my life has definitely given me even more opportunities to appreciate the greatest joys of living; simple moments of singing, tender night time cuddling, laughing, bear hugs, watching Modern Family (the best show on TV) and being invited back to the brain-playroom every once in a while.


(In Loving Memory of Irene Szczesiul; a woman who gave her whole heart and soul to her Husband, Children, Family & Friends. We will miss you on this earth.)

Resolutions

His small gentle pointer finger traced the outline my face then came around down to the tip of my nose and then back up around again. In the night-lighted quiet room at bedtime, I could tell he was building up to say something. He whispered words that I could just about hear. "Mommy, do you wish your Grover doll was never broken? Do you wish that little boy did not break the pull string? Did you tell him that he should not pull it so hard? Did you tell him to be gentle?" Out of the blue, these thoughts and feelings rushed out of my little-almost-six-year-old boy in this special moment before he drifted off to sleep. He looked deep into my eyes awaiting my response. I was taken aback by the thought process and the emotion that he was feeling at that moment. I whispered back to him that I really loved that Grover doll so much and even though my friend's little brother pulled that string hard enough to break his talking Grover voice, I still kept him all these years because he was so special to me. He smiled, but not completely satisfied with my answer, he continued. "But maybe next year, you could ask Santa for another Grover with a pull string. Maybe the elves could make you a new one that talks just like yours used to." "Maybe." I said. "But I still love my Grover, even though he doesn't talk anymore." He smiled again and gave me a big hug and kiss. We said goodnight and I left the room. Only moments later, I heard him snoring on the monitor.

I cannot stop thinking about new beginnings, clean slates, change and second chances lately. It's hard not to when it's a huge part of my life as it stands right now. Maybe that is what Santa represents for our children. It's a chance for new toys, new ideas, new games and new challenges. In the case of Grover, it's a possibility of a second chance for a talking Grover doll!! A new year also brings another chance for change and new ideas! How exciting. I am not sure if you can sense my tone of sarcasm or not. Trust me, it's there. Clean slate. New Beginnings. Hmmmm.... It's not so scary anymore as it is annoying to me now. It's feelings of uncertainty and feeling like I am going in the wrong direction that makes it the most annoying. As everyone around me was making their new years resolutions, I was going down my list of possibilities and realizing I had no resolutions for the new year. I was unable to commit to anything in my own mind.

Then this week, full of possibilities, crazy schedules, birthday parties, planning, dentist appointments and swim class swacked me upside the head with the obvious. I know I write and talk about my children a lot, but truly, my heart's focus is on them. No matter what the world throws at me, I am centered by the smiles of my boys. And so in the face of uncertainty in my life and through my recent feelings of unimportance and sarcasm, I bust through with my truest of true resolution; to be there for my children as they are there for me. Through the crazy this week, it was a realization of the routine moments that hit me hard. A little tiny hand always automatically reaches up for mine as we walk side by side in our hallway, at school, in the store. Random, out-of-the-blue thoughts said out loud of "I love you Mommy." The other night in the car on the way to a birthday party, Charlie told me he really liked being with me. I watched in awe of my little 4 year old as he and my husband played and rolled around the other day. What a special moment that was for them and I was lucky enough to look on. I was amazed when I actually paid attention at how much I really laughed out loud this week. With comments like "Actually Daddy, I'm not back in business." and "I can't take it anymore. I'm dying over here I am just so thirsty." and after I told Kyle I thought he was cute, he non excitedly said "Yay. My Mom thinks I'm cute." I never knew that it was actually a cartridge in a pear tree and that Indiana Jones is actually an Indian. Hug after hug and laugh after laugh, my children make me the happiest I have ever been.

So I have made up my mind and decided my new years resolution is to SUCK IT UP! Even among all of the smoke and mirrors around me, the crap, the paths unknown and that feeling of self-unimportance, I will just simply enjoy the happy routine, the laughing and little hands reaching for mine. For one day, my children will break up with me and the routine will be so different. My dream career will wait for me.

As I sit here thinking of all the tasks I need to be doing right now to prepare for Kyle's sixth birthday party tomorrow, I had to take a moment in between headaches to kick out a word or two as it is my therapy. After this week and this day and a good talk with a dear friend, I needed a session. So thank you, as always for reading, supporting and humoring me. Some day, I will be able to write for a living. For now, I will take pleasure in the joy right in front of me.

Holding On...

