Because Benjamin is off this week on spring break, I've been needing to find care for him Monday-Wednesday while my husband and I are at work. (We're all off the end of the week.) That's never easy when you're a working mom. Thankfully, my mom took him overnight Easter Sunday and had a great time with him on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday he is joining his brother and sister at the preschool, which offers a school-age program as well.

Yesterday when I came to pick them up, one of the teachers stopped me to tell me a story. Lucas came up to this teacher earlier in the day and asked her if she would be seeing "my Ben." She told him that yes she would be.

He handed her a beautiful drawing only a 2-year-old could do and told her to give it to "my Ben."

She thought it was so sweet that he was thinking about his older brother. And Benjamin thought it was sweet, too. It was the first thing he showed me when I went to his room.

FYI: This will be my last blog entry for the rest of the week. I'll be enjoying a few days of spring break with my family.

Benjamin had been trying to free his first loose tooth from his mouth for the better part of two months. It seemed like that stubborn thing was never going to come out, despite his best intentions and the fact that his new tooth already was popping through behind it.

We sat down to eat on Friday night at the kids' favorite place, Culvers. After he bit into his corn dog, Benjamin started covering his mouth.

"My tooth came out. My tooth came out," he yelled as a few customers with tables surrounding ours glanced over. Thankfully, they were just as excited about it as he was.

We proudly wrapped it in a napkin and cleaned up the blood in his mouth. He was so pumped up about it that he couldn't even finish his M&M-covered custard.

That night he fell asleep immediately waiting for the tooth fairy with his tooth under his pillow. On Saturday morning he woke up extra early to show us that the tooth fairy left him $1.

Since then the kids have been playing show and tell with Benjamin. When we see friends, family or even new acquaintances, Grace and Lucas will have Ben open his mouth and show off his new smile.

"He doesn't have a toof," Lucas says.

"The only sin is mediocrity." -- Martha Graham

For many grown-ups, some conversations from childhood are memorable for one reason or another -- the uncomfortable sex talk you didn't want to have or the you're-going-to-be-a-woman-soon puberty powwow.

For me, it's the mediocrity message received 25 years ago.

My aunt, cousins, mom, sister and I were spending the day together and sat down for a meal at the dining room table. Soon after grabbing their forks, my mom and aunt began launching into a lecture about the importance of not being mediocre. Use your skills and brain to live your life to the fullest potential. Get good grades. Slacking off is unacceptable. Work hard. Push yourself. Expect success.

Unsuspecting and nonmobile targets, we sat there eating our lunch and looking back and forth at each other about what we possibly had done to deserve this. Afterward, we laughed and joked about it, still not comprehending what we had just heard.

But the significance of the session obviously stuck; we still talk about that conversation, and, if I can be so bold, none of us is living a mediocre life. I even found myself repeating recently, in much smaller bites, some of that same message to my 6-year-old in a conversation about school.
Three children later, I understand it all better. As moms we want the best for our kids. Our hopes and dreams for the future are wrapped up in them and their hopes and dreams for the future. And we want it to be the best life.

Sometimes when I pick up the kids at day care/preschool, they aren't as excited to see me as I would like. Grace often will ask for just a few more minutes to do this or that. Lucas also wants to continue to play. Other times I will pick them up and they will go into meltdown mode moments after I say hi.

Yesterday's pickup was a nice surprise. I went downstairs to get Grace and she came running up to me, saying, "Momma!" I got a big hug and even an "I love you."

I told her that her wonderful greeting was a great way to start the evening. When I asked why I was getting all this attention, she said, "I'm happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you, too."

Well, the leprechauns are gone, but now Grace is onto something else to be scared about. She is scared of the people who hated Jesus and put him on the cross to die. (Can you tell she's been learning all about this at preschool and church?)

Once again last night and this morning she didn't want to go anywhere in the house without a companion. She woke up several times throughout the night and said she didn't want to be alone. When we were getting ready this morning she finally admitted to me what she was scared of. She talked all about the Last Supper, how mean the people were to Jesus and how she really was scared of the person who put the crown of thorns on his head. She did say that some of the people were nice to him, giving him water when he was thirsty and taking him down from the cross.

I thought this discussion was pretty impressive since it was coming from a 4-year-old, but I still don't understand how this all translates into being scared to walk down the hallway upstairs by herself. I tried to tell her that what happened to Jesus happened a long time ago but that we talk about it every year at this time so we don't forget.

I don't think that will help her much, but Easter will be here soon. And after Sunday she will concentrate on something else.

I for one am happy that St. Patrick's Day is now over. I'm all for Irish soda bread and wearing green, but Grace has been scared of leprechauns for the past week or two and is relieved that the day is over so the leprechauns can go home.

I don't know why she was so scared of the little fellas -- they're good guys -- but she refused to go anywhere in the house without a buddy. Any time at night she woke up, she would come into our bedroom and want to join us.

I'm sure some of her fear came from some of the things she was doing at preschool. One day while the kids were outside playing, a leprechaun came into their room and dropped Irish dust in the shape of shamrocks. Another time he accidentally left his green shimmery shoes. The kids tried to build traps throughout the room to capture the leprechaun but they never could quite get him.

It's all in good fun, and she got a big kick out of the events at school, but we're glad the leprechauns have gone home.

I was so proud of myself after I went to visit a friend a year ago who had just had a baby.

While at her home, I held her little sweetie, marveled at how tiny he was and touched his flawless cheeks. I kissed him a time or two, taking in the scent only newborns have.

But when I left, I didn't feel the usual twinge of jealousy, the urge to have another baby myself. This time, for the first time, I was content in leaving with open arms. That's when I knew that deciding to have three kids was the right choice for us. I was OK with being done.

That all changed a few weeks ago when we sold our crib. It seemed like the reality of our decision had slapped me in the face. Infancy is now behind us.

