the life cycle of a girl

the great horned owl hooting in the night sky keeps me company while i burn out my morning pages by star light.  i'm working around some great magic that's been locked away in the responsible part of myself.  i know you know the responsible part, friend.  it's who you learned to be when you became the rule following, people pleaser - as did I.  it's the little girl who took on the weight of the world and called herself out for every stupid, embarrassing, little mistake she made.  the girl who carried glue and tape in her pocket prepared for each worst case scenario.  oh, that girl.  if i could, i would hold her tight and make her know she was not alone.  instead i write her out of the shadows and into the spotlight on the pages of my notebook.

the try hard, fix it, do more, be more life can only take us so far.  eventually the little girl has to grow up and face her disappointment and joys as an adult.  and it is just way easier to pretend to be grown up than to actually accomplish the task.  to leave the sadness and pain out of the story would dull the happiness and joy. but there's been so much sadness lately, so let me tell you about the joy.  the gratitude for the life i have.  i helped to raise a girl not my own.  she was my responsibility, and i her servant.  many days i wondered if i was in over my head.  i was not clear on how to be of use to her.  twenty some years later, she asks me to help her give back.  today she starts her life's work with a servant's heart.  with compassion for others and selfless motives.

letting a girl go into the world is bittersweet.  for our own selfish reasons we hold on to her tightly.  watching her grow up can be painful.  we've been a part of the story once before and it's a page turner, nonetheless.  our hearts ache for her; our hearts ache for the little girl inside ourselves.  letting her know that no matter what.  she is not alone.  in the joy.  in the disappointment.  that's the real good part.  we are all in this together.  growing and going and giving back.

when one road leads to another

twenty years ago, on my summer vacation from college, i went looking for a job.  i drove the length of the world's longest driveway to meet a family that changed my life forever.  they hired me as a servant.  i had never known wealth before or experienced the social situations that come with money.  i felt burdened by their life because i didn't understand.  we came from different places.  i felt sorry for them, even though they had the world at their finger tips.  i put in long, hard, hours.  begrudgingly.  thinking:  what would they do with out me?

at the end of each day, i would drive away from there and feel the weight of the world fly off my shoulders like the dust behind my car.  their lives a distant memory in my rear view.

those people, that house, their things, made me re-define what it means to be broken and needy.  i was self-righteous to think i was a benefit to them.  selfish to think my value added to theirs.  judgmental to question their belongings and values.  

to this day i find them to be the most unlikely of teachers.  still, they have given me so much knowledge.  they taught me how to serve.  how to have humility.  and showed me how to love selflessly and humbly.  they gave me an education in all of the values i was sure i had already mastered.  they wanted to teach me the ways of their world, and instead taught me more about my own.

anonymous

i was watching my boy do his homework the other day and started to snap some photos of his long lashes and determined look.  he glanced at me and i asked if it was ok to take his picture.  he replied, "just as long as you don't post it anywhere."  his generation will be the first to have always been on social media.  they will never know life without it.  there will never be a time they weren't gushed about on facebook or twitter; a time when they weren't blogged about ad nauseum.  i love the boundaries he's setting for himself.  he gives me good perspective on how much to give to the world wide web, and how much to keep for myself.

super

one thing that was not so super about this weekend was the bronco game.  it was quite a disappointment to say the least.  what would have made it worse would have been snow.  which didn't happen.  so there is a silver lining. i am thankful, so thankful, for the experience.  which leads me to why i love my husband.

most people don't ever know how their actions.  their behavior.  their day to day routine affects someone's life.  enter steve atwater (former denver bronco).  we happened to be standing next to one of his publicity events and started chatting him up.  i said we got to see you play in the super bowl in miami.  my husband used to work for the broncos.  you could say a lot of things to a football star.  you could talk up his game play.  you could stroke his ego.  but my husband says to him, "you were such a pleasure to work with."  and he didn't stop there.  he made sure to tell his wife what a decent man he had been and how appreciative he was for his kindness.  hands down classiest men in the room.  my husband and steve atwater.

last, and certainly not least, heather.  remember our babysitter, heather?  broncos cheerleader.  rookie of the year, now cheer captain.  pro-bowler.  super-bowler.  we are proud of who this girl is and what she stands for.  she is gold inside and out.  and as luck would have it, i got her attention at the game.  i was in tears.  so proud.

b hope

oh man, i love this child.  she is spunky and vibrant and giggles at my jokes.  today, sweet pea told his class about her while they were reading an ethiopian fable.  she is a blessing in all of our lives.  on ethiopian christmas, and every day, we love you sweet girl!

