Batmen and Superman Girl

They went back and forth. Asher said their sister was going to be Superman Girl and Miles tried to correct him with, No Asher. It's SuperGIRL. He'd say, OH! and then say it "wrong" again. Superman Girl.

I love eavesdropping.

Yeah, we're all over here just trying to figure this out. The beautiful reality is slowly settling in...
There's a girl cooking in my belly right now and there's no way I don't know that because the ultrasound tech kept saying "See that little hamburger bun?!?" over and over and over...

(I will never hear "a bun in the oven" quite the same way ever again. Just saying.)

Yup, there's the girl anatomy! WE GET IT! WE GET IT!

I mean, we were already so surprised and we just wanted to keep looking at each other saying "WOW" and "WOW" and "NO WAY" and then she just kept saying hamburger bun.

Anyway...

That is not the point of this post. It's a random side note...because I'm good at those. The point of this post is actually a big thank you. You know what? I continue to be so honored and humbled that you're here, visiting my Lego man and me, my words, my stories. I don't assume you're here all the time, we're all busy and this is just blogging. But I appreciate every single second you take the time to check in, to see what's up with me. I really do.

When I scroll through the comments from my last post and I see that so many of you took the time to share in this baby girl excitement, all I want to do is sit and visit with each of you. I honestly wish that I could.

:::::

Also.

I want to always remember the moment when we told the boys they're having a sister.
They'd been out in the waiting room with their Uncle K during the ultrasound and when we came out, all three of them were bursting a bit at the seams. Their eyes were all anticipation and there was a lot of bouncing going on. (Uncle K didn't bounce much, but the boys sure did.)

Asher kept asking, "What kind of baby is in there, Mama? What kind?!?"

So we took them out in the hall and I bent down close to both of their faces and I told them they're going to have to work really hard at getting strong. I said that they're both like super heros and they need to be the biggest protectors of their...(long dramatic pause)

LITTLE SISTER!!!

*cue more bouncing and more big smiling*

Then Miles looked a little disappointed, because right before the appointment he professed his want for another brother. I asked him if our news was good news and he said no. So I told him that a sister doesn't really mean everything in our house will be pink and then I explained that she'll probably like boy toys like he does, and it doesn't mean he has to play with girl toys.

Then he looked all relieved and everything was fine. He decided to like having a sister.

Asher? He thinks it's especially cool, girl or boy, that he gets to be called a BIG brother.

Of course, we're all just super happy that the baby on that screen, with a joyously drum-beating little heart and other working parts, looks completely healthy. She's a total Superman Girl.

:::::

FINALLY, I sort of kind of totally forgot to announce the winner of the Pleated Poppy giveaway. I apologize, I was totally distracted.

The winner is Suzannah from So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter. Random.org chose commenter #2. Congrats, Suzannah!

where I'm from

I am from the wooded countryside, Little Debbie snacks and Grandma's homemade toast with cinnamon and sugar.

I am from a gray split level with a basketball hoop and a crunchy gravel driveway.

I am from The Cosby Show and The Smurfs.

Dad and Grandma - two weeks ago (Kensington school)

I am from lilacs and sunflowers, oaks and pines and crawly things.

I am from where the lakes begin and Runestone country. I am from lefse and lutefisk, but I never eat the smelly lutefisk. I am from cribbage players and golfers, ice cream lovers and hot dish makers. I am from Colleen and Dale and Helen and Glenn.

I am from humor with loud bursts of laughter and long naps in the recliner. I am from work hard and overcome and trials that make you stronger.

Mom's childhood home

I am from pull yourself together and you always belong.

I am from Covenant and Lutheran and Baptist traditions, family camp and Sunday school and sermons. I am from youth group road trips to Montana and the Ridgedale mall. (Hello JUNO lovers!)

I am from the hard road walked with dementia, diabetes, and debilitating strokes. I am from the faithful spouses that endured the pain and held the hands and gave the baths and their lives. I am from my Mother's tumor, removed from her skull but never far from our hearts. I am from her best friend's dying moments with Cardinals soaring while my Mom held her hand.

