Searching

What is the worst thing that could happen?

Did you think of something? Something awful?

Your fears are most likely different from mine, but I think we all share certain needs. Some things are part of our very core, and the thought of losing them, well that is downright fearfull.

I had a dream the other night (note: if you're one of those people who hate hearing dreams, sorry)... that I couldn't remember who I was. I didn't know my own name. I didn't know where I was, or any of the other people around me, and worse than that, none of them knew me either. You might think, it's just a silly dream, but it really shook me.

I think that is one of the worst things that could happen... not THE worst, no having a soul and not knowing it's name, isn't really bad when compared to the true evils in life. It's only scary. I can't imagine not remembering the people I love, or vice versa.

It made me think, though. I guess I'm at that age where I'm constantly trying to figure things out. Who am I, really? Why am I here? What's God's purpose for me? Am I really worth anything at all? Would people notice if I went missing. What if I did wake up one day without concept of my identity, what then? Would I still search God out? Would my soul still feel Him breathing through me like the wind on a summer evening?

I felt Him tonight. I was sitting on my back porch, crying to myself sort of. Why I was crying, well, I don't even really know. Dinner didn't turn out well, and there was noodles an sauce all over the floor, among other things. I just felt overwhelmed I guess. Martin was starting the boys' baths, so I took a moment to center myself.

It was calm and beautiful out there, the sun doing it's dance on the tall grass, and the breeze- just right. I let my head sink into my knees and whispered, "Am I alone?" and then out of no where, a big gust of wind covered me, blew the tears in my face and my mouth curled up slightly, for I got my answer.

He knows me even when I don't know myself. And He'll know me til the end. I'm still searching. Maybe I always will be, but at least I'm not alone.

"The Mystery of The Blue Spots"

I wish I had a picture to show you just how ridiculous my load of laundry looked yesterday when I went to take it out of the dryer (but of course the batteries in my camera are dead, and I just can't manage to remember that when I am at a place that sells batteries). As you might have guessed already, nearly every item of clothing was covered in blue spots.
That's curious, I thought. Surely I would have noticed this when I loaded the dryer. What could it be? I considered paint, since we had spent the afternoon finger painting, but that would have washed out (considering I use the best quality natural soap there is). :) Did someone leave a pen in their pocket? Nope. I'm pretty sure that would have come out too.
Elijah was helping sort through what had spots on it and what didn't. We got to the end of the load with only about five things not being covered in blue spots (one of them being Martin's batman sleep pants- he really is just a boy in a man's body)! Then Elijah said, "look mommy the whole dryer is blue!" When I bent down and looked into the dryer I saw the evidence... the only clue to this silly mishap... a lonely blue crayon wrapper waiting to be discovered.
Instantly it all became clear to me, as I'm sure it is coming to you now. The crayon must have melted due to the heat of the dryer, plastering everything with blue wax. I soaked and boosted, and washed two times. The spots faded, but there still there! Ughh! Most of the load was Elijah's clothes, many of his collared school shirts and khaki pants! Thank goodness for hand me downs!!!

We made a new rule: always check pockets for crayons, or whatever else might be waiting to ruin the laundry.

Words...

Words...

are important
they are powerful
they encourage
they communicate
connect us to each other
they can uplift us
or bring us down
they empower or
discourage
they tell a story
leave impressions
make judgements
give hope
carry us
strengthen us
tear us down
so we can be built back stronger
overwhelm
they make history
they change us
they are part of our identity
they are felt deeply

Sometimes there are no words.

Heart and mind and soul feel so deeply that words are not enough.
Nothing can be said.
No words spoken can explain the feelings that overwhelm the heart and erupt into tears.

Those are important too.
Maybe even more important than the words.

The freedom to express those feelings, ahhh, that is openness, that is joy, that is genuine connection with someone.

When you don't need the words to communicate that's when you know you've got something.

LadyBug Park

Today we collected ladybugs in baby food jars, read stories in a tent (in our living room), and made lots of roads for Elijah's cars to drive on.

The ladybug adventure wasn't quite what I had planned. Both of the boys love ladybugs, but we don't see too many over here for some reason. Last week, however, we saw hundreds down town. I'm not kidding- hundreds! We were strolling Sherman Avenue just for something to do (if you know the area, there's this little sitting park between some of the shops, with benches). So on the park benches were all these ladybugs, in the cracks, and on top of each other; they were everywhere. So I told the boys we would come back with jars and collect them for our roses -which are getting eaten and are also covered with aphids (ugh, just typing the name gives me chills- yuck those are some nasty little bugs!) Ladybugs are known to take care of nasty little situations such as these, so you see just how perfect my solution is? Free ladybugs!

Looking outside I knew it wouldn't be the pleasant stroll we had last week, with the sun in our faces, but now that school is out, my general response is: "why not?" So we went with our jars, walked the few blocks from the parking lot to the park with our teeth chattering. Luckily I had an extra coat in the back of the car for Owen to wear, or he would have frozen... for some reason daddy's often forget that kids still wear coats even when it's not snowing. Anyways, we got to the park are it appeared to be ladybug-free. No speckles of red covering the benches. But then I saw one, hiding just on the edge. "Elijah, I see one!" I hollered. He ran over and nearly squashed it trying to pick it up and get it in his jar, but it got there just the same. Then we saw another, and another in the bush just next to the bench. That little bush had several crawling on the underside of it's leaves. Now Elijah was excited. "Look, daddy," he said. "Mommy and me found a whole bunch!"

