This is the part where you get down on your knees and pray…
A Different Kind of Mountaintop
September 28, 2010 by
Roughly a week ago, I stood on the most beautiful mountaintop in Austria and for over an hour I took in God’s creation from the vantage point of a bird. It was breathtaking. I didn’t want the moment to end. As Lee and I hiked to various points of Krippenstein Peak, we commented more than once how we wished the kids were there. They would have loved it. I probably would have enjoyed it slightly less, of course, because I would have been too busy envisioning one of them tumbling over the side…
Our vacation was absolutely perfect. It was relaxing and adventurous. We had ten days to talk and we didn’t spend all of our time talking about the kids, although we spent a good deal of time talking about them. It was just the right amount of time. Not too long, not too short. It was wonderful in every way and I will forever be grateful that we had the opportunity to do that.
But I was ready to come home.
Lee is my family. But he isn’t my complete family. And walking in our back door to the three little faces that make up our complete family was equally as thrilling as climbing Krippenstein Peak (or…you know…riding up the cable car. I don’t climb mountains.)
They had wet hair and jammies on. They smelled better than any flower from any part of the world. They jumped up and down and yelled “Mommy! Daddy! Mommy! Daddy!” It sounded better than any mountaintop bird. They leapt in our arms and squeezed tight…more than once. It was better than any view from any peak of the world.
After a bit of play time and wrestle time we sat on the couch. Sloan, my sweet, tender hearted seven year old looked around quietly, then burst into tears. “I’m sad that you were gone so long,” he cried, big alligater tears glimmering in the corners of his eyes.
And then my heart tore in two.
“We’re home now,” we assured him as he crawled into Lee’s lap.
“I just missed you really a lot,” he said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. And we got to explain to him about how God has blessed our marriage and about how Mommy and Daddy took some time to just celebrate God’s blessings in our life.
“But you know what?” we told them. “The biggest blessings of our marriage are you guys. Sometimes Mommy and Daddy need to get away and be together just the two of us. But we know that God gave us the greatest gifts of all when he gave you you guys and we are so thrilled to be back with you.”
After we got everyone calmed down and settled into bed, I dragged my weary, jet lagged body around the house and cleaned up a bit. As I walked back to my bedroom and passed Landon’s open door I heard a tiny voice.
“Mommy? Tan you tome hewe pwease?”
There is no amount of fatigue that could have stopped me from walking into that bedroom. I scooped him up and we sat in the yellow rocking chair beside his bed. He put his head on my shoulder, his little nose nestled into the fold of my neck. And as I rocked, his tiny hands patted me on the back.
It was a different kind of mountaintop…and I think I liked it best of all.
I’m excited, but…
September 16, 2010 by
I’m really, really going to miss these faces:
I try not to think about it too much because I know they’ll be fine. But Italy is a long way away…
And I just really,
Really,
Adore them.
Really.
I learned something about myself today
September 14, 2010 by
It’s not totally outside of my capabilities to be organized! I mean, I’m not a sloth, nor am I completely unorganized. But in certain areas of my life, I’ve always assumed that I wasn’t created to be one of those “think ahead” kinda girls. But today I totally thought ahead.
It, um, wasn’t that hard actually.
We leave in two days. TWO DAYS! And while I have a million things spinning through my head of what I need to do to get myself ready for a ten days adventure, I also have a gajillion things running through my head of what needs to be done for the little people I am responsible for on a daily basis. Namely, feeding them while I’m gone.
I am not a bake meals and freeze them ahead of time gal. In fact, I don’t know how to make a single casserole. And if I did, I am most certain my children wouldn’t eat it because they’ve never wrapped their lips around a casserole in their lives. So sorry to my parents and in-laws, but I’m not that organized.
Baby steps.
But, take a gander at this:
That’s food, food, glorious food! I shopped today and stocked the freezer so full I almost couldn’t close it. There’s chicken, beef, fish, frozen vegetables, chicken nuggets, waffles and pancakes in there. I even bought popsicles and ice cream – two things I never buy – so that you guys could come out on top and be the good guys.
How awesome am I?
Now, check this out:
Milk, juice, fruit, eggs, enough bread to feed the state of Rhode Island, yogurt, lettuce and pickles. I even restocked the ketchup and barbeque sauce, which have been low/gone for weeks.
Ah, but that fridge is but the icing on the gigantic cake of awesome! Check. this. out.
