Sunday was a beautiful day. The boys spent it fishing with their PaPa.
And racing down the small hill with their cousin.
I love these simple Sundays.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Listable Life: Home
I'm joining Nicole over at Moments that Define Life for a fun link up she is doing all about lists. Um, I love lists!
Week #7 (2-28-12)
5 People You Treasure Most, 5 Pet Peeves, 5 Places You’ve Lived and What You Liked/Disliked About Them
5 Places I've Lived and What I Liked/Disliked About Them:
This may surprise some of you....
1. In a camper down by the lake
No, I'm not kidding. My parents had a dream. That dream included land and a big house. What that dream cost was a lot. They took baby steps. They borrowed a Fifth Wheel from a friend and parked it in front of the huge pond on the twenty acres they had just bought.
What I liked? Sleeping in the small space up above the actual fifth wheel and dreaming out the window night after night. I loved watching the moonlight sparkle on top of the water. And I loved hearing the small waves crash against the dam on a breezy night. I was young and that will be a memory I carry with me forever. It was one summer where we spent closely together dreaming about the future and bathing in a galvanized bucket by the fire pit inches away from where I would marry my husband.
What I didn't like about it? It was small and I don't remember the fridge being very big. My brother burnt himself with the candles we would use for light on some nights.
2. In a trailer
The next baby step was the trailer. We spent a lot of time here while my parents got to where they needed to be to build a house.
What I liked? My mom kept that place spotless. We had a big deck off the back where we would play. She also worked like a dog to keep the landscaping up. Flower beds and rocks and a garden were plentiful around there. It was actually quite beautiful. I loved the Willow Tree that sat in the corner of the lot where we would play under and back behind the shed where we would design our own houses complete with rooms. I liked how I could walk up the hallway walls and put my foot through the floor in the hallway by the front door due to the water damage.
What I didn't like? There was a lot of my childhood there that I would like to forget. But it all lead us to where we are today.
3. My parent's dream home
The day came where that dream would become our reality. My parents worked their asses off to get that house built.
What I liked? It was big. I had my own room. Somethings in my childhood changed. There was plenty of room for all of us. A loft and an attic to play in and a staircase to string lights on. The fireplace was our center piece and meant a lot to all of us.
What I didn't like? That house burnt to the ground.
4. A spider infested rental "house"
You can't really call that place a house. Dale and I got married and moved in here to save our own bit of money and prepare to build our house and buy our land. It was a one room loft with a make shift shower. I swear that place gave me these horrible allergies I suffer from to this day.
What I liked? We saved more money than I imagine we will ever have again in the near future. A lot!
What I didn't like? Pretty much everything else. It was so worth it though! Even worth the spiders that we would find in our jeans AFTER we would put them on. And I HATE spiders!!!
5. The home we plan to spend forever in
We worked for our home. There is a lot of our family in that work as well. My father-in-law, my dad, my mom, my mother-in-law. They all helped us get to where we wanted to be. It means a lot.
What I love? It's our home. It is where I brought my babies to and they know no other place. It is where I hear their laughter and wipe away their tears. It's where we share dreams and what we love about each day. It's our HOME.
What I don't like? It's too damn small! Funny how quickly you can outgrow your home. Luckily we have room to improve that. It's a constant work in progress. But again, so worth it!
Week #7 (2-28-12)
5 People You Treasure Most, 5 Pet Peeves, 5 Places You’ve Lived and What You Liked/Disliked About Them
5 Places I've Lived and What I Liked/Disliked About Them:
This may surprise some of you....
1. In a camper down by the lake
No, I'm not kidding. My parents had a dream. That dream included land and a big house. What that dream cost was a lot. They took baby steps. They borrowed a Fifth Wheel from a friend and parked it in front of the huge pond on the twenty acres they had just bought.
What I liked? Sleeping in the small space up above the actual fifth wheel and dreaming out the window night after night. I loved watching the moonlight sparkle on top of the water. And I loved hearing the small waves crash against the dam on a breezy night. I was young and that will be a memory I carry with me forever. It was one summer where we spent closely together dreaming about the future and bathing in a galvanized bucket by the fire pit inches away from where I would marry my husband.
What I didn't like about it? It was small and I don't remember the fridge being very big. My brother burnt himself with the candles we would use for light on some nights.
2. In a trailer
The next baby step was the trailer. We spent a lot of time here while my parents got to where they needed to be to build a house.
What I liked? My mom kept that place spotless. We had a big deck off the back where we would play. She also worked like a dog to keep the landscaping up. Flower beds and rocks and a garden were plentiful around there. It was actually quite beautiful. I loved the Willow Tree that sat in the corner of the lot where we would play under and back behind the shed where we would design our own houses complete with rooms. I liked how I could walk up the hallway walls and put my foot through the floor in the hallway by the front door due to the water damage.