We spent the next twenty minutes scouring the place for scattered ladybugs playing a good game of hide-and-seek. We eventually came out with about fifteen ladybugs, well... fourteen and a half really since the once Owen picked up didn't quite make it.

They were so proud riding home with their jars full of ladybugs. When I asked Elijah if he wanted me to put his on the floor, he responded very quickly, "no! I want to keep them on my lap!" Owen kept unscrewing the lid to his jar and letting the ladybug crawl just to the top, them he'd put the lid back on. Once it got out and started crawling on his hand, I think it kind of freaked him out. "Mommy, it's on me, it's me!" he said.

All Fourteen and half of them are now safely living in my rose bushes, hopefully doing some good eating! I'm not sure if that will be enough to save them, but it was worth a try and it sure was a lot of fun for Lije and Owie!

The tent we put up on Monday. This really surprised them. Everyday we've read stories in there, which is my favorite part, but I think theirs is just going in there and being silly. They kick the side of it, bring flashlights in there and toys and cars. It's like there own little hide-out. But when it's story time, they listen. Mommy brings out the special stories, the ones that I keep on the top shelf that I don't want torn or stepped on, the classics, like, "The Five Chinese Brothers," "Where the Wild Things Are," and "Love You Forever." Okay, I guess I can't really call those "classics" per se, but they are in our house anyways. All three of those I remember vividly from my childhood, and they are cherished!

Note: I just wanted to point out that just because some of us are ready for the sun doesn't mean you can't still have a little fun!

My First Love

Ten years ago I met a boy in a church. I didn't know then that we'd fall in love. I didn't even really know what real love was yet. I was guarded, but curious; he was like no one I had ever met. I was fifteen.
That summer after we met seemed to crawl by. My friends and I talked about him constantly, anticipating the next time we'd all see him (so they could help me figure out if he was into me or not). He was.
He lived in a different town, but we wrote letters... yes real letters, the kind you have to lick with your tongue and put in a metal box with a red flag. They're my favorite; there's just something about holding someone's letter in your hands, the same piece of paper that was recently in theirs. There's something romantic about it. The whole thing made me feel a little like we lived in a different time- you know watching the mail every day, hoping he had sent something. And when he did, I would read them over and over, memorizing every word, making a crease in the paper from folding it up, putting it in my pocket, and then taking it out again to do it all over.
He didn't write things like other boys had written to me. He was sweet, honest, and goofy in his own endearing way. We started a game in our letters that was sort of silly, but fun. We simply called it "the question game." I would ask something like, "If you were a dessert, what would you be and why?" Then I would have to answer my own question and wait for his response. It was a great way to get to know each other.

The months passed on. We saw each other very little. But that only made me think about him more. Sometimes we'd talk on the phone, but my dad didn't like the extra three hour long distance charges on the phone bill. I got a job so I could pay for them.
Almost a year after we had met, we became "an official couple." I like to say we were courting, I guess that's my old-fashioned nature coming out. We kept our long distance status for the next two years. We even went to separate colleges. But at last I realized I could live without him no longer, so I followed him across the country (for the first time in my life I found myself without a plan). I only knew that I loved him and that the long distance thing was horrible!
One month later, he proposed. I said yes!
We got married the next June. Saturday will be our sixth wedding anniversary!

I love you, my darling... you are my first love and forever, and we are incredibly blessed! I thank God every day that we found each other!!! Happy Anniversary!!!http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1868353027124&set=a.1569336791905.76651.1190019556&type=1

Off to see the Baby!

What a beautiful day! I can see real bumblebees outside my window doing their tedious job- amazing! Did you know, scientifically speaking bumblebees shouldn't be able to fly? Their wings are too small for their large fuzzy bodies, and yet here they are a miracle right in my very own yard!

I'm leaving in only a few short hours to see the newest little miracle that joined our family nearly three weeks ago... my nephew - Xavier! I'll be staying with my sister for nine whole days helping with the new baby, entertaining her two year old, and probably doing some cooking etc. I'm so excited about the trip!

It will be hard to be away from my own little ones, since I've never been away this long before. They don't quite understand that mommy is going my herself to visit aunt Jenny and cousins, but they will be in good hands. I know they have needed some daddy time, so this will be the perfect opportunity for just the boys to do some stuff together.

Today I have let a few things slide that I usually don't -all just because I'm going to miss them. Why not let Owen skip nap-time and soak in some extra sunshine? Vanilla pudding for lunch? okay. This morning I snuggled with my two year old baby while we watched sesame street. He actually wanted to sit on my lap! Why not...

Right now the two of them are playing outside (and no one is even screaming or snatching toys)! Elijah is showing Owen how to skip and teaching him about bugs. They really are the best of brothers. It always amazes me how they work so well together. Usually Elijah is the leader, being the oldest, but every once in a while Owen will decide they ought to do things his way. Earlier they were playing "follow the leader," and doing a pretty good job of it. At two and four, that's pretty impressive! They are both in the common phase of "watch me!" And I love that God has given me that as my job, simply to "watch" them.

I will miss my kind-hearted boys, their curiosity, their silliness, and their hugs.

Wish me luck...
I'm on my way!

"Swimsuit Blues"

"I hate you swimsuit, oh yes I do; I hate you swimsuit, it's true!"

I am convinced that since the beginning of time, out of all the articles of clothing... women have struggled with the swimsuit most of all. What style, what color, are all the right parts covered, and then of course, does it make me look fat?
Since the age of twelve, I've been among the strugglers. I wasn't allowed to wear a two-piece then, but that wasn't the problem. I couldn't wait for my slim stick figure to turn curvy. Then, my blue velour one-piece with the yellow flowers made me feel young when I wanted to feel grown-up.