"Faith...is the art of holding on to things your reason once accepted, despite your changing moods." - C.S. Lewis


Holding on is so hard to do in life. I mean, we wouldn't say "hold on" if there was not a real reason why we needed to grab something with both hands and not let go. Hold on to happiness. Hold on that that rope. Hold on to the past. Hold on to the memories. Hold on to your sanity. Hold on to that hand that will keep you from falling into a pit of darkness. Hold on to who you are.

In this magical of seasons, I am holding on so tight to rituals and traditions. I am having the most fun I have ever had during this festive time of year. In the last few weeks, my children have made me realize that I am holding on to pieces of me and memories that were buried so deep inside my self. And with each new realization, I find myself holding on tighter and tighter.

In our house, this season has brought such special things; picking out a Christmas tree together, decorating it, hanging tinsel for the first time since I was little, picking out a new tree topper together and then realizing we loved our Family Angel so much we now have two tree toppers, gazing at decorated Christmas lights every night on the way home from school, shouting "Good Morning, Santa!" on the way to drop off Kyle at school each morning as we drive by a blow up lawn decoration of Santa in a hot air balloon, reading old Christmas stories, watching classic Christmas movies and singing every Christmas song ever written, baking, cooking, decorating, singing together, the excitement each morning of opening up each new door of the advent calendar, hearing my Mother's voice in the new Frosty book she gave the boys and feeling just how special it is to ME just to hear her sweet voice reading a story out loud, new cuddly Christmas pajamas, wrapping presents together, decorating gingerbread cookies, putting together a working train under our tree, doing a happy dance for no reason, answering new questions and telling the story of Jesus being born on Christmas Day and most of all, being together and not letting moments slip away....holding on as tightly as I can.

With all of these happy, exciting, magical moments of Christmas, I suddenly started to feel stressed and emotional today. It crept up on my like a quiet little ghost and then BOO! I found myself missing my Grandparents and times of my childhood more today than any other day this year or years before. I sat on the floor of Charlie's room tonight while he settled cozily into his bed. We listened to Christmas carols together as he lay with eyes closed and a sweet smile upon his little face quite content in that moment. I was as well, until 'I'll be home for Christmas' came up in the shuffle of music I put on. I was cranky today and felt the stress of not having everything in order for Christmas by now. But at this dark, quiet moment in my child's room, I felt this wave of MISS come over me. Past childhood Christmas's, Grandparents who have never met my children and traditions that had long been forgotten.

I just hope that my children feel the love and traditions of the holidays that I felt when I was a kid. I hope that someday, they will look back and fondly remember these days of magical moments in our family. I get so overwhelmed and anxious when the magic moment is anything but magic. I get frustrated with ordinary life and people that don't fit in to my grand expectation. The expectations I put on myself get pretty heavy as well.

And so I should really be working on one of my gifts right now or work or wrapping presents....But instead I sit here finally watching 'It's a Wonderful Life' and writing. So thanks to anyone who might be reading. Hold on to your special memories and even if it makes you a little sad sometimes to think that the time has gone by way to fast, you will then still at least have those special times in your heart.

Thankful for Moments of Gitty

''Tis the season I suppose, for giving thanks, for being "thankful." Gratitude, as my family likes to call it. "It's time for Gratitude" I hear announced once the dishes are cleared. We then gather around the dining room table after a full meal of turkey and all the fixings. We each take a turn verbalizing our thoughts of great thanks and appreciation for everything we have in that moment. And always a special thanks for those at that very table we sit and for those that have gone on to a higher place. It's this special ritual that my family does every year that we all either look so forward to or completely dread. I realize that not all families do such things, as it might be uncomfortable or awkward to spill that much emotion all over people who may just have big brick walls around them every day, never-mind Thanksgiving Day.

So it is in this tradition that I usually take the role as one of the "cryers" at the table. I guess it wouldn't be Thanksgivinging without me crying at least once. Crying for happiness or for sadness or out of pure frustration with life. This year I spoke of my gratitude for doors opening unexpectedly when others were slammed in my face. I thanked everyone for being my guardians, my sounding boards and my support line. It has definitely been a weird rough road for me lately and I just felt so much and suddenly needed to let it all just flow out of me whichever way it chose to. With the powerful explosion of thoughts....and tears, I did not want to take up more time and ended up not acknowledging my gratitude for the most significant part of my life.