That is an entire cabinet filled with no less than 75 snack baggies all individually filled with a variety of goodies from cereal to trail mix to the ever popular Cheez-Its. Just grab and go. No thought, no preparation. If I were like this more often, folks, my life would be so much easier.
Of course, I would hate to deviate too far from the half crazy world I live in. If I were really becoming organized I would survey my cabinets before heading to The Walmart. If I did this I’m most certain I wouldn’t end up with this:
In case you’re wondering, that’s four bottles of Paul Newman salad dressing in the first picture and ten cans of tuna in the second. Why so much tuna? It’s hard to say given the fact that we don’t really like tuna. Lee likes it and he will eat it…when he remembers to since it’s hidden in the cabinet next to the trash can.
Top of the list for our next house? A Pantry!
The Paul Newman makes a little more sense. It’s the only dressing we eat and we eat it on just about everything. Wanna spice up the chicken? Paul Newman. Wanna add some pop to your beef? Paul Newman. Wanna fall in love with cucumbers? Paul Newman. Four jars, though, is a bit excessive. Again I blame it on the lack of pantry. Two of those were hiding behind the tea cups and I only found them when I was moving things around to prepare the snack cabinet of awesome.
So parents? I thought ahead just for you. I prepared something just for you. Not a meal, although I may make a pot of spagetti tomorrow for you to have on hand through the weekend. (Mostly for you – the only kid who will touch spagetti around here is Landon. Tell me, please, what kind of kid doesn’t like spagetti?!)
And now I’m going to rest my weary head upon a pillow because tomorrow’s project is to tackle the nasty surface called a floor in our home. Don’t look too closely at that last picture, you might be repulsed at how we are living (but only for about 12 more hours!)
I Said “A Boom Chicka Boom…”
September 12, 2010 by
This post has nothing to do with that title – I have just really wanted to title a post that for a long time now…
Actually, this post really has to do with nothing at all. You’re ripe with excitement to read further aren’t you?
Maybe I should do an entire post of one liners.
So there was this blogger who walked into a bar…
Nah.
We’re T – four days and counting until the big trip. I’ve had some freak out moments in the last few days, the biggest being when I realized that we might have to cut Hallstatt out of the itinerary. My Hallstatt. My preciousssssss.
I fretted and fraught (fraught?) and worried and moped. But it was a reality that we had planned way more than we could probably feasibly accomplish in our short time over there. And I really didn’t want to cut out Tuscany. Something had to go. Until…wait a minute. Maybe not.
What it boiled down to is this: We need to be flexible. We I need to be willing to cut out Hallstatt if it becomes apparent that there is just no way we’re going to make it all the way there and still have time to book it down to Tuscany. And so I still have hope, my friends. You see, the goal is to try and stay off of the AutoBahn (and Autostrada) as much as possible. We want to explore and get the flavor of the land. We want to round a curve and be looking down at a village nestled in the mountains. This means that it will take longer to travel. But it also means we’re going to have an adventure.
And if we miss Hallstatt, we’ll just have to go back, right? Deal!
Moving on…
See? More one liners. There is always room for one liners.
Too bad these aren’t the funny kind of one liners.
They’re kind of boring actually…
Ah well.
Sloan woke up with a low grade fever tonight. I gave him some Tylenol and piled him back in bed where I hope he’ll wake up fever free for school tomorrow…because I’m that mom. If you’re not dying, you’re going, kiddo.
We’ll see.
We will also be buying Emergen-C in bulk tomorrow. And Zinc. And Echinacea. I will not come down with a fever on my dream vacation. Oh, and to our parents who are splitting kid duty for the ten days while we are away: I’m so, so sorry. Here’s to hoping whatever Sloan has doesn’t spread. Or maybe he doesn’t have anything. Here’s to hoping that.
Speaking of Sloan – he and I had a duke it out, we-might-not-make-it homework session tonight. I won. Barely. We’re having this minor issue with child #1 in that every.single.time we bring him to the table to do homework, he brings along a massive chip on his shoulder. He is heaping with sass these days and it’s never more apparent than when he is under educational duress. It is especially evident when it comes time to do russian homework. Ay-yay-yay.
When it was all said and done and that which could have been completed in twenty minutes was finally finished after an hour of sweat and tears (no blood, thankfully) I felt defeated and dejected. Now that I know he is running a low grade fever I feel a little better, but the truth is – homework is often painful.
