Stepping Back

Sometimes we have to step back a bit to see the whole picture. To see what others see.

A few weeks back I sat in my Wednesday morning bible/book study listening to every member's "hopes". Hopes for their children, their marriages and their life paths.

"I hope we have instilled the proper values in our son so that when he goes to high school next fall he can handle the difficult issues that will come his way."

"I hope that I have a marriage that will stand the test of time and we will forever be in love. That we will someday celebrate our 56th wedding anniversary."

"I hope that my children realize their passions and share them with us. And that we, in turn, encourage, nourish, develop and stand next to them in those dreams."

"I hope that the surgery was successful and my spouse can live a life without chronic, constant pain."

"I hope that I can hear God speak to me about the path I should be on. The path where my work-life and home-life balance should settle."

"I hope my husband makes a career move that will bring him joy and happiness."

"I hope that tonight bedtime won't be a battle... again."

We all have hopes and dreams and desires and wishes. We wish upon birthday candles and shooting stars. But all of our wishing is nothing without faith in God. Without the trust that he is guiding our paths perfectly.

I've written about this group of women in the past. These women who are so full of hopes and fears for themselves and others. This group who meets weekly in the basement of the church, sharing brunch, prayer requests and discussions of our selected book. This group whom I sometimes think I'm done leading. Then they come to me with their hearts in their hands. They tell me what I need to hear first-hand. What I need to know to continue on that path that God is guiding me down.

One year ago I made the announcement, "I'm done." I was done leading book study. Attendance was low, enthusiasm seemed to be waning (mine and theirs) and I was tapped out. Summer came and I relaxed, enjoyed the lake and sunshine and prepared for a fall semester without my weekly group. And I was both relieved, excited and sad. Then the messages started to come in. Emails, PM's, texts, phone calls... "please come back..." "please do another semester..." "Please, please, please..." so I went back. And it was once again amazing.

15 (+/-) women.
Three of whom are members of the church we meet in.
Catholics, Baptists, Lutherans, non-denominational, no-denomination.
The solid-in-faith and the confused.
The life-long believer and the scared.
The looking-for-answers and a place to fit in.
Together we are all those things.

Prayer requests you wouldn't believe could all be carried by one group of women. Cancer. More cancer. And even more. Life with kids. Car accidents with long-term effects. School pickup drama. Surgeries. Chronic pain issues. Crazy family members. Marriage issues. Deaths. Infant deaths. Cancer again and again. Over and over. This group has been through it all, known those going through it all and has prayed and prayed and prayed over all those things week in and week out. Prayer requests are central to our meetings. They bind us through our openness. Through our raw emotions, tears, laughter, joy, sorrow, fear and praise.

But sometimes I forget. Sometimes I don't realize how much those moments mean to everyone each week. Sometimes I get tired and cranky and need a break. I can see summer coming around the corner and I'm ready for it. And I think I'm done. I'm tapped out. Again.

But this time I knew better. This time I asked these fascinating ladies to bare their hearts again. To write me a note. Not about me personally but about the group. About what it means to them. About why this group should come back in the fall. The response?

"This group is one of the greatest blessings in my life."

"The bond that I have made with the women in this group has been life-changing. It has been an incredible light to my life."

"...you all have been my saving grace this year. It's an answer to my prayers."

"My faith has grown stronger because of this group."

"It (the group) has made me more comfortable to share my faith with other people."

"This group makes me laugh, cry, feel my faith, think and grow spiritually."

"This group has really made my transition here so easy."

"This group has been a life-saver. It is so nice to have people to share my prayer requests or worries with and ask advice without judgement."

"I was in a funk this morning and coming here always helps get me out."

"I enjoy learning about faith, knowing that I am not the only one with doubts, and having others to relate to."

Prior to these notes you would think the knowledge that one of our pastor-visit sessions led to the baptism of a baby and the consideration of baptism for one of our ladies would be enough to seal the deal for me this year. But I needed more. I needed the notes. I needed the knowledge that there was a difference being made in those individual lives. That there was a void being filled and a desire to grow in faith.

This group doesn't need me, I'm just a facilitator. What they need is the entire group. We are a package deal. We come as a whole, with spaces for more hearts and minds and bodies to join us any day they are so moved. Ladies that have an empty spot in their hearts that can't be filled without help.

I needed to step back and see the whole picture.

The picture God has painted of my path he has planned for me. It took tears and heart-felt words from a dear friend, "God is working through you! He has this planned for you!" and notes from my ladies for me to realize the significance of the role God placed me in for this season of life.

I just needed to step back and look.

I Cried Over You

A: "You don't cry, do you?"
Me : "Not much, no."

She said those words to me months ago, and since then I've held back tears and I've let them loose. I've cried over her, next to her, for her and with her. In silence and in prayers. In her presence and absence. More tears than she can imagine would come from me... the woman who doesn't cry... much.

Last August, on a typical Friday morning, the three of us gathered around the kitchen counter for coffee while the littles played a bit. Not out of the ordinary for the three of us. As we were wrapping things up and getting ready to go about our days the words that crossed her lips will never be forgotten... "I found a lump, that's why I have to go to the Dr. today. That's why we have to wrap this up early today." 