With the dramatic comings and goings of many minutes throughout the day, it's sometimes hard to keep track of what needs to be done or said. My brain rapidly processes thoughts while I am in the shower or driving to work and I think how important and precious those thoughts are. This is, until I get out of the shower or step into my office at work and those "precious thoughts" seem to evaporate into thin air. So, document, document, document - I keep saying to myself. Keep track of it all, so I can remember to be thankful! Remembering the good, happy times that make me gitty!....that is what gets me through all of the other "stuff."

I am so thankful for the moments in the wee hours of the morning when the birds start to chirp or the highway humms from far down the hills below us and each of my boys are asleep in their cozy little beds. I am thankful for these moments because these children are quiet, they are innocent and cute. It's a brand new day, a fresh, clean slate and new aspirations are set. At this hour, these little bodies are warm and comfy in their PJ's. They are still cuddling with their favorite toy with their blankets pulled high up to their chins. As I gently wake them up, little smirks appear on their faces and sometimes a hand reaches out for me or full blown arms for a big bear hug; all still with eyes shut tight and squeaky little noises being made with their throats.

I am thankful for the precious words that melt my heart on a daily basis. "I just love you so much, Mommy." "Mommy, can you please play with me?" "When I grow up, I want to be as soft and cozy as you and Daddy." "Will you stay with me forever, Mommy and never leave?... except on boys night?"

I am thankful for good moods and excitement. When getting the mail seems to be as exciting as an amusement park, when a plan to have movie night makes them shout right out loud "YAY! Movie Night!!!" or when they are so excited to show me a toy they built out of Legos that they will literally jump up and down as I look at the intricate detail. These moments of pure elation, I am so grateful for.

I am thankful for smiles. Simple smiles from my boys direct to me; from across the room, at the dinner table, when I pick them up after school and they run to me with so many teeth showing I can count the lot of them....

I am thankful that they want to share with me; their meal, their crayons, their toys or stories of the day's happiest moments.

In the dark quiet of this bedtime moment, I sit finishing up this necessary account of thankfulness and I hear the sweet serenade of soft yawns and little snores. (with an occasional cough) But as I sit here, I am not thinking about the traumatic morning routine and drop off we had this morning or the horrendous bedtime routine tonight. It was a rough day with not a lot of smiles from one of my boys, not too much sharing or excitement. But I think more in this moment about how blessed I am to have two such genuinely well behaved children who get excited and gitty about the little events in life; bath-time, underwear on their head and our Elf on a Shelf. Being gitty is definitely contagious and though I may not get the same rush of fever over getting the mail each day, I am gitty about being loved by such a wonderful family....even when it is "just boys night."

Connections

It would be amazing to me if someone had gone through life without making any real soulful connections. I would have to ask myself; Were they not paying enough attention? Were they not ever in need of such a link to another individual? I would need to investigate further. I have heard people say "...I have enough friends." Enough? Really? What if you think you have satisfied all of the hunger inside of your heart and you end up missing out on something really profound? That is what life is about; you take a left instead of a right and boom! you meet someone you wouldn't have met by going the other way.
(a few of my favorite movies - just the trailers - about how connections, unexpected situations and people you meet by chance are so cool! Prelude to a Kiss, Serendipity, Forces of Nature, Sleepless in Seattle)

My husband and I went away to New York City this past weekend. It was a well-deserved and much-needed couple of days just for us. On the train coming home, we sat next to an older woman that I felt a strange sort of kinship with. Her appearance and mannerisms were extremely familiar to me and for a brief minute I thought I could be related to her. I listened as she told her story about a bad train experience she had in Italy. I felt warm with a sense of home in my heart as she spoke. Maybe subconsciously I needed that feeling right then. Or maybe it was her that actually needed something from us as she was traveling alone. I really believe these brief but poignant experiences are so important in life and should not be ignored.

I feel so blessed to have the connections I have gained in my life. One of the most important is my sweet husband. We both had the opportunity to move out of state right before we met. Without real reasons as to why, we both chose to stick around long enough for that first simple handshake. We became friends and ended up connecting in a way that made us feel like we had known each other all our lives. Maybe at some level we had. I am certainly glad other forces were on our side and brought us together. We have made such a beautiful life together.

My boys are a connection that I was never certain I would ever have. I mean, of course I dreamed about the wedding, the husband, the white picket fence....but the kids....they were always headless, personality-less. I could not even connect with the thought, never-mind dream about the actual little beings that would one day be the ultimate loves of my life. The connection I feel to them is the deepest, most soulful feeling in the world. When we picked them up at my Mother's tonight, I put out my arms and they ran to me. I felt such a sense of completeness that I wish I could explain in words. As a mother, my biggest fear in life is that time will zoom by and I will forget these moments of connection with my boys. They are able to sense when I am sad, when I am happy and when I am mad. They cuddle with me, sing to me and make me laugh all the time. I know when they are disappointed, frustrated or hurt and the best part is that I can usually help them through it. What will I do when this feeling of kinship is not so strong or reliable?