What I didn't like? There was a lot of my childhood there that I would like to forget. But it all lead us to where we are today.
3. My parent's dream home
The day came where that dream would become our reality. My parents worked their asses off to get that house built.
What I liked? It was big. I had my own room. Somethings in my childhood changed. There was plenty of room for all of us. A loft and an attic to play in and a staircase to string lights on. The fireplace was our center piece and meant a lot to all of us.
What I didn't like? That house burnt to the ground.
4. A spider infested rental "house"
You can't really call that place a house. Dale and I got married and moved in here to save our own bit of money and prepare to build our house and buy our land. It was a one room loft with a make shift shower. I swear that place gave me these horrible allergies I suffer from to this day.
What I liked? We saved more money than I imagine we will ever have again in the near future. A lot!
What I didn't like? Pretty much everything else. It was so worth it though! Even worth the spiders that we would find in our jeans AFTER we would put them on. And I HATE spiders!!!
5. The home we plan to spend forever in
We worked for our home. There is a lot of our family in that work as well. My father-in-law, my dad, my mom, my mother-in-law. They all helped us get to where we wanted to be. It means a lot.
What I love? It's our home. It is where I brought my babies to and they know no other place. It is where I hear their laughter and wipe away their tears. It's where we share dreams and what we love about each day. It's our HOME.
What I don't like? It's too damn small! Funny how quickly you can outgrow your home. Luckily we have room to improve that. It's a constant work in progress. But again, so worth it!
Monday, February 27, 2012
Look how well we fit together
"Who should we hate this week?" As we passed neatly tucked and folded notes from one girl to the next we talked about who was getting boobs, who stuffed their bra, and which person we thought was "gay" that week. Our bangs sprayed high and our jeans tight rolled just above our look alike Keds. Those were the days when each one of us tried as hard as we could to find a place in the clique. As much as we wanted to deny there ever was one it was blatantly obvious to those around us that it was alive and thriving.
"The friends you have now won't be the friends you will have when you grow up." We heard that time and time again. We vowed to be different.
Middle school, that oh so important time in a child's life where things get awkward from their hair, to their teeth, to their physique. Weird looking kids always trying to look and act older than they were. Hormones raged and there was a daily battle between being smart, funny, popular, and trying not to care so much.
Who could really win? If you were invited to the sleep over one week you shouldn't have counted on being invited the next week. Turns out we were all in the same boat, fighting the same battles. We were all fighting for the same position against each other while calling ourselves the best of friends. Sounds pretty smart to me. Boyfriends came and went. This one this week, Cherryh's the next, Amanda's the week after that. The cycle continued.
In high school things started to spread out. The daily boyfriend swap and power struggles didn't seem to be the main focus anymore. Space was added between some. Feelings were hurt, best friends changed. Longer term boyfriends and school became the focus. We'd meet up at the lunch table or in front of the lockers before school complaining about how early it was and how much we didn't want to be there or how we couldn't wait to see Coach Gassman.
Somewhere in there a genuine bond was formed. We went off to college, some far, some near. We would have occasional meet ups at some one's dorm or when we all got back home. Some would come, some wouldn't. I was guilty of letting a little too much space grow as were others.
Graduation, weddings, babies, life, miscarriages, adoptions, rough patches in our marriages, hurt and turmoil in our lives, losing loved ones. These things came and what we started to fall back on was that core. That core that saw us at our absolute worst and at our best and we gravitated to the core every time something got hard. Slowly in the beginning, but more intense as life grew more stressful and wrinkles more vast. As more prayers and confidants were needed we came together stronger. Each of us making the effort to make get togethers happen and not lose touch.
Now? These are the ones I turn to. These are the ones I love like my own family. These are the ones I owe a lot to. We did it. We lived up to what we always said we would do. We still lean on each other and call each other the best of friends. We pray for each other and this is one of the main groups we turn to when life gets hard again or things need celebrated. My girls. I'm thankful for each one of you and extremely proud to call you my friends.
And their kids? We make some pretty damn good lookin kids! You would think that twelve kids under the age of seven in one house would be torture. For me it was a welcomed blessing. They all did so well, acted so cordial. Like they knew each other well even though some of them were strangers. Look how well they fit together. How well they cuddle the one next to them. Happiness/contentment in each face.
Wyatt 5, Brooklyn 20 months, Lincoln 2, Waylon 3, Weston 1, Annie 3, Eliott 6, Brock 1, Julia 5, Gabe 4, Meghan 7 (almost 8), our Miracle Madi almost 5 months
I see the best of them in their miniatures...
and the best of them has morphed into so much more. Once a ditsy teenage cheerleader that drove a yellow car and lost her keys far too many times turns out to be the one on the floor that all the babies look up to as she snuggles her pride and joy. Love you, Cher Bear!