But, just before bed, Sloan grabbed my hand and led me back to our bedroom and sat me down on the bed. “We need to have a little talk,” he said.
“I had a bad attitude tonight and I was just angry and upset and sometimes russian is really hard and I feel like I can’t do it. But I didn’t act right. I wasn’t ‘quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry’ and I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
He did that on his own. Without any prompting.
My heart is still a little gooey. Of course I was quick to offer my forgiveness and apologize for my lack of patience. Amends were made and we agreed to work as a team to make homework more fun. It is moments like those that I truly, truly love being a parent. Sure it’s cool when they hit a home run or draw you a picture, but when they exhibit a heart attitude that you have worked so hard to help shape and mold? That is when parenting is most rewarding. Just when I felt like I was the worst mom ever and totally incapable of successfully parenting that boy, he reminded me that his sweet little heart is full of gold nuggets just waiting to be dug up and harvested.
Do you harvest gold? Did I just mix metaphors?
So yes…parenting is wicked hard. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
I wouldn’t even trade it for Hallstatt, Austria.
I Said “A booma ticka rocka ticka rocka ticka boom!”
The End.
Post edit: Sloan woke up fever free this morning and he happily skipped to school (well, happily skipped onto the school bus anyway). Whoop!
Today I plan to melt your hearts
September 8, 2010 by
Yesterday was Tia’s first day of preschool so it was only natural that I pull out my trusty magic camera and take 697 pictures before she left.
The results were glorious. She was cute, naturally. She can’t help but be cute. And Sloan was ever the charmer.
“Mom, you can take two pictures of me and that’s it. I don’t want any more.”
Right. I took a couple more than two. Don’t tell…
It is the shots of Landon, however, that will leave you with a toothache. This is due in part to the fact that his hair was so spectcular when he woke up that I had to wet it down and slick it to the side. Chubby cheeked cherub with slicked back hair?
Sweetness.
Combine that with a pair of pants that I found at a little shop in Orlando this summer – pants with suspenders – and you have a recipe for pure love. It also makes for some great pictures. So I present you my children. You’re welcome.
And, of course, the first day of school wouldn’t be the first day of school without a good old fashioned tree climb. In a dress…
And one more of Landon, because sweet mercy! That face is amazing. Don’t you just want to eat him up?
Fluctuating Between UberExcited and Totally Freaking Out
September 6, 2010 by
We leave for Italy in ten days. Let me write that again in case you didn’t catch it the first time.
TEN DAYS!!!!
Someone actually asked me a couple of weeks ago if I felt guilty spending the money on such a “lavish” trip when the economy is bad, so many are in need and on and on. Um…no. I don’t “feel guilty.” I am proud and grateful, actually. Proud of my marriage of ten years. Grateful to a husband who loves me so much that he wants to do nice things for me and have an adventure with me. Grateful that God has blessed us with the funds to be able to take this trip (and the wisdom to be wise with our money and budget accordingly so we could save what we needed over the course of this past year).
We are not wealthy people. Not even close. But we are blessed. And we work really hard to be good stewards of those blessings. We don’t always do a great job at being good stewards. Sometimes we (ahem…I) make frivolous, unnecessary purchases. Sometimes we forget to tithe at church. Not because we don’t want to, but because we just…forget. We are working on these things (and many other things!). But we are careful with our money and we do try to use good judgement in how we spend it.
There is nothing I love more than being with my husband. I think he’s hilarious, fun, sweet, caring and easy on the eyes. Why would I not want to see the world with this man?! I can’t wait to spend ten days alone with him, exploring and making memories to last a lifetime. Memories that we will look back on in fifty years (God willing) and laugh with fondness of the days when we were able to travel the world without a box of depends and a walker…
We won’t regreat doing this in fifty years. We won’t regret it ten days from now when we step on that plane. And I have a couple of photos to prove why.
One of the first places we will drive through is Lake Como, Italy:
From there we’ll be driving through southern Switzerland into Austria. We’re planning on heading to Salzberg, although we have since found this gem of a town and are now contemplating skipping Salzberg, or at least just spending less time there, so we can have more time here:
Hallstatt, Austria. Did your heart just skip a beat? Because mine does every time I look at this photo. I want this very shot on my own camera. The hair on my arms is literally standing up right now. Isn’t God’s creation magnificent?!