for the love of sausage fingers

a year or so ago my wedding rings stopped fitting.  i forced them onto my sausage fingers many times and then put them in a jewelry box and adopted a larger, much less meaningful substitution.  several people asked why i just didn’t have them resized.  i maintained the problem was not the rings but my steady change in weight over the years.  i was not the girl he married eleven years ago, and i truly believed (for a minute or so) that he would rather have that girl back.  i had the lingering doubt that i was not worthy of my rings if i wasn’t the person he married.  not just my sausage fingers, but everything seemed so much bigger and dramatic and more complicated than it did eleven years ago.  weight and gravity hold a person down, hold a person back from moving forward, keep them restrained just enough that they miss the light on the horizon.

we are somewhere between idaho and colorado amidst a frozen, windy wasteland.  the beautiful sunlight is shining on my laptop screen and i can see those rings in the reflection.  the weight of my fingers has not changed much since i became determined that changing my hands was the way to a  dream marriage.  the rings were put away too long.  without them i forgot the way he looked at me when he put them on.  the rings themselves were not important, but without them on my finger it became just a bit too easy to forget all of the love behind them.  so much time passed, i tried to jam them on my finger to no avail.  there is no fitting that eleven year ago sized marriage onto the people we have become.  resizing became the only option.  letting go of the past.  letting go of unrealistic expectations.  that was my gift this Christmas.  rings that fit perfectly.  now.  on sausage fingers.  with all of the love behind them.  looking at the reflection of those rings i see they no longer remind me of the wife i think he would want.  they show how love grows and changes with time.  just like our bodies, our families, our minds…and our marriage.

new to us

so...we changed schools this year. it was kind of a big deal {for me}. 

this is a news clip of the principal and some teachers from our new school {you should watch it}.  i love to see teachers setting a living example for their students.  pushing beyond comfort zones.  trying something unimaginable.  my boys are living that out every day now.  they are struggling, but in a good way.  i see it changing them and i am thankful.  they will not be the only ones who grow this year.  we are learning lots too.

country girls

we were two girls walking down a country road.  sometimes it was gritty with dirt, and other times it was paved and smooth.  she was only allowed to walk me half way home.  sometimes we were anne of green gables other times laura ingalls.  with pig tails.  she had beautiful blond hair and i was stringy and brown.  my whole body.  a brown string bean.  sometimes there were wolves chasing us and we would run and scream, other times lizzie borden would wait just behind the tree to scare us the rest of the way home.  she always had me with that mischievous grin.  she could talk me into anything.  sometimes i was brave and other times she carried me through.  we walked to the creek and listened for a parent's call, we rode our bikes and came home before dark.  then there were boys and friends and grown up things that lurked in corners and pushed us away.  

we are two women walking down a road.  we found each other not so far from where we left off.  sometimes there are new stories or memories of the bumpy road and the people we imagined we would become.  with an old friend you cannot sugar coat, you cannot pretend.  you are always beautifully blond or brown and stringy.  with an old friend you know sometimes the wolves are waiting and other times they are nothing to fear.  an old friend will help when you ask and let you be brave when she can't.  i sit quietly remembering those old days, that old friendship, and find it comforting to know that we will walk together the rest of the way home.

chicks dig him

so many firsts for this little one.  he knocked the socks off of kindergarten this year.  he played up in soccer.  lost a tooth.  has a fashion sense.  loves lexi.  confession:  he occasionally uses off the cuff swear words.  with deep sincerity and feeling.  at the most ridiculous times.  he knows not what he says, and his innocence blows me away.  he is a kind and compassionate boy who has never met a stranger.  sixth graders know him by name.  he hugs and high fives everyone in sight.  and he dances with wild abandon.  he has a brave old soul.  we love him so.  pizza face and all.

front porch roller coaster

{image found here}

we had a front porch conversation that rivaled all front porch conversations.  teenager meets middle aged mom.  we talked about bullies and judgement and what not.  a real impromptu gut wrencher in the country.  my heart was topsy turvy as i laid these irretractable words on him - i want to know your bully.  what makes him tick.  i sized him up and let that soak in a bit.  after all, he was the one on the receiving end.  i just wanted to see where he landed on the subject; how heavy my words would sit on his shoulders.  let's just say he schooled me on compassion.  among the other wise things he said, this one dropped me to my knees:    i know what makes him tick.  he needs help, it's really bad for him.

and so it is at the precipice of a roller coaster's hill - we sit on top of the world with butterflies.  the ride is going smoothly, even when the gears are ratcheting up.  the view is beautiful, but our grip tightens.  stronger and stronger the nudging and heart rendering feelings indicate that.  this.   is. about.  to.  get.  crazy.  it's thrilling and terrifying, and there is no turning back.  the only way off the ride is to get past the scary part.