The next phase didn't come far behind- the phase of nothing looks good on me, I'll just cover it all up! (I may still be stuck in that phase... a little). I spent the majority of my teen years wearing what looked like a tank top and shorts to the beach. Which I don't regret in any way... in fact I'm glad I didn't have the nerve to wear an itty bitty bikini like some of my friends. Part of the swimwear problem is that inappropriate scrimps of material are passing off as accepted/expected beach attire.
I never could pull off the two-piece. Even the ones that were actually decent, well I couldn't bolster the confidence. I made two attempts. The first, I found at Target my freshmen year in college and dreamed about wearing it, and how if I just lost a few more pounds it would look perfect on me. It was sort of like a tube top- pink and black blocks of color. I convinced myself to buy it just before school let out for the summer. The only time I wore it was when I spent the day with my then boyfriend (who is now my hubby), climbing up to a waterfall. I wore shorts with it, but felt horribly self-conscience the entire time, and vowed to myself never to wear it again.

My second attempt was on my honey moon. I decided to buy my first ever bikini, hoping that only my new husband would see me in it. Those hopes were met, the two of us walked down to the hot tub at our hotel... and that is the only time that bikini ever saw the light of day (with a towel wrapped around most of my body).

So here we are again, summer is practically upon us. Swimsuits started glaring at us in January, oh the cruelty, now half of them are on clearance! I haven't bought one or been seen in one since the honey moon. Why bother? When we go to the beach I wear shorts or a sun dress, but there's that part of me that still wishes to find the perfect suit. One that hides all my bad parts and accentuates the good ones. (the few that are left after two babies).

I think I might just have a sickness- fear of swimsuits? if you don't already agree with me, you'll understand after this- So Target lured me in again. I was just minding my own business, buying the usual diapers when the swimsuits called out to me, "just take a look, a little gander... dream a little." "Why not?" I said to myself, oh yeah I also talk to myself, add that to the sickness list. I looked, I admired. And then on the clearance rack, she sang out to me, the perfect suit, or so I thought, a vintage fifties styled black and white polka-dotted one-piece! Half off... should I try it on? I did. The dim lighting hid most of my thunder-thighs, then it occurred to me, I could buy shorts to match! It was looking good. Okay, I'll do it. I bought the suit feeling very optimistic. It actually seemed like a good idea, I smiled all the way home about it, thinking about playing with the kids at the beach in my polka dots and little shorts with sailor stripes and anchors on them.

I returned the suit and shorts this morning. I know, what you're thinking- sickness. It's true. I tried them on when I got home. What was I thinking? It didn't look good on me. But what swimsuit does, or ever will. So I'm back to tanks, shorts and sun-dresses this summer. What about you? Are you crazy like me with insecurities so great you hide behind regular clothes? Or maybe we're all in this together, a little insecure here and there. We all want to look and feel great, so what's
the big deal?

Dear Mom, Thanks!

"All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." -Abraham Lincoln

Dear Mom,

Thank you for the little things. You are the one who taught me that a little thing can make a big difference, simply by your thoughtful example. You never pointed out, "this is how you make someone feel special," you just did it, and many many times I got to be on the receiving end of your "little things." Sometimes it was a card left in my doorway so I'd find it when I woke up. Other times it was remembering that skirt I'd pointed out and loved and surprising me with it. And sometimes it was choosing the kind of cheese I liked instead of the kind you like.

Thanks for treating me like me and no one else. This is an important one, and something that you understood better than most parents, I think. You are good at making me feel like an individual and always have been. Thank you for loving me for me.

Thanks for teaching me how to do my own laundry and make my own lunch, and for letting me stand on the chair in the kitchen so I could watch you make pancakes. When they are covered in little bubbles, that's when you flip 'em!

Thank you for listening. You probably didn't want to hear all that I bombarded you with over the years, but you sat and you listened. You kept my secrets and didn't make me feel silly about them.

Thanks for strawberry milk and donuts. (those were some of my favorite mornings- just us on our way to school).

Thank you for not giving up on yourself. When you graduated with your teaching degree, I knew that I could do anything too. I also know that you can do more than anything, sometimes I catch you doing the impossible.

Thank you for lots and lots of hugs. I've always been someone who needs them in abundance.

Thank you for teaching me to read, and for reading with me at home, and taking my education as a first priority. I love books because of you, and I love learning too.

Thank you for giving me chores and teaching me responsibility. I'll never forget "The confiscation drawer" where left out toys got sent to live a long and lonely life. Of course I had to keep asking you to say that big "c" word just so I could remember what the drawer was called.

Thank you for worrying about me -in the middle of the night when I coughed, or when I was out with friends too late, and when I moved far far away after a boy and you had to let me.

Thank you for taking the time to french-braid my hair, and for teaching me to paint my nails from left to right so I wouldn't smudge. "practice makes perfect!"

Thank you for your creativity. I don't think I've ever spent a day bored in my life. You taught me how to be resourceful, and to use everything for good -waste nothing whether it's an attitude or an apple.

Thank you for loving my daddy, and showing me how a wife should treat her husband.

Most of all, I am grateful for your faith, not that your faith is my faith, but that your God is my God and I know Him because of you. You led me to the foundation to build my life on and that is the greatest gift of all.

