Peace

The gloom began to move out today, then moved back in, then broke up for good. Today has been difficult for me, not that anyone else would notice. But there was a finality about today and a loneliness that set in because I am away from family. So though the bleak, outside sky was clearing up, a quiet sort of disturbance was settling in my own mind. It's nothing I can put my finger on--anxiety, most likely. My insides are a touch quivery and I'm exhausted and restless at the same time. It's times like this I get focused on how I'm feeling and forget to focus on how NOT to feel this way. Part of me is avoiding emotions that I know I need to experience, and the other part of me is desperate to find some quiet time alone to let the dam break loose. I'm definitely at war with myself.

I know things will become easier, and I definitely have peace. It's a divine peace that all is as it should be. I acknowledge that, I welcome it, but it's hard to make my mind settle down nonetheless. I know I battle with anxiety and depression (though if you ask anyone that knows me well they'll laugh at the depression diagnosis--I even scoffed seeing it printed in black & white from my doctor's office about a year ago). I have the prescriptions, I know the tricks...I'm supposed to take charge and make myself feel better. But this is definitely different, and no amount of Xanax is going to pull me together.

It's so strange to "know" the truth, to believe wholeheartedly that I'm at peace with all that's occurred yet still struggle to gain hold physically. I read scripture, I pray, I do the things I know I should. This evening, though, I realized something. Sometimes doing all the right things just simply opens the door for a physical peace to set in--it doesn't usher it in to sit on the sofa and have a cup of tea. God's creation is everywhere--literally!--and I think I've lost track of allowing His creation to simply minister to me. I've gotten caught up in the rush that is life--though I snicker to describe myself as "rushed."

This afternoon I grabbed my camera to try and capture some of the beauty of the blue sky and enormous cotton-candy clouds. The sun was dazzling, colors brighter, sky bluer...it was breathtaking. The grayness set in again along with a light drizzle and I was thankful to have spent a short period of time enjoying the glory of the day. Ironically (or not), the weather outside mirrored my emotions today. When the last hurrah of rain moved over I was battling sadness, accepting what is reality. And as I let go of my internal control and chose to just allow myself to "be," the clouds parted and the soft light of dusk began to color the sky. I was on the phone with my mom and struggling for emotional control, and I began to just watch the peacefulness of the ever-changing heavens. I grabbed my camera once more, desperate to document what I was seeing. Before I knew it, that physical peace I'd been seeking had quietly slipped in, poured a cup of tea, and sat patiently with a little "no, don't mind me!" and a gentle smile.

God is amazing. If you don't believe that or don't know that, well, I feel bad for you. Without faith, I couldn't exist--neither could you, for that matter! And it's times like this when I realize just how small and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things. But you know what? I'm LOVED! I am loved beyond belief or comprehension. I am loved, treasured, adored, and nothing will change that--not here on Earth, and definitely not in Heaven. Am I sad? Yes, but I know the intensity of sadness will change with time. And in spite of the hurt, the tears that come out of no where, I am at peace. My body is still, my mind is quiet, and my faith is louder than ever. The clouds move in and out, and it may be difficult to see in the dark, but the Son is always shining. That's enough for me.

Of Rain, Sorrow, and Looking Ahead...

It's almost inevitable...I don't know the exact count, but my memory recalls more rainy birthdays than non-rainy ones. If it hasn't rained, it's been cloudy or wet from a rain the night before (which, technically, would still be the date of my birth). My mom says it was sunny and beautiful the day I was born...but the two trips to labor and delivery (one in an ice storm and the final one in a rainstorm) may have cursed me slightly. Funny thing is, I'm almost offended when it does NOT rain on my birthday each year!

The rain brings other thoughts...the coming Spring, flowers, new life and growth. Sometimes the thoughts are darker and sadder...reminders of loneliness and loss, of hope decayed and general melancholy. I tend to lean towards the former even though I may allow myself a decent wallow in the latter. Rainy days usually make me smile.

This year is a little different. It was cloudy and rainy by evening. No real surprise, if you ask me. But the overcast skies weren't quite so soothing to me today. You see, my Papa David passed away yesterday. My Papa was a wonderful man--gruff yet gentle, opinionated but compassionate, and he could tell a funny story with the best of them! I remember when I was little it seemed Papa could never say no to me--how magical that is when you are a little girl, and how loving when you are older. It wasn't that I was a greedy child, but knowing that my Papa loved me so much and wanted me to know it, well, it's always been comforting.

