One of the Best Things...

One of the best things about being a mom is that I have a real-life duplicate.  Of myself.  It makes me jump for joy because it's something I have always dreamt about.

Before I had kids, what made me sad about watching other kids (mostly my students) is that they were the apples from their parents' trees.  They talked like them, dressed in clothes their parents bought, liked the things their parents liked, and had natural affinities that leaned toward what was important in their home.  They listened to songs their parents played for them, and went to events their parents picked out.

Even though I had a lot of time with these kids, I would never have as much influence on them as their parents did.  At the end of the day, it was Mom and Dad whose arms those kids were jumping into, not Mrs. Haskamp's.

I wanted a child of my own - to teach things to, to sing to, to influence, to mold and shape.  And, thank you God, she is here in the flesh...my little mockingbird...the carbon copy of my life.

She sings songs I teach her, all by herself.  The other day Ben was getting her dressed and out of the blue, she sang "Jesus Loves Me" without prompting.  She hates loose hair like I do.  When I see or find a hair, I will shake it away and say, "Ew, gross!"  And now, when Millie sees or finds a loose hair, she shakes it off into the trash can and says, "Ew, gross!"  She (pretend) puts her contacts in after I do.  I put mine in, rinse out the container, and then it's her turn.  And, she is LOUD.  I think Ben is already tiring of it, but I think it's hilarious.  We yell outside, we shout in the bathroom (our downstairs one has great acoustics) and we sing, sing, sing everywhere.  She's got her momma's pipes, and she's not afraid to use them.

The highlights of this dynamic relationship come when I least expect it.  The other day we were driving home and I had to hit the brakes kind of quickly to stop.  From the backseat, I immediately hear,  "OH CRAP!"  Monkey see, monkey do...now that's my girl.

With this blessing comes great responsibility, of course.  But I am so pleased (other than the "crap" part) about the example that I am setting for my beautiful daughter.  Yesterday, we were coming home from eating dinner at our neighborhood lake, and some girls were playing next door.  Amelia looked up at me and said, "Let's go see what those girls are doing!"  We walked up the hill together and Amelia just went right up to those older girls and smiled and waved.  I was so stinking proud and excited that I just about busted inside.

Love my Mini-Me.

HOLLA -

Come Spring

Last Friday was a beautiful day, and we finally got out of the house and into the back yard.  Ben fired up the grill, and we invited some friends over for a last-minute barbecue.  And that's when it hit me.

We have unexplored territory!  I hadn't realized how much more living space our yard is going to provide for us.  We knew when we moved into this house in the dead of winter that it was going to be a while before we would be able to enjoy the yard.  

But now that it's getting nicer out and we are actually going outside, it's like opening a present.  (You know, one of those presents that you forget to wrap at Christmas, and then you are digging Easter decorations out a few months later and you find the present hidden up in the rafters of the attic?  It's like that kind of present.) 

We have A LOT of work to do in the yard.  The whole swing set needs an overhaul, except for the slide that's in good shape and the new swing that Ben bought for Millie last week that her backside has permanently been attached to ever since.  The grass needs seeding and weeding, the deck is old, and the patio planter has got to go.  Landscaping opportunities abound, and...I need to have a meeting with whoever's idea it was to plant those stupid spiky ball trees.  Really?!?  Spiky balls all over the yard?  Those suckers better look like they are right out of a magazine come fall.  

Even still, we have a yard.  A REAL yard.  I can't believe it.  It's like God's family room, right outside our house.  Ben's dad is bringing up an old lawn mower to give to us tomorrow.  It is beginning.  

In addition to being at the pool every day this summer (A POOL!  Zipp-a-Dee-Doo-Dah!) we plan on lots of nights like this:

Out in the backyard with friends, kids playing under the night sky, adults enjoying good convo around the table, and wonderful memories made.  

Spring, we gladly welcome you as we breathe new life into our outdoor space.

HOLLA - 

Marriage is Hard - an Offering

I see some young girls around the school where I work who are prepping for their weddings.  They post pictures of parties and talk of honeymoons and dream out loud of the blessed lives ahead of them.

And I think it is wonderful.