I love my sister wives! Look how well we fit together.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Little Mr. - Orifice Parenting
There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.
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Let's lighten things up around here, shall we?!
This week is short, silly, and sweet....
I have LOVED the age of 5. Parents, this is my piece of advice to you, don't get your hopes up that 2 is tough and no other age is. Around our house, the terrible two's start around 18 months (12 months if you are Weston or the youngest brother) and they cccooonnnttiiinnnuuueeeee THROUGH age 4. Five? Five brought Dale and I some much needed relief. Wyatt helps, unloads the dishwasher, gathers the trash bags, DRESSES HIMSELF, puts things in the fridge, picks up the living room (the way I would), cleans his room, and brings me the boy's laundry baskets. I can't believe I almost forgot this one, but he also WIPES HIMSELF acceptably among other things that I am sure are slipping my mind right now. He's also a HUGE help with Weston most of the time. When mommy or daddy aren't available for a hug, big brother will do.
We have appreciated this beyond words since life is crazy and keeping up drives us crazy. Not to mention one less child whining about everything. HOWEVER, things are not all rainbows and fishing poles 100% of the time. He doesn't have this helping spirit everyday. He still has his moments when he is being a little... let's just say it ends in "hole".
There were times I would do anything to try to get him out of that mood. Everything I tried seemed to blow up bigger in my face. One day apparently I was feeling less than mature when I grabbed him. I hugged him tightly close to my body. I took my fingers and tried to widen his eye. Then I yelled. I yelled right into his eye, "Wyatt, sweet Wyatt, are you in there?" That made him laugh, but he still wanted to tighten his lips so I yelled up his nose, " Wyatt, please, sweet Wyatt, I need you. Please come out of there." It was working. He was laughing to say the least. For the finale I flipped him over and yelled into his clothed poop shoot, "Sweet Wyatt, you've got to come out of there. There is this mean boy that is trying to be you and I know he isn't. You've got to come out and rescue us." That's it. It did the trick. I've had to use this A+ parenting skill a few more times. Works like a charm!
Please, feel free to follow me in my parenting journey. Maybe one day I will write the book for you all since I have this crap figured out, obvs!
______________________________________________________________________________
Let's lighten things up around here, shall we?!
This week is short, silly, and sweet....
I have LOVED the age of 5. Parents, this is my piece of advice to you, don't get your hopes up that 2 is tough and no other age is. Around our house, the terrible two's start around 18 months (12 months if you are Weston or the youngest brother) and they cccooonnnttiiinnnuuueeeee THROUGH age 4. Five? Five brought Dale and I some much needed relief. Wyatt helps, unloads the dishwasher, gathers the trash bags, DRESSES HIMSELF, puts things in the fridge, picks up the living room (the way I would), cleans his room, and brings me the boy's laundry baskets. I can't believe I almost forgot this one, but he also WIPES HIMSELF acceptably among other things that I am sure are slipping my mind right now. He's also a HUGE help with Weston most of the time. When mommy or daddy aren't available for a hug, big brother will do.
We have appreciated this beyond words since life is crazy and keeping up drives us crazy. Not to mention one less child whining about everything. HOWEVER, things are not all rainbows and fishing poles 100% of the time. He doesn't have this helping spirit everyday. He still has his moments when he is being a little... let's just say it ends in "hole".
There were times I would do anything to try to get him out of that mood. Everything I tried seemed to blow up bigger in my face. One day apparently I was feeling less than mature when I grabbed him. I hugged him tightly close to my body. I took my fingers and tried to widen his eye. Then I yelled. I yelled right into his eye, "Wyatt, sweet Wyatt, are you in there?" That made him laugh, but he still wanted to tighten his lips so I yelled up his nose, " Wyatt, please, sweet Wyatt, I need you. Please come out of there." It was working. He was laughing to say the least. For the finale I flipped him over and yelled into his clothed poop shoot, "Sweet Wyatt, you've got to come out of there. There is this mean boy that is trying to be you and I know he isn't. You've got to come out and rescue us." That's it. It did the trick. I've had to use this A+ parenting skill a few more times. Works like a charm!
Please, feel free to follow me in my parenting journey. Maybe one day I will write the book for you all since I have this crap figured out, obvs!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
PYHO - Grief
One continuous yellow line. Mile after mile marked along the side of the road. The sky was blue with only one lonely cloud. My mind retraces the day. I stepped out of my comfort zone. Expressed some true feelings and desires about my career to someone I respect. My shoulders relaxed and my neck lacked the tension it was getting used to. It was a good day. A slight smile on my face. The radio humming mindlessly in the background of my thoughts.
My mind flashed to a small OR prep room. I was there lying in the bed. My body covered with the recycled gown. The room was dimly lit in the early morning. My mom was there, Dale at my side. There was nervous conversation about the plans for the day. Worry in their eyes. Assurance that this was ok in mine.
