stitches in time- now nine

On the eve of our anniversary, I am struck by how God takes two people- two people who are very different!- and stitches them together into one. It has been mysterious and painful, but nine years in, I realize that we are far more "one" than we were when we said, "I do."  Still so different (can't get him to watch Downton Abbey; I have to manufacture interest in fantasy football) yet my life and heart are so mixed up with his, I can't believe it's been nine years. God does beautiful work through marriages. Happy anniversary, honey.

My heart still skips a beat looking at his face.  Seriously, he's handsome, strong, full of Jesus, and his kids think he hung the moon. This picture says it all!

photog assistant, paid in sweet treats

Going to work on a lot this week.  Maybe even at being a real, grown up photographer.
Too bad I can't have this helper at all my shoots.
For realz.

Blessings on your week.

line 'em up, knock 'em down

C has graduated from innocently exploring the world around him, to actively trying to get into things, including things he understands are off limits.  Like the water in the toilet.  And the top of the kitchen table (via the kitchen chairs). And the street.  So the fact that I was describing him as "high maintenance" a few weeks ago now seems like a crazy joke.  As in, I turned my back long enough to help the older kids start a video on youtube about backyard birdwatching, and within thirty seconds I turned around and C was on his hands and knees on the table, happily banging a serrated steak knife on a dinner plate. Cue the twinkle in his eye and dimple on his cheek.  Sheesh! He's so cute and joyful all. the. time. So it's hard to be overly frustrated.  I'm just getting used to a different gear, and getting used to tipping all the kitchen chairs over when they are not in use.  And then standing them back up when F and G need to use the table. Over. And over.

This is all good because it's natural exercise, right?

This week our memory verse* is Romans 12:18- "If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, be at peace with everyone." This was particularly directed at G, who has trouble handling the presence of little sister and who has been heard saying things to F like, "You can't be in this room.  Just go away." Not about his room; about the family room. So, yeah, we're working on the whole sibling thing, still.

Life is full right now.  Earwigs and ants, swimming pool trips, sprinkler fun, park dates, G's week-long summer class, birdwatching, and all the usual shopping, cleaning, cooking, and laundry.  Legos and dolls and balls and bats and ice cream.  And the feeling, so strong, that wells up in me is, "This is beautiful.  This is the good life."  How long this season will last I don't know, but I want to stare at everything and soak it in.  I want to laugh at the funny and laugh at the frustrating because it is all sooo good. I plopped down by the hubs last night as we watched Black Hawks hockey on TV, eating homemade guacamole (successful attempt at copying Chipotle's recipe, as per Craig's request) and the kids were all fast asleep and the dishes caught up, and I said, "We are livin' the dream!" Because we are, and that's no less true given our imperfections and the world's griefs.  There are so many things that I want to be "better" but I won't sell out the joy of the present.  Pass the chips.

*This would seem to imply that we do a new memory verse weekly.  Not so.  I meant, every once in a blue moon I remember to do a memory verse, and this is one of those weeks!

A friend who likes to play dolls!? Yes, please!

Sprinkler = joy.

She may not have a super soaker, but she knows how to dominate a water fight. With her toddler brother.

Handle broke on the bucket.  Can't believe it!

What is this strange happy contraption in our yard flinging water!?  I must squeal with delight!

closure

Nine months ago...

I am riding for a fall, big time.

It came to me earlier tonight as I was folding laundry that I am actually sad that G is finishing pre-K.  As in, I'm not letting my brain go there too often, because there is an inexplicable "ugly cry" lurking.  Every time I think about taking his "last day of school" picture on the front steps, I freak out a bit.  I didn't get all emotional when school started at the beginning of the year, so I was wondering tonight what my problem is.  Seems like the end of things is a lot harder of a milestone for me than the beginnings.  Go figure.

Grady on the other hand is thrilled for summer vacation.  No messy sentimentality on his part!  Sure, he likes his teacher and classmates, but the lure of home for my little 5 year old homebody is too great.  I guess the crushing responsibilities of pre-K- no homework, school 2 or 3 days a week, classroom rewards of Skittles for work accomplished- were wearing him down.  He's ready to be footloose and fancy free.  His basic attitude is, "It's been real, it's been fun, it's been real fun.  Later, suckers." Not that he would ever say it that way.  Ahem.

Pinterest rip-off.  One of many!