there have been many times fear has urged me to close my eyes and hold on tight to what my human heart knows.  in my mind's dark place, fear grows and corrodes and corrupts.  i have seen the truth, however painful, shine its light on fearful places.  rejection breeds loathing and acceptance fosters love.  on that front porch roller coaster hill, i confessed that i was not going to live in fear another day.  that i wanted to run towards the messy, ugly and uncomfortable, not away.  i can no longer close my eyes to what is in front of me.  fear festers and urges us to cling to the bar and scream against the unknown.   from the safety of the front porch we can let go of the bar, and open our eyes because love's light is there.  love will always win over fear and darkness.  for both victim and bully.  just and unjust.  righteous and sinner.  it is the only way off the roller coaster.

dude

i have been taking a writing class.  so naturally my writing has reached a fever pitch of brilliance.  no wait.  that's a complete standstill.  it's not that i haven't been writing, because i have.  in a journal.  and i had a blog post all worked out about compassion and love for today.  it wasn't all gushy like it sounds.  it might have thrown you for a loop.  but after today's events in boston.  after the world lost a little man the same age as my own.  i just had to put it away.  my heart isn't in the fight today.  so instead, i wanted to share sweet pea.  

he and his friend got together over the weekend and worked on their sales strategy for paracord bracelets (which i will fully share at a later date).  i overheard this conversation:

o:  dude.  i'm a science fanatic.  and you're a math fanatic.
sp:  so, we kind of make a good team.

braniacs unite!  immediately i took to text.  his mom and i agreed (via text) that all we could ask for on this planet was a kindred to our own boy's spirit.  and they certainly found each other.  amen.

then.  we were in the car and this conversation just plain cracked my stuff up.  i talked about it all day.   

sp:  so if someone makes a bad choice, are they influenced by satin?
(i cannot make this stuff up)
me in my mind:  (yes!  you so understand me.  there is rarely a good choice influenced by satin.  or satan, for that matter.  but i digress)
me:  do you mean the shiny fabric or the man with the pitchfork?
sp:  i mean the man with the pitchfork and bullhorn.
me:  horns or a bullhorn? (at this point i cannot cut him any slack.  so to speak.  hee hee...)
long pause.  and drumroll.  wait for it.  wait for it...
sp:  where did satin come from?
me:  (seriously.)  satin or satan?  i'm pretty sure they came from the same place...

so, friends, i hope to lay it on you tomorrow.  make a stand for something that i have been struggling with for months if not years.  but if you don't hear from me, just know that my journal is getting an earful.  it'll come.  i feel my voice out there.  it's coming back.  it's just taking a lot of writing to catch up.  i find glimpses of it every day and wonder how i could have let my writing wane so much.  say your prayers tonight and love on those babies.  peace.

be different

watching two little boys grow up side by side leaves me panting for breath most of the time.  they couldn't be more different. {said in my best chandler bing voice.}  you want to give them space to grow and thrive independently of each other, yet you want to lump them together and hope they choose the same winter sports.  one is setting up his own etsy shop, the other tells you he crawled through the tunnel under main street.  there was no dead stuff.  one wears basketball shorts all the live long day the other dons tom cruise sunglasses and a fedora.  one tries hard to be everything, the other doesn't try at all.  you do your best for them the only way you know how.  you watch two little boys grow up side by side and find yourself breathless at how they shine in their very own ways.

the thinker

i was watching part of the 60 minute clip on The Lost Boys of the sudan.  my oldest son walked into the living room and announced, “i’m in here…” which is the adult’s cue to turn off the news.  it’s not that i want to shelter him from the world.  in fact, just the opposite.  at the same time, i want him to have his innocence for as long as he can.  one morning i stopped watching the today show because they repeatedly rolled a clip of cheerleaders beating up another girl.  over and over.  it hurts my heart to watch those types of situations sensationalized on tv.  it was about that time, we just gave up on watching the nightly news, too.  hard to watch, hard to explain.

my son was born with a question in his mouth.  and he wasn’t able to verbalize it until he was nearly a year old.  but he started speaking early, and he has never stopped asking questions since.  he is a complex thinker, but is at the social level of kids his age.  burp and fart {i do not like that word} jokes are his thing, but he alienates himself when he explains scientifically why burping and farting {i do not like that word} happen.  and.  it’s really hard to explain things to him in a manner that doesn’t create an awkward social situation with his peers when he repeats what we’ve told him.  i digress.

