Grief

Good grief.  Grief is partly defined as the loss of something to which a bond was formed. 

Recently, a friend from out of the country paid me a visit.  We took time to sit on the deck and chat over lemonades while our kids played barefoot in the grass… and naked in the pool.  As we processed different things going on in our lives, she reminded me, in response to one situation I shared, that I’m good at feeling guilty about many, many things. She, too, shares that experience.  She said that leading a charmed life makes one feel that he or she is not entitled to “freak out sessions” of their own.  3 healthy children? Check. Roof over my head? Check. Able body?  Check. Amazing husband? Check.  Loving and present family? Faithful, merciful, and intimate Savior?  Check.  Charmed life?  Check. How could I possibly have a freak out session?  Guilt.

So, “what do I do with that?” I asked.  She replied without missing a beat, “you entitle yourself to freak out and move on.  And if you need to revisit your freak out moment the next day, you do that and move on.  It’s your story and only you know how it feels.”

Silence. Light bulb.

Freedom to freak out? 

Fast-forward.

Tonight as we put the McBabies to bed, McBaby #1 requested that I be the one to read to her.  It was a bit surprising since we seemed at each other for a good portion of the day.  (Again, guilt…) We read a book about what it means to be a good friend.  She picked it out and the Lord used the book to tie into so many misfires from the day... for both of us.  After we read, talked, and prayed, she curled up in a little ball; wet hair, smell of clean-baby, smooth skin, seeing the very edge of a smile on her tiny little mouth as I watched her fall asleep from behind. Blessings.

After leaving her room, I passed McBaby #2’s room and the door was still open as McHusband put him to bed.  As he saw me, he called out “Mommy, rock me.” I came in – bone tired as I approach the eleven- nine- months pregnant mark and sat in the chair to rock him.  He nestled in – a feeling I’ve become very familiar with.  I’ve memorized the aroma of the nape of his neck, the sensation of kissing his squishy warm cheeks, the dimple in the back of his elbow as he drapes it across my neck in embrace.  And it set in.  Grief.  The feeling that two and a half years has already passed by since I held him in the place I’m soon to hold this new baby.  I felt my own version of loss as I thought about the boxes of too-small-clothes I’d just packed up from the kids and the legs that now dangled off of my lap as I tried to still rock and cuddle them.  I felt the impending loss of the-4-of-us the same way I did with the-3-of-us and the-2-of-us before that.  How many times will I feel this loss even when I know a greater gift awaits? 

And so, even though I've tangibly lost nothing, I freak out.  I feel the tears brimming my eyes, the sob stuck in my throat, the burning in my heart that asks God why it must all go by so quickly?  And as I let one little wimper out, McBaby #2 looks up and smiles – even though I’d thought him long out.

“Don’t be sad Momma.”

“Sometimes Mommy cries when I’m both sad and happy.  I love you.”

“I love you most.”

He leans in and gives me his signature smooch – lips puckered and a bit wet.  I’ll take it.  He instinctively knows my love language.

“Please don’t grow up too fast.”

“I don’t want to get back in my bed.”

“Okay.”

And so we rock some more.  Just because.  And I move on from my freak out and enjoy the wonder that is my children knowing that just hours before I told the McHusband that I hadn’t spent very much of the day savoring them. 

And I thank God for the gift of today, the gift of freshly bathed little bundles, for a baby kicking inside of me, and for sweet reminders of beautiful moments that transcend the constraints of time.

Road trip, letting go, & a guest post!

Recently I drove up to Detroit to visit some family.  It was just the McBabies and me as McHusband was out of town.  We spent our few days there around the table of their own restaurants, gathering for six-hour dinners, loads of laughter, and more dirty jokes than I've heard in some time.  The camaraderie was fun; corralling a 2-yr old McBaby #2 for that long in a crowded restaurant had its challenges.  As he played intently with their "Please Wait to be Seated" sign, I realized from what a long line of creative and over-protective Mediterranean women I come.  I was amazed at how many cleverly concocted ways they figured McBaby #2 could have injured himself on that seemingly-innocent little sign.

