Plan To Be Spontaneous!

I love summer mornings… when it is still cooler outside than it is inside, dew sparkles in the blades of grass that need mowing, and everything looks and feels fresh. Most of all I think I like the idea that I get to start anew myself. I don’t know what is in store for us (which used to scare me to death- living without a schedule that is). Now it is exciting just to be. We never know where we’ll end up or what we might get a chance to do that day, and I’m beginning to really embrace that.
Martin and I discovered a new phrase that seems to encompass our lives so completely, “Plan to be Spontaneous!” I love it! Of course my instinct is to plan, plan, plan until I’ve worked out every detail, but sometimes that really sucks all the fun out of life. I’m learning to let things go.
Each day holds so many possibilities. Elijah and I were discussing all of the fun things to do in summer this morning. His favorites were: mowing the lawn with daddy (he loves pushing his toy mower exactly in step with daddy- it is one of the cutest things ever), going to the library, getting ice cream, and going to the beach to build sand castles! The conversation started in the garage. He noticed our sled in the corner and wanted to go sledding! I prodded him with questions trying to get him to connect that it was entirely the wrong season for that. It fascinates me the way kids think, though. They see something they want to do… and what should stop them? Certainly not lack of snow!
Today I am thankful for so many things! I thank God for my boys who teach me more about life and myself than I would ever know without them; I thank God for my husband who constantly surprises me with love and care that I don’t deserve; and I thank God for seasons that come to us with such detail we will never understand it all. What a blessed life… what a Love He has for us!

Tink's Last Day

Animals have a way of knowing when death is coming. They prepare in their own way for the end of their life. It is so unlike human nature. We fret and fight it with everything we have, denying and holding on. From what I have seen, the animals have it right. They usually go off on their own, away from everything to spend their last days in peace. What a way to go. If I knew it was coming, I’d like to spend my last days in peace, not fighting to stay here longer unnaturally. But that is a different conversation.

For some time now our cat, Tinkerbelle, has been getting sicker. Two weeks ago when we came back from a weekend trip to Seattle, she was looking very fragile indeed. Her appetite decreased so much that she barely ate anything at all. It was obvious she had lost a considerable amount of weight. It was shocking to see the numbers on the scale, though. She used to be a fat lazy cat weighing in at a healthy twelve pounds. Now she was diminished down to a mere seven and a half pounds (smaller than both of my boys birth weights)!
We finally took her to the Vet a few days ago. I was prepared to hear that she needed a new special diet, or maybe a vitamin for cats that would revive her. No, none of that would be needed. We were facing her last days. The Vet told us she had lymphoma in her stomach - which made it nearly impossible to eat. I wasn’t ready for this. Holding back tears, I didn’t want to accept it. Surely she couldn’t be dying… but then again all of the signs were there. She looked more haggard than I had ever seen her, and her escapes outside had been more frequent as well. We were all going to have to say good byes to our sweet Tinkerbelle… forever.
Nearly five years ago, Martin and I were still newlyweds living in Nebraska when we adopted Tinkerbelle from the “Cat Sanctuary.” She was our “baby” then. We brushed her nearly every day, I even gave her baths from time to time, and she greeted us much like a puppy went we came through the front door. She’s lived in every place that we have… there in our very first apartment, at my parents home when we moved in with them (both times), in our second apartment in Coeur d’Alene where we first brought Elijah home to, also in the house that we bought Owen home to (which was not our own- we were house-sitting rent free), and finally the house that has become her last home, the house that God blessed us with last spring.
I can’t help feeling that we are losing part of our family. I know how silly that sounds… she’s an animal right? They only live so long. I know, but she has given us so much. She’s tolerated two rambunctious boys poking, and prodding, and petting too enthusiastically. But more than that, she’s been a true companion. After the boys are in bed each night she finds her spot on the couch with me, or if I’m in bed reading, she is there too. In fact, whenever I am alone, she finds her way to me, as if to say, “I’m here for you, you are not alone.” She has been such a comfort to me especially in times of loneliness. That’s really the reason Martin agreed to get her five years ago. He had one more year of college to finish which meant cross-country and track meets on the weekends and LOTS of studying and school work in between. Tinkerbelle kept me company while he was away. She was something else I could love, and in return she loved me so unconditionally.
Today is her last day. It seems so strange to set a time to it. We considered letting her go in the wild somewhere, but it would be more pain and struggle for her that way, since she has no claws and can’t eat anything. So the date and time is set. Tonight at five-thirty we’ll drive to the Vet to say our last goodbyes.
We are truly going to miss you Tink! You have been a sweet part of our family.