Naturally, I could never fit all I want to say, or all that I am grateful for to my angel mother, but it's easy to say I strive to be like her. When I found out I was going to be a mom five years ago, I looked to my mom for wisdom and the love that she is always so willing to give.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, MOM! and to all other mothers everywhere- let's celebrate who we are and who we are striving to become!



This is a cute little story I found called: When God Created Mothers
http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/421248

"To Teach, is to Learn Twice"

I'm not sure who said that quote, but it radiates with the truth of a great teacher. I have had the honor of many great teachers in my life, and as long as I'm breathing I will continue to be a student, forever learning from all of God's opportunities wherever they may be.

We all start out with our first teachers being our parents, whether they realize it or not. It is their job to teach us, enrich us with the knowledge they have come to acquire. Some parents get that, and some do not. I was blessed with parents that understood far beyond the norm of the possibilities of gifts to give their children. One I am most thankful for (beyond the truth of Christ's love) is the gift of reading, upon which all other forms of learning are built. They made this a high priority, and I was reading by the age of three (and haven't stopped since). I could write on and on about how wonderful they both really are, but that I will save for many other blogs. Today I am attempting to put honor where honor is due- to our teachers, and how could I do that without first acknowledging my wonderful teacher parents. (for those of you who don't know them, they both really are Teachers and have dedicated much of their lives to private Christian education).

Because of my parents, I knew from a very young age exactly how much hard work, dedication, and time went into being a teacher. Of course, when I was little... four, five, and six, it was fun to stay late after school playing hide and seek with my brother and sister and the other teacher's kids, or playing with all the toys that I didn't get to have all to myself during school hours, or creating projects with all of my mom's crafting supplies in her classroom. But as I got older, I started to notice the other side- how hard they worked, that the job never left them, and that they really cared about each and every student (and sometimes caring hurts). They wanted everyone to succeed. I suppose one of the hardest parts about being a teacher is seeing the enormous potential of a student, something great in them that is within their grasp, but they aren't willing to grab it and there is nothing more you can do.

My appreciation for teachers runs deep. There have been so many in my life. The ones that really stick out, are the ones who knew how to connect. Though, I am still thankful for my geometry teacher, she knew all about angles and degrees... thanks for the "B." But to truly leave an impact, teaching is more than just knowledge transfered from one individual to another. I believe great teachers use passion, they connect with their students and empower them by adding value to them.

I have to admit my education has been blessed, I had the advantage of growing up in a Christian School environment, where all of the teachers not only cared bout me, but about my soul, my eternal destiny. That is powerful. Through eighth grade, that's the kind of foundation I sunk my feet into, then public high school shook me up a bit. But honestly I say that in a good way. God and his perfect timing knew it was what I needed.

It was a whole new world of things I had never been exposed to. Most days my heart felt compassion for the teachers. It was amazing to me that day after day they could still teach a bunch of disrespectful, crude teenagers who didn't care about the history of the constitution, or The Classics. There were many days when I felt like standing up in the middle of class and yelling at the other students for their awful behavior. In addition, many days, if I had been the teacher I think those kids could have easily made me cry (which is one of the many reasons I wasn't cut out to be a teacher). So teachers of high schoolers, I am sending out a huge thank you for all that you put up with and I salute you for not letting go of your passion which our students so desperately need.

And to teachers of all ages, sizes, and subjects, you are appreciated. Our world would not be the same without you. The challenges you face and triumph over, that one student whose life you changed forever, and the gift of teaching that God has given to you is being celebrated!!!

Thank you! Thank you! teachers everywhere!!!

I am I allowed to name names? I wasn't going to because there's always a chance of leaving someone out, but in this case I feel I really must, for these people have impacted my life and I am forever grateful:

Mrs. Clark (1st grade)
Mrs. Johnson (5th &6th grades)
Mr. D (my dad- yep he was my teacher at some point)
Mrs. Dupey (my mom- yep her too!)
Mrs. Sayler (U.S. History)

Baby on the Way!

My sister, Jenny, is due to have her second baby this friday. Which means of course I can't stop thinking about her and the baby and anything related. Her and her husband decided to torture us all by not finding out the sex of the baby! So I can't buy anything, really because she doesn't want everything to be yellow. I keep seeing things that could be perfect, like this adorable "little brother" onesie... but of course it could just as easily be the opposite of perfect. (However, my bets are all on them having a boy!!!) They have a 2 and a half year old daughter- May, who is going to be a wonderful big sister! I'm so excited and shaking with anticipation, and at the same time I am remembering just how much life changed going from one child to two.

Our boys are nearly two and half years apart, but I remember feeling like Elijah was still my little baby right up until Owen was born. Then he seemed huge and so grown up. The big brother role came so automatically to him that I was extremely grateful. However we did watch an extra lot of sesame street movies and pbs kids those first few months when I was "zombied out" on the couch nursing a newborn. My days were no longer just about Elijah, they were about balancing, giving up on things I didn't used to, and surviving, mostly.

At first it felt like we would never do anything. We were home bound day in and day out. But as the weeks passed, it got easier, routine set in, and all of a sudden I got my life back. And at the same time, my life had gone through a major make-over. We had morphed into a family of four. Martin and I were more of a team than ever with both of us having a little one to put in the car, or a job to do with one or the other, all day long.

Now Owen is a few months past two, and he's the one watching PBS and gabbing on about the new things he finds in his world. Soon he'll have a new baby cousin to love! The family is growing... I wish I could stretch myself far enough to be with them all. I will be going to stay with Jenny and her new addition to the family at the end of May, but by then baby may be nearly a month old! (since she is due today!!!)