And she went. And they did a mammogram. And they did a biopsy. And the results kept coming and the news kept changing. And the tears kept flowing. Tears of fear. Tears of frustration. Tears of love and joy and more fear. Tears for her. Tears for her husband. Her boys. Her parents and siblings and family and friends. So many friends. So many good people who were about to pour out blessings on this precious lady. So many blessings that only a few weeks into this journey she would say to me, "Why is everyone being so good to me? Why do I deserve this more than someone else? Why?" 

"Because you are a special light to so many. Because good people are drawn to good people and YOU are good people. Because we love you."

Yesterday I didn't cry. I know S did. She always cries. She's a crier. She cries enough for both of us. So she cried those tears of joy when the message came. The best message. The message we've been praying for since September. "I am technically cancer-free... Praise God for this!"

Today I wanted to cry. Tears of joy and amazement at God's good grace. Because these were the words her little boy said to me, with the most sparkle and zest I've seen from him in months (and that's saying a LOT, this kid is zesty, let me tell you!) He said to us all...

"Did you know my mom's cancer is gone? That she's cancer-free!? MY MOM IS CANCER FREE YOU GUYS!!!" 

And the whoops and hollers and cheers and celebrations that came from the three kids in the back of my van made me want to pull over on the street and pull them all to me and cry big, fat, ugly, joyful, praise-fill crocodile tears. Because only one of those kids belongs to her... but all three of them love her fiercely. She's lovable, this lady who just beat cancer. This warrior who has a long road of recovery ahead, but who has the biggest cheering section I've ever seen.

I'm not a cryer, but today's eruption of joy still pushes me to the edge of tears. Don't ask me to talk to you right now or they'll spill out all over my keyboard. It'll be messy. So just don't... because I don't (want to) cry.

One week ago this morning I held this lady in my arms as she prepared herself to go in for surgery. And I said to her, "I'm so excited for you today. This is an amazing day for you." 
And we took a selfie.
And I didn't cry... much. (Just a little dewiness in the corners of the eyes, ya know?)

Then I watched as her oldest cried big crocodile tears and sobbed on his mommas shoulder, knowing where her day was taking her. And my dew-drops grew, but not too much. They let each other go and we walked out the door for school. And I said to that little boy the only words I could find, "This is a great day for your mom. This is going to be amazing and I am excited for her. It's ok to be scared, but this is really a great thing!" 

Then I went straight to S's house and we prayed and we cried and we chatted and we knew God is good. So good. Because we are part of Ashli's Army of Prayer Warriors. And that day we prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Throughout the day we prayed for peace, comfort, healing and for Ashli's freedom from cancer. So very many prayed that day.

So to hear Big B exclaim today, with SO much excitement and happiness, those words we've prayed for...

"Did you know my mom's cancer is gone? That she's cancer-free!? MY MOM IS CANCER FREE YOU GUYS!!!" 

Well,

I cried over you.

Crazy Keeps Me Sane

I'm a sucker. It's stamped on my forehead. Put me under a blacklight and you'll see it.

Birthday cakes? No problemo.

Kid-watch? Sure thing. (If your kid isn't a pain, and even sometimes when she is.)

Water your plants while you are on vacation? My pleasure!

Chair the fundraiser auction? You betcha! 

Two years in a row? What's one more year!

Oversee the annual float for the town celebration? Whoop! Whoop! 

Work with you to grow your business? I'm here for ya, sista! 

Run the place while you are on vacation? I can handle that. 

Before you dial my digits for a solid, know this: I'm only a sucker for my friends and family.

I do these things out of love. Out of a desire to participate. Out of a willingness to help and make a difference when and where needed. 

Almost three years ago a dear friend I call Crazy told me of a little plan she had. A plan for a business. A plan for a great business that would be amazing in our city. She's not Crazy because she's loco en la cabeza, she's Crazy because she's always doing. Doing, doing, doing. I'm not sure she knows what the insides of her home or her eyelids look like. Honestly. 

That craziness makes her a great friend too. Why? Because she is always up for anything. And so is her hubs. She dressed them up as Elsa and Kristoff for Halloween 2014. Nobody dresses up for our party except kids. Halloween 2015? All the cool adults dressed up. Star Wars theme for most and then there's the new neighbor who purchased a kids-sized gorilla costume for himself, a full-sized man. Hi-larious. Why were all the middle-aged kids dressed for candy collecting? You guessed it. Crazy said so! 

Call them on Friday afternoon to go out that night? Most often you'll get a "Yes! What should we do!?" response. And no matter what you end up doing with the night, they have joy and humor the entire time. They are amazing people. 

So when she hatched this plan for a business I was ready to be supportive. 100%. 

"Great idea!" 

"You'll be so successful!" 

"Let me know if you need mailings and flyers."

And when she said, "Would you be one of our tour guides? You'll love it!" I hesitated and said, "If you find yourself really hard-up for help, let me know!" and smiled. 

And when she called and said "I have a tour I need you to help with." I swallowed my hesitations and fears and said "What's the date?"

And you know what? Crazy was right. I loved it. And somehow I'm no longer strictly a tour guide, but I've snuck into another role. A position with a title that rests next to "Owner's Friend". I'm currently living the stay-at-home mom dream of working part-time from a home office... and doing it in yoga pants if I please. Sure there are days when I snag an event for myself, get all gussied up and lead a tour group of company execs just for the sake of fun. Because I really am in love with my job.