With our youngest being 2 1/2 years old, we have moved onto the independence stage.

No more swaddling, no more diaper bags, no more rattles, no more books that squish and squeak, no more bananas from a jar, no more midnight feedings.

While I'm happy with three and know that one more would be too much for us, I wonder if the maternal yearning for a baby ever goes away completely.

I asked a mom of young adults that once. Her answer to me was no, it doesn't. It just takes a different form -- longing for grandchildren.

Kids make a lot of art, and each is special. But the problem is you can hold onto only so much of that stuff.

Not sure what to keep and throw away, I asked a friend of mine whose been a mother longer than I have. She told me she keeps everything with that has fingerprints, handprints, foot marks. She also keeps a few extra things along the way.

I thought that was good advice so I bought a big Rubbermaid container and started my collection. I've kept every piece of art that is personal like that and also some seasonal things so when September rolls around again I can get out the school bus my soon created.

My plan was working until Benjamin started kindergarten and started coming home with tons of really cute artwork that obviously had taken lots of thought and effort. I hated throwing any of them away.

Now I have an answer. The latest issue of my scrapbooking magazine had an idea that I'm going to copy. The layout was titled Kindergarten Art: Artwork from ages 5 and 6. I had 12 square photos of different art creations she had made. On one page, you get the idea of the student's year in art and can see the cut faces on the snowman, the not-so-perfect letters and the colorful designs.

I'm going to do the same thing with all my children's artwork and have a scrapbook remembrance for every school year. That way I won't feel so bad when I throw some of it away. I'll still end up keeping some ... how can you not?

Last night Gary left the house after we tucked the kids in because he needed a form from the library for doing our taxes. (I know. We're getting a late start, but they're done now.)

As he kissed Grace goodbye, he said, "I'm going to do the taxes."

Grace responded, "Why do you have to go to Texas."

We are two days into Daylight Savings and I'm still not feeling it. Most years I'm eager for more sunshine after work, but not so much this year.

Because Daylight Savings was moved up now it is light at night when I'm trying to get my kids settled down for the night and ready to sleep. The extra bit of daylight doesn't mean much to them when it's still too cold to go outside after dinner and play. A month from now hopefully that will be different.

For now I'm struggling to get the kids up in the morning (and myself, for that matter) while it is still dark and ready for bed when it's still light. Mother Nature is working against me!

Shortly after Benjamin started kindergarten, he wanted to wear my pedometer to school and track his steps. I obliged and let him take it that day. It never came home.

I haven't thought about my lost pedometer since then and had forgotten about it until last week.
Excited about the Wellness Olympics at his school that promotes healthy eating and activity, Benjamin came home on a February afternoon pumped up about making good choices. The reward was having your name called over the loud speaker and getting a chance to win a prize, if one of your completed slips of paper was picked.

To gain checkmarks and hopefully win a treasure he was hoping for but wouldn't reveal, he spent three weeks eating extra servings of vegetables, not eating candy, getting extra exercise, reading more and not watching TV. He turned down Valentine's candy for a treat and picked pretzels instead. Every morning he asked if his breakfast had whole grains. He volunteered to shovel snow and chip away at the ice on the driveway. He was dedicated to getting at least 10 hours of sleep at night. He did pushups, went sledding and drank more water.

After school on the day the program wrapped up, Benjamin, who never had his name called and didn't have his slip selected to win a prize, finally revealed to me what he had been hoping to get. He was pining for a pedometer to replace the one he had lost of mine.

And if that weren't enough, the lessons Benjamin learned during the Wellness Olympics seem to be having a lasting effect.

We're all winners.

I was home all day yesterday with Grace and Lucas because he had a fever and couldn't go to day care. He was pretty much himself, just a little less energetic than usual and more tired.

Today he woke up and his fever is gone, but he still seems to be dragging a little from what has turned into a cold. His nose is running and he sounds stuffed up.

After going back and forth I decided I would take him to day care and told his teachers to call me if he has any troubles and isn't feeling well.

He's probably doing better than I am. I have a case of mommy guilt for not being able to stay home with again and give him a little extra TLC.

Ever since the first few weeks of kindergarten, Benjamin has been big buds with a boy in his class named Jack.

Although I've never met Jack, only seen him from the window in my van, I am grateful for him because he was one of the reasons that made kindergarten better for Ben after a rocky month. When I was dropping Benjamin off on the playground before school, there Jack would be and Ben would be much more eager to run out of the van and go play. Now the two eat together at lunch, play together outside and in the classroom.

I've been eager to meet him and to have him over to the house for Benjamin's first official playdate. Well, that looks like it will be happening this weekend after calling his mom and making arrangements.

Having a playdate with a child I've never met before is a completely foreign thing to me. Sure, we've had friends over that are neighbors, friends from day care who I've seen for years and children of my friends who we get together regularly with.

But this kind of playdate is all new and brings up some anxiety. Jack's parents don't know me or my family or my house. I feel obligated to tell them that my husband and I don't swear in front of the kids, we don't smoke, we don't have guns in the house and we don't keep the TV on during the day just to have it on. These are some of the same things I'd like to know when dropping my son off at a stranger's house.

We are entering a different chapter in our lives and this new experience will just be one of many.

This is the time of year when I really, really start dreaming about going on a vacation to someplace warm and sunny and tropical, where the air smells like pineapples and the sky is robin egg blue.

But, alas, we have nothing planned that meets that criteria. Next year will be different, though.

With spring break just a few weeks away, vacation plans seem to be on everyone's mind.

Benjamin's class read "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" yesterday at school and had a discussion afterward. The kids had to tell where they're going. All the kids seemed to have a place to go to: Florida, California, Disney World, etc.

Benjamin's response? The South Pole!