My stomach pooched days before. Those early signs of our dreams reaching a new level. The room was cleared. Kisses to my head and reassuring touches to my hand.
I laid there trying to calm my shaking body. Trying to muster up a nervous smile to the doctor I have trusted as her face appeared above my toes. She shared the care in her eyes and in her hand as she rubbed my leg telling me she would see me in a few minutes. She left my vision. The nurse went through her preparation and my eyes searched the ceiling. The tears had arrived and left a path down my cheek and puddled in my ear. “I’m sorry. I thought I was over this. I thought I dealt with it.” She handed me a tissue. She didn’t speak a word and just held onto my hand as her hand comforted my arm. That’s all I needed. I didn’t need a talk. I didn’t need a hug. I needed time and comfort in this perfect way.
My eyes refocused on that yellow line, the different cars in my rear view mirror. The tears were now in my eyes and the grip I felt in my core.
You don’t know when it is coming. You don’t know what it is going to do. You just hold on tight and know for some reason your mind needed the reminder. It hurts. So many different ways, it hurts. Like peeling the scab too soon from that wound no matter how long you gave yourself to heal.
I finished my drive home remembering that Friday like it was yesterday. Remembering at the time that losing a baby shattered my life and erased any thoughts of control I had in my mind. There were no answers. There was no comfort. Why the grief, why right now? Why on a seemingly good day? I don’t know. The grief is there like that continuous yellow line. Sometimes it fades away completely. Sometimes it is there showing its face in the miles we travel in our lives.
Minutes later I received a phone call. Wyatt was on the other end wondering where I was and just like that my day was brightened a little bit more. Waylon took the phone and instantly I couldn’t get over how big he sounded. This is my life. This is my joy. These are the things I was not in control of but were delivered by God in His time. Grief comes and grief goes. I’m reminded again and again. I’m thankful for the reminders and thankful for the reality and the ability to be a stronger me because of them.
My mind flashed to a small OR prep room. I was there lying in the bed. My body covered with the recycled gown. The room was dimly lit in the early morning. My mom was there, Dale at my side. There was nervous conversation about the plans for the day. Worry in their eyes. Assurance that this was ok in mine.
My stomach pooched days before. Those early signs of our dreams reaching a new level. The room was cleared. Kisses to my head and reassuring touches to my hand.
I laid there trying to calm my shaking body. Trying to muster up a nervous smile to the doctor I have trusted as her face appeared above my toes. She shared the care in her eyes and in her hand as she rubbed my leg telling me she would see me in a few minutes. She left my vision. The nurse went through her preparation and my eyes searched the ceiling. The tears had arrived and left a path down my cheek and puddled in my ear. “I’m sorry. I thought I was over this. I thought I dealt with it.” She handed me a tissue. She didn’t speak a word and just held onto my hand as her hand comforted my arm. That’s all I needed. I didn’t need a talk. I didn’t need a hug. I needed time and comfort in this perfect way.
My eyes refocused on that yellow line, the different cars in my rear view mirror. The tears were now in my eyes and the grip I felt in my core.
G.R.I.E.F
You don’t know when it is coming. You don’t know what it is going to do. You just hold on tight and know for some reason your mind needed the reminder. It hurts. So many different ways, it hurts. Like peeling the scab too soon from that wound no matter how long you gave yourself to heal.
I finished my drive home remembering that Friday like it was yesterday. Remembering at the time that losing a baby shattered my life and erased any thoughts of control I had in my mind. There were no answers. There was no comfort. Why the grief, why right now? Why on a seemingly good day? I don’t know. The grief is there like that continuous yellow line. Sometimes it fades away completely. Sometimes it is there showing its face in the miles we travel in our lives.
Minutes later I received a phone call. Wyatt was on the other end wondering where I was and just like that my day was brightened a little bit more. Waylon took the phone and instantly I couldn’t get over how big he sounded. This is my life. This is my joy. These are the things I was not in control of but were delivered by God in His time. Grief comes and grief goes. I’m reminded again and again. I’m thankful for the reminders and thankful for the reality and the ability to be a stronger me because of them.
Friday, February 17, 2012
More Than Just Movie Night
When I was a little girl I dreamed of having a family. Boys, girls, it didn't matter. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to be a mom for so many different reasons, but the main reason was love. I wanted to pour out more love than I even knew how to give. I wanted to take care of these little beings that were "mine". I wanted people needing me and getting their fill from me alone. I wanted to be "the most important" in some one's life.
I dreamt of teaching them. Cuddling with them on our couch under a big blanket. I dreamt of having movie night where we would sit as a family. Still, quiet, darkness, with joy written on our faces only visible through the glow of the tv and everyone so close together. My dream was simple and we all know that life with kids is nowhere close to that simple.