Note: Did you know cats are the only animals that smile with their eyes?
I'm going to miss Tink's beautiful green eyes slanting into that happy "smile."

Reflections

The thing about having a lot of time alone is that it gives me too much time to think. This can be a good thing, but sometimes in the world of thoughts it is dangerous. On our own, what we think to be true may not be true at all, and living so internally isn't healthy. Some days this causes me to believe the negative twisted thoughts my mind has created, that I am worthless, hopeless, and life is meaningless. what a pit of despair! And of course all of those things would be true without Jesus.
With that realization I kind of have to smack myself in the face and say, "wake up!" Because I know if I let myself, my whole life could pass me by. I could miss everything if I let myself believe the lies.
All this reflection has made me see how ungrateful I've been. Yes, it's been a rough year, not just for me but for thousands. I've seen so many ups and downs this year it's made me dizzy. I miss my friends, my family, my "normal" life...whatever that is. But along the way I have missed some things- some really great things that I won't ever get back.
I never know when it's going to be a rough day. In fact every day I can pretty count on being challenging, but the great thing is with embracing that challenge I can find joy again.
A few nights ago it hit me hard. It had been a long day. elijah took a late nap, which meant he'd have an even later bedtime, and Owen woke up from already being in bed at around 8:30. I held Owen on the couch. He laid his head on my shoulder, just wanting to be held, I think. Elijah sat at the table coloring in his favorite Lightning Mcqueen coloring set. It was a moment, one I had imagined and dreamed of finding full of peace and joy and budding with contentment. I embraced it. After all how long had it been since Owen wanted to sit still long enough to cuddle? and elijah almost never sticks with one activity longer than twenty minutes. This was bliss. I had both of my beautiful children happy and glowing right within reach.

I don't want to miss anything else. I want to always act out of love and accept my circumstances instead of fighting them. Life is moving always faster than we can keep up with it, but for now I'm tired of the race. I'm simply ready to embrace my moments- whatever they may be.

Today, count your blessings with me. I'm sure your day will be better when you do!

The First Day of Summer

The constant drizzle and grey skies proclaim nothing of “The First Day of Summer.” I guess the weather forgot to check the calendar. It’s supposed to be sunny now… remember weather? The rest of the country is in bathing suits and off enjoying long hours at the beach, but here in the North West on the first day of summer, I’m in jeans and a sweatshirt. Oh yeah, and don’t forget the cozy socks and quilt to cuddle under as soon as the wind is shut safely outside the door.
Okay, it’s not all ranting and raving… I actually enjoy all four seasons here. In fact, on this first day of summer, I may have started my very own little tradition, today. At least I hope it will become one.
The rain has caused everything in our yard to come to life, to turn three shades of green, and our roses have opened up to give us their very first greeting of the season. One of my favorite things about living here as a child was the fantastic spring and summer bouquets my mom would bring in from our very own yard. She’d place them proudly on the table, arranging them as if she were a paid florist.
As I walked to get the mail today, I noticed several red blooms from our rose bushes. They were calling out to me, pining to be plucked, to be part of the first bouquet to sit on my windowsill. I thought about cutting them just then, but realized it would be more than challenging with a baby on my hip and a three year old wanting the “help.” Later I told myself. And later came just before the sun went down (well I guess I couldn’t really tell since we never saw the sun at all today and the sky just turned a slightly darker shade of grey, but it was after the boys were in bed anyways). I got out my rose pruners and a small vase, clipped a large blossom, some that hadn’t yet opened, and one that was just on the brink of something spectacular. I like to choose them at all three different stages; it makes the bouquet more interesting, less commercial looking, and last longer with continual budding.
After arranging the freshly cut flowers and adding some water to the vase, I set them on my windowsill. They are exquisite. As I look at them I feel my mom’s sense of pride, her joy, I feel more at home then I did only minutes ago. Even the roses shake the rain from their velvety petals as they settle into their new residence. It is summer; there is no denying that. My hope, as you may have guessed, is that every year on the first day of Summer, my roses will pine to be plucked, and I will bring in the most beautiful and first bouquet of the season that will make my house feel more like home all over again.