I think about being in that place, so in love and having no troubles, just the stress of what movie to watch on Friday night and where to go to on the next weekend excursion.  Long mornings in bed and long talks after dark are the stuff of young love, and it is good.

And then there is us.

And we are getting older, and we are parents.  And all of that young love stuff has morphed into something new that is made of the same stuff, yet is sometimes unrecognizable.

We have come to a place where marriage is hard work, when what we were for a long time was no work at all.  Now, we get up and I am cranky because Ben's snoring and noises have kept me up through the night.  He smiles and says "Good morning!" as I shoot him the stink eye while brushing my teeth in the bathroom mirror.  We share a quick kiss and it's off to work, Ben dropping Amelia off at daycare on the way.

In the evening, I bring Amelia into the house as I throw open the cabinets looking for something quick to make for dinner while she and I dance around and "Can I hold you?" and "Listen to Hey Ho?" as much as we possibly can.  Ben comes in the door about 20 minutes later and I silently breathe a sigh of relief as they play and I cook.  We eat, play, string toys all over the house, dance, take a bath, read books, pick up toys, color, put on jammies, and sing our goodnight song before putting Millie to bed between 8:30 and 9.

Ben, Millie, our niece Ellie, and nephew Aiden

After that, it's time to squeeze whatever t.v. show/movie/sporting event/chore/house project/load of laundry/phone call we can in before bedtime.  It's usually me going to bed early as Ben stays up late, unwinding from his busy day at work.

And then we do it all over again.

And we can do this for days, and even weeks, before something starts to stink.  And the stink is bad, and it makes us angry.  Okay, it makes me angry.  It would take a lot more than a little stink to make Ben angry, but that's why we're so good together.

When I get angry, I get snarky and mean.  And I say stuff that hurts, and I know it hurts, and I know it's not worth it and it doesn't matter, but I am trying to send a message.  And the message is this:

I don't feel connected to you right now.  I miss us.  Where are we?  I need to see you.  What is going on with us?  How did we get to this place?   I need you to hear me.  I feel lost in our life.  I want us back.  

And so me being mean picks a fight, which is what I want.  And Ben retreats, because he doesn't believe in meanness.  And I attack, because I want to see him fight.  And the ugly stink can stay around for hours, for as long as we let it.  And over our new, half-empty home it hangs there, weighing us down and sitting on our shoulders.

And this is the pivotal point.  Because I believe that marriages can get lost here and never recover.  If I don't stop and remember...remember...who he is and who I am and who we are and why we are here, then we could get very lost.  But inside of me, when I stop and think, bigger than the anger and the pride and frustration comes this love just shooting out of my gut, and I see him and I feel it and it breaks everything down and I can see us again and I see that all of this stuff has piled up on top of us and we can't breathe anymore.  And I think that if I ever lost him I would die and how good it feels to be in his arms and hold his hand and look in his eyes and laugh together and talk about life and raise our daughter and he is the most wonderful man I've ever known and that black fleece jacket that made me fall in love in the first place.

Oh, here we are.

I don't deserve him, and he doesn't deserve the jabs at the dinner table and the stink eye at the sink.  But this sh*t is hard, people.  It's a choice every day to see what we want to see.  And so I will keep working on seeing only the good and letting go of the not-so-good, because Lord knows I have got enough of that business in my own bag.

So, past the invitations and the cutting of the cake and the thank-you notes and the honeymoon sun tan comes the real stuff.  And that is the test of who can come out swinging together or who throws in the towel.

And many times, even after I type this, there will be another chance to either say something rude and hurtful, or take a minute and understand all of the good that is us, even when it is so, so hard.  And I promise to Ben and to God and to all who read this, I am all in.  For good.

HOLLA -

What Happens on Snow Days...

...is that we get a little crazy with Photo Booth on our new computer.  (Please excuse the messy bed behind us.)  This is our guest room, which is very purple, as you can see.  It is #2 on our list of rooms that still need to be painted, after our Emerald City bedroom.  

And then when Grandma Linda stops by, things get even weirder.  (Yep, the bed wasn't made on this day, either.  Embarrassing, but not embarrassing enough NOT to show you these funny pictures.)

HOLLA -