From Austria, we plan to scoot down to Italy where we will spend four days in Tuscany at a gorgeous resort like this (we’re waiting on confirmation that we will be able to stay here):
We plan on tooling around Tuscany visiting Florence, Sienna, Montepulciano and wherever else the apartment owners tell us to go. Just me and my man. Why would I feel guilty about that?
I will tell you what I do feel…a little nervous. If I think about us being gone for ten days, driving through foreign countries, too long, I start to panic a little. What if something happens to us? What if something happens to one of the kids and we’re so far away. What if, what if, what if???
So I try not to think about it. Because the fact of the matter is, something could happen to one of us at the end of the street. I can’t live my life in fear of the what if’s. I can think about them and I can even panic momentarily, but then I need to move on and trust that the God of the Universe is in total control. Our children will be in the loving hands of all four of their grandparents. They will probably be spoiled mercilessly. They will likely be watched closer than they are when I’m home. You know…because I encourage them to play in the street and juggle knives.
I’m kidding. I never encourage them to play in the street.
And I am praying with full trust and belief that my God will answer my prayer, that Lee and I will be kept safe and we will be reunited with our children as a stronger, more united front in our marriage and parenting. I think this trip will make us better parents and better partners. So no, I don’t feel guilty about leaving for ten days to celebrate my marriage.
I do feel fleeting moments where I’m quite certain I could dissovle into a massive freak out.
But mostly I’m just so excited it’s kind of hard to sleep.
Not that hard, though.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Post edit #1: I wrote this last night when I was wiped out from a fun but busy weekend. However, when Lee and I went to bed we started talking about the trip and got so excited we couldn’t fall asleep. So Lee got up and searched the internet for more places to go and things to see while I tossed and turned, imagining all the fun we’re going to have. So it turns out we really are so excited we can’t sleep.
Post edit #2: I had the wrong date in my head when I wrote this. We’re actually leaving in eleven days. Whic isn’t quite as thrilling as leaving in TEN days. Re-read this tomorrow and I won’t be a liar…
Happy Labor Day
September 6, 2010 by
A one year old Sloan being ever so patriotic.
We are laboring today. We’re laboring about whether or not to get out of our jammies or simply stay in them all morning.
We’re laboring over whether to make breakfast here at home or go out.
We’re laboring over whether to be productive or sit on our duffs watching football and eating snacks all day.
We’re laboring over whether to make beds or simply let them sit in their sleeped in states all day.
We’re laboring today over maps of Italy and Austria as we plan our anniversary trip, which we leave for in ELEVEN DAYS!
Yes…we are laboring today. It’s the greatest labor of all.
Happy Labor Day!
the one where I wax poetic
September 1, 2010 by
Just kidding. I’m not going to wax poetic about anything. I actually am going to partake in a little verbal vomit. See? Vomit. It’s not a very poetic word. I should change the title of this post, but I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll be inspired as I write and maybe I will begin to wax poetic about life and it’s deeper meanings.
But probably not.
I really don’t have much to say these days. Probably because I’m old and my high falutent weekend in New Orleans has made me feel a bit like I got beat with a rubber mallet then tossed to the side like a rag doll. This mama isn’t used to seeing 2:00 am unless it’s to administer medicine to fevery babies or fill hungry tummies.
I’m tired.
Speaking of last weekend, I must say that there were moments when I looked around and thought What in the world am I doing here? I felt very…how shall I put this…midwest. I was surrounded by all of these interesting, funny, stylish, green, city folk and here I was, the minivan mom from the suburbs. I tell ya, I had to fight from saying things like, Well Golly Gee, or Aw shucks. I think I may have had an I declare or two in me, but I held back. And upon my return I had a strong urge to sell my car and start using public transit and to keep all the lights in the house turned off and check my carbon imprint (or is it my carbon print…or footprint?). But, well, shucks guys, that would make this suburban mama a little less comfortable so I think I’ll keep trucking along as I’m going in life.
‘Cause it’s swell.
Speaking of swell…um, I really don’t have anything else swell to say. I was looking for a transition. That was a poor effort. Did I mention I’m exhausted? Sloan told me yesterday that he no longer wants to be a policeman when he grows up, but he would like to be a shark trainer instead. When I informed him that he would have to be very brave because that’s a dangerous job he gave me the look that only a 7 year old going on14 can give. You know the one, right? It’s that look that says, Duh, Mom. What are you, like, some sort of midwest hick?