This n' That Conratulations!

I am sitting at a small children's table at the library... the closest place to get Internet access. I love being in the atmosphere where books line the walls and children eagerly grab for them. My love for reading and books has grown enormously over the past year and is growing greater still, though I believe it has always been a core part of my being. I knew how to read before I even went to preschool, but that's besides the point.
I wish I had more time... this is always my wish. More time to write, to think, to read to be.

Elijah is playing some kind of Barney game on the computer next to me. I don't think he knows how to play it, but it is keeping him entertained.

Martin is taking his turn with Owen around the Children's section. He's getting rather difficult now, Owen I mean. He wants so badly to be able to walk and play like all the other babies a head shorter and five pounds smaller than him, but still her crawls. I'm just as eager. It is such a frustration for us both to go to the park and he constantly says, "play, play," but I can't just let him crawl through the bark chips on his hands and knees! Soon enough, soon enough.

This friday is our fifth Anniversary and my brother's graduation from the Master's program at Eastern University... what a smarty pants! And his little baby will be two weeks old tomorrow! Wow how has life slipped so easily? Are we really all so grown up now?
I'm hoping for an evening of reconnection friday night... no schedule to keep, just me and my honey talking and catching up with this life that has gone on so quickly without my permission. A few months ago I bought a box of 50 tealight candles and I plan to use all of them, dropping them in baby jars and placing them throughout the house. Doesn't that sound beautiful? I've been daydreaming of it constantly.

Happy Anniversary US! And Congrats to my big brother who never fails to make me proud!

Baby Aletheia is Here!

Every woman labors differently. And the entire process of pregnancy to birth and delivery... the whole package still amazes me. God certainly designed it all perfectly. My birth stories are completely different from yours and every other woman in the world. That too is amazing and wonderful. And Tanya's story from my point of view would hardly be accurate, but I can tell you what I saw, what I heard and what I experienced as I waited for my second niece to be born.

Wednesday morning I got a call from my brother. They were on there way to the hospital- it was time! Her water broke shortly after arriving at the hospital- a great sign! I could hardly hold in my excitement, so while I waited for Martin to get some sleep and Owen to get a nap as well, I did the only thing I could think to busy myself and yet still be productive. I made muffins. I mashed bananas, measured flour, and poured the mixture into paper cups as I daydreamed of the miracle about to happen just minutes away. I couldn't wait. For me, birth has a very positive connotation. this isn't true of course for all women. I can't help thinking of the connection to our creator, the way he equipped us all with the empowering task that men will never fully understand. It gives me chills just thinking of it now.

We arrived at the hospital sometime after lunch. I was so proud of my brother for remaining his calm usual self, comforting his laboring wife, but I was even more proud of her. She kept her breathing controlled, staying on top of each contraction. Great Job Tanya! Though we are equipped to handle it, labor is called labor for a reason. It isn't an easy experience. We watched the contractions rise and fall on the monitor...amazing. I was so grateful to be able to be a part of this. The only other births I had been to were my own.

Tanya labored and breathed for hours and hours. We all wondered whether this baby would ever come out. I won't go in to all the details for like I said before that is not my story to tell. I was there to wait, to comfort, to love. At 1:01 am Thursday morning, Aletheia graced us with her presence. The first time I saw her, she was in my brother's strong arms, bundled in blankets, wearing a white hospital hat. All I could see of her was her delicate face- Tanya's lips and all the other features a perfect mix of the two. She blinked a greeting to me, and I got a glimpse of her cloudy eyes (which will most likely turn to blue). What a reward! After waiting all day, just to see her was all I needed! I can't wait to see her grow and watch my brother and friend (sister-in-law) join me on this journey called parenthood. It is quite a ride, but they are off to a good start. I could tell the next day when we went back to visit. Though Aletheia was under that blue light to help with her jaundice, the whole room felt unusually calm. Her special baby sunglasses made me smile. Her tiny cry was almost laughable, so cute compared to what I'm used to. It only took a few rubs and pats and she quieted down. This is going to be one laid back family.
Congratulations James and Tanya!