I haven't seen my grandfather for nearly 2 years. I'm sorry to say that life has a way of creating a chasm that often seems impossible to cross. For me, it was living across the country from the first father-figure I could recall. I grew up and he grew older. The problem with time is that it has a way of freezing the past and fooling you--you forget that it hasn't stopped but is marching along like Patton is in the lead; when you realize it's marching away it's too late. I'm sure Papa knew he'd done enough to let me know he loved me, and I hope he knew just how much I loved him back. It hurts that I became so caught up in my life that I couldn't find a way to make him more a part of it. Sometimes being an adult sucks--it's not eloquent, but it's true.

So while I welcomed this rainy birthday, it was with the knowledge that my tears could mingle with the drops that fell. And while I'm sad beyond measure, I suppose that same rain is beginning to wash away the guilt I've been carrying for the past several months. I know that after the rain comes the sun, and the sun carries the promise of warmth and energy to wake this sleepy winter world and bring it into Spring. My hope is in the SON, and I know that with every tear He is opening His arms wider and gathering me closer. And while the doctors weren't able to do anything miraculous to give me more time with my Papa, I know that he has received the ultimate healing and that our reunion will one day be more glorious than any earthly reunion could promise to be.

This day is one of promise and hope. I am determined to be more loving and more vocal, bolder and more passionate. I'm going to say "yes" more often to things I want and need, "no" more frequently to save my sanity, and "shove it" to criticism and thoughts of self-doubt. I'm going to be a little more like my Papa and a lot more like myself. So, look out world--this is a new year for me. 33 is going to be a year of change for the better, a year of refining who I am and who I'm supposed to be. And if you get in my way, I might even borrow a bit of David Barnett's grit and smooth your rough edges--he wouldn't want you messing with me.

So, bring on the rain! Let it fall and make the world soggy. My parade will just keep on marching with my banner held high for the Lord and memories of my Papa to keep me warm.

Another year, a project 365...

Wow...it's been almost 7 months since my last update! Amazing how time flies and how little of it has been spent blogging. So much has happened, some eventful and some not. But I promised myself that I wouldn't let perfection (or lack thereof) to stand in my way, and my birthday would be a new starting point. I'm beginning a 365 Project--if you aren't familiar, it's simply a way of documenting daily life with a photo taken and posted every day. I decided my birthday would be a good time to start, partly because I forgot about starting it until almost February--oops! Then I reasoned that it would be neat to document this next year of my life and look back on it later. Will I keep up with it? I intend to! Again, will I keep up with it...really? Who knows?! I'm going to do my darndest to try. Some of it will come by way of my iPhone, sometimes I may post 2 or 3 (or 10!) days at once! But the results should be fun.

I suppose you don't really have to have a theme, but I do. So if you follow along over the next year, you will be learning more about me--what defines me, what makes me tick, what annoys me, what I do that annoys others. If you join me on this journey, I can't promise deep insight or intellectual stimulation (you've seen my previous posts on poop and diet soda), but won't it be fun to see where this leads? So happy new year to me! Off we go...

Watermelon Pickin'

Yesterday we joined a few moms and kiddos from our moms group for a tour of an organic farm. I was really looking forward to our visit there and was excited for Dman and Moo to experience farming on a decently-large scale (30 acres is decent in SoCal!). The only downside was that my night owls were not in bed as early as I had hoped the night before, and I knew waking them up early was going to be a challenge. Add to that traveling with the flow of morning commuter traffic on a freeway I despise for a trip that should take about an hour with no obstacles, well, you get the point!

Dman woke up pretty easily and was excited once I reminded him we were going to the farm. Moo, on the other hand, flipped out as soon as I tried to change her and get her dressed. I knew that moment was some kind of bad literary foreshadowing. :o/ Eventually she woke up enough to calm down and cooperate. :o) We packed up the last few items, grabbed breakfast to take with us, and we were on our way!

Thankfully we made it right on time, even with the morning traffic. But once we got there, Moo decided to be cranky. I knew she was still tired and tried to be understanding, so I let her take her doggie and bopper (cloth diaper) praying she wouldn't drop either in the dirt too many times. We got checked in and waited in a neat "holding" area--a large covered space with lots of hay bales for sitting and waiting. I think we could have ended the day there without a fuss--the kids LOVED running through there and climbing the bales, walking up and down and jumping off of them. I loved that it was fenced off at one end so I didn't have to worry about any children escaping and could let them run free!

For our tour we boarded a wagon that was being pulled by an old Ford tractor. (I later realized there was also a John Deere tractor and was sorely offended we weren't assigned to that one, lol.) Darrin was in heaven since we were the last to board, therefore sitting at the front of the wagon. He could see the tractor without having to strain and was able to watch the wheels turn (something he's super into right now). But he also thought he could pop up every 20 seconds and fiddle with the latch on the wagon door. Leave it to my budding engineer to be more enthralled with a latch than all the agriculture we were to experience!

