Sap and Such

In exactly 8 hours, it will be the one year anniversary of a giant orange moving truck pulling up to our bright yellow house and taking everything with it, down I-35, to an unassuming town in Kansas.

Last year was a heavy one for us. This year has been full of big one year marks: Sam's birthday, my stroke and the move.  This year has been full of remembrance, thankfulness, new beginnings, challenges and excitement.

I tend to be a bit of a sap.  Things can get me right here (cue Chris Farley pounding on his chest for a visual).  Looking at the forgotten photos that were taken the day of the move, and the weeks leading to that day, brought back so many memories, great memories, and some tears.

I honestly do not think I have cried, or let myself cry, about the fact that we moved away from family, friends and our home, until tonight.  That may seem odd - but part of you must look forward during times of transition, trusting in God's guidance and following in faith.   I'm not talking about stuffing your emotions, but not allowing yourself to stumble on the pain of something that isn't your reality. 

Do not underestimate the joy we have in our lives here in Kansas.  That is very present and real.  We continue to be in awe of the new opportunities we have been given and the support of new friends.  Tonight is just a walk in the past....one that is a bit overdue. 


These photos were taken a year ago.  I love them.

Ella was standing in our yard, with a fantastic tree from the neighbors yard in the background.  I loved this tree and would take a picture of it every year.

 This one was taken in our front yard.  You can tell that Ella is my little ham for the camera.

  Ella and Sam....I forgot how chubby he was. 

 Jason and the kids sliding down the "hill" in front of our house.  Yes, snow in October.  And I love how you can't even see Sam's face. 

Beast

Meet Beast......

He is a lop-eared rabbit  who has recently been on a dramatic ride (by 6 year old standards).  His story goes something like this:

It's Christmas 2007.  Santa brings 3 year old Ella a very big bunny.  Santa even got the bunny for free, which is really great.  Santa loves free gifts.  Ella lovingly names the bunny "Beast" after her current Disney fascination.  

  

Beast quickly becomes a companion that must go everywhere and do everything with dear Ella.  (Note to Santa: don't give very large stuffed animals that may end up going everywhere with a child....Thanks....).  

Beast finds his sleeping spot next to sweet Ella - taking up more of the toddler bed that she did.  Beast rode along in the car and attended overnights at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  He was dressed in clothes, jumped on, cried on, had band-aids for all his boo-boos,  thrown down the stairs and fed avocado.  He was taken care of with the greatest love a child can give.  

Beast made the cut-throat reduction of stuffed animals prior to the family moving to Kansas.  Beast even survived the 2 garage sales and many trips to donation centers while in Kansas.  But it became clear (at least to the Mom in this story) that Beast was now living in the closet.  He hadn't been played with for a very long time.  

Fast forward to last week when sweet Ella asks, "Mom, where is Beast?  I miss him so much".  Really?  After MONTHS of never talking about Beast, suddenly he is missed.  Mom's heart sinks.  Certainly Beast has been donated.  No, wait, he was too ratty and nasty to donate.  Certainly he has been thrown away!

Everyday Ella asks if Beast has been found.  Everyday Mom suggests playing with another of the 1 million stuffed toys in the house.  But they just won't do.  

By some divine intervention, Mom thinks it would be great to organize the garage.  An empty box is pulled down from on top another.....and low and behold...it isn't empty at all.  There he is, in all his nastiness, Beast.  Mom could have cried.  She will no longer have to apply for "Worst Mother of the Year Award".  At least not today.  

Beast will likely be around for some time. 

Us

Two giddy, young hearts.

One guitar.

One starlight night on a dock.

Two years of following.

Eight years of wedded bliss.

Ten years of living in La-La Love Land.

Three surprising test results.

Three beautiful little ones.

Six years of learning how to parent together.

Two countries.

Three states.

Five cities.

Six houses.

Three cars.

One couch.

Seven years of school. 

Three degrees in higher education.

Many, many dollars in student loans.  

Two hundred and six steaks.

Fifty-eight loaves of homemade bread.

One hundred batches of brownies. 

Eight places of employment.

One paper route.

Two sleep deprived parents.

Two life-changing medical events.

Countless family and friends giving love.

Two very changed people.

 

One God.

Two thankful hearts.

Many years to come.