On the way home, McBaby #1 was begging me to read her book to her in the back seat.  (Thankfully, she just started reading a bit on her own and a whole new world is opening up!) After my repeated responses that I couldn't read and drive at the same time, she was getting quite upset and bored in the back seat.  In an effort to nip it in the bud, I expressed grave seriousness in saying that if I were to read, then get distracted, then hit another car, it could crash our car and we'd all be dead.  I know, I know, a little graphic for a 4 year old.  Hindsight is 20/20.  The look of heartbreak on her face was unforgettable.  Through tears, her sweet voice said "and Daddy would be all alone?" She started crying as she expressed the thought of her heart-broken daddy and, for the first time, I saw that she understood something about loss, something about letting go.  And, then, so did I.  I have early memories of grief and anxiety about potential loss - really, from her age.  While I would love to spare her of this burden, it is part of one's growing - no different than teething, leg cramps, or McBaby #2's out-of-control hair.

My sweet friend (happy birthday to her today by the way!!!) at Message in a Mason Jar has posted so beautifully on her blog about this process of holding on and letting go, that I want to pass the baton to her as we continue on this thread.  Click on the afore-mentioned link to head over there...

Le Ballon Rouge

Do you remember watching the film “Le Ballon Rouge” in school?  I can remember first seeing this beautiful French movie in elementary school and being moved even then.  The Albert Lamorisse film has hardly any dialogue, but portrays so much in its imagery and in watching the characters’ interactions.  The film takes place in Paris and reveals the story of a little boy who is followed around the city by a gigantic red balloon (ballon rouge).  Though many try to pop his prize and ruin his fun, ultimately the balloon prevails… the child’s spirit prevails. 

In trying to come up with a baby shower theme for one of my closest friends in the whole wide world, I thought this would fit beautifully!  She loves red, we both love France and have visited multiple times, she is a soul with her own adventurous spirit, and it would make for a great decorated table… French baguettes, vintage collectibles, and a giant red balloon!  After the shower and after posting some FB pics, I had a lot of questions about things, so I decided to make a blog post all about it!  Here ya go...

Here is a pic from the film... how awesome is the red balloon standing out amongst the old grays of the buildings.  (Parts of the film reportedly take place in north of Paris in the Montmartre area.  That is where we stayed on our last visit a few years back and it was UH-MAZING.  Also, the area is virtually unrecognizable today as the same place say film critics.)  

Here is an image I found as my muse when I started googling and "Pinteresting" images...

Then I discovered that these balloons, at the cheapest I could find them, were $7.99 apiece.  Choke.  Ok, so I'm not planning a celebrity wedding here... time to get creative and modify... here is the invitation.  It's a combo of brown cards and envelopes I bought at Hobby Lobby, printed images I found by googling, and a large fabric balloon attached with spray adhesive.  

Did you know you can find websites and download awesome fonts yourself that make things look custom?  Check out www.dafont.com

Here is what I came up with... thank goodness the weather was PARFAIT and we were able to have everything outdoors... 20 place settings total.

I racked my brain trying to think of a party favor.  Anything that's affordable (dollar store, Target $1 bin, etc.) wouldn't really be worth carrying home and we already had so many food things available.  So, I saw an idea for party favors that were fabric flower pins... I loved that!  Then, I thought, why don't I just make some and then hot glue papers to them that they can rip off when they leave... name tags AND favors!

HERE is the link to those fabric flowers and an incredible site about beautiful baby showers in general... there are TONS of tutorials online and on pinterest if you'd like to learn to make them yourself.  Let me add that everything about doing this shower was a pleasure except for the repeated hot freakin' glue gun burns that I endured while making 20 rosettes!!

The gorgeous momma-to-be...

Here are some shots of the preggo we were celebrating and the other gal hosting with me...

 All three of us crazies are expecting bebes this summer!

 Here are a couple of other shots...

If you'd like to read a HILARIOUS blog about one gal's cake-pop-making-adventures, check this out HERE.  I had better luck, but not by much... the darn things can make you crazy.

(All of the ugliest ones are in the back.)

 Au revoir!!

Claire Dunphy, please move aside...