What is this dream job? I'm living it up as the Tours & Events Manager for Omaha Culinary Tours. That's right, food tours. Like five different restaurant/specialty shoppe stops in a three hour tour. All serving you their specialty menu item. What's not to love? A little local area history, an amazing tour guide and a variety of Omaha Original Restaurants. Bam! You have yourself an evening of fun and food!

So day-to-day I shuttle kids, do favors for friends and work a little on the side for Crazy. With Crazy. I'm becoming a little bit crazy myself as I get deeper and deeper into this exciting business. And as I do, I realize how sane this job is keeping me. It gives me a focus and consistency and reliability and a sense of accomplishment. I'm appreciated and that feels so good.

I recently went to Crazy with the fact that C-dub, the little, is going to start Kindergarten in the fall... My baby!!! **tears, sobs,**... I digress... and I needed to either
a) get more hours from the company
or
b) look elsewhere for a job
in anticipation of the date when my nest is empty for seven hours a day. (August 12, 2016.)

(Eeeek!! I like love my job! I don't want a job elsewhere! ...deep breaths...)

Accommodating.
That's the word for Crazy and her business partner... they came up with two ways to keep me and get me the hours I need and maintain my ability to drop off & pick up kids from school, to be the party parent, to be there on sick days and for field trips.
Sanity with the crazy = LOVE!

So for now I'll keep on keepin' on with the hours I have, setting up walking tours and bus tours and finding the perfect fit for a corporate group's private event. I'll contact restaurants and bus companies. Write scripts for tour guides and order cupcake desserts and Cordial Cherries. Pick up kids from school and take care of them when they are sick. On occasion I'll load up a group on a shuttle bus and take them to some of Omaha's finest restaurants. I'll keep my own level of crazy going and in it I'll find sanity.

On a daily basis I'm in love with this new gig I've let myself be "suckered" into. Because doing so keeps me sane.

Crazy keeps me sane. 

164 Days and Counting

Another calendar into the circular file. Its only been there a handful of days, but I'm still finding myself screaming for summer.

June 20. First day of summer 2016. For reals.

H-O-T. Lazy days on the lake. Swimming, fishing, tubing, kayaking, camping, stand-up-paddleboarding, laying in the sun doing nothing. That's what I told the 7 year-old last night as we snuggled and dreamed of life 164 long days from now. (Today is January 8, adjust accordingly dear reader.)

Laying in the sun doing nothing. Do you want know what my little philosopher said about that? "That's not possible mom. You would be doing something. You would be laying in the sun. It's not possible to do nothing. Ever."

I did not argue. If she wants to tell me I'm "doing something" by laying in the sun, soaking up God's goodness and warmth and nature's beauty well, by gosh, I'm going to go with it. So that's where you'll find us this summer. In the sun. Doing.

Yesterday I was treated to an AM coffee session with a wildly versatile friend. Versatile in that she can be serious and spiritual and honest, but she can take a 1/4 turn and be sassy pants and hilariously inappropriate. I love that about her. We chatted about our church book study. We chatted about the kids and life. Then we chatted about summer. Because, I said it once, I'm screaming for it. She scoffed at the absurdity of my passion as she pointed out the window to the grey, slushy, dreariness that is Nebraska in January. But she didn't stop there, she pointed out the number of months before summer actually hits our front doors. Thanks for that, sassy pants.

This little convo over my iced frappe (yes, I realize that's a summer drink... have you heard a thing I've said so far???) led me to spout nonsense that others were sure to snicker over as they cupped their hot coffee mugs. I made a plan for the summer. Plans for fun and carefree days.



1. We will have a pool in our back yard.
Inflatable? Yes.
Manufacturers Max Capacity of 5? Yes.
Backyard Real Life Capacity of 10? For Sure.
Fun? Hell yes!

2. We will have the slip n' slide & the bounce house out.

3. We will have backyard parties, cookouts and sleepovers.

4. We will go to the "real" pool 1x/week or more.

5. We will hang out in the yard and read books.

6. We will have friends over.

7. We will go camping.




















8. We will build backyard forts.

9. We will...

WE WILL!!! We will do what summer is meant for! This...

And the time frame for all this "doing?" This year we get **Hallelujah** 12.5 weeks. TWELVE AND A HALF weeks of summer vaca!! The school calendar writers must have kids in school this year because we start a full week and a half LATER than usual!!!

You can blame my summer fever on Husband. He gave me a SUP (Stand Up Paddleboard) for Christmas. Christmas, ya'll. December. Five solid months prior to lake weather. Because my birthday is in the middle of July... then I would have missed out on a month and a half of the season. He was thoughtful on this one. Except for the "summer fever" part of the deal. He can't help it. He didn't know.

So, my dear friends, while you are busy sipping hot cocoa, making your New Year's Resolutions, going on a diet and vowing to work out I'll be over here planning my summer.

Only 164 days to go...

Sometimes You Gotta Shine

Today I decided to shine. Shine brighter than a shooting star. Brighter than that girl at church camp. I was going to be the face of joy and happiness. And I did. I was bubbly and bright, sunshine and sparkles. Rainbows and unicorn farts, ya'll. Yup. Unicorn farts.