Aletheia (Greek for truth)
8 lbs. 1oz.
she is beautiful!

(sorry I don't have any pictures downloaded yet)!

Everything Days and Nothing Days

My weeks are compiled of what I call everything days and nothing days. On everything days I find myself doing everything from sun up to sun down. Those days are like a three ring circus and I am keeping it all running- the tight rope, the juggling, the dancing elephants, the whole enchilada. We eat a good breakfast, get everyone changed or to the potty. Getting out the door is always the very worst part. I don’t know why, but that is the point at which I feel like screaming or perhaps throwing something through the front window. No body has socks on even though I’ve requested it three times and repeated exactly where to find them. I think it’s the pressure of getting somewhere on time that really kills me. I hate being late, but my kids haven’t acquired any connection to their actions with what time of day it is or whether we show up somewhere when the sun is up or down or wherever. In fact time makes completely no sense to them at all. Elijah often makes statements like, “I saw a fire truck out my window last night.” Last night, yesterday, this morning, they are all very fluid terms to him that he uses simply to refer to a time in the past that he recalls something specific happening. I have to laugh at it of course, but when I am trying to get out the door when we need to have left ten minutes ago, I find their sense of time very un-funny!
On everything days we try to fit in an activity before Owen’s morning nap, which is often a challenge and usually ends up backfiring on us. If we leave the house somewhere around eight, we have a good chance of getting something done and returning for a nine or nine-thirty nap. Then again, who can manage to get out of the house by eight in the morning? So he ends up taking a nap at ten or ten-thirty, which throws off the afternoon, nap and makes him cranky for the rest of the day until bedtime by which point I am ready to throw something out the front window again.
The morning activity usually consists of grocery shopping, going to the library, bookstore, or possibly the park to meet a friend. I am always more excited and willing to do the non-errand type of outing. Which means we will be getting by on peanut butter and jelly for the next three days…again. It doesn’t bother me, and it certainly doesn’t bother the boys. Elijah practically asks for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at every meal. Lately I’ve been avoiding the grocery store at all costs. I used to love planning out meals and deciding exactly what menu to whip up for the week, but now… it has turned into this stressful issue for me and I don’t even understand exactly why. Maybe it’s the mixed up schedule. With Martin eating dinner for breakfast, lunch in the middle of the night and breakfast right before I go to bed, it has me all mixed up about how to plan anything in the ways of meals. I try to make something dinner-ish sometimes that he can take as leftovers to work, but honestly I have found cooking to be one of the hardest things to do with two kids running around the house. It usually comes down to yogurt or cereal for dinner and he’s on his own for what to bring for lunch. Then I feel guilty and make him a sandwich, throw in an apple and a string cheese, and he’s satisfied.
If there is more than one outing, it is definitely considered an everything day. More than two outings… and I get to where a crown and carry a wand through the three-ring circus. This does happen every so often on those days when we’ve stayed out to long for Owen’s nap, and missed the window for him to take one at all. On those days I just figure I might as well stay on the boat while it’s still floating. We go to the park, or the library. The boys burn off lots of energy. Elijah always meets some “friends” that usually more than willingly entertain him. He loves following the “big” kids around, getting attention from anyone taller than him makes his whole world light up. He’s now learned a few of the friendship-making basics such as: telling hopeful friends his name and asking what theirs is, agreeing to like the things that they like, and declaring that they are cool and should come to his house. Watching these encounters makes my cheeks soften into slight smiles knowing exactly where he gets his exuberance and shrill confidence. I often wonder if Martin was exactly like his son is now. Of course, Elijah pretends to be shy sometimes, but overall he lets his feelings be known whether happy, sad, thrilled, or concerned, just like his daddy. It still amazes me that my husband is so child-like in this sense. He hasn’t been broken by the world into masking himself. I love that. He is who he is. I hope he never changes, and I hope our boys continue to be like him. (note: yes… of course I get embarrassed sometimes by all the honesty and open feelings, but it’s much better than second guessing or being fake).
If we’ve been able to get through the day with little whining and no potty accidents, I’ve been known to get Elijah a kids smoothie along with my favorite drink at Dutch Bros.- my most recent obsession. I usually need one by the middle of an everything day and I feel good if I can also get Elijah something too. He loves it when the barista puts a dollop of whip cream on the straw for him. I watch in the rearview mirror as he licks it off and gets most of it on his face. Then he tries licking the sides of his mouth and cheeks. This turns into finger licking, and somewhat of a mess in the back seat, but it’s an everything day- messes included.
