busy

The last few days have been really busy- kids, cleaning, organizing, prepping for our big Christmas party, sorting files for the accountant, making our Christmas gifts. Somehow I need to turn that big stack of fabric into a big pile of gifts in the next couple of weeks. It’s gonna be fun!

Tonight while we were putting the kids to bed our little guy was really clingy. He just wanted to be snuggled. Who am I to deny such cuteness a hug? After a few minutes, I handed him back to his Daddy and moved on to the next kid. He kept asking for me and calling me back. After a few minutes, I slipped back into his room and found him sitting on the little vintage chair by his bookshelf. “Hold me, Mommy? Hold me tight?”. He lifted his arms up to me so I picked him up and carried him to the bed. “Hold me like a baby, Mommy. Rocky me”. We climbed into the bed together and I held him like a baby. I rocked him like I used to when he was tiny. I stroked his hair and sang him a little song. I sat there in the quiet of his room with his downy soft head tucked in the crook of my arm listening to the sounds around me. I could hear my daughter’s mumbled reading through the vent. Mr. T and our oldest stifled laughter in our room as they told weird boy jokes to each other. I listened to him breathe and watched as his eyelids fluttered closed and then open to make sure I was still there and then slowly closed again. I had so much to do tonight. My list was so long but I needed those precious few minutes in the dark with my little guy. Once he fell asleep, I tucked him into his little toddler bed and left the room, breathing more slowly, feeling peaceful again.

Now I am cuddled up with my sewing machine. That is where you can find me over the next two weeks.

gratitude

Today was as bad as yesterday was good. Reality hit hard at 6am this morning when our youngest child decided to (very grumpily) arise for the day. It was downhill from there. By this afternoon I was in tears and was feeling wave after wave of discouragement wash over me. Instead of wallowing in it and letting myself feel worse, I decided to stop, remember what I have and be thankful for it. So this afternoon in the midst of tears, dishes, and the flurry of getting ready for the 25 people imminently arriving for dinner (potluck style so it wasn’t as crazy as it sounds - although crazy would be a good word to describe it!), I thought about what I am thankful for.

* my husband- I met him when I was 18. We’ve been together for nearly 15 years. He is a good man. A great man, in fact. I truly love him more and more everyday (especially when he offers to change a poopy diaper!).

* my kid- they all bring so much joy to my life. They have taught me more about myself than anyone else. They have stretched my faith, pushed me farther than I thought I could go and made me laugh harder than I have before. Each of them adds something special and profound to my life. I am so very thankful to be their Mom and to share my days with them.

* our dear friends- we have a group of friends here who are real, honest and inspiring. It is a pleasure and an honour to share life with them. My life is richer, fuller and so much more fun with them in it. I am thankful for their stories, their prayers and the way they encourage us to press in to God.

* challenges- one of our children has been significantly challenging us lately. It’s frustrating, overwhelming and somedays, just plain sad BUT I am thankful because those challenges force us to look at things differently. To see our kids as individuals. To do better, be more creative and pray HARDER! Our days aren’t easy but they are certainly interesting!

Life is GOOD. Not easy. Not simple. But definitely GOOD.

birthday

Today was a good day.

There were presents opened with SERIOUS bedhead.

Balloons, streamers and a DISCO BALL!

The perfect omlette.

Unexpected gifts from friends.

Many, many pictures.

Hot husband singing in the kitchen, cooking one of my favourite meals.

And doing this…

My kids.

Oldest.

Middlest.

Littlest.

Cake and candles.

Making wishes.

beauty

Some days I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the life God has given to me. Today is one of those days.

love

Love this:

runner

About two months ago I received an e-mail from a friend of mine asking if I would like to join a running group. After my body stopped shuddering at the thought of running anywhere for any reason, I had a good laugh and then pushed delete! I don’t run. I am not a runner. Other than the compulsory 1KM run of shame in junior high, I have never run in my entire life (not counting the time after my daughter was born when I decided to get back in shape, ran one block, peed my pants, burst into tears and then slunk home, determined NEVER to do that again!).

Being the determined person that she is (and one of the crazy types who LOVES to run), my friend kept asking me about it. And I kept saying NO! I can’t. I don’t like to run. I don’t have time. I’ve got bad knees… I heard that a few of our friends had joined but I easily dismissed their participation because they were all runners wanting to get back into shape. I could NEVER keep up with them. Then, a couple of my non-runner friends decided to give it a try. They assured me that they were NOT runners and also weren’t sure that they would be able to run for even a minute. And they, like me, were not 25 anymore. Somehow I had a change of heart and decided to give it a try. They promised me that we would take it slow. We’d build up gradually. Just watch, they said, you’ll surprise yourself.