Well I had better get with the program.  Because a lot of change and goodbyes are coming.  Two best friends in town are moving.  Moving. Away.  And I have not given myself time to grieve that at all- seems like there will be plenty of time for that later, when the details come through.  And my baby is growing and honestly isn't a baby anymore.  Hello, toddlerhood!  Goodbye toothless smiles, tiny onesies, and naps in the car seat carrier.  And things are brewing in extended family circles that leave me feeling a little bereft too.

I'm gonna need to have it out with God about all these goodbyes, all these seasons passing away that I can't control.  All the fear that wants to step into the void left in the absence, reminding me that I have needs that aren't met in familiar ways anymore.  Faith.  Breathing in and out and knowing that the same One who gives me breath will give me friends, community, strength, and joy in the new things.  And His presence in the loneliness, too.  And I both cry, and remember that He is enough, at the same time.

In the meantime, we made fresh homemade lemonade today.  Wrote our summer bucket list.  And got ready to finish strong tomorrow.

Just need to remember to toss some kleenex in the van.  For me.

His backpack makes G look tiny.  And, Craig was very tan.  

making mental notes

I know it's the little things that make up the important part of my life.  That's why I love lifestyle photography; that's why I love Instagram.  I just don't want to become crippled by my desire to "capture life" so that I can wallow in the past later... but I still want to look back at the ways my kids were, back when they were littler.  So, in an effort to snatch a few details for posterity, here's a list of things I love about life right now:

I love that C can do so many things with a big grin on his face.  He'll spin, high five, touch his nose, touch his belly button, and waggle his head on command.  Unless you are trying to get another adult to see him do these things, in which case, he won't.  He will shout, "GO!" if you say, "On your marks, get set..." We cut another inch, maybe, off his hair this week.  It was so long we couldn't keep it out of his eyes.  It looks so much better, but I kinda miss the long surfer curls.  Today when F was throwing a fit in her room, C went through the house calling her name, until he found her in her room, and he was so concerned for her.  Of course, his version of her name sounds like two syllables of gutteral sounds, but whatever.  I knew what he was saying. When he wants something he points at it and says, "Eh!" I remember that stage with the other two, but with C it seems way cuter.  He pulls things off tables, climbs into G's lego box and puts legos in his mouth, dribbles juice from his mouth onto his shirt, and... walks right up to Craig to hug him goodbye when he is leaving for work.

What is it like to be the only girl with two brothers?  I'll never know, except through watching F figure out life from that vantage point.  She is an awesome blend of girlie-girl and tomboy.  Today she was teaching C about "how to be on the battle field".  Ha!  She runs like a girl, climbs like a boy, and loves Dora the Explorer, My Little Ponies, and Princesses (mostly the Disney kind, although she has seen very few of the movies).   She is tall- I had to admit to myself that her favorite pair of 4T pants were not going to last much longer, and she is still 3 1/2.  She can throw a fit like nobody's business, and we are still figuring out how to best help her a) avoid them, and b) work her way out of them.  She is so beautiful that I stare at her sometimes.  She is a copier, and will copy G's actions and words verbatim, immediately after him.  I love it when she says sweet things to me that I've said to her.  She likes to cook with me and honestly likes to bring the house from chaos to order. OH!  I almost forgot.  Mysteriously, this girl who can't sing the whole alphabet song correctly, and only knows a handful of letters, can use letter magnets to spell, "car".  Like, she did it, and proudly announced to me that she had spelled car.  But she can't do that with any other word.

Our oldest is such a firstborn.  Smart, rule-following, performance-oriented.  I have to remind myself to lean into the "who you are is enough, I love you no matter what" truth with him.  He loves his little brother fiercely.  Loves to play with him and teach him things, and honestly he just seems to get joy from watching C be himself.  But he is really hard on F.  It bugs him when she succeeds, and if she breaks any kind of rule he is all over her.  It makes me wince when he comes down hard on her, because I hear the echo of the tone and impatient phrases that I've used with him.  God is teaching me; I just wish seeing our own faults in our children was less painful.  Anyway, G is playing baseball.  So far, he likes practicing with Craig but doesn't love team practices.  Taking C and F with me to G's practice on the windiest day of the year last week just about did me in.  Looking forward to his first game, so we can cheer him on.  Oh- and G's little pre-K class performance was yesterday.  FOR THE LOVE.  It was so adorable.  G wearing his pope-style rainbow hat, doing "I'm A Little Tea Pot!" But G wouldn't smile or acknowledge us at all, and he told me later it was because he was embarrassed.  Sheesh!  But when the extraordinary Mrs. W told the kids to grab someone from the audience to dance with them, and he flashed his dimple and ran to get me, so excited, "Mommy!  Mommy! You come up and do the dance!" my heart melted, people.