The tour was great, though a bit over the kids' heads. Our guide, Bruce, pointed out various crops around the farm and told how to identify most veggies and fruits. He talked about how certain plants grow, which was really interesting, and he shared the ways they control pests naturally rather than with chemicals. Along the way our driver would stop and Bruce would tell us about a specific fruit or veggie, then we'd get to sample fresh produce that had been harvested earlier that morning--it had been dunked in a bucket of fresh water; no cleaning or scrubbing required! We were given radishes, carrots, cherry tomatoes, Maui sweet onions (planted among the crops to deter insects), and cilantro (to combat the spice of the radishes).

The last stop on our tour found us in a covered seating area, again with hay bales as seats. Here we were given more fruits to try--fresh, raw zucchini (did you know we eat baby zucchinis since they become bitter as they develop fully and grow to 3 feet??), pickling cucumbers, salad cucumbers, and--finally!--watermelon. Bruce offered us 2 types of watermelon--red and yellow. The red watermelon we tasted is probably the best I've ever had! The yellow wasn't quite as sweet and had an almost salty flavor. Darrin at one slice of each and the carrot he'd been given earlier. Madi chowed on everything we were handed in the "arena"--including 3 slices of watermelon. I had to keep her from eating the rind! And as you would expect, we all got pretty messy!

Finally we were able to walk around the watermelon patch and choose our own melons to take home. (Side note, and completely juvenile, but I had to stop myself from guffawing at Bruce's benign comments such as, "Don't drop your melons." Yeah, I was tired!) Dman choose one watermelon and I choose another. Madi wasn't qualified to be a "helper" but was labeled as a "watermelon picker in training" instead. :o)

Unfortunately mixed in with all of the happenings on our tour was Miss Crankypants and her meltdowns. She wanted to sit, she wanted to be held; she wanted to stand up while the tractor was moving and she did NOT want me holding on to her. When I put her down she'd freak out and want back up. *sigh* My patience was fairly nonexistent by the time we were through. Dman didn't help much...he is a boy. He gets so absorbed in what's happening around him that he tunes me out completely and wanders around with his own agenda. I'm thankful a mommy-friend was able to help me keep an eye on him when we'd unload from the wagon!

So although my temper was flared by the time we left, it didn't take long for it to
cool off; glancing in the rear-view mirror at my exhausted, peaceful kiddos showed me that in spite of the stress, it was a good trip for us all. Next week we are supposed to go raspberry picking. I can't lie; I'm really having second thoughts! But I'm also game to try most outings at least once. The joy we derive from these little experiences (so rare where we live) makes it hard to remember the frustration involved in getting somewhere on time, keeping up with 2 toddlers, and desperately capturing their moments on my Nikon while trying to be in the moment with them. That settles it--we are going raspberry picking!!

Messy, messy!











The wheels on the tractor go 'round and 'round...

And so it goes...

I'm beginning this post with a disclaimer...if you are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first baby, or you are praying for your first blessing, or you have a little one under the age of one, take this post with a grain of salt. Sometimes I just need to vent...

I'm so tired of poop. Poopy diapers, poopy pants, poopy potties... We are now several weeks into potty training with the Dman, and I really think he's been doing a great job. But my elation at one poop on the potty (I thought we were back on track after a 2 week potty poop-hiatus) quickly turned sour. We entered another week or so of poopy underwear. At one point we had 8 pairs of underwear (dinosaur, Thomas, camo, plain white...) lying around the laundry room sink after a dunking in the toilet, and hot water shower in the sink, and a good scrub with Oxiclean. Not in one day, mind you, but it certainly seemed so.

You aren't supposed to punish toddlers for going potty in their pants--fine, I totally get that and wouldn't dream of punishing for "accidents." You aren't supposed to scold or be anything other than super peppy and encouraging. It gets old...fast... Especially when your little man knows HOW to use the potty and CHOOSES not to. But we trudged on, dumping poopy loads in the potty from formerly clean undies, cleaning poopy smears on the potty where our son would sit AFTER the fact to allow us to access to clean him, going through the undie-cleaning ritual (mine more rigorous than my husband's, of course). I resisted the urge to roll my eyes or yell, "Why? Why? Why?" and instead closed my eyes (so I could roll them under my lids), took a deep breath, and calmly asked the usual questions in my best nice-mommy tone...Did you know you needed to go poopoo? Is your tummy hurting? Did you know you just couldn't make it in time? All of these garnered the same response from our precious boy, "I'm gonna do poopoo on the potty, yeah...that's where poopoo goes! Not in my pants!" He sounded so confident and wise and excited about the prospect of actually depositing his waste in its intended receptacle.

