Click on image!

Had I not just won this in a giveaway, I’d be buying it, because, well, it’s awesome, isn’t it? This print is going to be perfect for guiding me as I continue to try to be a good mom to my boys, and I’ll probably be framing and displaying it smack dab in my kitchen (or maybe another room, haven’t decided yet), so I can keep myself on track.

You like? Click on the image, and you’ll land on the etsy shop of Chrissie Grace, the wonder woman who made this, and you’ll also have the good fortune of seeing all her other inspirational work. The I Believe print is a favorite of mine, and I love, love, love the checkbook covers. You’ll see when you arrive just how rockin’ this place is, and I bet you’ll want to treat yourself (or a loved one) to something grand (yet totally reasonable in price). You can also try to win some goodies by connecting with Out of the Blue Delivered on Facebook — lots of giveaways there, (it’s where I won the print pictured above).

Writes Chrissie about herself:

I am a stay-at-home to four beautiful children. I am also an artist, author, and poet.

“in His grace” is full of whimsical art inspired by the word of God. 25% of all proceeds go directly to CBC Seminole, a local foster and adoption agency.

You can read more about my everyday life and projects on my blog at:
http://www.chrissiegrace.blogspot.com

I’m soft. I know this. And I’m OK with it. But it kind of goes against the grain of what John tries to teach the boys. Example: the other day, while at a lake for some fishing, Joey and Danny started whining about sunscreen. They hate it, especially the kind that sprays, because it gets in their eyes. So, we do our best to slather faces without blinding them, but as it always turns out, they are gun-shy and get all worked up about the event.

John is sick of it.

“You guys need to get hard,” he told them.

“Here’s how I do it,” he declared, then pretty much sprayed the stuff directly into his own baby blues to prove his point.

Explanation: John is a Marine, and he’s encountered some rough living. There was a period of time in boot camp when he was so hungry, he’d eat from sugar packets in the mess hall to fill the void in his gut. He hiked until his feet bled, marched until he couldn’t see straight, and for months on end, he was worn down and challenged to the core. He’s hard. He can spray sunscreen in his eyes.

Getting hard is good. It’s preparation for life’s tough times. It’s why Joey should eat fish, even though he doesn’t like it — because maybe, one day, fish will be the only thing available. It’s why learning to defend yourself is key, because when you’ve got to fight for your life, you’ll be ready.

I get it.

It’s just not me.

• I don’t like sunscreen in my eyes either. Bug spray is yucky, too.
• I do like fish, but I don’t like Chinese food, and heaven help me if, one day, it’s the only thing available.
• I don’t want to camp — I like running water and cozy beds too much — and I don’t want to climb a rock wall or a mountain or jump from a plane, a cliff, or anything, really.
• I am hesitant to play a “real” game of football with Joey, because he weighs 90 pounds and his power is pretty amazing.
• I shy away from “real” games of basketball, too, because I’ve had few balls smack me right in the face, and ouch!, that really hurts. (I am up for a mean game of catch or P-I-G, however).

Don’t get me wrong. I can be tough. I’ve white water rafted, parasailed, driven a jet ski, completed a few ropes courses, traveled Europe all by myself, run a 1/2 marathon, pushed two large babies from my body and fought breast cancer.

Still, soft is my fall-back.

This worries me, and sometimes I fear my boys will come to know me as the wimpy mom. It’s why I choose to engage in some battles. Will I ski down a snow-covered mountain when we finally take a ski vacation? No. But I am fully prepared to let the waves knock the crap out of me during our next beach trip. I’m also on board this year for a very long road trip (in one cramped mini-van), even though my better judgment says, “Don’t do it.” And this summer, I’ll take on one-too-many roller coasters with my little theme-park thrill seekers, even though these rides give me a throbbing head and wobbly knees.

It’s a good thing there’s a John and a Jacki in our family. It’s like we’re the anchors supporting our family tree. John is at the top (of course, he climbed up there), I’m at the bottom (because I don’t want to climb up there), and Joey and Danny are right in between, observing the qualities that define their parents and deciding which ones to embrace.

My wish is that Joey and Danny do get hard. I hope they also realize that, at times, it’s OK to be soft. Because really, I’m convinced there’s value in both.

Where I'd rather be!

I quit my job, the one where I’ve been writing and editing for the website That’s Fit. It’s a bold move, I know, but in order to practice what I preach, I had to do it. You see, I tell people all the time — especially cancer survivors — that stress can really muck up the body, and anyone who’s been given a second chance at life (like me) should really try to stay as healthy as possible.

So here I’ve been, working way too many hours and virtually drowning in my workload. In theory, the job was ideal: Work in the morning while my boys are in school, spend care-free afternoons and evenings together and then do a little more work after putting them to bed. Essentially, my children would be totally not affected by my work. I’d still be a stay-at-home mom, with a little job on the side. Gosh, that would have been nice. But it didn’t happen that way. I mean, it started out OK, but then my job turned into a completely different monster. That chatty diet and fitness blog that allowed for flexible mommy schedules morphed into something much more deadline-driven. It’s turning into a newsroom, which is great for folks who like newsrooms, but frankly, there’s someplace I’d rather be.

I’d rather be playing in the front yard, watching my boys hunt for bugs, instead of on the porch steps, balancing a laptop on my legs and peeking at them in between e-mails and edits. I want to be volunteering in their classrooms and going on field trips, not picking and choosing what I can do because I’ll feel guilty if I take too much time off. I want to be watching Joey play baseball without my cell phone beeping in the bleachers, and when Danny says, “Mom, look at this!” I want to go running, instead of responding with my canned, “in a minute.” I mostly want to look back years from now and know I soaked up every second of Joey and Danny. I want no regrets. And at the pace I’d been keeping, regrets were inevitable.

This has not been an easy decision to make. For one, I’d gotten pretty greedy about the money that was rolling into our bank account — it’s allowed for a nice cushion, a lot of out-to-eats and a few pricey weekend vacations. Plus, I really, really like writing and editing, and I’ve met some great people whose paths I won’t cross as often as I’d like. And honestly, the time I’m getting back by quitting my job is going to be too much — I like a schedule, a purpose, some responsibility. That’s why I’ll search for something else. Not sure what, but I’ll find something that better suits my needs. First, though, I think I’ll read a book (for pleasure!) and attend my kids’ school functions, update some scrapbooks and let my insides settle down for a bit. Then maybe I’ll take 8-year-old Joey’s advice: “Just get a job at a car dealership and be done with it,” he said after spotting me upset about my job one day. He’s all about cars and shoes lately, so maybe he’s onto something, who knows. What I do know is that he’s aware that my job has gotten out of hand, and that’s reason enough to bid farewell to the stress of it all.

So, goodbye That’s Fit.

And, hello happier me.

Scary boys, Halloween 2008

Here’s to all the moms out there who are braving boys — the moms with more testosterone in their houses than I have, the ones with three, four or more boys simultaneously running them ragged and filling them with joy, moms like my very best friend Kim, who gave birth two weeks ago to twin boys (that makes four for Kim: one girl and three boys). For every word I write and story I tell here on this site, I honor those whose jobs are bigger than mine.

Are you a mom with a house full of boys? Tell me a brave story, and I’ll share it here.