I am from a mother who survived and thrives and travels and lives. I am from a father who survived and thrives and lives.

I am from calloused working and hands and pushing through and addictions left behind.


I am from the lumber yard owner who survived a fire and the mail carrier with mail carriers never get old, they just lose their zip hanging on the wall.

I am from still nights filled with the deafening and soothing noise of croaking frog choruses.

I am from the sounds of night trains rattling the house while rocking back to sleep.

I am from the dead of winter that stiffens your joints, your clothes and even your hair.

I am from the place my Grandma Helen was found one of the nights she wandered off, confused and forgetting.

I am from small towns where people come together to search and find and hold each other up. I am from a woman that sat in a dugout and then a nursing home with faith and love and a tear rolling down her cheek at the sight of me, even when only her heart knew me.

I am from good people and hard journeys, orphaned grandparents and overcoming. I am from footsteps hard to follow but best to follow with imprints in the dirt that help me find my way.


I have one last Grandparent left here with us and she's smart as a whip and funny and good. Going to her door is going home for all of us.

It is where we're from.




(A big thank you to Amy from The Never-True Tales for the inspiration. I had all of these nostalgic pictures and no idea what to say. Until I read Amy's Where I'm From post. Thank you, friend!)

punchy i are

On Friday morning at BlogHer there was a 5K through Central Park, honoring Tanner of Tutus for Tanner. Tanner himself saw us off from the hotel lobby, and then as you can see, we sprinted the entire way.

I am so in love with this picture. It is friendship and connection and it is spreading the word for a good cause.