"Charlie's" birthday is coming up soon. In the quiet moments of just him and I driving home from my Mom's tonight, he told me he would like to have a Christmas-How-to-Train-Your-Dragon birthday party this year. He told me that cupcakes would be the best part of his birthday and would like to go to the store with me to pick out some Christmas decorations. He was planning it all out and with each thought, he got more and more excited. We were connected in this simple little moment in time and I will always cherish it.

I was tucking "Kyle" into bed tonight after we read a couple of books all together. He was so lethargic and yawned just about twenty times in a row. I wrapped him up in his blankets and we chanted together as we always do; "snug as a bug in a rug." I whispered in his ear "I am glad you had so much fun with Nana and Pepa this weekend." He closed his eyes and I thought he was just about drifting off to sleep, but then whispered back to me. "I did have fun. I missed you so much though." He said it with a little smile and a few seconds later he was snoring. Come on! No wonder I could not imagine real kids in my future. With moments like these, I do not think I could even dream of a more perfect moment or connection with my children.

I am reading a book right now by Katrina Kenison 'The Gift of an Ordinary Day'. I have never met this woman, but I feel the strongest connection to her. She is truly the 'future me.' I should have said I am trying to read her book right now. I cannot get through the pages without drenching them with my tears. (it was a bit embarrassing on the train today). I connect with her on many levels, but two of the most important are as a writer and a Mother who cherishes every single moment with her two boys. Her guys are older now and she is dealing with the realizations of how fast time has gone by for her. She treasures moments with her boys then and now. A part of me thinks I may not be able to continue to read this book right now as it brings some of my greatest fears to life. I will keep writing and documenting, but time still ticks by. I don't want to forget. I don't want to miss. I pray every day that I am given the strength to live in each moment and cherish every simple conversation without regret.

As I progress on my own writing journey as a new Hartford Parenting Examiner, a Freelance Writer for a local media corporation, blogging, writing my own book and starting up a website, I hope you all will continue to follow me and support me. I value our connection.

The Heart of the Matter

As I sit alone in this quiet little spec of time with my thoughts; I am at peace with myself. I wonder how I even got to this place. Many outside sources and inside voices contributed to choices I have made. And I think I realize now that when I actually pay attention to signs and signals, I can find the core of a problem, the answer to a question, the solution to a dilemma. The core of any situation is really what is most important. An apple has a core. The earth has a core. We, as humans have a core. As the earth spins on it's axis, as the tides ebb and flow, we strive for balance. It's our core being, our soul that keeps us balanced. But sometimes, we lose track of what our core is telling us and we can spin out of control.

My youngest son was having a hard time going to bed at night. Each night, it would be a major battle to get him into bed and then to get him to stay there. We would start off gentle and kind and end up frustrated, tired and yelling. One night, he whispered in my ear "I don't like my room, Mommy." I was not really sure at the time as to whether it was truth or fiction as a tactic to stall and get me to stay with him or invite him into our room. The mission began the next day when I decided that for his birthday, we would give him a new room. He is now excited about taking EVERYTHING out of his bedroom and painting the walls "blue and green." We are picking out curtains together and he even picked out a Patriots throw rug. He has been sleeping in our spare room for now. To my surprise, he is perfectly content in this storage-like room with boxes, an old TV that does not work and a queen sized bed next to his small toddler bed that he sleeps in. He does not wish to switch rooms and realizes this is just a transition room. This process was so rejuvenating and a good lesson for me. If you are unhappy, find out why and do something about it.

My oldest son gets frustrated very easily. He gets mad at himself, mad at his brother and definitely mad at me. He is Irish and Italian, so we certainly did not help him out in the temper department. However, it seemed like there was something else going on. As the persistent and curious person I am, I was determined to look into this matter further. I would watch him and analyze these mini-tantrums. What I was not watching was myself and my own reaction to his frustration. I realized after quite a few episodes that I was probably reacting worse to his initial reaction. His frustration was frustrating to me. I felt myself jumping out of my skin sometimes and saying "Come over here and I will fix it FOR you!" or I would state his name sternly if he dropped food or a drink on the floor. His reaction always worsened after my involvement. I sat down next to him the other night after an incident and calmly asked him what frustrated him most about the situation. He looked at me with a plump lower lip, furrowed brow and a tear slowly sliding down his face and said "when you said my name." I realized that I was becoming part of this problem and frustration sure is catchy! So after I got out the dust pan and swept up all the pieces of my broken heart, I decided I did not want be part of his sadness and frustration anymore. We decided we are going to work together on improving our reactions to life's frustrating events.