When we had kids we would attempt movie night. Watching a movie with those little punks was impossible. No one wants to sit down and watch the movie. Someone has to pee or needs their butt wiped. Someone is hungry, or thirsty, or doesn't like their brother touching them. Someone has the blanket that they wanted and the popcorn that they dropped. Someone is cold. Someone is hot.
It was kind of a blow to this dreamland I had carried around with me. Like so many other times reality slapped me in the face. That was until last week. We had the perfect movie night. We assembled ourselves in the living room in various places. The boys sat next to each other on the love seat, me on the couch, and Dale in his chair. As the previews played I looked over at the boys sitting there together with their alike but so different profiles and buzzed cut hair. They had smiles on their faces and excitement in their eyes. Before I could even think I looked over at Dale and said, "This is one of my dreams of being a parent. Of sitting here with my kids enjoying an evening to the fullest. A movie night everyone enjoys." Being so raw out loud to Dale, sharing something completely emotional from my childhood that normally I would be embarrassed to share.
Maybe it sounds silly, but that's just me, vulnerable when my real feelings come out in actual words from my mouth even to Dale sometimes. I can write it all day, but when those words slide past my tongue and through my teeth a little knot forms in my throat and I want to clinch my jaw. I have this thinking that I have to appear like this tough outer shell of a person, but there is so much more going on in the inside and I freak when the real me wants to slide out.
I'm getting better. I'll always work to improve it. Saying I'm sorry more. Expressing my true feelings more. Telling him I think he is awesome and that I appreciate specific things he is doing or has done. Too many times I end up not thinking before I talk and vent my own selfish frustrations to him and too often damaging words are the ones that push their way out instead of the ones I want to lift him up. The ones that would express my true feelings.
He is part of that dream. He is a huge part of making it possible. Of making me so happy even if I temporarily don't seem to be. He is the one that can turn a completely shitty day into one to remember forever. He makes everything okay in my world and is the strength to me when I can't seem to find it. When all three kids are crying, the kitchen is full of dirty dishes, and the floor full of crumbs, when there is nothing but the smell of shit in the air, and tempers are about to blow a gasket, he is the one that pipes up with something hilarious to say and we can share a laugh together then tackle the next pressing thing TOGETHER. He's there. He's here and he is better at helping me be the best me than anyone else on the face of this earth without a single word. He's my rock when the waves of reality seem too strong. He's my dream and so much more that I get to actually play out instead of carry around.
As the night went on Waylon was asleep on the love seat and Wyatt moved to my side. I enjoyed the movie and my company. I felt every bit of excitement Wyatt felt for the movie we were watching and couldn't help scanning the room and taking inventory of its belongings frequently. I thanked God for blessing me with such a beautiful life and the beautiful people to fill it.
I dreamt of teaching them. Cuddling with them on our couch under a big blanket. I dreamt of having movie night where we would sit as a family. Still, quiet, darkness, with joy written on our faces only visible through the glow of the tv and everyone so close together. My dream was simple and we all know that life with kids is nowhere close to that simple.
When we had kids we would attempt movie night. Watching a movie with those little punks was impossible. No one wants to sit down and watch the movie. Someone has to pee or needs their butt wiped. Someone is hungry, or thirsty, or doesn't like their brother touching them. Someone has the blanket that they wanted and the popcorn that they dropped. Someone is cold. Someone is hot.
It was kind of a blow to this dreamland I had carried around with me. Like so many other times reality slapped me in the face. That was until last week. We had the perfect movie night. We assembled ourselves in the living room in various places. The boys sat next to each other on the love seat, me on the couch, and Dale in his chair. As the previews played I looked over at the boys sitting there together with their alike but so different profiles and buzzed cut hair. They had smiles on their faces and excitement in their eyes. Before I could even think I looked over at Dale and said, "This is one of my dreams of being a parent. Of sitting here with my kids enjoying an evening to the fullest. A movie night everyone enjoys." Being so raw out loud to Dale, sharing something completely emotional from my childhood that normally I would be embarrassed to share.
Maybe it sounds silly, but that's just me, vulnerable when my real feelings come out in actual words from my mouth even to Dale sometimes. I can write it all day, but when those words slide past my tongue and through my teeth a little knot forms in my throat and I want to clinch my jaw. I have this thinking that I have to appear like this tough outer shell of a person, but there is so much more going on in the inside and I freak when the real me wants to slide out.
I'm getting better. I'll always work to improve it. Saying I'm sorry more. Expressing my true feelings more. Telling him I think he is awesome and that I appreciate specific things he is doing or has done. Too many times I end up not thinking before I talk and vent my own selfish frustrations to him and too often damaging words are the ones that push their way out instead of the ones I want to lift him up. The ones that would express my true feelings.