I have my hand on Allison, my fellow Minnesotan blog friend. She is one of the kindest people I've ever had the honor to know, so I'm really glad my hand is on her. Hopefully her goodness wore off, adhering itself to my palm a bit.

~~~~~

For the rest of this week through next Wednesday my family (extended and immediate) has the use of a cabin on a lake. We've already been making use of it this week. I have to show you some of the photos from out there because they are of my children and my children are the most adorable little morsels you ever did see, if I do say so myself. I missed them so much while I was gone and have been gobbling them up ever since. (Except for in the moments when my over-tired self can't function and then I'm just spaced out and impatient--and so it goes with motherhood. We moms, we get knocked down, but we get up again.) (Yes. I just tried to get that song in your head.) (You're welcome.)

Feast your eyes on the cute, and have a good few days...












In the photo at the beginning of this post, you may notice my legs are basically just toothpicks (ankles) with golf balls (knees). I get them from this man, below, my father. Except my legs have seen the sun in the last sixty-ish years and his have not...

(Don't worry. One day he'll forgive me for posting this picture. Just like he forgave me that one time when I was in seventh grade and told him I was going to a friend's house and really went to a movie with boys instead.)

Also. I may reappear randomly at some point to share a HILARIOUS Letter to a Blogging Conference from myself and Ellie. (At least we thought it was hilarious while deliriously over-tired at 1 a.m. in NYC.)

One last Also: Why are my lips so chapped? It started in NYC and it was so humid there and so I thought it was weird that I wasn't more moisturized. But my lips are still peeling off no matter how many edifying ointments I slather on them. Weird. Pollution? (And yes, I drank a ton of water.) (I know this is riveting.) (Shut up.)

The End.

playing can be so confusing

*this just in: I wrote something new for Mama Manifesto and it's up over there today. It hopefully paints a picture and sends a message and resonates. If not, it's just about my own bouncy brain and crap television. See you there. I mean, if you go over there. Nicely.

And also:


Miles and Asher had a combined birthday party recently. Both sides of the family were there, so people who don't know each other that well from either side were all there. (And yes, it was quite redundant of me to explain that.) Above, you will see Cousin O, to the right, with the squirt gun. And at the far left is Cousin M. Cousin O and Cousin M have rarely been around each other.

Which brings me to this conversation between Cousin M (left) and an adult family member.

Cousin M - Is O a boy or a girl? (see long-haired boy on the right)
Adult - He's a boy.
Cousin M - (skeptically) Are you sure?
Adult - Yes, I'm very sure.
Cousin M - (said like he has a huge secret) Do you think Miles knows that???

The hilarity here is that of course, as a closer family member, Miles does know the sex of his Cousin O. But Cousin M just could not be convinced. He seemed to feel someone needed to tell Miles right away, and therefore, he explained, as the wiser and older of the two- Miles, your Cousin O is a boy, but I still think she's a girl.

To which Miles responded, No, she's not a girl. He's a boy.

Dude. Kids are hilarious.

The End.

{Disclaimer: All parental parties know the details of this story and find it funny. No offense was taken at the assumption of Cousin O's sex. Because it happens all the time. He can be wearing a Spiderman costume and people still assume, because of the long hair, that he is a girl. His parents think it's hilarious.}

This post is a part of You Capture at I Should Be Folding Laundry

the way the clouds striped through the sky

Modern June Cleaver, no?

We've been busy with birthday parties over here, one last night for my mom, as she turned 60 (and holding, as she likes to say) and one for our boys, because their birthdays are just two weeks apart. I've got some great photos for sharing here another day. Tonight I'm just too exhausted for the uploading.

In the past I handled the stress of having company, lots of company, and trying so hard to keep everything impossibly perfect, by drinking. Sometimes I'd drink sneakily, and sometimes I'd drink right after the sober company left, to cope with my insecurity and need to people please.

Without that option, I'm learning not only new ways of coping, but to accept and relax. To expect less of myself and simply live the moments, believing it's all good enough simply because my intentions are good, even if there's nothing close to perfect.

I cleaned, but not frantically. I asked for help and I took my time. I saw a friend and held her four-day-old baby for a very, very long and therapeutic amount of time when I could have been attending to party details. I really did, as they say, take one moment at a time. No fret, no fuss.

I believed my mom's gift was good enough, without trying to read her face for clues. I believe she loved it.

Today, for the boys' party, I wore my pink summer sweater with a belt that ties around the waist. The belt is always riding up too high, creating a grandmother-looking waistline. I forgot about it for most of the day today. I didn't care about my silly belt.