Getting to heart of the matter of what really makes us happy or sad is so important. Staying true to our core beliefs can be difficult sometimes, but when we do, it is rewarding. Getting to the core of any problem can be hard work but it has a pay off. And as my son said just the other day, "Biting into the core of an apple is yucky, just so you know."

Struggling for Patience

Adopt the pace of nature....Her secret is patience.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson









I often wonder what it must be like to be calm and accepting. As a busy Mom, I run from one thing to another; always in a rush, always frustrated with myself. I fluster over the lack of time, getting stuck in traffic, unavoidable small disasters like spilled milk or chalk dust.

I am amazed every single day with my children's ability to sit still or listen during crazy times. I realize that I cannot keep highlighting the times when they are running down the hall in their underwear pretending they are being chased by a Star Wars droid. I yell, I count, I threaten time-outs with not a lot of results. As I sit here now, I think about their mood, the time of day or the lack of my own attention to them during those moments.

Then there are the moments like recently; they each had their days of catching a virus and I had to bring them to the Doctor. Each had to sit in the cold patient room in his skivvies, waiting for the Doctor to come in to examine his sickly little body. They each sat, they listened, they were calm and cute. And on that day, seemed to have adopted the pace of nature. I admired my youngest son for being so brave and so willing to do whatever it took to get better. I envied the humor my oldest son still found in simple things like putting the puke pail on his head while he waited. These are the times to highlight. These are the times for me to rejoice in their ability to learn what patience is.

My children struggle with their own patience issues. I am positive my husband and I are the perfect role models for how to lose your patience. The most frustrating thing is when that flat Lego piece will not come off of that other thin small Lego piece! I hear screams, grunts and whines and finally little feet running to me for assistance. "I can't get this off, Mommy!!!" Falling in the driveway and skinning a knee really gets them mad. Carrying two backpacks, a lunch box and a coat can be a huge undertaking. And of course, there is always that one difficult jump that Luke has to make in the Star Wars Wii game that they just can't get right. As I said, I am not exactly the most patient person demonstrating my calming ability to take things in stride.

When I was in my twenties, I took up golf for a short while. I thought it would be a good social sport I could play that was quiet and calm. I liked watching it on TV, it was soothing to listen to and calming to watch. I knew my Grandfather would be proud of me, my boyfriend and I would have another thing to do together and I would develop another interest. I still believe it's good to find new interests.

Anyway, my Grandfather and I spent some time in his back yard with an old bicycle tire inner tube and a club they call a chipper. He would chuck the tube across the yard and I had to chip the ball into the circle. I loved the activity and especially the time with my Grandfather. I still think about it now and can see the look of pride on his face. The idea of golfing was all looking good from my point of view. Until....I actually stepped onto a golf course to play.

You see, on a golf course, the inner tube is not so close or even so big. You have to actually hit the ball towards this teeny tiny hole that you cannot really see. My aim was not as good as chipping the ball into a tire size hole a couple of feet away. My strength to even get the ball close to the hole was lacking as well. I was frustrated, annoyed and tired. I kept hearing from others around me, "You have to have patience." That is correct, you do. News flash, I was fresh out.

I would like to say it was a life changing event that gave me more strength to become a much more patient individual. I would like to say that. Instead, I just now know I am not a golfer and that my patience is lacking.

As I struggle now to find that new and exciting job opportunity that will make me feel whole again, I think about golf and how I gave up because of my lack of patience. I have more at stake now but I am just as frustrated. That little hole seems so far away and so unattainable. I just cannot get my aim straight, the wind is blowing hard and I'm tired.

Virtue is a trait that is defined as moral excellence. Is patience really morally excellent? I mean, do we really have to put that much pressure on ourselves to be morally excellent?

So in the meantime, I will put the puke pail on my head, smile and do whatever I need to do make this better. Moral excellence might be too high of a standard for me right now or ever, for that matter. But I am willing to try for myself and my family and to teach my children the lesson of patience; that even though the inner tube is really small and far away, you can reach it... eventually.