My prayers are with her... she has chosen to have an at home birth with a midwife!!! Yay Jen, you rock! I know that she will be strong and I hope she has a wonderful delivery. Birth is such an amazing experience, especially if you are able to do it the way God intended- naturally! I wouldn't trade my natural birth with Owen for anything!

Good Luck, Jen! I am thinking of you and baby every minute!!!

An Easter sort of day

Today was a good day. The weather co-operated for the big Easter egg hunt (...thank you God)! This was the first year that Owen actually participated in the egg hunting. Though he didn't seem to care that he only got one egg. There were hundreds of kids and I think he just loved being a part of the excitement in the air. For most of the time he looked around stunned, and the rest of the time he was trying to run of out of arms reach of mommy. Last year he wasn't walking yet, though he still enjoyed some treats, and the year before that he was only a couple months old. So, yay for Owen's first Egg hunt!

It finally felt like spring was going to "stick" this morning when we went outside. I let the boys run around the yard with their Easter baskets before we left for three reasons. First I wanted pictures of them before anyone grumped out, second they had plenty of energy, and thirdly, we had extra time to kill due to us all being so excited for this wonderful day.

They chased each other in the grass, and practiced their Caribou calls (I'm sure all of our neighbors loved that)! This came about from one of their favorite movies "The Polar Express." There's a part on the movie where thousands of Caribou are blocking the train tracks and the conductor pulls the engineer's beard making him screech and scare the Caribou. This is their favorite scene. They love imitating that screeching sound as loudly as they can!

After the hunt we went grocery shopping, then came home and had a picnic in our front yard. We all soaked up the sunshine hoping and wishing that it will stay forever!!! OF course, the boys didn't stay on the blanket long. After a few minutes, socks were thrown and bare feet were running through the prickly green grass and the air was full of high-pitched laughter. Martin stared falling asleep (since he'd been up all night working the night shift). I just looked at my family smiling. I wish every day could be like this. Carefree and sunny, how blessed I am.

I hope all of you have a wonderful Easter holiday. Count your blessings and remember the true reason we celebrate this weekend and everyday of our lives- Our risen Savior!!!

The Blessing

My house is quiet and nearly clean, if you can ignore my counter clutter and little piles here and there. I do anyways. The laundry is done (of course it's not folded or put away- yuck- who wants to do that) and the dishwasher light says "clean." In my book that is beyond success for the day.

Sometimes I wonder why time exists, some say it's God's way of keeping everything from happening to us at once. However, there are moments when everything does happen at once and time has nothing to do with it. I think that's why I can enjoy these moments so much, these moments of nothingness. I can let out a satisfying "ahhhhhhh" because now, this quiet, this simplicity, is the exact opposite of my life just an hour ago. It is God's yin and yang. You can't enjoy your blessings if you are never more than a foot away from them.

Yes, children are a blessing from God. We all know that, everyone tells you that even before you have kids, and especially when you are pregnant. Oh yes, then, little old ladies at the grocery store rub your belly and tell you all about the blessing. God Himself includes that special phrase in the Book. And in our hearts we feel it the day they are born, and every day after that, I imagine until the day we die.

But sometimes, our blessings can feel heavy, overwhelming even, and we just need that extra time away from them to realize how special they are. You know what I'm talking about. Sometimes it's just a few moments to yourself, being in your world again where people speak in your language(... nobody says anything about poo). Maybe a little coffee break or visit with a girlfriend. These are the things we need in our life to keep us sane, to keep the balance, and to rejuvenate.

Then there's date night... a whole evening sometimes even an overnight stay where you get to fully engross yourself into the you, you used to be. (note: if this hasn't happened to you for a few months... it's time... you need to admit to yourself that you really are going crazy - a night wearing girly stuff- high heels- dangly earings.. will rock your world!) This is more of a warning than a note- GET OUT OF THE HOUSE...OTHER PEOPLE WILL WATCH YOUR KIDS! I'll even watch your kids, and I might not even know you. Believe me, it's good for everyone's health.

So, we experienced an entire weekend kid-free last weekend. And I have to tell you, something amazing and magical happens when you are away from them that long. First of all you remember that they aren't the only thing that defines you, but second of all, you really your love for them multiplies, something you thought impossible. How could you love them more?

Friday I was rushing around trying to get ready. I needed to pack there stuff, my stuff, shower and look decent,so I used the trick card and put in a movie. How else could I get it all done? Of course Owen lost interest in the first ten minutes and came wondering in to see what mommy was doing. "You changing your clothes, mommy?" "Yep" "Did you get pee pee in those pants?" "no," I said laughing. "oh, poo?" I laughed harder, and scooted him out of the room. Of course his main frame of reference would be one of those two things for needed to change clothes.

When we dropped them off at my parents house, they were ready to see us go. "See ya water," Owen said opening the door to let us out. "bye, bye!!!" They were ready for some Papa and Grandma time! We left easily, I'm not one to hover, but by the next morning, I couldn't help wonder about them. They're my babies after all.

The car was so .... what was it... something felt... oh yeah, quiet. There were no screams, squeals, or giggles. No food, toys, or punches being thrown. (okay my kids don't really throw punches, but they do try to grab whatever body part they can reach on each other in the car). It was different, it was the "ahhhh." But then came the "awwww... I miss 'em."

When Sunday came I was more than ready to see them. When we saw other kids and babies at the church we went to, I was wishing they were there. I knew they'd be disruptive, and bouncy, just like usual, but they're my disruptive bouncy kids, and I love them.