Our boys had cake and ice cream and they got to see almost all of their favorite people in the whole universe at one time. They had a water fight and they wrestled with Uncle K and giggled out the best kinds of sounds with their cousins.

And then later, when we were outside, with the party winding down, the clouds started rolling in. I had been taking photos of Asher with Uncle K and of cousins in trees like monkeys, and I looked up and I had to think of how big and vast the shockingly beautiful sky is. How it's like life, so full and changing and engulfing, and how we can miss the brilliance of the bigger picture if we're paying too much attention to the stressful details.

The bigger picture is a million tiny reasons not to drink. So I am the best kind of exhausted, and beyond grateful to have noticed the sky.

P.S. Asher has continued to say "I not have mine headache anymore, Mommy." That's my current favorite sentence, just so you know. Thank you, all of you, for your thoughts and prayers. Go team.

Oh. And I forgot. These are the last days to vote for BlogLuxe Awards (nominee button in sidebar). Please vote for Violence UnSilenced in the Most Inspiring category and for any other blog you'd like in the other categories, obviously. Thank you!

You Capture and a Noggin Update

Miles - 4th of July parade

R & S - 4th of July dinner at Nanny and Bapa's

our very own fireworks show

it was obviously quite riveting

{These photos are brought to you by You Capture at I Should Be Folding Laundry}

And now for your Asher update:
First of all, thank you all so much for your comments and emails, your thoughts and your prayers. We feel them.
Asher hasn't had much success with that whole clearing out thing, despite our dietal (totally a word) efforts. So we're giving it until the end of the day, hoping for a fireworks-like explosion. *ahem*
Hopefully that will solve the issues with his valve tube, things will start flowing as they should, and his headaches will disappear. If there's no luck with the clearing out, I plan to call the doc in the morning.
The first thing Asher said this morning when he woke up was that when he was sleeping, he had a headache. This is obviously concerning, especially because he's reporting headaches almost every time he's been lying down. laying down? This is a sign of too much pressure on his brain, as you can imagine. Because when he is in a prone position (see how I avoided lay/lie/laying/lying there?) the pressure increases, just like it would if you had water in your ears from swimming or something.

I hope that makes sense. I'm tired. And getting anxious about my boy. I feel...icky.

Thank you for letting me get it out and for caring so much about us. It lifts me. It really does.

P.S. To be clear, we're not rushing to the hospital because Asher continues to show no other signs of a shunt malfunction. He's in a good mood, playing, eating (sort of), sleeping well, etc. The anxiety comes because the headaches and worsening of them when he sleeps are red flags. I'm so grateful that if this is a malfunction, we're catching it long before he's lethargic, in even more pain, and in more...serious danger. So thankful.

UPDATE: Since writing this post, Asher has pooped. (woot) This is good, of course. We'll see if the pressure is relieved now. I've talked to a neuro nurse from our hospital and she met with a couple of providers of Asher's. They don't like that his head hurts worse when laying down. Lying down? SO. We have an appointment for an MRI tomorrow morning, and then we'll meet with Asher's Nurse Practioner again. It's good to have the appointment on the books, especially if he's still complaining of headaches tomorrow, after having "cleared out," today.

Always

Sunday~January 3, 2009

My Grandma turned 80 on New Year's Day. We had a party for her yesterday in the basement of her church in her small Minnesota town. I had prepared some words to say but found it hard to get them out after my cousin read something before it was my turn. I was all weepy because I heard a story about my Grandma I had never heard before, one that moved me and reminded me what family is all about, what unconditional love looks like.

The words that were shared were written by my cousin, Brent. On her 80th birthday, he described Grandma and thanked her for something that I'll always remember when I look at the people in my life, especially my boys...no matter what.

Brent was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his early twenties. He has lived through the nightmare of mental illness ever since, trying to overcome the stigma, the way people see him, what they don't understand. He has gone in and out of the hospital and psychiatrist's offices. He has spent many days walking through life clouded by the side effects from a medicine cabinet of prescriptions that fight the symptoms of the ugliest beast, but leave him tired or hungry or with his heart racing.

Brent has been fighting a battle against the lies his illness whisper to him for many years now. These whispers beg him to believe the darkest of things, and then they leave him feeling that there is no way toward his dreams.

I am certain there are few things that take more courage.

In the earliest days of his illness, we watched helplessly as something big took over Brent's life. As a family, we watched as our math wizard, Star Wars loving, game winning, quick-witted Brenty slowly slipped into a quiet and shaking person.