He is part of that dream. He is a huge part of making it possible. Of making me so happy even if I temporarily don't seem to be. He is the one that can turn a completely shitty day into one to remember forever. He makes everything okay in my world and is the strength to me when I can't seem to find it. When all three kids are crying, the kitchen is full of dirty dishes, and the floor full of crumbs, when there is nothing but the smell of shit in the air, and tempers are about to blow a gasket, he is the one that pipes up with something hilarious to say and we can share a laugh together then tackle the next pressing thing TOGETHER. He's there. He's here and he is better at helping me be the best me than anyone else on the face of this earth without a single word. He's my rock when the waves of reality seem too strong. He's my dream and so much more that I get to actually play out instead of carry around.
As the night went on Waylon was asleep on the love seat and Wyatt moved to my side. I enjoyed the movie and my company. I felt every bit of excitement Wyatt felt for the movie we were watching and couldn't help scanning the room and taking inventory of its belongings frequently. I thanked God for blessing me with such a beautiful life and the beautiful people to fill it.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Little Mr.
There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special. They are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little snippets to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be.
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This week's addition: How I taught Wyatt to spell his name at 2.
You all know the kid's song BINGO, right. Well, I changed it up a bit like I do with many songs around the house because sometimes all I can do to break the tears, screams, and whining frustrations are to break out in ridiculous songs. You might find this out about me through this little series. I used to never do anything I thought would embarrass me. Oh, how times have changed!
Back to BINGO.
I used to teach cubbies in Awana at church and one Wednesday night a little girl was writing her name and started singing it to the Bingo song. This was way before I had kids, but it was brilliant and I stored it in the memory bank for later. Yes, I stole the idea.
"There was a girl who had a boy and Wyatt was his nameooohhh W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT and Wyatt was his nameooohhhh."
I would sing it over and over to him from as early as I can remember. One night on vacation we had a 20 to 30 minute car ride to a restaurant in a car full of our friends. Wyatt was out of the ordinary cranky and cried the whole way there. The entire vehicle was singing his name song to him just to get a little piece of no crying baby quiet. It didn't help but gave us a reason to be ridiculous instead of miserable. Plus we could yell louder than he could cry.
Never-the-less by the time he was 2 and way before he could write he was able to spell his name. It was a major payoff when he started school. He could also spell Waylon's, our dog Marcus', and mommy and daddy as well. He would request random things to throw in the song from time to time leaving me having to be pretty creative in making the word work. It's a great learning tool to use. Look at me being all homeschoolish. I have severely lacked in educating Waylon in this way and need to get a jump on this quick!
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This week's addition: How I taught Wyatt to spell his name at 2.
You all know the kid's song BINGO, right. Well, I changed it up a bit like I do with many songs around the house because sometimes all I can do to break the tears, screams, and whining frustrations are to break out in ridiculous songs. You might find this out about me through this little series. I used to never do anything I thought would embarrass me. Oh, how times have changed!
Back to BINGO.
I used to teach cubbies in Awana at church and one Wednesday night a little girl was writing her name and started singing it to the Bingo song. This was way before I had kids, but it was brilliant and I stored it in the memory bank for later. Yes, I stole the idea.
"There was a girl who had a boy and Wyatt was his nameooohhh W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT, W.Y.ATT and Wyatt was his nameooohhhh."
I would sing it over and over to him from as early as I can remember. One night on vacation we had a 20 to 30 minute car ride to a restaurant in a car full of our friends. Wyatt was out of the ordinary cranky and cried the whole way there. The entire vehicle was singing his name song to him just to get a little piece of no crying baby quiet. It didn't help but gave us a reason to be ridiculous instead of miserable. Plus we could yell louder than he could cry.
Never-the-less by the time he was 2 and way before he could write he was able to spell his name. It was a major payoff when he started school. He could also spell Waylon's, our dog Marcus', and mommy and daddy as well. He would request random things to throw in the song from time to time leaving me having to be pretty creative in making the word work. It's a great learning tool to use. Look at me being all homeschoolish. I have severely lacked in educating Waylon in this way and need to get a jump on this quick!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
My Birthday
My birthday? Full of love.
In 32 years I've learned that relationships matter and what I put into those relationships is worth it. I've learned that righting your wrongs and having a backbone are important. I've learned that, still at this point in my life, screwing something up/disappointing someone crushes my spirit. I've learned that the love from my husband, just his presence around me, his smile, him playing with our kids, is enough to turn my day around no matter how shitty it was. I've learned that you can call friends your family and love them deeper than some that share your blood. I've learned that 3 little boys gathering around strawberry homemade cupcakes with tiny toothed smiles is what makes that video start recording in my mind as they sing Happy Birthday to their mommy. I've learned that looking at each of their faces from the swirl in their cowlicks to the dimple in their chins that I'm living the life I've always dreamed of living. I've learned that I can light some one's eyes and that many can light mine. I've learned that I need God because things are too hard, somethings don't make sense, some love is unexplainable, and forgiveness is needed. I've learned that I am blessed, I am loved, and I finally feel complete.