You see, the last few weeks have left me in a bit of a funk. Here, there, everywhere. Busy, busy, busy. And if you know me, you know how much I adore busy. But sometimes, just sometimes, I have to s-l-o-w i-t d-o-w-n. Yesterday I was cranky and funky and a bit of a gruffly stinker. I didn't care and wanted nothing but a rest. And when I whispered to the hubs, "are we going to make them go to TaeKwonDo tonight?" and he mumbled, "I'm not taking them" I sighed a sigh of extraordinary relief. I was done. Stick-a-fork-in-me kind of done. I did not want to shuttle kids another place. I didn't want to watch through the glass as they did the same kicks and punches and obstacle course they've been doing for 7 months. I wanted to be home and do nothing more than be ordinary, everyday me. And to do it in my jammies. On the living room floor. Or the couch.

But today I could feel the shift when I woke up.
Even though our son had slept on the floor next to our bed again, for the 30th night in a row.
Even though we'd spent the day before with him being pricked and medicated and told to breathe hard and x-rayed...
Even though I know my girlfriend is starting the biggest battle of her life...
Even though I wasn't prepared for this morning's book study at church...
Even though my back and my feet and my wrists still ache like always...
Even though...
I felt it. It was a great day to be alive. It was a great day to be joyous. To be wonderful and happy and fun.

So I did. I enjoyed this day like none other in recent history. I've had good days, sure. I've enjoyed the company of others, most definitely. But today the sun was shining, the bees were buzzing (all around my delightful cream soda, mind you) and everyone seemed to be smiling. I visited a girlfriend and she got a great gift in the mail. She makes me smile anyway, but today she paraded around town in a Wonder Woman costume, making a zillion other people smile.

Despite my slight lack of preparation I threw myself whole-heartedly into this morning's book study at church and I feel like we had another day of incredible discussions. And it seemed, to my overly bright and bubbly self,  that everyone else at church for this morning's study was a little more bubbly and bright today too. The prayer requests were mostly of praise. The conversation was full of zest and vigor. The chatting was incessant. And the happiness was tangible. Real, honest-to-goodness happiness. Joy.

The joy I felt made me want to extend it to others, so I let my kids play on the school playground for a bit before taking them to the park to meet friends and play. For hours. Hours. I had no idea we had managed to dilly-dally away nearly two full hours at the park. Because I was enjoying this day more than any other lately. My heart is bursting today and I can't help but share.

So here's a bit of sunshine for you today. I pray that your day be full of the joy and giddiness that can only come from God. He wakes us each morning with the blessing of a new day. A day to live life fully and awesomely. With the freedom to smile at everyone we meet. To wear a costume around town. To make up words to describe how we feel. To live and love living.

Go into this day with a smile and a heart bursting with love for this life.
It's yours.
Live it.
And live it wildly, crazily, amazingly.

Because sometimes you gotta shine.

A Wrinkled Heart

Ella came home from school this week with a wrinkled heart...

Her heart wasn't hurt or sad or even lonely. It wasn't lost or feeling blue. It wasn't even a little bit damaged that day. There are certainly days where it is, but that day she brought home a wrinkled heart for all of us to see.

What she brought to us that day was a paper heart. A wrinkled paper heart that now hangs on a door in our home where my kids will see it zillions of times a day. A heart that reminds us how tender our real hearts are. A heart that reminds us that our words have the power to wrinkle and crumple.

Not only was her heart wrinkled, but her heart was also torn. A sign of what was to come this weekend. I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am for that heart that came home in a backpack. It gave us a place to begin a discussion that was overdue, because a heart in our home was wrinkled and beginning to rip right down the middle...

Cassius: "Ella will be so happy when I go spend the night with Auntie S and Uncle K."
Mom: "Why do you think that? I bet she'll miss you!"
Cassius: "Because she hates me. She always says she hates having a little brother. She hates me... "

If you can't imagine that conversation with a broken-hearted 4 year old, read it again. Read it with pure sadness. With a wrinkled heart. With a heart beginning to rip right down the middle.

"Because she hates me. She always says she hates having a little brother. She hates me. She's not going to miss me, she'll be happy I'm gone."

Oh the wrinkling and tearing that went on in this momma's heart that moment. The wrinkling and tearing that I felt for him. His tiny little heart that loves his sissy. The heart that is excited to see her after school each day. The heart that wants to be sure he gets her a sucker from the grocery store or a sticker from the bank. The heart that makes her pictures and bracelets and thoughtfully picks out her birthday gift months in advance. That little heart was wrinkled, crumpled, stomped on and torn. Right. Down. The. Middle.

When the vice grip on my heart loosened we had a chat and some hugs and loves and reassurances that she does love him and so do daddy and I. That he isn't hated, but loved and cherished and treasured and adored. I smoothed as many of those wrinkles as I could. I got out the tape and patched the tear... but that's not so easy to do.

When his heart was starting to smooth I sent him to the lunch table with daddy and called sissy to her room. I sat on her bed and waited. And I cried. He was hurt and I was hurt. My disappointment and tears of sadness flowed easily but tenderly.

She needed to understand.

She needed to know the damage done.

Her overwhelming feelings of regret were immediately obvious as she listened to me tell her how her brother was feeling. The hurt he shared in three simple words: "she hates me". The sadness he was feeling and the tears that he had cried. The wrinkles she had put in his heart.  The tiny tear that was spreading into a big rip right down the middle.