A person buried under the fears of his unquiet mind.

He would stand instead of sitting during meals over holidays, one arm raised in the air. And because he was still simply our Brent to us, we continued to eat, carrying on conversations and looking up when we talked to him, standing there whispering back to the voices.

We were acting out of our love for him and ignoring the discomfort of talking to a standing person who happens to be talking to themselves while we ate because he was going through so much more. Surely we could do that small uncomfortable thing while he did so much more. We could do the overcoming in those moments, it wasn't so hard. It never will be, no matter what he does or does not do.

He does the overcoming so much more than we do.

Over time, we educated ourselves on Brent's illness. We learned that schizophrenia can lie in wait, hovering around the corners of a person's mind and then springing to life, triggered by drug use or trauma. We questioned, we tried to find out, but we never knew what that thing was for Brent, the thing that flipped the go switch. We always knew that something traumatic had triggered this inevitable fall into depression, hallucinations and delusions, but Brent wasn't talking...

We knew whole-heartedly that there was something, something that had happened.

We knew how family knows.

The truth is, it never really mattered what Brent had done or not done, what had happened or not happened. Schizophrenia is an unfair thief in and of itself.

There is no blame.

Yesterday, for my Grandma, Brent shared (through his sister's voice on his written page) that in his last years of college he lived in a way that was very damaging to him. He said that one day, in the midst of all it, Grandma stopped him in her kitchen, that place so full of living, of homemade bread and soup, and she looked him straight in the eye and she said you will always belong to us. She knew something was wrong and then she said it like a command...

You will always belong to us.

Don't you dare think of leaving us. Don't you dare give up. Don't you dare think for even one moment that you aren't loved. You are ours.

Brent went on to say that remembering that moment has been something that has pulled him through over the years.

He does, you know. He belongs.

Isn't that what we all need, no matter what, to pull us through?

We need to belong.

Brent with Daughter, J and Niece, A

Thank you, Brent. Your words gave Grandma the perfect gift yesterday.

And thank you, Grandma. For teaching us all about family and love. Happy Birthday.

P.S. I'm sorry I forgot your card. I'm also sorry that it took me too long to order your gift so it's not even here yet. Life has been a bit nutty lately, but I'll get back on track.

P.S.S. I even said "clothes shoot" TWO TIMES in my last post, instead of clothes CHUTE...that's how out of it I am. I promise to bring you your gift and card very soon, especially now that we're closer.

Love you, Heather

Grandma and her crew of Grandchildren and Great-Grandchildren

I have to show you something...

Wednesday~August 5th, 2009

I have this amazing friend. I met her right here in my kitchen almost two years ago. She is one of those people that has this way about her, a grace and charm I wish I had the words to describe. She inspires, that's what she does, not only with her paintings and writings, but simply by being who she is. She's beautiful, with her radiating smile and heart. On top of all that, she's the kind of woman that is so down to earth and real, you can't even hate her for all that other stuff. She just gets you, with her open mind and sensitive spirit.

I've gotten to know this woman through her words, and even though we've never met outside the computer in my kitchen, I love her.

I want to tell you (and show you) what she did for my family.

I go out to dinner with my Great Aunt Elsie, my Great Uncle Keith, and my Auntie Kay about every other week. I don't know that many people are all that close to their Great Aunts and Uncles, but the road we've traveled as a family has given us the gift of friendship. It was Elsie and Keith that spent many a Sunday with Auntie Kay and I, visiting my Grandpa in the nursing home as his mind failed. They would sing to him and laugh with him even when he didn't understand the joke. They would feed him ice cream and hold his hand. Elsie is my Grandpa's sister, and she was always so proud of him, telling me stories of their childhood and rarely missing a visit.

Elsie and Keith are an example to me with the way they live and love. Last year, when their hearts were broken by tragedy, my heart broke for them. Their daughter Susan died suddenly, tragically leaving behind (not intentionally) her parents, three brothers, and three sons.

As time passed after the funeral last summer, I would see the sadness in their faces and I wanted to do something that would bring them some joy. I got to thinking about a way to remember Sue, a memoriam of some kind. I knew that Elsie and Keith had named her Susan after the flower, so it simply made sense to ask my talented blog friend what she thought about a Black-Eyed Susan painting.

At first I asked if I should maybe attempt a painting myself, even if I'm quite the novice. I wasn't hinting that she should do it, I wanted only her advice.