I almost always use the back door at my parents house, the front door seems to formal. This time as we climbed the porch steps I could feel my anticipation rise. I saw Owen first, through the glass door, sitting on the couch. He was wearing Papa's WSU hat, one of his favorite things to do. In that instant my heart was in two places at once. It scooped him up before my arms could reach him and wrapped him in the love that is continually and forever his. I shot across the room to claim my boys. They are wonderful. My love has multiplied. They are my blessings.

Being away from them did rejuvenate me, not because they are so difficult, but sometimes we need to be away from the things we love so we don't take them for granted. I had an overwhelming feeling that is hard to describe when I held them both in my arms again. I was so happy that they were mine, like... oh yeah, I get to do this great thing every day with these great kids... I get to be A MOM!

Backseat Chatter

One of my favorite times to talk is in the car. I’m not sure exactly the reason, maybe it’s that my listener has no escape route, or that conversation just seems to develop because there is little else to do. (of course, my husband would much rather sing along with the radio and sees talking as a complete interruption, whereas to me, it is the exact opposite- the singing being the interruption). However, when you have kids, car rides move on to a whole new level.

Most of the time I still rather enjoy our many car trips. I like listening to my kids’ creativity, their questions, and wonderings, and most of all their giggles. At two and four, they have entered a whole new world of “brotherhood.” Part of it I saw coming long before now- Elijah conniving ideas for Owen to join in on. I see it everyday more and more how they fight with each other, compete, share, love, support, and stand up for one another. It’s a natural and beautiful thing. Sometimes it’s hard for me to just let them be. But I know the days are coming when they need to figure things out for themselves, fight their own fights and not have mom step in and decide the winner.

Most of the time their behavior is very laughable. I feel like the camera crews are going to jump out of the pantry any minute now- my life- the true reality show. Tonight on our way home, it was just the boys and I, I was telling Elijah that he had no school tomorrow because it’s spring break, so it’s going to be a “stay at home with mommy day.” Then Owen added, “and daddy” (he’s really been missing daddy lately).
“Well actually we are going to meet daddy at the tire store in the morning, so you will see him for a little bit,” I said.
“Why is daddy at the tire store?” Elijah asked.
“Well he’s not there right now, but he will be there in the morning.”
“Why?”
“He needs to get the snow tires off his car, and have the tire guys put regular tires on.”
“oh… are they going to keep the tires on the rims?”
At this question I paused for a millesecond… are you old enough to ask that? How do you know about rims? And then I remembered who I was married to, and obviously this would have come up in casual four year conversation between daddy and son.
“Yeah, I think they are going to keep the tires on the rims because both sets have their own rims.”
From there we talked about why we didn’t need snow tires anymore, and why mommy’s car didn’t need them either, and that daddy’s car was better… for some reason. I guess because daddy would be in it. And then the silliness started. Owen took off his shoe and threw it at Elijah who then threw it on the floor. “Owen threw his shoe at me!!!” “Don’t do that Wijah!” “That’s a time out Owen!” Elijah said in a silly voice. Then they started giving everyone and everything a “time out.” “Time out to the window!” Owen exclaimed. “Time out to the floor!” “Say time out to the road Owen, to the road!” Elijah was hysterical, for some reason this was their funniest game yet, and my backseat was full of rumbling giggles all the way home.

So, even though some of the time all I want to do is get out of the car and away from the screaming and crying and chaos, most of our car trips leave me feeling glad we were together. It’s a little piece of who we are packed into a little bitty space (although I must say it looks a whole lot bigger after cleaning out the half a foot of junk that used to be on the floor)! It’s one of the few places the kids are buckled down, forced to be still, giving us the opportunity to show them the world.

No More Pull-Ups!

For along time it has felt like we would never be done buying diapers. It was just one of those things that you always need and when they go on sale you buy double because you know the next month you will still need them. Owen may still have a few months to go, but I think we are nearing the end of his diaper days, and Elijah is officially out of Pull-Ups!!! >yay! happy dance!!!!<
About two months ago I decided, okay it's time for this kid to stop costing us fifty cents a night just for peeing on something. But what approach to take? Martin suggested getting up at 3 or 4 to take him to the bathroom in the middle of the night... are you crazy?!!! No, I was not up for that. So I introduced a modified version. "Let's try just taking him to the bathroom before we go to bed." It took a few weeks to get the hang of it, on both sides. Sometimes I still forget, and sometimes he still cries.
He is such a deep sleeper that it really surprises him to be woken up. Most nights he is just a limp zombie using me as support to tramp to the bathroom. It's kinda cute actually. I've begun to enjoy going into his dark room, hearing those deep snores, seeing the shadow of a peaceful face... and after the job is done I get to do my favorite part- tucking him back in kissing him on the forehead, and saying a second "goodnight." Tonight his hair still smelled fresh and clean from his bath... how did he get so big?
For a while I was doing a lot of laundry. He would wake up in the early mornings wet and crying. But now after weeks of practice and a sticker chart the plan seems to be working perfectly... except on those nights when waking him up to go, escapes me. Our next milestone is for him to wake up on his own... that will truly mean potty trained freedom!
I had no idea this would take so long! This will make some of you laugh... While pregnant with him, I read lots and lots of parenting and baby magazines. I came across an article about potty training; the writer told how each of her three children had went through it differently and the last one just decided to do it on her own one day. The idea seemed easy. I knew at that point that all kids do things their own way at their own pace, for I am living proof of that (it took me the longest to learn everything from walking to how to ride a bike), so I thought this potty training thing would be more natural. I thought I was well prepared simply by reading a two-page article. Of course as he got closer to the appropriate age, I read books, asked his doctor, and made the usual efforts. But it sure has been a long long road to success.
And now that Owen is in the beginning stages of it, my insides are cringing, fearing I'm in for yet another long journey of messes, and laundry, and never quite being prepared enough.
But on the upside... trading buying Pull-Ups every month for taking Elijah to the potty at 10:30 every night- totally worth it!!!