I reminded her of the wrinkled heart she had brought home from school. The heart that was no longer just a whisper in her ear. A sentiment that wasn't intended just for the classroom but all the hearts she'll ever encounter...

That little girl's heart began to wrinkle right at that moment. The moment she realized. The moment she knew the hurt she'd caused.

The fixing is coming along slowly but surely. This morning in church as Cassius sat on my lap and Ella snuggled up next to me he put his arm around her shoulder and she reached up and held his hand.

There are daily reminders to give love. Because to give love often means you shall get love.

The bathroom door between their rooms bears a wrinkled, crumpled, ripped and tattered reminder of what our words mean to others.

Ella came home from school this week with a wrinkled heart... and it is beautiful.

Hello 1st Grade!

I just sent my daughter off to her first day of 1st grade. I'm really in awe (and a bit of denial) that there aren't a few more weeks of summer left. It seems like we didn't go to the pool or the zoo enough, play in the back yard enough, ride bikes enough, catch fireflies enough or have fire pits enough.

Next summer I vow that we will go to fewer camps, have fewer planned activities and spend more time doing exactly what we feel like doing at that moment. There will be more zoo trips, more backyard sprinkler parties, more pool trips and more firefly catching. More listening to the sounds of summer long after bedtime. More time together just sitting. Just playing. Just enjoying life.

This 1st Grade girl turned seven a few days ago and she's managed somehow to string out her birthday to cover four days and dad sweetly informed her tonight that her last-minute "birthday nachos" are the end. Her birthday is officially over now. To be totally honest I wish she had managed to drag out age six a bit longer but I haven't finished the time machine in the basement yet, so I'll shift gears and look forward to seeing how she grows in her seven-year-old year!

In the meantime, here's her time-capsule from her year as a six-year-old!

In 2014, this was the most coveted of birthday gifts for Ella. She could NOT have survived that birthday without it. In fact, she cried the day she discovered it and we left without it, certain it would sell before someone could buy her one for her birthday.

Batgirl. Enough said.

 

On the first day of Kindergarten 2014 there were some tears as her class headed into the building, but little brother was there with flowers after school to tell her he was proud of her and how much he missed her!

October brought the opportunity to be flower girl for the first time at Aunt Michelle's wedding in Colorado. What does Ella remember most? The giant burrito she wants to go back and eat again! 

There's nothing quite like a dance with daddy! 

These two. Every year. Father-daughter date night to dinner and a dance at the YMCA. Love. 

Captain One-Sock and Captain Butterfly. Don't mess.

Spring music program - April 2015

Our flag girl - keeping the downed tubers safe! 

Captain of grandpa's boat!

Fishing!!!

First trail ride - Blue Bell Stables, Custer State Park, SD

Presidential faces on a mountain. 

Reptile Gardens, SD

Birthday donut from Nana! 

Now here's a story. Remember that gift from last year that she couldn't have survived without? Yeah, it's part of the lineup of stuffties in her room and a new gift was at the top of the list this year. 

This girl wanted her ears pierced. For months. Months of asking. Months of being subtle, yet persistent enough to be taken seriously. Months of waiting patiently for her birthday. We checked out the options weeks ahead of time and I had a game plan for getting these adorable little ears pierced. 

Two at once, ya'll. Two at once. 

Dad asked "why do we have to do them both at the same time?" 

Rookie. 

"Because our daughter will go through life with only one ear pierced if we do them one at a time, dear husband."

So at 5:10 on her birthday we entered the shop to have her Hello Kitty earrings placed in her anxious lobes and an anxious little brain kicked into high gear. She got scared and stressed and wanted to leave, sans spare holes. 

Cassius brought her a variety of wide-eyed stuffties and the promise of a new one if she got it done. It took that stufftie, momma counting to ten in Korean and two sweet and well-trained ladies with "earring guns" to get her those holes, but...

she did it!!!

Then she celebrated with family, dinner out and lemon meringue pie!



Before heading out the door as a 1st grader and a starting a new chapter of life.

God bless you and keep you this school year, Miss Ella.

Love you always,

Mommy

A Little Bit Crazy

There are women in this world that amaze me. Day in and day out, they amaze me.

It isn't because they have a clean house, perfectly mannered children, balanced meals or an ideal wardrobe. It isn't that they have the perfect marriage, awesome house or terrific job. It isn't the sleek hairstyle, manicured nails or fancy car.

It's the lady cleaning the messy house, raising the crazy children, serving the unbalanced meals and wearing the "day two" clothes. Its the woman living the real marriage, in a normal home with any job she's chosen. It's the lady with the "washed three days ago" ponytail, the manicure from her six year old and the van with handprints on the dusty door panels.

It's because they are a little bit crazy!

It's the lady who will open her doors to any number of friends and their children for a lunch playdate. When she's 8 months pregnant. With her fourth child. She will host those people to find out more are coming, bringing the total of children to 20 and the moms to eight. And she'll smile and laugh and welcome each one with a warm hug and a giant smile of love and acceptance and true joy that they have come to her home that day.

It's the nurse who answers phone calls in the middle of the night. Tumbling out of bed to rush to the hospital for hours on end... then comes to Bible study. With brunch in-hand.