Our road is undergoing some major construction and will be closed for the next couple of months.  In an effort to warn drivers of upcoming detours, barricades were placed on the road.  The barricades were placed in a way that was causing a huge bottleneck in the the intersection and also causing folks to nearly nip each other if 2 cars tried to simultaneously fit between them.  Being that the detour was only south of the barricades, I figured someone would come move the ones placed in the northbound lane.  Nope.  So, after 2 weeks, I decided to track down the city, figure out who was in charge of road engineering, and take it up with that guy.  Once I figured that out, I first expressed my thanks and excitement for the renovation, then I went on to explain the current problems with the street blocks and, in my opinion, the potential solutions.  The very same day, one barricade was moved over and one was removed - solving the problem. I called the McHusband excited that this stay-at-home-mom was a mover and shaker in the town.  Ok, not really, but it was a small victory!  As much as we drive around, I was excited for a safer and less annoying intersection.  Kudos to the town for their quick response to a resident's complaint and suggestion!

Those of you who watch Modern Family, you can appreciate that this was my version of Claire's stop sign.  Where are we driving?  Glad you asked... here are the places we've been in the last week... kinda a tour of the amenities in our area, it seems...

(party at the pastor's house)

(Conner Prairie)

(At the wishing "well")

(At Cool Creek Park)

(At the dentist)

(At the grocery... obviously)

(At Founders Park... our first time and loved it!)

Not sure exactly what McBaby #2 is plotting here...

Sew fun

So, in the spirit of nesting, I have been in seamstress sewing-hack mode.  I have been enjoying taking time to cook and sew.  Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, of course.  I've had a couple of opportunities lately to go to trunk shows.  One was for Matilda Jane Clothing and the other for Bricolage Girls (see links).  Both specialize in little girls' dresses and are BEAUTIFUL!!! I've been trying to make my own little dresses for McBaby #1 and for gifts for other little ones.  Occasionally, I get my own online store going again, but it definitely, ahem, ebbs and flows.  That is Zion House (see link), by the way.  Here are 2 dresses I've sewn this week.  If you're interested in making your own, here is an awesome free tutorial and pattern from a blogger that served as a helpful launching pad for me.

Took this shot on Easter weekend as I started my 6th month.  My 7th begins this weekend and I can't believe it!!!  Enjoying this season, feeling the baby kick a ton, and praying for good sleep from here on out! 

Tangled

I remember reading a book by Dr. Laura (not my normal kind of read, but, still, I found it to be a good book on parenting) and she made an interesting observation about quality versus quantity time.  She argued that while quality time is, of course, the most important, that time is hardest to "force".  So, if you don’t have the quantity of time with your children, you may miss out on many quality moments.  Does that mean to spend every waking moment with your child?  I don’t think so, but it sure makes me glad to have many, many, many moments with them so that I experience some of their most special ones.

I think this is the way with lots of other things, one of them being writing.  Every time I sit down to journal – privately (in my notebooks) or publicly (in my blog) isn’t necessarily insightful or clarity-inducing.  But, the consistency of doing it helps me have a better opportunity of landing on something.  Quantity often allows for quality to rise to the top, maybe??

That being said, today’s blog is just part consistency and part scrapbooking.  Not necessarily anything profound here… but, an idea hit me in the face. Literally. 

 We had a joint birthday party for the McBabies at the end of the year since their birthdays are only a few weeks apart.  It was Tangled themed since we all love the movie and since I have a crush on Flynn Rider.  McBaby #1 and I braided a ridiculously long Rapunzel hairpiece that still often hangs off of our banister as it has this week (which was exactly what hit me in the face).   I make  an effort to place very few rules about the braid so they don't get any ideas... ("don't hop over the edge on your braid guys!", "don't put it around anyone's neck", they've come up with a few others.)

Here's the invitation.  The male lead in the film is "Flynn Rider".  It worked out perfectly that McBaby #2 could be "(McLau)ghlin Rider".  In retrospect, I wouldn't have put that line break after "come for a joint"... haha...

And like every good party, someone ends up stripping down to their skivvies!