Thank you so much to all of you that made my day so completely special. Your cards, emails, messages, texts, they all mean the world to me.
Dale did surprise me with pink homemade strawberry cupcakes, filled my closet with balloons, and delivered a sweet card. He had a day full of sledding with his boys, that I'm a bit jealous of, but really happy that they had the day together. We went out to dinner when I got home then I was serenaded with love right before I blew out my candles. After the boys crammed cupcakes in their mouths right before bedtime they stuffed balloons up their shirt and ran around my bedroom screaming about the boobs they had. Weston joined the fun. Pics to follow. It was a great day full of nearly overwhelming love.
In 32 years I've learned that relationships matter and what I put into those relationships is worth it. I've learned that righting your wrongs and having a backbone are important. I've learned that, still at this point in my life, screwing something up/disappointing someone crushes my spirit. I've learned that the love from my husband, just his presence around me, his smile, him playing with our kids, is enough to turn my day around no matter how shitty it was. I've learned that you can call friends your family and love them deeper than some that share your blood. I've learned that 3 little boys gathering around strawberry homemade cupcakes with tiny toothed smiles is what makes that video start recording in my mind as they sing Happy Birthday to their mommy. I've learned that looking at each of their faces from the swirl in their cowlicks to the dimple in their chins that I'm living the life I've always dreamed of living. I've learned that I can light some one's eyes and that many can light mine. I've learned that I need God because things are too hard, somethings don't make sense, some love is unexplainable, and forgiveness is needed. I've learned that I am blessed, I am loved, and I finally feel complete.
Thank you so much to all of you that made my day so completely special. Your cards, emails, messages, texts, they all mean the world to me.
Dale did surprise me with pink homemade strawberry cupcakes, filled my closet with balloons, and delivered a sweet card. He had a day full of sledding with his boys, that I'm a bit jealous of, but really happy that they had the day together. We went out to dinner when I got home then I was serenaded with love right before I blew out my candles. After the boys crammed cupcakes in their mouths right before bedtime they stuffed balloons up their shirt and ran around my bedroom screaming about the boobs they had. Weston joined the fun. Pics to follow. It was a great day full of nearly overwhelming love.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Little Mr. - Wyatt the Hyper Hypo
There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.
So leave it to me to start something and completely forgot I did! Hopefully I'll remember going forward.
It was the first time I shared one of my memories with him where it felt like I was talking to a friend. It certainly felt like I was laughing with a friend. It gave me a warm feeling inside and a little bit of reassurance that one day, when we are supposed to be friends, we will be.
So leave it to me to start something and completely forgot I did! Hopefully I'll remember going forward.
The night of Weston's birthday party I was preparing cupcakes before hand. Wyatt, of course, was licking the spatula I used to spread some of the icing. He had chocolate all over his face even on his neck. The night before we bought the boys bicycle helmets. They.never.take.them.off. So, he undoubtedly had his bike helmet on and the chin strap latched snug.
He stood there in the corner of the living room right under the light with a huge grin amongst all of the chocolate on his face. I couldn't help but picture Mike Myers from SNL doing the Hyper Hypo scene. I started to laugh. His grin got wider and he asked me what was so funny.
As I bent down to talk to him and explain why I was laughing so hysterically I couldn't help but realize just how grown up he was getting. As I'm on my knees I have to look up to see those beautiful blue eyes.
"There is a show me and daddy sometimes watch. A long time ago they had this hyper hypo kid...." I went on to explain the story and share this memory with him. I even physically acted like I was the one in the helmet attached to the playground. It was hysterical and we both had sore faces and bellies from laughing so hard.
It was the first time I shared one of my memories with him where it felt like I was talking to a friend. It certainly felt like I was laughing with a friend. It gave me a warm feeling inside and a little bit of reassurance that one day, when we are supposed to be friends, we will be.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Me and them
Some days are hard. Some days I want to pull my hair out. Some days I get answers as to why my hair seems to be greying faster than everyone elses. Some days I understand why the lines in my face seem to get deeper and deeper by the minute. Some days I swear these little guys, especially the youngest one, hate me.
Some days I would like to just sit down on the couch for the rest of the night and not care about anything. Some days I wonder why the hell I ever wanted to be a parent. Some days I wonder where the love comes from. How I put up with so much whining, so much bullshit.
Then I look around. I see a face like this one. I feel the need they have for me when they feel alone. I hear their begging questions about snuggling and sleeping by my side and them just plain needing me. ME. The one that was gifted, BLESSED, to get them. THEM! Then I feel the unexplainable love that my heart is filled with and know what it's all about. I couldn't breathe without them. THEM. That's a fact.