It's the mom who accepts your kids into her house at the drop of a hat. And expects nothing for her time and hospitality. Who won't accept lunch as a "thank you" in return.

It's the woman who takes your daughter to school daily. Who can read that little girl's mood from the driveway as she exits the house and treats her with the compassion or silliness she needs.

It's the grandma and the nana that do fun things with the kids. Just because they want to. Just because they know how much those memories will mean to their grandchildren as they grow up.

It's the checkout lady at the store who knows the specials and the price-matches for gallons of milk and offers them to you of her own accord because it's her desire to be sure you get the best deal every time you go through her line. Then she asks about your kids and how your weekend was.

It's the friend who made you feel "at home" in a new, big city. Who is always there for you. Who cares about you and your family.

My list doesn't end there. My list is comprised of the women I know and love. Who are a part of my life in ways that I never could have imagined.

Today I was included in a crazy lunch full of kids and moms and chatter and compliments and love and well-wishes and "until I see you again's". It was Crazy with that C big and bold. But it was amazing. And relaxing.

Call me crazy. I think it was relaxing.

And it reminded me of all the ways that the women in my life are truly amazing.

And a little bit crazy.

Fireflies and Fairy Gardens

From the crack of the bat to the perfect toast of the mallow, summer is here in all of its backyard lightning bug catching glory.

Growing up in the middle (literally) of a cornfield in Nebraska I enjoyed the croak of the bullfrog and the glow of the lightning bugs each summer, but it wasn't until recently that I realized some people don't know of such soothing summer sights and sounds. They consider lightning bugs (fireflies) to be mythical creatures. The stuff of little girls dreams. 

This weekend we spent a beautiful summer evening enjoying food, cold ones and awesome friends. When the sun fell below the horizon and the glow of fireflies lit the yard Ella was as excited as she is every night. I told her I'd get her a container to catch them. "You can catch them? How?" My Cali-girl gal-pal was astonished. A. Ston. Ished. "Seriously? You can keep them in a jar?" 

To me it seemed her daughter was about to learn one of the greatest joys a kid can imagine at dusk of a summer evening. Catching fireflies, giving them shelter in an old Ball jar and letting their soothing twinkle lull her to sleep. 

That night we made do with a clear solo cup and some tin foil, but tonight, in preparation for little Emma's trip back to Cali to see her cousins, we made her a very special lightning bug jar. A full quart size, complete with air-holes in the lid and a pretty fabric swatch to go under the ring. A perfect gift for this little lady.                                                      

Heavenly.

It got me to thinking about the other people in my life that live far from The Good Life. My brother-in-law sheds his shoes and socks, rolls up his jeans and runs through the grass like a kid when he gets back to Nebraska in the summer. Green grass. Soft grass. Grass between the toes.                            

Heavenly.

We are in the planning zone for this summer's greatest week. A week at the big lake in Nebraska. Big Mac. Lake McConaughy. 20 miles of shoreline. 35,700 acres of surface area at full-capacity. Waterskiing, fishing and tubing. Beach camping, campfire pies, and s'mores. Smoky air, crackling logs and waves on the beach.

Heavenly.

We are blessed. Richly and in many ways. We have a lake house we can visit anytime complete with fishing, kayaking and relaxing. Ella and I enjoy a nice kayaking excursion on a calm clear morning. She takes her sketch paper and artist supplies, I take my thoughts, and together we relax and enjoy nature. By the time we get back to grammy and grampy's lakehouse she has created a book of God's creatures we've seen. All the way from the birds in the sky down to the family of fish under the logs where the turtles live. I have a clearer mind and calmer heart.

Heavenly.

New life abounds all around us here in the heartland. Young calves and colts litter the pastures and sometimes the littlest of friends need a helping hand. One single, solitary set of 12 hours offered us two occasions to engage in Rescue Missions last week. Ella's affection for all critters brought us to the rescue of a family of ducks at the park. Their wayward travels took them away from the pond, through the playground and into the street. Momma seemed confused and the downy little ducklings hadn't a care in the world. But my little Ella cared enough for all of them, so we ushered them gently back to the grass and safety.




Kittens? Did someone see kittens?

"Meow meow" (Yes.) "Meow-meow-meow" (Can we keep them?)
(If you know us well, you know that Ella spent a portion of a preschool-age year communicating primarily in kitten. I am now fluent.)

"No. We live in town, cats belong outside and your dad is allergic to cats." (Solid argument, no?)

Lord help us, there were kittens by the side of the driveway to the lake house early on Wednesday morning.

Lord help us even more that they were still there, seemingly abandoned, that evening.

Commence Operation Kitten Rescue. After a long day of summer day-camp, swimming and running around, we agreed to come to the rescue of the kittens. Right after supper. The kids and I loaded up on the four-wheeler and went to check on the kitties. A container of milk and milk-soaked bread in-hand we coaxed those curious but scared little kitties out of the brush and up to the buffet we offered. My defenses weakened by the pure innocence and adorable nature of kittens and my Ella, I agreed that we should find a large box and give the kittens shelter for the overnight. As we departed in search of a box a momma cat came across the road, but gave little notice to the kittens. We watched, assuming we would find out one way or another if this was their momma. Her lack of interest made me wonder still, so we fetched the box and extra milk. Upon our return, momma was licking the bowl clean and heading off down the road. Ella quickly realized these kitties did indeed have a momma and the dam broke...

