"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.