Wonder of wonders, we've had no poop accidents in 2 days--our little guy heads to the bathroom to take care of business--yahoo!! We are so happy he's decided to make an effort. So last night I was giving him a quick sink bath, washing his face and hands and feet before bedtime. We were chatting and sister was playing by us, waiting for her turn. All of a sudden I smelled an unmistakable stench wafting up from my dear daughter. I started to say something silly about it and looked down towards her...and stopped mid-sentence and began saying, "No, Moo, No!!!" then, "Josh!! I need you....NOW!!"

Our precious angel had stripped herself naked in anticipation of her turn at the sink, and so very helpfully removed her diaper--her POOPY diaper--and was standing there looking at me with a confused look on her face and poop on her hand, the other hand working its way backward as if to see if there was more. Oh, trust me, honey...there was plenty more...

Potty time!

So it's finally that time...time for our Dman to give up the diapers and take care of business like a big boy! We've tried over the past year to get this ball rolling, but he always thwarts our attempts. Basically, he just wasn't ready. Physically, yes; mentally, um, not at all! We thought we had tried everything, but he just didn't care at all and would shut down after about a half-day of trying potty practice. We know when to stop pushing, and he was giving that signal left and right! If we even mentioned trying to potty he'd pout and the bottom lip would quiver, and we could hear the fright and hesitation in his pathetic little, "No."

So we've waited and waited for our son to decide he was ready. A few weeks ago we started talking it up again, being positive and not pushy. We hung out with a friend a couple of times whose son is potty trained (he's 2), and I think that was the motivation our guy needed to get started. Instead of hesitant "no"s we started to get positive "yes"es when asking him if he wanted to use the big potty. We held off a few days and didn't have him try, just kept talking it up.

Finally the day came...well, actually I ran that morning and ended up in tremendous pain from tendonitis so we put it off another day. I knew I couldn't do the running around required to rush to the bathroom, lol. We had a sticker chart prepared from a few months earlier when we tried the big "change" last. Here are the potty rules: you go peepee on the potty, you earn a Skittle and a star on the chart; you go poopoo on the potty, you earn 2 Skittles and a star on the chart. After so many stars, as designated by the all-powerful yellow square Mommy colored in, a certain Thomas the Tank Engine prize awaits! Voila! We have a motivated kid!

Dman had one accident right away in his undies, which was totally expected and needed. After that one accident he started to make the connection between what he was feeling and needing to do. We only had one more accident that day, and that was with him standing at the potty waiting for the potty seat to go on. No biggie. He even pooped on the potty! Totally UNexpected and celebrated! Within about 3-4 days, our son was accident-free and also dry at night and naps. WOW!!

So we've been at this a couple of weeks now, and we've had a bit of a regression. He's had a few poopy accidents we can't explain, but then today he's right back on track. I figure it will be 2 steps forward and 1 back for a while, but we are definitely on the right track. We are so proud of our little guy! He's not so little anymore...sniff!

Grandma Shirley's 80th Birthday Bash

July 30th marked Grandma Shirley's 80th birthday. We celebrated earlier in the month with a party in her honor. True to form, Josh and I were running late (I finally woke Madi up, she was sleeping in so long!) and then we got stuck in traffic. We had no idea it was the first day of the OC Fair! So by the time we arrived we had missed lunch, gifts, and an apparently amazing & emotional time of sharing memories of our beloved Shirley. But the kids weren't too concerned--they got to blow lots of bubbles with Aunt Alissa! :o)

Alissa made Grandma a really great scrapbook as a special gift. Every family member wrote about a special memory and gave pictures to go along with it. Alissa worked her magic and it came out beautifully! Aunt Susie had Grandma Shirley's name translated into Hebrew and had the meaning and the Hebrew spelling written out and framed. For any of you that know Shirley, the meaning will strike you in the gut..."She who sings songs of the Word..." Amazing!

July is always a great time for our family since members who've moved away usually come back for the 4th of July celebration, so we were blessed to have everyone here to celebrate Grandma as well. We had a photographer join us after the party to take family portraits in the park by Grandma's house. Josh and I actually have a picture that includes the 4 of us--incredible!! And we all got together for one HUGE family shot of Grandma and her descendants and their families.

It was great spending time with everyone, but we had to head out pretty much as soon as the photos were done. Our munchkins were exhausted and cranky, lol. On the way home we ordered pizza so we didn't have to worry about cooking or going out. It was a long day for us, but well worth the effort!!

Our handsome boy!








Cute shoes...couldn't leave these out!








Our sweet Moo...











Aunt Alissa blowing bubbles...