W-I-D-E open. Gushing tears of heartbreak. Never has a child been so heartbroken by the existence of a live-and-well animal. Ever.

Mission... over.

Ella's take on the whole thing?
Kittens are heavenly.
Not getting to keep them is heart-wrenching and painful. So painful only grammy can make it better.

As we rounded the bend at grammy and grampy's farm that night (a quick drive from the lake house) lightning bugs grasped Ella's attention and tugged her focus away from the kittens (briefly). After capturing four to keep in her bedside jar she snuggled in for the comfort and compassion that only grammy can give.

As the snuggling soothed the kitten-induced drama, talk turned to the fairy camp she was attending that week. Fairy wings on day one. Wands on day two. Flower crowns on day three. Fairy houses on day four. Tea and cupcakes and fairy butterfly feeders on day five.

If she didn't get enough at camp, she's filling her bucket at home this week! Seeing how infatuated and enamored she was with all the fairy-goodness of that week's camp I made a quick stop at Hobby Lobby to gather fairy-approved supplies and arranged a fairy house-making afternoon with her best girlfriend from school.

My garage looks like Pixie Hollow exploded, but these girls had a blast!

For me, this is the season.

Baseball games & s'mores.

Green grass & croakin' bullfrogs.

Downy ducklings & cute-cute kittens.

Campfires & lake life.

Fireflies and Fairy Gardens.


Heavenly.

Kindergarten Besties

Oh those silly kids. For almost the entire school year I've been bringing home a spare kid each day and dropping him in his driveway on our way home. The conversations from the cheap seats never cease to entertain. Topics range from school-related activities to weekend plans and toilets (always toilets) to horrid knock-knock jokes.

For weeks I've been hearing "Next time guys, we have to be way funnier. Way, waaaaaay funnier."
And I've heard it all.
"Knock knock"
"Who's there?"
"Interrupting cow"
"Interrupting co...
"Moo"

"What did the momma tomato say to the kid tomato?"
"ketchup"
(Because they were going for a walk and the kid was falling behind...)
That one took Ella about a month to finally "get" when she saw it on her own milk carton at lunch. Finally.

"How do you make a witch itch?...Take away the w!!!"
**Chirp. Chirp.**
(Again, I had to explain that one for a few weeks)

So yesterday they chatted about being the teacher and the teachers being the students.

Hilarity, my friends. Hilarity.

What really gave me a bit of the giggles was when they decided they would not let them have class everyday but make them take a field trip every. single. day.
Like a field trip is a punishment?
"So their legs would get tired too."
Oh yes, walking the zoo for a day is horrid.

So as I reflect on this year of Kindergarten convo-induced giggles I wonder how things will be now that they are headed on to 1st grade. They've discussed the matter at length, with deep-seeded concerns over the three of them losing each other. Or two of them being together and one being left out. Because, you see, next year they may not all be in the same class.

Ella-Barrett-Emma - Last week of Kindergarten - May 2015

The Three Amigos. B-E-E. Triple Threat. Barrett-Emma-Ella. Whatever you call them, call them tight. This trio seems to have clicked and it didn't take long. So now after a full school year of being a great group of friends they want to plan summer get-togethers. Sleepovers. Backyard parties and to be friends for all of life. To never forget each other.

So during their whole 70 days off from school for the summer I see playgrounds and backyards and tents and firepits and sleepovers in their future. Because each day, at the end of the day, I see hugs and loves and "goodbye's" and "see you tomorrow's" that are genuine and true. I see friends that want to be forever friends. And I want to help foster those relationships and help them grow. Because these kids are good kids. Their parents are good people. They are the kinds of kids I want my baby girl hanging with. Learning from. Being herself with. Because they are accepting of each other just the way they are.

I grew up in a town where you were always in the same class with the same people unless someone moved away or was new to town. My choices for friends were pretty limited. My husband grew up in Omaha and has had the same core group of friends since middle school. Middle school, ya'll. In a town this size??? I'm amazed.

Then I realized why. Do you know who my mother-in-law celebrates her birthdays with? The moms of those friends. Those relationships thrived not only because those kids enjoyed each other, but their parents did as well. They spent time together, they helped cultivate and then tended to those relationships. Our kids, at this age, don't have ample opportunity to get together with their friends until a parent organizes and transports. I've been slacking in this department for the last year. I was tired. I was tired of calling and asking and planning and transporting and scheduling and cleaning up and refereeing and doing. I was tired.

Now they've reached an age where there is a lot less action needed on my part. Ask, plan, transport. Pretty simple. Maybe feed a kid or two here and there. Easy-peasy. So this summer that's what I'll do. I'll ask and plan and transport. I'll supervise. And referee when necessary. I'll love and hug and feed and entertain. I'll do what needs to be done to keep these kids together this summer.

I want Ella and her friends to remember this as the greatest summer ever... until the next summer. The summer when they could get together with friends and continue to feed those friendships, hoping they will continue to bloom in the fall and winter when new friends enter and another school year might separate them. And if during the course of time she decides those relationships aren't the best for her it will be her decision, not mine. It won't be my fault that B-E-E doesn't exist anymore. I will have done what I could to foster and nurture those relationships she has found so easy and fulfilling and enduring this year.