Non-cheerio people

Well, the McBabies eat them.  They love them for snacks and wouldn't be opposed to them being a part of breakfast, but they would riot for more food.  I'm not sure if any of you share this experience, but my kiddos LOVE breakfast.  I mean, love like if I were to take them to the Omni Hotel Easter Brunch, they would make the place go in the red.  Our day normally consists of a big breakfast, a snack or maybe even 2, a decent-sized lunch, a long nap, and then they hardly ever eat any dinner.  Maybe a bite or two, but it is such a battle that I've decided to just thank my lucky stars that they eat pretty well the rest of the day and try to get those couple of meals/snacks nutritious and balanced and take whatever I can get at dinner.  This also makes eating out and evening family functions easier because I don't feel like there is a ton of pressure on dinner.  Don't get me wrong, there have been days lately where I question the whole philosophy and try to force McBaby #2 to sit at the table until his peas are gone, bribe him with ice cream, or sneak something into his mouth. He is Mr. Mellow until dinner comes around and he can flex his will.  That makes both of us, I suppose.

So, breakfast involves commitment and a huge mess. It involves getting veggies in eggs, veggies in smoothies, veggies as snacks, etc.  Today's breakfast was a fairly normal one and involved a skillet, my KitchenAid, a sauce pot, my blender, the toaster, measuring cups and spoons, servingware, and the ingredients.  Here was the ingredient list:

* Again, we're talking about organic ingredients...

(For the Scrambled Eggs)
3 Eggs
Milk
Butter

(For the Oatmeal)
Steel Cut Oats
Water
Brown Sugar
Cinnamon (good for the stomach btw)

(For the Toast)
Artisan Bread
Butter

(For the Smoothies)
1 cup fresh strawberries
1 banana
1/2 cup frozen blueberry/raspberry/blackberry medley
1/2 baked sweet potato
1/2 cup whole milk greek yogurt
4 Tbsp ground flax meal
2 cups milk

Getting all of this out and then, yikes, cleaned up daily often feels like such a chore to be honest. But, a simple bowl of cheerios wouldn't help me meet my nutrition goals for them/us.  So, I guess I feel it's worth it. Most days, I at least get the plates put in the sink and the food put away and then we head out for whatever activity is planned and I pick it all up during nap time. Right as I'm thinking through and prepping dinner... like the shampoo bottle, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat...

FYI, I set a timer for an hour before they can have their snack because they would graze the entire morning if I let them and I've recently decided that I can't spend quite that much time in the kitchen.   Today's snack was apples and pretzels.  Again, we left and didn't take snacks along so as not to "ruin" lunch.  Lunch was grilled cheese.  Then those kiddos went off to sleep and I had the most important meal of the day.  In a rampage to find some leftover piece of chocolate from the kids' Easter basket or Halloween or something, I found that McHusband bought ghirardelli chocolate chips at the store the other day.  Oh. my. yum.  Some addictions are better than others, right???

Uncle Tom's Cabin (or at least that's how I remember it)

When I was growing up, my parents were super-intentional about carving out the time and money for family vacations.  I don’t remember there ever being a summer, in fact, when we didn’t go on vacation.  We were, some years, even on vacation for two weeks at a time.  Though we always had everything we needed and plenty of extra things too in our life and home, we weren’t rich – it wasn’t that taking trips like this were without a heck of a lot of planning, I’m sure.  While we went to beautiful beaches along the Wisconsin shorelines, we normally ate packed lunches and ordered waters or split meals if we went out to eat.  The point is, my parents made it happen because that special family time was a priority and worth the effort.

Believe me, now as a mother, I can appreciate the massive amount of work and stuff traveling with young children entails.  I now cringe at the memory of Dad and us 3 kids in the car ready to pull out honking at mom inside the house and giving impatient “c’mon Mom, what the heck are you doing in there?s” or the ever-famous “don’t forget the kitchen sink/snowshoes/insert-best-ridiculous-item-here Mom!”  (Sorry Dad, but I’ve jumped ship and sided with Mom on this now!!)  By the way, this post deserves my repeatedly adding “or at least that’s how I remember it” since I was a kid…

It is insane how much sh crap stuff comes along with us on vacation and how much careful deliberation it takes to (a) remember the vitals, (b) include the things that will just make life easier, and, then, most importantly, (c) get it to fit in the car. 