But then she offered to do the painting for Elsie and Keith.

Yes, she did.

I jumped up and down when that flat package arrived the other day. Then I sat through dinner with Elsie and Keith, their son Craig and his wife Kelly, and Auntie Kay. I had gotten the painting framed and it was waiting in the car. I was entirely too nervous, I think because I knew how much this would mean to them, so I blathered on that I had something in the car for them, something to remember Sue, and I started to cry.



This is why:

Black-Eyed Susan, by Charrette

It's just plain perfect.



They thought so too...

Elsie and Keith ~ August, 2009

Look at those faces. They miss Sue so much, and now they have this beautiful reminder to hang in their home, to always remember her beauty. I don't think I can describe what this moment was like, the first time Elsie and Keith laid eyes on these Black-Eyed Susans. I don't know if I can do it justice, so I won't try. But I will take the time to thank my friend, "Charrette." Lady, you have done such a beautiful thing.

Thank you.


(If you've been visiting this blog long, you may remember I've mentioned what we would name a girl if we are blessed with one someday. Yes. Elsie. Now you know why. She's just too lovely to NOT have a namesake.)

Remain

Monday~July13, 2009

This one is for my Aunt Elsie, my Grandpa's lovely sister, and my friend...

We walked over hills, following a path of dirt and rocks. We wore flip flops and sandals and watched our steps closely in the minefield of cow pies. We were on a tour, sightseers of our own history.

I could feel my Grandpa there, in the place where he grew up, on this beautiful land where his roots were planted. I could finally see all of the stories he used to tell me of the beauty and simplicity of this place. He would say that my Great Grandma, his mom, would call him in from the yard for dinner. She'd say, "You've got ball in the head!" And he did. Oh, how he loved baseball. Even as his memory left him all those years later, his vacant eyes still lit up with news of a Twins win spoken loudly to his hearing aid.

When he told his stories, he'd talk about two horses, those he used to plow the fields, how old and slow they were. He worked those fields, sowing a crop and growing up. He would talk about this hard work of his childhood always with a smile on his face, remembering and even longing for those days. There was so much love there, he never seemed to focus on the memory of work.

Later, as his mind started to fail, this farm was the place he would go, reaching out for chicken eggs only he could see. The farm, a reprieve from his dementia, the nostalgia a balm for his soul.

Sometimes I worry that as time marches on, his stories will be forgotten, his life just a moment in time that no one recalls. I suppose this is what we fear for anyone we grieve.

But after this visit to the farm where his life began, I know even more of him than I ever have before. Yes, he's gone now, but stories of his family history were being shared with every step on that tour, and I'm so glad I was there, listening carefully and walking the land that he loved so much.

We need to be sure to tell our stories...

This is where the first road came through Chippewa Falls. And over here was the first pipeline, because it was so close to the river...Over that fence is where your Grandpa plowed the field with two horses...

My aunts and uncles and second cousins said things like, "Do you remember how we'd race down that hill? Wow, the hill seemed so big then. Do you remember shooting out here? Here's where Elsie would play church, standing behind her big rock pulpit, acting as pastor, soloist and congregation...yeah, she needed more friends." And we laughed.

The stones at the base of the barn were carefully placed there with my Great Grandpa's hands. They said he chose them from the riverbed, found their sweet spot, and with one tap, cracked them in half. He placed them with their flat side in, and cemented them in their places. I thought of those stones as the people in our family, placed there one by one with such care, cemented in with rarely a crack between us.

I don't know if my Grandpa watched his father work those stones into place, but I do know he was witness to the unfolding generations of his family, and he loved us and cared for us with the careful eye of a mason.

And much like those stones, many of us are all still here, facing the wind and sun and speaking stories of generations. We carry the hard work, the faith, and the love of the very first of us.

So maybe one day, no one will know his name. But his legacy will remain.

And when my life is done
I pray the kingdom come
And take me to Glory

It's living inside me
It was planted like a seed
All to tell a story

I believe when they put me in the ground
There will remain a part of me
Cause I've been searching,
and the joy that I have found
Is living in my family...
it's all that I have sown

-Bebo Norman

The trip rocked. And so does this game I made up.

Monday~June 1, 2009

We had a really good time on our trip, see?


(That's me, having a really good time.)


Anyway, moving on....





What? You're confused?

Let me explain...

I said I wanted to do a puzzle on our short little vacation. AND I said I wanted the puzzle to have a lot of faces on it. I came across this puzzle (while out searching for facey puzzles), and my wish was granted...