Potato Soup

Rainy and grey outside... very few ingredients in my ridge or pantry... hmmm... it's a potato soup day. The first time I remember having home made potato soup I was seven years old and we had traveled from New Mexico to Kalispel, Montana to stay with my grandparents. It was already dark and way past bedtime when we arrived, but my grandma had a hot pot of her special creamy homemade potato soup waiting for us. It was perfect, and better than any soup I had ever tasted. I wanted more... I wanted to know how she made it so white and delicious.
That was a rainy weekend too, but now I make my own potato soup. Little did I know then how easy it is, how few ingredients it takes, and just how perfectly more satifying those two facts add to the soup.

I start mine with butter... because everything is better with butter. I add some chopped onions, let them carmelize with some garlic! Mmmm it smells like heaven already. Then in goes the chicken stock, chopped potatoes, carrots, and sometimes celery, a little milk, basil maybe or whateer other herb I am feeling like... and then a few minutes later...Mmmm Mmmm good- homemade potato soup!

It makes me feel warm inside and out and reminds me of the simplicity of hospitality. Thanks Grandma!

My Boys- A Saturday

I spent this saturday morning with a cuddly 4-yr-old and a not so cuddly 2-yr-old, on the couch. We watched cartoons... well I should say, they watched cartoons, I got in a few more winks while one snuggled under my blanket and the other bounced at my feet. They are so incredible.

Yesterday, for the first time in I don't know how long, they were both asleep at the same time in the midde of the afternoon, so Martin and I put in the Netflix I had been saving all week to watch with him. It took us back to times before kids, when we had no one to think about, but us. About twenty minutes into the movie, a sleepy-eyes Elijah came sauntering out. Without saying a word, he just smiled and climbed up onto the couch with us, giving me a hug. I looked at Martin and said, "Where did this boy come from? Do we really have a 4-yr-old?" Sometimes it just doesn't seem real that we are parents, that the boys are really ours.

I love how silly they are. They constantly make me laugh, and it's usually not on purpose because they just say things... unlike adults... they don't filter- it just comes out exactly as they think it up. Today Elijah said, "Mommy, sometimes when I yawn, my eyes get juicy!" Those observations are so priceless to me. I just smiled and tucked away that little moment for later.

I love that Owen copies EVERYTHING big brother does. Today they got in a fight over who could sing "Awesome God." "No I'm singing it," "No I'm singing it!" Singing it together would just be too easy! They are also at the age where anything having to do with potty words is hilarious. They make up words that rhyme with potty words and say them over and over making each other laugh. then they usually start the spitting games... not my favorite, though those sounds might beat out the potty words.

My Favorite is how loving they are. They make sure everyone gets hugged and kissed and everyone in the house knows that they are loved (no matter who it is). Sometimes Owen will mention randomly all the people and things that he loves. Last night in the car he specificaly said, "I love Papa, and Lijah loves Grandma!" It always melts my heart the most when they speak those words to me. "Wuv you mommy!," Owen will say and spread his arms out wide for me to hug him and scoop him up like the baby I am trying to keep him. And Elijah is also quick to share his "I love you's." It's his dark brown eyes that always make me want to freeze time when he says those words. I love my sweet boys... I'm going to be in good hands someday when they take care of me!!!

Canadian Geese...Really?

A few months ago, when the first snow began to stick covering the ground in a thick white blanket, I noticed something spectacular on my daily route to take Elijah to school. I always take the back way, which is full of God's beauty everywhere I look- wide open spaces, fields, mountains splashed graceful and strong in the background. Why would anyone choose to take the highway? So there are many fields I pass along the way. The first morning, I only caught it out of the corner of my eye... this spectacular sight, but everyday after that I became obsessed with fascination, I had to drive by to see it. Huddled together, stretched out across a mile-long field were hundreds of Canadian Geese... hundreds! I couldn't believe it. What were they all doing here? Why did they come to this specific field?
It became part of our daily routine to look for the Geese. "Let's see if the geese are there today," I would tell the boys on our way. They would both bubble up with excitement, "ooh yeah, mommy, I think they're there!" And they were, consistently for weeks and weeks, this great amazing cluster of grey and black- such a contrast against the white frozen ground beneath them. I so desperately wanted to capture a picture, but that was impossible. Merely slowing down to get a longer glance at them caused the cars behind me to get impatient. There was no place to pull over either. So their beauty is captured only in my memory.
When the snow melted, the geese to began to disappear. The group got smaller and smaller, until they had gone altogether. But where? I wanted to know. I missed them, in a way. Then one Sunday afternoon, I saw them. They had claimed a new field, a much larger one, and acquired more friends as well. Their new stretch of land wasn't a flat field like before, this was a few miles of rolling greens. I could see puddles in places that looked more like small ponds, they liked that a lot. But still I wonder what makes them stick together, and gather in these huge groups? I never see one off by itself, they don't even fly alone... always together. The more I think about them, the more remarkable their design, the more I am reminded of a truly Great creator who plans everything beyond what we can understand or imagine. I also find myself envying them, just alittle. I know- I just got even weirder. I don't feel that "togetherness" in my life. They way they do everything together, supporting each other. When I see them flying in their "V" One doesn't lead for long, they switch places while keeping their formation, so that none of them are leading too long. Can you imagine if we worked together like geese? Maybe I've just been lonely too long, and I'm starting to see "community" everywhere... the one thing I miss the most.
Either way, I still obsessively look forward to seeing the Geese gathered together in their special place, and I still wonder in awe that they do. I still think about my creator... if He can design this simple bird to function in this way... surely I am much more capable to work together with others- to build and support- to love and to care, and to give my life for His purpose.