Our first run was 8 weeks ago on a Sunday evening. I nearly threw up as I changed into my running gear (which was really just an assortment of yoga pants, tank tops and a long, black sweatshirt that I desperately hoped would hide the hips I hate so much). I joked that I must really love this group of women since I was willing to wear SPANDEX in PUBLIC while it was still LIGHT outside.

Feeling sick to my stomach and wondering what on EARTH I was doing, I arrived at our meeting spot. My friends were all stretching so I joined in, pretending to know what I was doing. I went to the bathroom no less than 5 times while we waited for everyone to arrive. And then we began. Walk 5 minutes. Run for one. I really, really didn’t think that I could do it. I just wanted to go home and eat the tasty dessert I had made earlier in the day (and that, my friends just might be one of the reasons I’m needing to work so hard at getting back into shape!).

When our first minute of running was up, I was surprised how quickly it had passed (and that I was still breathing). Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to do this after all.

Our running group continued to meet every Sunday and Tuesday for the next eight weeks, shortening our walks and lengthening our runs each time we met. After a couple of weeks, I started running by myself on Thursday afternoons. Seriously. 5K each time, by myself.

I actually started to enjoy our runs. It felt good to move my body, to be outside, to do something just for me. I looked forward to seeing my friends, laughing about the funny things our kids did, encouraging each other, giving advice for sleepless babies, diaper rash, budgeting, the best way to keep the many, many socks that overwhelm our homes at bay.

As the weeks passed, I saw changes in my body. I was stronger. I had more energy. I felt happier. My calves had muscle. My hips were slimming. I fit back into jeans that had been sitting in my bottom drawer for three years. More importantly, I became part of a community of strong, inspiring, beautiful women who have touched my heart and helped me to draw closer to the God we love.

This past Sunday my community of women helped me accomplish one of my life goals. I never thought that I’d be able to do it (and had never actually admitted it as a goal out loud before) but with the help of my friends, I ran my first 5K race. Seriously. I RAN IN A 5K RACE with a starting line and timing chip and a medal and everything! The run itself was really rough for me. I came into it exhausted because our family has been sick for the last 10 days. I didn’t have any energy. I missed one of my runs the week before. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it. The first 2.5K was all up hill. We were running an 8/1 pattern. The first 8 minutes was ok. The second was tough but my second set is usually my hardest. And then it didn’t get better like it usually does. It got worse. Much, much worse. I was nearly in tears. I couldn’t catch my breath and I had a terrible stitch. Everything in me wanted to quit. I was so frustrated that one of the worst runs I had ever had was happening on race day. And then my friends circled me. The two women I was running with came along side me pouring out words of encouragement, prayer, distracting stories. They pointed out the beauty of the trees that lined the river. The mist from the falls rising in the distance. The 8 year old running in front of us (I was so not getting schooled by an 8 year old!). Their words, their presence, their faith in me drew me closer and closer to the finish line. I was going to do it, to finish, to realize a goal. As I ran, my lungs burned. My legs felt like lead but my heart grew lighter and lighter. My body was gutting it out but my heart was being healed because as we ran towards the finish line, I knew that I belonged. That I was part of something. That I mattered. That I could do it. My dear friends stuck with me to the end even though they could have gone on ahead and gotten a much better time. Finishing together was more important to them than getting a personal best.

We crossed the finish line. The crowd cheered. We all hugged. Our other friends joined us. We did it! We accomplished our goals. For some it was a personal best, for others a new distance and for some of us, just completing a race for the first time. We wove the threads of our friendship more tightly. We built a community.

Now I can tell you, I run. I AM A RUNNER!

But more importantly, I belong.

secret

Today I’ve spent hours in my kitchen, sun streaming through the windows, creating. I’ve been roasting and pureeing, rolling out pastry dough, hand grinding spices in my well loved granite mortar and pestle. I love to cook for my family. It’s like healing salve for my soul (a quite house doesn’t hurt either). It is good for my heart to fill our table with favourite foods and to see my family tuck into it with great enthusiasm. Last night it was ribs for my oldest and mashed potatoes for my daughter. Today it’s ham for my husband and pumpkin pie for my Dad.

As I cook, I think about the people who will be eating at my table. Today I was filled with appreciation for my beautiful life and the people who fill it. It is a privilege to be a wife and mother. To me, those aren’t just words. They are dreams fulfilled.