I. love. them. so. much.
Okay, enough mental notes.  This momma bear needs to hibernate for a while.
Peace!

reckoning

Do you remember that bag with a few leftover (raw) potatoes that I thew in the back of our deep, high-up bread cupboard?  Yeah, me either.
Until today.  Which I will now consider a Day of Reckoning.  Yuuuuck.

When I have to do the serious, "little kids are out of the way" cleaning, like scrubbing bathroom floors and removing rotten potato juice from the bread cupboard, I put on music.  And I've been loving the Rich Mullins station on Pandora. It's got a few cheesy oldies mixed in (I'm lookin' at you, Michael W. Smith), but mostly goood stuff.  Like, close your eyes and throw your head back and belt it out along with the song kinda good. And right when I was uncovering the source of the stench in the cupboard, this song came on.  And the words supplied what my heart needed today. Enjoy.

you want some cheese with this whine?

I keep trying to cancel my pity party, but the guest keeps showing up ready to par-tay.  Season allergies are ruining my life.  Okay, that's a little melodramatic.
But they are.

And today we started the "no TV for the summer" transition.  And I cut out all pop, meat, cheese, and sweets from my diet starting today.  Just trying to get a little healthier.  I'm not much of an advance planner, and about ten minutes into today it occurred to me that with all this coinciding today, perhaps my timing on all this was a little wonky.

I could say that today was hard, but who am I kidding.  I drank a mug of caffeinated tea.  I let the kids play outside a bunch.  My eyes itched and swelled up and I went through half a box of Kleenex, but the attacks last for half an hour and then they go away for long stretches.  Compared to the average person on the planet, my day today was a luxurious vacation.

What today did do, since it didn't provide enough drama and tragedy to make a Hallmark movie script, was to keep me aware of my own pitiful weakness.  I am not capable of making it through a beautiful, sunny day in a peaceful quaint town in the richest country in the world without reaching for props, crutches, and distractions.  My children are healthy and only moderately rambunctious- no deep grief from that corner, today.  My husband is faithful, handsome, and gainfully employed.  I have many tools at my disposal to make my job possible and easier- toys and cleaning products and dozens of things with electrical plugs that promise to help a mother out.  Yet I still have this urge to drop out, mentally and emotionally.  The urge to splurge runs deep.  "It's been a rough morning, I need this Diet Mountain Dew- it'll give me energy!" "What a stressful time with the kids.  I know, I'll make cookies with them!  And eat one- or six." "Hmmm, while the kids watch Clifford I'll just check Pinterest." Yuck- my own desire to at every moment be looking for a way to increase my own comfort and downshift my efforts and responsibilities is shocking to me.  And until this morning I was in a long season of completely ignoring the depth of my own desperate needs.

Because I want to be here, now.  I want to do what all the cliches people post mean, about living life fully, being present, making memories with my kids and doing something that matters.  And Pinterest does not have enough advice, facebook does not share enough motivation, pop and sugar and rich foods do not give me the energy to do that.   This morning when I woke up and 30 seconds later wanted to turn on the TV and grab a soda, I remembered that I need Jesus.  And two minutes later I remembered it.  And two hours later I was still running into that truth.

I am weak, messy, and needy.  And that does not make me feel like crawling into a hole to die.  It makes me want to go running into the arms of the one who wipes tears, heals what is broken, and gives purpose to the aimless.  Thank God for the gospel, that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  Where we are ugly, he loves us enough to roll up his sleeves.  It is during the hard days of saying "NO" to my idols and addictions that the lyrics to every worship song go from trite to so, so true.

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough

I hope it goes without saying that I don't think drinking soda, eating sweets, meat, and cheese, or watching TV, are bad.  Or that stopping those things makes you better.  I'm sharing that these things were something that I used on a deeper level, as in "used," like something that is shaking me up as I (try) to stop.  I fully intend for this season to be about living with freedom and joy- focusing on my savior, my family, and my life- not by adding a chain of denying myself, but by cutting chains of dependance.

Ask me in three days, and I'll bet I say that I haven't felt this good in a long time.
In the meantime, I'll be clutching my Kleenex and water bottle.