Yeah, lots and lots of faces. (I was possibly entirely too excited about this.) I would like to say here (for the record) that my sister Shelly and I did this puzzle almost entirely on our own. My Dad can pretend that he had a really big hand in it and all that, but he did not. He simply held a puzzle piece in his hand as I was about to finish the whole ginormous thing, and then plopped that last piece into place as some sort of victory when I couldn't find it. YEAH....EEEEVIIIIL!!!!

Other than that totally traumatizing experience (and the fact that there were nine hundred gazillion billion wood ticks out there), our trip was a hit...


Miles thinks boating is cool.

And we all think Minnesota is beautiful...










Getting away from home and all of it's daily demands is always a good thing. Spending time with friends and family is even better. And yet, people almost always come home saying they need a vacation from their vacation. It's the traveling and sleeping in strange beds thing that can be hard.

(Seriously, I turned around to take a photo and they were doing this.)
(No. They never fell asleep on the way home. Just ask them, they were NOT tired.)
(Yes. Asher still has the girly carseat.)

Sure, we're all more than a little worn out, but it was totally worth it.

Okay, now back to that closer look at the cool puzzle. Just for kicks, if you feel like it and you're super bored, why don't you see if you can name a bunch of these characters? Feel free to add a few from the bigger shot above if you're totally competitive (I think clicking on them will work to make them bigger.) Whoever gets the most wins!

What do we win, Heather?

Um...THE GAME! So exciting! I'll let you know who won tomorrow. (Yes, I'm seriously weird. I really did think that trying to name all the TV personalities was the best part of this puzzle.)

****Update: Even through my tired fog, I just realized that of course you'll be giving each other the answers. Since you can see each other's comments and all that. So I guess the last person to name more than the person before them will be the big winner. You can just go ahead and say "What she said, AND I found...."

Just so you know, I have another post coming later today because I did so much thinking on our trip, and of course I need to let it out. I can't help it.

Now ready, set, GO! I see Marvin the Martian, do you?

40 years

Posted on Saturday~February 14, 2009

My Mom and Dad~ 40 years ago

Mom

Dad

Mom and Dad~40 years later
My parent's actual anniversary was in December, around the time of Asher's surgery. So we're having a belated party tomorrow in their honor. As I made a DVD filled with pictures through all the years, I got to thinking about what an amazing thing it is to spend 40 years with someone, sharing so many memories and holding the same experiences in your heart. I'm so thankful for the years my sister and I have had with our Mom and Dad. We've hit our inevitable bumps in the road, but my parents have always been there on the other side of everything life brings, in their beautiful house in the country, the door always open.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!
(late.)


Mom, please forgive me. How could I not share this one?
(hee hee hee)

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Have a good weekend.

Beautiful Little Surprises

Posted on Saturday, December 27th, 2008


I love having kids for many reasons. One of them is that, like most people, I love to be entertained. There's nothing more entertaining than children, no? Life is full of surprises with these little crazies in my life. With them, Christmas travels and festivities never ever have a dull moment. (Even if I would really really like a dull moment every now and again.)

For instance, right before we were leaving for Christmas at my parent's house, bags packed and boys in the car, I was running around looking for pacifiers. I'm a wise mother, and I knew we would need at least five for the car trip. That way, when Asher threw the third one on the floor just for kicks and then cried, I'd still have two pacifying pieces of plastic up my sleeve. Or in my pocket.

But I couldn't find any, of course. I knew that the boys had just been playing with about six of them in Asher's room, but they were nowhere to be found. I called out the door, yelling to Ryan to ask Miles where they put them. He said, "in Asher's room." I looked again. Nothing. So we left with two pacifiers and spent the next few days at my parent's house, searching for one or the other every hour or so. Especially at night groping around in the dark, trying to make sure Asher wouldn't fully wake, when both pacifiers could be found under his crib or hidden under his blanket. I finally came through the anger and depression stages of pacifier grief and had accepted that we could make due with only two. After all, there are worse things.

Then yesterday, I found this beautiful surprising treasure...

Right where they belong, in the bottom drawer of Mommy's dresser, with the pj's. Makes perfect sense. It was like hitting the jackpot in the land of the EO. FIVE pacifiers to place in all corners of Asher's crib to ensure a better night's sleep. Pure bliss. And a good laugh too.