Often I get overwhelmed by the mundane. I’m finally starting to catch on that the secret to life is in those moments. It’s catching the glint in a little one’s eye as they swipe a still warm cookie off the rack, a soft, warm cheek pressed into mine as we read, it’s hearing laughter in the front yard, a spontaneous hug after helping with a difficult piano lesson, learning faithfulness as I fold the same clothes again and again, notes of encouragement and love tucked into a lunch box, getting up at 2AM to hold a lonely little boy. There is richness in the everyday when I chose to see it.

Today I am thankful for this life of mine. This funny, unexpected, chaotic, loud, messy, hug-filled, precious life.

winded

Hello internet! I have missed you. I’ve even written to you many times. The problem is that it was always in my head at 3AM during a recent bout with insomnia. Come morning, all of my elegant words faded with the daylight.

I’m just going to be straight up with you. It has been a tough start to the year. There has been a lot of joy and laughter but also an off balance amount of yucky stuff. The kids have been sick for nearly 2 months now. They’ve been alternating the flu, colds, ear infections and every other contagious germ that blew by them on the breeze. Right now we are towards the end of a particularly rough bout with the flu. I’ve done more laundry in the last week than the entire month previous. I have to ask: why do my children only seem to throw up in the middle of the night, after they have consumed blueberries or chocolate on the cream coloured carpet that lies UNDER the bucket and towel I carefully laid by their bedside?

In the midst of doling out antibiotics, liberal hugs and fresh piles of laundry, I’ve been struggling. I have been feeling really sad, unmotivated, agitated, obsessive yet entirely lazy, unattractive and lonely . Great combination, no? Last Monday I FINALLY realized the cycle I was in and decided to do something about it. Life is about making good choices. It’s up to me whether I see the beauty that surrounds me, whether I embrace the good stuff that is always there and whether the bloody dishes get done of not.

Tuesday morning I started mission PULL MYSELF UP BY MY BOOTSTRAPS and get on with the good stuff. A large part of my plan was to get more sleep, some time to myself and to work hard on my photography so I can get the business that swims inside my head going. Yeah Tuesday! It was hard with a feverish, clingy baby but I was gonna do it. Oh yes I was!

And then Wednesday came. It was one of those days that conspires against you from the minute you wake up. A day where you have to laugh or you will break down and cry. I shook my fist at Wednesday and gave it a swift kick in the butt. Right until supper time when the tables got turned and I got the wind knocked out of me. Picture me at 5PM chatting with the kids, helping Tuck with his spelling words, holding Mr. Baby, stir frying some delicious smelling curry… Mr. T came into the kitchen and asked me to come upstairs and talk to him. I laughed and told him I was a tad busy so he’d have to talk to me in the kitchen or wait. He asked me to come up as soon as I could and then disappeared back into his office. Thinking nothing of it, I added the coconut milk to the curry and then dashed upstairs to find out what he needed while it simmered. “Tell me quick, I need to get back to dinner,” I said as I walked into the room. I don’t remember his exact words but it was something along the lines of, “um, so it looks like I might not have a job in 6-8 weeks”. I’m pretty sure I heard a needle ripping along a record as he said that. HUH? I felt a strong sense of dejavu and a whole lot of nausea. And then I ran back to the kitchen so dinner didn’t burn! Mr. T followed me and tried to answer as I fired question after question at him. And then we stood hugging in the middle of the kitchen while our kids played around us and the curry simmered on the stove wondering what on earth we were going to do.

We still don’t quite know but there is a plan percolating. And there is peace that God will provide as he always has. That things will be ok even if we don’t know what they will look like right now.

What I want to remember about this experience is the many blessings we’ve already encountered. That even when it’s hard, life can be lived joyfully. That everyday brings with it the choice to embrace that day and all that it brings or to be smothered by it. That love matters more than anything else. And specifically:

* The love our family and friends have showered on us. Feel supported? Check!
* My littlest guy clinging to me, arms wrapped around my neck, head resting on my shoulder muttering, “mama, mama, mama” over and over. Sometimes (ok, all the time if you are Mr. Baby) only Mama can make it right.
* On the weekend we told the kids that there are probably going to be some changes at Daddy’s work and that we’re going to have to cut down on our spending to save some extra money. Tuck goes, “I’ve got lots of money in my piggy bank. I can go get it and give it to you to put in your bank account if you want”. We both teared up and told him that was very sweet but that Mommy and Daddy’s bank account is ok and that he doesn’t need to worry about it. He replied, “ok but if you ever need it you can just let me know and I’ll give it all to you. No problem at all”. That kid SLAYS me.
* Perspective. Beauty came into our room at 2am last Wednesday night (hours after the bomb got dropped) and proceeded to throw up for the rest of the night. Thursday night Tuck kept us up most of the night with his version of the flu and then slept through his family birthday party the next evening. Saturday night Mr. Baby barfed himself senseless and required 2 baths during the night. He has not eaten since then and continues to empty himself into his pants (and socks!) multiple times a day. Bad timing? A bit but really, it all just reminds me that what matters in my life is our family. No matter how crazy things get, those kids keep us grounded and cognizant of what is important.
* I am thankful to have a loving God who is steady and unchanging. Not everyone believes that but to me, it’s real and I am so glad.
* I haven’t really cried over this whole thing. I think I was too shocked at first and then mad and then too focused on moving forward to bother. I did have a brief moment last Friday when Tuck told me his school shoes don’t fit him anymore and that he needed some new ones. Normally I would say sure, add it to my list and go buy him some new ones. Suddenly, I’m not sure if we can afford to spend the money, where I should buy them, how much I should spend. It really sucked to feel like I might not be able to get my kids something they need so I cried on Mr. T’s strong shoulder and then prayed about it. The next day my good friend the pedorthist called to tell me she’s going to hook our kids up with running shoes for the spring. So COOL (and humbling).

So that’s my update! How are things with you?

good stuff

I have to be honest and say that this has been one of those weeks where it’s hard to not be discouraged. The kids are climbing the walls, I’m behind on everything in the house, the weather has been meh and my husband has been sick with the flu since last Thursday. It has all been a bit much. People, I’m tired. I’m having a hard time rolling with the chaos and being ok with everything only half done. I’m not going for perfect. Far from it. I was just kind of hoping that I could walk across the floor without sticking to it or, you know, actually fold the clothes that are piling up on the couch. But alas, it’s not happening this week. Instead of getting down, I am trying to focus on the good stuff. When I open my eyes and look for it, there is a lot of good stuff.

The good stuff:

* Little monkey only woke up once last night for the first time in a couple of weeks.
* When playing soccer with the kids this morning darling daughter declared our team to called “the hookers”! I wondered if maybe we could name our team something that started with the letter “R” (oh, crafty distraction) but she said, “No Mom. We are da hookers so we will be called da hookers. I LOVE hookers”! So Da Hookers it was! I will remind her of this one day when she knows what a hooker is.
* This afternoon while G was standing on the front porch watching, all of our little robin babies jumped out of the nest for their inaugural flight and she witnessed the whole thing. When they tried to fly a bunch of sparrows started dive bombing them. The Mommy and Daddy robins went totally nuts and started flying into the sparrows, yelling their beaks off the whole time. It was very loud and dramatic, if a little bit scary since they were all flying right over her head. It was so cool to watch and I really hope that she holds onto that memory.
* When I sit on the couch in the family room and look out the window, all I can see is green. Sweet, beautiful green.
* There is ZERO percent chance of rain for tomorrow and we’re expecting sunshine! Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on us!

remember

This weekend my husband and oldest son are away for a little guy time at the cottage. Our house is so quiet without them. It’s kind of eerie at times. My daughter is really missing her Daddy and big brother. She came into my room at 6:30 this morning looking for her “bruh-ber” and was fairly devastated to discover he hadn’t come home during the night.

This afternoon we went to visit Auntie J. We had a great time walking around downtown and the lakefront. It was good to have some adult time! On the way back to her house we passed a WWII memorial. Out of the corner of my eye I notice an older gentleman standing with his head down in front of it. I wondered what he was thinking about? Was he remembering the horror of the battlefield? Was he mourning a father, brother or friend who was lost in the war? Was he feeling thankful? I wondered about his story as we continued walking.

When we returned home the first thing G wanted to do was call her Daddy. She just wanted to hear his voice. He told me how much he has missed us this weekend. After we chatted I got thinking about what it would be like if he was gone for 5 years. I thought about how much he would miss. Our baby would be the same age as our oldest is now. There is no way to get those years back. Worse, what if he never came home? How would we go on? I know that we would but that is just not how it is “supposed” to be.

Today as I ponder Rememberance Day, I think of it in a new way. I am thankful. So very thankful for the devastating sacrifices those who went to war and those who stayed behind made for our country. For our families. For me. Today I honour you.