Some other interesting things that should be mentioned:

• Entertaining children in the car (without individual TV/gaming systems and pre-packaged snack packs) – now when I was young, seatbelts were a normal part of riding in a car, but on vacation, we slept/played/ate on the floor while in transit.  I think it’s safe to say that most people operated this way.  Things were different back then.  I’m not saying it’s not fantastic that we have more information now for safer travel, but I am saying that I’m certain we kids weren’t strapped in 5-point-harnesses for hours on end.  We had a blue astro van – does anyone else remember those 90’s versions?  We had 4-60 air-conditioning for much of the drive.  That means 4 windows open at 60 mph (well, maybe more like 4-75/80 with Dad driving…don’t get me wrong, he’s an awesome chauffer and could be the live version of a global GPS).  The sound in the van on an interstate was much like sitting in the back of an airplane right next to the jets.  Crazy loud.  And if you even considered trying to close one of the sonic-boom-decibel windows that opened and closed on a flippy-latchy-thingy, you knew you were at risk for losing at least one finger with the speed-defying intensity in which they snapped shut.  Kinda the whole would you rather be blind or deaf age-old question?  Or at least that’s how I remember it.  I also remember one time smelling chocolate chip cookies from the front bucket seat and later realizing upon crawling to the very back (at least 20 feet behind me… or at least that’s how I remember it) that my brother had broken into the homemade chocolate chip cookies Mom had made and was sitting in a lawn chair – yes, in the back seat – eating them up.  That’s how freakin’ awesome that car was. A lawn chair!  And, now come to think of it, that’s how freakin’ awesome my mom was for packing up enough crap to sustain us if we were stranded on a desert island and still find time to make homemade chocolate chip cookies for the trip.  My other favorite memory of road trips was spending gobs of time with my Dad giving us song titles and pitches for which harmony part we were on.  We would spend hours singing songs and making up harmonies.  Sometimes hymns.  Sometimes folk songs.  Sometimes the ever-popular “Diarrhea” song which we could come up with about a million phrases that rhymed and fit the song.  Or at least that’s how I remember it.

• Figuring out naps and new schedules – I know from memory and from my folks saying it now that schedules and naps weren’t thought of in a structured sense like ours are.  This is neither good nor bad, just what we each have done, but no matter what, kids, adults, everyone is affected by road trips, driving, sleeping in new places.

• Packing daily lunches

• Taking the freaking time to apply repeated sunscreen (did we even do that when we were little?)

• Saving up the money for the trip

• Etc
  
  

Perhaps what I love most about thinking of these vacations though are the little things that were surely specific to my family.  If you know my parents, you can attest to this truth that they know no strangers.  I’m fairly certain that I have always enjoyed this strike-up-a-convo-with-anyone way about them and my sister has taken more of can-I-hide-under-a-rock-now-you’re-embarrassing-me stance.  For instance, visit any one of a myriad of our go-to restaurants around town and my mother will know most of the wait staff and management by name.  My dad can pretty much see any Indiana license plate and, from the numbers (letters? something else?) and tell you within which county a person lives.  This combo of knowledge and willingness to be chatty with strangers means that we could not go very many places without meeting people and finding mutual friends among them.  Or at least that’s how I remember it.

So when we went to this old schoolhouse-turned-candy-factory in Door County, Wisconsin, we made fast friends with Uncle Tom, the elderly owner.  One thing led to another and before we knew it, we were upstairs, above his candy store, where he lived all sitting around his family room singing songs while he accompanied us on his organ.  Then, we were coming back to see him every year.  Or at least that’s how I remember it.  It wasn’t really called “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”.  It was “Uncle Tom’s Candies”, but I think I called it that being that the renown novel had such a close name.

When I think of all these things, I know that vacation has a special place in my heart because it’s a time of proximity (literally rubbing elbows in cars and hotel rooms) and intimacy with each other that is hard to achieve in many other ways.  It’s a time of swapping stories.  It’s a time of finding little corners of the world that only you and the people you shared the trip with can recount when you’re back home.  It’s a time where year to year you can track progress on who was brave enough to jump off the rock that year, who was little enough to slide down the stairs in the place you stayed every year, who was finally tall enough to ride that ride, who was old enough to remember directions to all of your favorite places around town.  It was a time of creating memories and repeating them with those you cherished most and who were the only other ones in the entire world who could understand both the memories and understand you because of them.  Or at least that’s how I remember it… and certainly why we continue to do it.