Monday, February 6, 2012
I hate allergies
It's been a rough day already and we are just past lunch time. I woke up, did half my workout because Shaun T made some of them way tooooo long. I went on about my shower and was blow drying my hair when I noticed I couldn't see half my face. If you've read long you know I get these crazy aura migraines. I had one so bad a couple of years ago I ended up rear ending a car going 70 miles and hour down the interstate. Everything turned out fine and I have only had a couple of very minor issues since then. I get these once maybe twice a year, but I just had my 2nd one in a month. Kind of scary!
This one wasn't that bad. If I looked at a clock I could see every number except the 9, 10, and 11 to give you an idea of what I mean. It just wasn't there. I went back to bed for a while to hide in the dark and hope it went away quickly so I could get myself to work. An hour later I got up and my vision was back but this really messes up how clear my mind feels. It kind of feels like I am on the verge of major pain that can come upon me at any moment. When this happens I just try to slow down. I try not to concentrate on too much and make sure I have eaten some food.
I don't know what the cause is but it is extremely frustrating. When you are a busy mom you hardly have time to be sick or down or not functioning. People need you! Thankfully, Dale understands these to a point and takes over my tasks without complaint.
I haven't been too stressed lately. The only thing I can think of and I even dreamt of it is that my allergies have gotten the best of me. I hardly have a night where I can breath clearly. I have that fun nasal congestion. I think of the Mucinex character with his finger up my nose every time I say nasal congestion now, anyone else? It is very descriptive of how it feels. So, crazy me is starting to really be convinced that there is something in our house that I am allergic to. If I stay there all day like on the weekends my nose is raw from wiping it all day. During the week I am that way in the morning, but once I get outside and to work it subsides pretty well.
So, I'm taking the next steps to get rid of suffering from allergies EVERY.EFFIN.DAY.OF.MY.LIFE!!! I'm going to get an estimate on a home inspection to test the quality of our air. Maybe if that doesn't give me any answers I will turn to the shots. That is going to be such a pain, but I would rather put myself through that than suffer for God knows how long with not being able to breath and dripping snot every where I go.
Aren't you glad you read today? If you have any advice or if you have ever done a home air quality test, please offer some advice. I have never done any of that before so I don't even know what to expect.
This one wasn't that bad. If I looked at a clock I could see every number except the 9, 10, and 11 to give you an idea of what I mean. It just wasn't there. I went back to bed for a while to hide in the dark and hope it went away quickly so I could get myself to work. An hour later I got up and my vision was back but this really messes up how clear my mind feels. It kind of feels like I am on the verge of major pain that can come upon me at any moment. When this happens I just try to slow down. I try not to concentrate on too much and make sure I have eaten some food.
I don't know what the cause is but it is extremely frustrating. When you are a busy mom you hardly have time to be sick or down or not functioning. People need you! Thankfully, Dale understands these to a point and takes over my tasks without complaint.
I haven't been too stressed lately. The only thing I can think of and I even dreamt of it is that my allergies have gotten the best of me. I hardly have a night where I can breath clearly. I have that fun nasal congestion. I think of the Mucinex character with his finger up my nose every time I say nasal congestion now, anyone else? It is very descriptive of how it feels. So, crazy me is starting to really be convinced that there is something in our house that I am allergic to. If I stay there all day like on the weekends my nose is raw from wiping it all day. During the week I am that way in the morning, but once I get outside and to work it subsides pretty well.
So, I'm taking the next steps to get rid of suffering from allergies EVERY.EFFIN.DAY.OF.MY.LIFE!!! I'm going to get an estimate on a home inspection to test the quality of our air. Maybe if that doesn't give me any answers I will turn to the shots. That is going to be such a pain, but I would rather put myself through that than suffer for God knows how long with not being able to breath and dripping snot every where I go.
Aren't you glad you read today? If you have any advice or if you have ever done a home air quality test, please offer some advice. I have never done any of that before so I don't even know what to expect.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
My life
Nothing extremely insightful here. I just wanted to share this picture because it is a perfect description of how my life feels most of the time. Moving, action, never still, a lot of laughing, a lot of fighting, a lot of whining, a lot of crying, a lot of cleaning dry pee off the base of the toilet. Ok, I got a little off track. Anyway, this picture is how my life feels. C.R.A.Z.Y flash by moments.
An update after Weston's doctor appointment in which I prayed for an ear infection to be the excuse to his crabbiness lately... The kid is perfectly healthy. Don't get me wrong I'm really excited about that and thankful, but I was hoping for an excuse to his PMS 24/7. Teeth, it's the teeth, right?! Someone say yes. I will get my happy baby back soon, right?! Again, someone please say yes.
In other news, please ignore how drab my bedroom looks, it's next on the Pinterest list of things I want to spruce up. It needs it, bad!
Want to follow me there?
I'm kind of addicted.
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