Love you, sweet hubby.  Happy Anniversary!  

 

Little Musicians

It may be a while before the violin sounds pleasing to the ear, but watching them learn to play an instrument is pretty cute.  I must sacrifice my ears for the greater good. 

It gives me high blood pressure when Owen holds his instrument that is worth more money than all of his toys put together.  I will ignore that problem for his development as a budding musician.

They played in little concert this weekend.  

There are no photos of that because I had to squat next to them in case of a major catastrophe.  Luckily, there were only adorable, tiny kids playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star together and taking a bow at the end. 

Sniff.  Sniff. 

 He is concentrating so hard...

 This girls wants to practice all the time.  Wonder how long that will last?

 Wearing their performance attire -

Confession

I love our cats.  

I have always loved animals, but I didn't think these 3 would be so endearing.  They were free "farm cats" and I figured they would just hunt and roam.  But I think they love us too. 

They sleep just outside our door on the porch.  I put a blanket out there because they looked uncomfortable (cue laughing husband).  They curl up all together, even though they didn't like each other a couple of weeks ago.  I have something to learn from this.  

I obsessively glance out the window in the evening and morning to make sure they are all still there and the coyotes that I hear in the distance haven't come to gobble them up.  

I love that they follow us around the property to the point that we almost trip over them.  

I think it's adorable that they jump on the screen when we go inside.  It is possible they need therapy.  

 I love that they climb trees and keep watch over our chickens (meaning chase them around and do not eat them....yet). 

 I love that they tolerate it when Sam plays with them.  They are learning to run away when they see him coming.  Don't blame them one bit.   

 I love that they pose so nicely for photos.

 I love that I find them in odd places, like napping in the empty compost dish. 

 I love that this one always looks at me like, "Why are you bothering me?" 

So, don't tell anyone.  But I think I really love them. 

It's Early. Again.

If you have been waiting with bated breath to hear about my early morning wake up plan, then this post is for you.  

The verdict : I love it.  

If you kids already get up for the day in the wee hours of morning, then never mind all of this.  Don't get up earlier.  I was there, for many years, and I cannot imagine seeing 4 a.m. on the clock when trying to beat the morning rush.  

Now that my kids have been a bit more kind in the wake up department, this has worked beautifully for me.  Don't get me wrong, I still am up with Samuel at night.  But that doesn't count......

It is all about my attitude.  I knew that before and it has become even more apparent now.  When I have the chance to get grounded for the day, our entire day is different.  Happy Mom = happier kids = better day.  Shocker.  

I didn't rise early every day this past week.  My goal was 3 days and last week was more than that.  But I will confess that there were two days that I canceled my alarm at 4 a.m. after being up with the baby.  I didn't even allow that buzzer to go off and hit snooze a million times.  So I resolved that I would do this when it works for me - although I crave the morning quiet time now.   I think I may do it more often.  

  Now - to get myself to go to bed a little earlier..... 

If I.....

If I was more like Caroline Ingalls.....

I would bake and cook everything out of nothing.

I would own a gun and know how to use it.

My children would be quiet as soon as I said their name.  Once.

I would iron our clothes even though no one ever sees us and I'd have to use an open flame to heat the iron.  And I wouldn't complain about it.

I would just say, "Oh, Jason" instead of running off my mouth.

I would have a baby that apparently never does anything but play quietly.

I would sleep on a bed of dried grass and think it was amazing. 

I certainly wouldn't complain about my slow internet connection, or the fact that I need to drive 40 minutes to Target.

But if I were more like her, then I wouldn't have a camera to capture wonderful moments.  I wouldn't have a computer to view them, or have someone send me copies in the mail.

So I am thankful for the advancement of some aspects of life.  Like taking a picture of Owen as he sat at the dinner table with his spider Halloween basket upside down on his head.

He was so serious.  He ate his dinner as if nothing was different.   He even told a story of another child and called them, "immature".  This caused Jason and I to nearly spit our dinner across the table.  We were laughing - and blaming it on the baby so that we didn't hurt Owen's feelings. Then he had to hide because he was embarrassed. 

Then he replaced the spider and did the crazy 4 year old boy face.  What is with this face?  I love it.  I am so blessed  I get to look at it again and again, and happy that it also means I don't need to make straw hats out of straw for my entire family.