*note* I apologize for not having a picture!

A Snow Day

Can I call in sick? That was the question floating in my head last Thursday morning. I woke up feeling like someone or something had taken oever my body and there was no way I was going to be functional that day. Thankfully Martin usually has thursdays off... I was hoping he'd take both boys to drop off Elijah, so I could get some rest. Just as we were finishing breakfast, my phone rang. It was my mom. No school- she told me. I never turn on the news to see the moving cancelations at the bottom of the screen, that is until she calls me. So it was officially a snow day, and I couldn't be more thankful. It was just what we needed. Martin played with the boys all day, and yes even though he was home, a mom is never really "off duty." I couldn't help watching them play outside and snapping pictures, along with taking numerous tissues to the back door for runny noses.
Almost a week later now, and I'm still not 100% better. My throat feels like fire every time I swallow, but at least my energy is back. Being a "sick mom" is the worst.

When Moms Breathe

Something crazy and unpredictable happens to me everyday. It takes some getting used to. Most days I still fight it. Really? This can't be happening! I don't want to deal with messes and catastrophes every other minute... who does. But I'm learning to accept that it's just part of the job.
Some weeks, like last week, so much happened that I barely had a moment to absorb it, to sit down and say, "wow that was awful, but things are going to be okay." (Yes I talk to myself on a regular basis).
First it was a batch of chocolate chip cookies that someone just had to help with, which turned out edible, but... interesting. Then it was the blood-curdling scream that stopped my heart and rushed us to the urgent care for seven stitches in my four year olds forehead. *aaahhhhhh* still not fully recovered from that incident- that's not supposed to happen to my kid- I'm supposed to be able to keep him safe... right? Then it was on with our normal schedule... well there's really nothing normal about it. Changing Elijah's soaked through sheets - everyday... daddy zooming in and out and having his weekend in the middle of our week and sleeping when were playing. Then there was the grocery store incident, well I shouldn't really call it an incident because every grocery trip is like this... ya know one wants to pull the groceries out of the cart and throw them on the floor or eat the grocery list, the other wants to ride on the cart like its a rocket, there's screaming, pleas for this or that, and ultimately one of us leaves the store crying, last week there were two of us crying because I forgot to bring the right card in my wallet to purchase the groceries and had to put them on the account that has no money in it. (thankfully, my wonderful husband went back to the store later that day and the groceries charged to the right account).
Sometimes I wonder, when will I feel in control again? When will life slow down? But the truth is, that's not really what I want. This morning, Owen got up early as usual, long before the sun. "Watch Ice Skating Mommy?" he said. We laid on the couch. No, Ice Skating wasn't on. He was remembering yesterday when we'd watched it together. A few minutes passed with him chattering away... "Go give Wije Kiss?" (Wije is what he calls big brother). "No Lijah's sleeping still." I told him. Then the alarm went off. "Have Wogurt(yogurt), Mommy?" "Okay, let's have yogurt." We turned the lights on, soon his face was covered with vanilla yogurt and so were his hands. When Elijah got up he gave me a big hug and a kiss and with a smile said, "I love you mommy."
Okay, I don't care that I have to change diapers and sheets, wipe noses and bottoms and give up the predictability I once valued. These boys love so easily and so simply, it just warms my heart to look at them.

The Glamourous Life

Last week, Owen found an unopened copy of Glamour magazine in my bedroom. I used to be a subscriber a few years ago, I guess I just never got around to opening that issue. Anyways, one day when both boys were taking their rest time, I decided to flip though it. There were almost a hundred fashion ideas on how to use things from your own closet and re-create them, the usual beauty tips, etc.
In that short time, I was transported back in time to when those things consumed most of my day. I used to paint my nails a new color every week, fix my hair in new creative ways, and look forward to planning a cute out fit each and every day.
Things are different now. I probably paint my nails twice a year. And lately, doing my hair consists of throwing on my favorite hat. I'm not saying I'm dis-satisfied, actually I think I've adapted quite well considering how important thosse things used to be. But then again, as I flipped through those colorful glossy pages, I thought, "Oh yeah, this stuff used to be fun."
Now that Owen is nearly two, I'm in sort of a transitional phase. I really could do some of those things, it just takes some planning. He's not completely dependant on me the way he used to be... I get regular showers now, and sleep. I guess I have to admit... he's really not a baby anymore. That's hard for me to say. It's hard for me to move on to the "next part" I guess. He talks now... he understands so much, and catches on to things that don't seem possible. I was watching the movie "the Holiday" (one of my favs) and he was playing in the living room with me. Well there's a scene where one of the characters says, "Oh My Gosh!" so what do you think my almost two year old said for the next five minutes? yep. It was funny and a little disturbing a the same time. I guess I can't watch non-kid movies when he's awake anymore.
I do understand my reality... life isn't ever going to be "glamourous," but that doesn't mean it can't be fun.
Guess what? I painted my nails last night- "purple rain" oh yeah... I'm ready for fun!