So whether we’ve soaked up the sun, or soaked up some books, by the end of the day I am ready to get the boys fed and into bed. However, sometimes an everything day also includes visiting grandma and Papa. If it’s a Tuesday we often steal Grandma and include her in our trip to Dutch Bros. Mostly because all drinks are two dollars that day, but also because it happens to be in close proximity to where Grandma teaches first graders all day and she needs a break too. We also like to take Grandma to Target with us. It’s nice to have some company while we look at things on way to pick up the necessary diapers or pull-ups. Grandma also usually buys a cookie or a pretzel for a boy who only has to ask sweetly and gaze up at her with his dark brown eyes. I count the pretzel as dinner, especially if I add in some yogurt at the snack bar and some apple juice. I hope one or both of the boys will fall asleep on the way home so I can have a little time to breathe, but then again sometimes we have the greatest of conversations. I know it sounds bizarre, conversations, but its true. Elijah will bring up something he’s been thinking about that I may have never known had I turned the radio up full blast or had he fallen asleep. Other times the car turns into a sound-fest. Owen will copy a sound he heard from big brother. Elijah will laugh his infectious little laugh and repeat the sound, causing a cycle of laughs and silly sounds all the way home. Sometimes I join in too, they love to see me being silly right along with them, and I know at some point they won’t. They’ll call me a dork or something of equal meaning in complete embarrassment that I really am their mom. But right now I relish in the fact that I am the coolest and most knowledgeable person they know. They believe every word that comes from my lips. And I am the person they come to for everything… more now then ever.
At the end of an everything day I feel both exhausted and empowered. I look back and think, wow how did I get all that done? Did I mention everything days also include laundry, dishes, changing sheets, scrubbing toilets, vacuuming, mopping, oh yeah… and sweating to the beat of my step class workout video? Of course not all of these are done on the same day, well usually not, but they do get accomplished somehow. During naptime on some days, but often after the boys have both gone to bed.
It’s amazing just how different my life looks and feels when the house is quiet with both boys asleep. I feel like me again and I wonder who that crazy woman was that took over my body earlier in the day. That couldn’t have been me. I never lose my temper, or make a big deal about something as small as finding socks and putting them on the correct body part. No, that couldn’t have been me. Now I feel full amounts of air filling my lungs easily. My head isn’t pounding or throbbing. I’m not concerned about anyone or anything, but me and my own little world consisting of the few hours I have just for me.
Now of course your wondering about nothing days. Ideally life should consist of everything and nothing all rolled together in a single perfect day, but for some reason my days never work like that. Especially now, I can’t seem to balance anything. A nothing day almost always follows an everything day. Of course it is impossible for me to spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing, but I am so worn out from the everything day that just the thought of getting out of the house again makes me want to hide in the closet. So, a nothing day consists of me doing the bare minimum. You know what I’m talking about. The kids get fed, I manage to eat somewhere in the mix, but no one gets out of their jammies. We watch a few cartoons, I let the boys get out every toy and book and box from the cupboard to play with- undoing all the work of yesterday. But somehow this brings me the strangest sort of peace. We play and laugh and cuddle and eat things that require absolutely no cooking and little preparing whatsoever- cereal, applesauce, crackers, string cheese, grapes, trail mix. Those kinds of things become our breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Both boys nap on time because we had nowhere to go. I let Elijah do an extra craft project “just because,” and read him an extra story at bedtime too. After they’re asleep I don’t do my workout, I don’t even look at my sports bra. Instead, I hunt for the dark chocolate mint Haagen Daz ice cream and put in my latest Netflix pick.
It works. In this crazy out of control circus of mine, this mix of extreme days works. We go and we do and we do all we can do, and then we rest and play and cuddle. It’s actually a fairly nice cycle. I never really know what to expect, where we might end up on an everything day, or how often I will get a nothing day, but they come and go in this strange unpredictable pattern that has become my life. I love it. Though at times I actually visualize myself throwing that loud destructive thing through my front window just to silence the chaos.