Kindergarten is just the start and I know that next year there will be new friends. Next year there will be more discoveries and better jokes and deeper backseat conversations during carpool. Next year there will be 1st graders in my van. Next year they'll learn more about who they are and who their friends are. They'll grow into bigger kids and stronger individuals. They'll move forward and I'll be there to help maintain the friendships they value and cherish.

So here's to a wildly successful Kindergarten year full of backseat conversations that fill the entertainment quota for my afternoons. Here's to next year's 1st grade backseat conversations.

Knock, Knock
Who's there?
Boo!
Boo hoo?
Don't cry... it's just a knock-knock joke!

Giving Kids Creative License

I have a couple of creative types in my house.

Big Sister E is a true creative spirit turning anything into something. Tonight she interrupted my workout to let me know she could make water change color just by saying a magic word. What she'd done was paint the outside of a can, then gave her brother the job of turning on the water and plugging the drain while she ran the painted can under water. Voila! Purple water. Creative. Capital C.

Little Brother C is creative in the "I'm going to find a way to tinker with this to get it to do what I want" kind of way. Last week he was up on the playset with a jump rope and laundry basket. He came in asking for carrots. His plan? A bunny trap. Set the carrots on the ground, hide in the playset, attach the basket to the jump rope and lower it (silently) onto the unsuspecting rabbit as it noshed on the carrot buffet.

When these to minds get together, watch out world, something special is coming.

Recently I've been thinking about how much time I spend entertaining my kids. And the verdict? Well, not so much. Some may say I'm a lazy parent for not engaging in a multitude of activities with my kids. My response? I don't think they need it! Sure, they ask me to play tag, draw a picture, play a game, read a book, and the usual gamut of kid-type requests, and most often I am good with that. But sometimes, "I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request". (Thank you, Pirates of the Caribbean.) And they usually deal with it just fine. Most often, they don't ask for much in the Requires Entertainment department. They like to just make things up and accessorize with all of their stuff. Common activities include "Fluffy Fluff" (he's a puppy, she's the owner), picture-making and building bird-watching huts.

A few days ago they asked to play on the front steps. Not my first choice for a play location, but since I was in the general vicinity and could offer sufficient supervision I gave them the go-ahead. When I went outside to check on them this is what I found...

 Yup, you guessed it. That's a roly-poly house, ya'll! Complete with a play area and dandelion accents!

Dad gets in on the creativity action much more often than I do. He seems to have that extra store of energy specifically for entertaining kids that I just don't have in the evening. Barbies were the activity of choice this night and boy did those boys have fun!

Let me assure you, it was very manly fun. Full of battles and motorcycles and stunts!

He even made them an authentic pirate treasure chest, complete with false bottom for hiding treasure. Last summer they decided on their pirate names. This year Captain One Sock and Captain Butterfly are even more authentic.


Rainy days? They wanted to go play on a rainy Saturday a week or so ago. "Why not?" became my philosophy for the moment and I let them go...




And they had a great time! I didn't ever ask the thought-process behind taking the toy box lid, Hotwheels storage box, bandana and straw hat outside, but this is what they came up with...

a ship?
a pirate ship?
a pirate ship with bad guys and the cracken ready to attack?

Your guess is as good as mine, my friend. As good as mine.

This one. She gets all sorts of silly sometimes. Rain, bubbles and alone time and she's golden, let me tell you! She was singing and dancing and blowing bubbles and having a grand old time! 

What's the point of all this rambling? Well, I've noticed that sometimes kids don't need constant entertainment. No TV, no electronic games, no planned activities. Just time to play. Be creative. It seems that many of my friends that fall into my decade for age had similar experiences as children. We were allowed to make our own fun. Play in the dirt, splash in the puddles, imagine new worlds and pretend we were anything we wanted to be. Swings were rocket ships. Laundry baskets were bunny traps.

This last New Year's Eve we celebrated with a few other couples and all the accompanying offspring. Instead of planning out their evening's activities down to the minute, we let them enjoy each others company. There was a school full of students and teachers. Games of basketball and tag. Screaming, giggling, fighting and fun. Random, spontaneous, creative and imaginative fun. And they loved every second.

With the decline of importance being placed on the arts in our school systems I find it to be more necessary than ever to encourage authentic creativity at home. I'm so thankful E goes to a school where art and music are valued. Where theater club starts at grade four. Where creative licenses are issued to students on a daily basis. 

Last month I decided to undertake a major project in our storage room. I'm creating an art room for E to feel free to create as she pleases. While progress has been slow recently I know that once summer arrives I'll have the time to dedicate and the help I need from her to get it completed to her liking. A place for her. A room of her own with paints and crayons and markers and glue. Glitter and paper and stickers. Music and floors to spill on guilt-free. Walls to display her work and be proud of her accomplishments. 

I want to encourage the kids to put their creative licenses to full use. To realize their full potential and not be afraid of judgement by the outside world. To create and share and be authentic. To know that their original ideas are valued. 

My challenge to you is to turn off the tv, the electronics, the planned activities and encourage your kids to make their own fun for a week. I know that when summer break arrives my kids won't be able to get the back door open fast enough each morning to launch themselves straight into their own world. A world of endless possibilities limited only by their boundless imaginations. 

How will you encourage your child's use of his or her creative license?