“I’ll start working with the sharks who are already trained. Then I will move on to their friends that need to be trained.”
Right. What was I thinking?
“Hey mom,” he went on. “You remember that time when I was a baby and I met that shark?”
“Um, no.”
“Yeah, remember? I was a little baby. It was my first time to Florida and I met a shark.”
“Sorry, bud. I don’t remember that at all.”
“Oh. Well…I might have made that up.”
Gee willikers, my kid is super neato.
I should get up and get moving. The dog is laying at the foot of my bed and I can hear her stomach growling quite fiercely. I had all these lofty goals to get up early and get a lot of work done (because I have a lot of work to do) but I had the migraine of the century last night and didn’t sleep much. Thank God for modern medicine, eh? I may have overdosed slightly but I knocked out the headache so I win. I offer my deepest apologies to my liver which is now working over time to rid my body of toxins.
So on that note, I offer you this:
May your day today be filled with joy, headache free and super duper swell.
The end.
p.s. I’m categorizing this post as random. That sounds about right, wouldn’t you say?
…but I always remember to brush my teeth
August 25, 2010 by
When Lee and I were first married, I lived the good life as a freelance writer/gymnastics coach. I realized early on that the typical 9-5 job wasn’t for me. It cramped my style.
Such a Prima Donna…
So I got a sweet job coaching gymnastics at the top gym in the nation, where I didn’t have to go to work until 3:00 in the afternoon and I spent my mornings ghostwriting and editing books, writing corporate newletters and walking the mall that was .2 miles from our Frisco, Texas apartment.
That was the good life. I miss that life some days (read: many days).
One of the more productive ways I filled my time was meeting every Tuesday morning with an amazing group of women from our church. Most of them were stay at home moms, save for one other woman (my dearest of friends) who had no children like me but worked as an actress so she also had a flexible schedule.
I’ll never forget one Tuesday morning as we all began our time of study and Allison, a new mom, threw open the door, her hair all askew, her eyes wide, her clothes wrinkled and a look of total bewilderment on her face.
“Getting out of the house with a baby is hard!” she exclaimed. You had to know Allison to understand how sweet and cute this moment was. We all laughed and I shook my head, totally not getting it. I mean, how hard is it to get a shower and change your clothes, right?
Fast forward three years when I myself became that wide-eyed, bewildered new mom. I would wake up each morning resolved to be cool and smooth and put together, and inevitably by 10:00am I could still be found in my wrinkled pajamas (which, of course, weren’t really pajamas but rather the clothes I had been wearing for the past several days because who had time to change her clothes on a daily basis?), my hair knotted and gnarled in tufts around my head, my eyes bloodshot and red and my bladder full because I couldn’t figure out when I was supposed to go to the bathroom.
You know…first baby syndrome.
Was I supposed to put him down and let him scream just so I could pee? But then it would take all that time and effort to get him calmed back down and God forbid the kid wants to nurse again because there’s a good chance that certain necessary parts of my chest might literally fall off if he nurses one more time…
And so I stood and bounced for hours on end. Not because he needed to be bounced, but because I needed to pee and because it kept me from thinking about the grungy state of my appearance.
It took a few weeks for me to snap out of that daze. It took some time for me to figure out that it was indeed okay to put the child down for moderate stretches of time. Good Lord, when I figured out that I could put him in the bouncy seat for 2.4 minutes of quiet and jump in the shower, I became a different woman.
One with hygiene.
Within a few months, we had settled into a nice little schedule of two solid naps a day, which allotted me all the time I wanted to make myself presentable. Glory day! Until child number two entered the picture. Then, gasp! There were two of them. If I got the baby to sleep, I still had the two year old to contend with. I don’t think I showered for a month.
But again, thanks in part to Tia being a freak of nature and sleeping roughly 19 hours a day for the first six months of her life, we eased well into a schedule that allowed me to at least pull a brush through the nest on my head and run a toothbrush over the fuzz on my teeth.
Enter kid number three.
I gave up on showers all together. Because when you shower, crazy things happen, like kids cutting each other’s hair, or small children taking a Sharpie to the walls, or any number of unimaginable craziness that can happen in the few minutes I leave them unattended.
So if you run into me in public and I look…questionable…just nod your head, smile and take heart in the fact that I always brush my teeth.
Almost always, anyways…
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