so we are watching the story of The Lost Boys, and I am tensed waiting for the barrage.  it is the first time in our recorded history that i have just rolled with the news thing and faced the it head on.  the issue is powerful and moving.  not sensational.  just deep and gut wrenching.  “mommy, what is genocide?  what does back lash mean?  why did the boys have to fight?  did they have guns?  did those children kill people?  why would a government do that?  why would an army kidnap children?  what if they got on an airplane and flew to the US?  why did others not save them?  and on and on and on…”  i worked hard to keep the answers simple-ish, but i used the word kill, and wipe out, extinct, etc.  he was a bit freaked out as you can tell by his questions.  genocide, the most reprehensible thought, going through the mind of my once innocent baby now turned eight. 

then he sat straight up and looked at me and said, “i get the point.  if something happened to our neighbors down the street, we should help because we are able.”  he totally gets it.

 

then he told me all about how he saw the Easter Bunny last night in his room.  "mommy, what emotion do easter bunnies have?  how high can they jump?"  complex comprehension brought right down to a second grade level.  i love that boy for his wide open mind.  

sweet pea, apple of my eye

we sit close on the couch, talking quietly so we won't disturb brother's new found love of reading.  we have finished another chapter in this complicated benedict society series.  he can't get enough of the books or the puzzles or the conversations and speculation we have over what comes next.  as each chapter ends, we take a step towards our new beginning. 

we look for parallels in the book.  we compare and contrast.  i am asking him to take an adventure.  one that i never realized i missed.  i am asking him to trust me when i say it won't always be this hard or scary, knowing that i never took the risk.  i am asking him to step out of his safety zone, and away from the few people he finds comfort.  all the while, tears rolling down my face knowing our days in familiar places are numbered.  i know him better than myself it seems.  between us there is calm and fear, excitement and dread.  and then i realize those are just my feelings. 

fear of failure, underachievment, blending in, learning what it means to be invisible.  this is not what i want him to take away from his younger years.  these are all things we have been dancing around for too long now.  in our own lives and for him.  so we cheer him on and we advocate for him and we do our best to find someone to listen to the songs his heart is singing.  for someone to say the infamous words, what if?  for someone to believe, like we do, that he is special.  we encourage him to shine and reassure him that just around the corner there is someone he can talk to.  always.

and we push him to go, go, go.  be amazing, our little sweet pea.

d. o. double g.

i have been taking my dog to the ball park for some big running and energy spending time.  it's nice to belong to a dog for a change.  my voice puts the weight of the world on his shoulders.  we are learning to understand each other.  so, today, when he dropped his stick and stared into the hundred acre woods, i stopped to stare too.  when he came to sit next to me i got goose bumps on my arms.  when all the birds in the trees stopped chirping...we both high tailed it back to the car.  i do love belonging to a dog, but the mountain lion can have someone else.

the pizza delivery man

here we have the mad scientist/ pizza delivery man.  age 3.  this video still cracks my stuff up.  i pull it out when things get a little too serious up in here.  up in here.  please, enjoy.  xo

art and life and beans

little tears turned to big tears as one brother ended the dream of the other.

 

hers was the first room we journeyed to on back to school night.  and on parent celebration night. 

{on a side note:  do y'all have parent celebrations that recently replaced parent teacher conferences?  a new phenomenon in our world.  more on this another day.}

 

they painted giant watermelons.  they discussed van gogh's starry night.  most importantly, she moved him to talk about art in his every day world and he loved coming home to share it with us.

 

my kindie cried himself to sleep when he found out she wasn't coming back to school.  she was the best art teacher he had in his whole life.  his magical kindergarten teacher took him to say his goodbyes.  bless her heart.

 

mrs.c planted a seed.  and he sees art and life through new eyes.  he experiments with color.  he moves from pen and pencil drawings to stark contrasting colored stills.  i love what is growing inside of him.  i can only hope it takes him to paris someday.  and me.  he would need a chaperone.

msm: oh boy!

as i sit here working on projects for the holidays, my eye is drawn to this particular decoration on our Christmas tree.  six years ago i let my baby boy out into the world.  i went to work, he went to daycare.  i cried my eyes out.  he made this ornament.  these giant baby shaped hands, symbolize for me, the letting go of one stage and the welcoming of another.  a true little angel, this boy, who has taught me everything i ever needed to know about parenting. 

be still my heart

i am thankful for this sweetest of my peas. 

the apple of my eye. 

my smart and smiley guy.

beansish

i love every hair on this little one's head.  so thankful for a boy with a crazy good appetite.  i should have named him mikey.