I would like to say that Ryan and I enjoyed the Christmas Eve service at my parent's church, but I'd be lying. We didn't really see any of it. Miles and Asher haven't quite mastered the art of sitting still and being quiet. We spent much of the service with other parents who have no control over their children lovely families in a room off the sanctuary. Except for when the pastor called the kids to the front for a story. About three minutes into it, Asher took off down the center aisle to be with the kids up front, stumble-walking with me trailing behind to ensure he wouldn't unplug any speakers or fall off the stage. Then my Dad gracefully took over watching him in front of the crowd. That was so nice, even if he did end up giving everyone quite a show when he tried to stop Asher from climbing something by grabbing the back of his pants. Let's just say there was a full moon in Bethlehem.

Now we're back home, catching up on sleep (sort of) and battling the toy packaging to release the boys' new treasures. We ended up with piles of recycling strewn about, so I asked Miles to grab the small pieces of cardboard and bring them to the recycling in the back room. He listened. What a pleasant surprise! So I puffed up my chest a bit and smiled to myself, patting me on the back for being such a great Mom. Later, as Miles napped, I went to feed the dog and found her bag of food full of cardboard.

It was close at least, the dog food and recycling bins are in the same room. I'm choosing to believe we're making progress!

Sigh.

And finally, life's surprises are not all about our kids. No, sometimes strange animals show up on your driveway to welcome you home from your Christmas travels. Even though you live in the city...An odd little city dweller, don't you think? We will call him Nick, since he arrived shortly after a man with the same name, only of the "Old Saint" variety. Or perhaps The Little Drummer Boy. Or Star of Wonder. Or... o.k., I'll stop.

I hope all of your trips, food festivities, and merry-making adventures have been full of surprises as well. Maybe yours have not been as deeply meaningful and profound as our surprises. If that's the case, don't you worry. There's always next year.

He just keeps growing!

Miles went on his first solo trip this week. Well no, not ALONE.

(Picture that-Miles off by himself, seeing the sights in New York City, hopping on the subway and grabbing a hot dog from a vendor.)

But he did go on a little trip without Mommy and Daddy. My sister brought him home with her after she was here for Asher's appointment on Thursday. He stayed one night at her house with his cousins and another night at Nanny and Bapa's with cousin Max. He had a great time.

When he got home yesterday, I was so excited to see him, I had to hold myself back from running to the car, snatching him out, and hugging him for the rest of the day. Oh, how I love that boy.

Being away from Miles was a totally new thing for me. The whole time he was gone I kept thinking I forgot something. Like one of my limbs.

The constant chatter was missing. No one was asking me why this or why that. The things that wear on my nerves after a long day were strangely missed. I'm so glad he's home.

But I won't lie. It was good for both of us. Miles needed some fun, a break from the cries of his brother and all the attention that takes from him. He came home different, a little lighter, and seemed so much more grown up. We both have had a little boost in our appreciation for each other. You know, that whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" thing.

My sister, her husband, and cousin Max stayed here after bringing Miles home to babysit our boys while Ryan I went to a wedding. (I know, waaay nice.) When we got home from the wedding, they informed us that when they told Miles it was time to get ready for bed, he started picking up toys and putting them away, WITHOUT BEING ASKED!

Could it be that something we've been saying has been sinking in? Or maybe he was just stalling, trying to stay up with cousin Max awhile longer. Either way, I think he's really cool.

Halloweeny '08

G'pa D. helped Asher carve his first pumpkin. Asher thought he should really get his hands on that thing. PRONTO.






So he had the honor of holding the top. As you can see, he thought that was very VERY cool. Then he chewed on it for awhile. He was quite pleased.




Then we went next door to visit The Best Neighbors in the Whole Universe. Miles and Asher got some great loot.

(Asher was going to be a puppy, but I couldn't find his costume. So we cut the legs off the fireman costume from last year. Yes, I'm currently quite disorganized, I lose costumes. But I'm no fool. A scissors is good for lots and lots of things.)

(Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. (I'm sure you can't tell.) That's Miles, not the actual real Spiderman.)



Then we were off to city hall for the annual Halloween bash where we met my parents and friendly neighbors.

Pleasantville is an excellent place to live.

(That's me there, looking all excited and giddy. I love candy.)


P.S. Asher's appointment with the neuro-surgeon is this coming Thursday, Nov. 6th at 9am. It sounds as if the Doc will look at the catscan, give Asher some meds. to send him to his happy, sleepy place for an MRI. Then the MRI will be read and the O.R. will be booked quite quickly. (That's what the pediatrician said anyway, but we're not too sure what "quite quickly" means. We're assuming that very day or the next.)