The Great Compromise

In the winter it's a big thing around these parts to stuff your entire family into your car and ride around spying out extraordinary Christmas light displays. Most everyone does this- bundled up and sipping hot chocolate and oohing and awing at the twinkling lights. I do something similiar in the summer- much less known and that makes it even better. Side walk chalk. If you put your baby in a stroller and walk around the neighborhood on a cool spring evening, you will giggle and nod at the sloppy art on peoples drive ways. Things like "Samantha Rocks! no she doesn't'' and other sayings and pictures jump out at you in green, blue, pink and white (the usual colors for a  box of chalk). Kade and Mommy have been going on a walk almost every day before bed. We take a bath, brush his teeth and cover him in a blanket, usually with moose slippers sticking out the bottom. The rhythm of my quick footsteps and the gentle March breeze lull Kade into a Spring Coma. By the time we get home he's relaxed and actually reaches for his bed, his hair dried and his eyes heavy.

I'm stressed to the max. My nerves are fried and my knees ache. My head is fuzzy in the morning and by bedtime I'm ready to sit down and cry. But there are, of course, beautiful moments of serene clarity. That's the Great Compromise. It's just a part of life. You can't have shadows without light. No laughter until you've cried. No hello without goodbye. I look around me and I see people taking for granted the blessings God has so graciously given them. I'll admit, I resent them. They have all they need and little responsibility and they're complaining. I'm working my butt off; when I get a perk, I celebrate. When things are hard, I try to concentrate on the upside. Life isn't fair. It's not supposed to be fair. You're going to have trials and heart ache and moments when you want to throw your hands up in the air- a huge gesture of I freaking give up. I've said over and over God doesn't give us what we can't handle. And I believe that with my whole heart. I just wish others could see that truth as clearly as I do.

Okay, off my soap box and on to some adorable pictures of my son.
I know that's really why some of you are here.

One of Kade's favorite places on earth is the book store. We spent over an hour there in our jammies on two different occasions last week. He has a knack for picking Used books. That means Mama digs up the change from her purse and Ta-Da! My baby is in the back seat babbling, "reading" me the book the whole drive home. A new book is something to celebrate. Especially when it only cost two dollars.

 

Another favorite is being outside. If the weather is nice (which it has been), you can't keep this kid indoors. He even eats sitting on the floor beside the sliding glass door- as close to the outside as he can get.

Earlier today, I was a point of total exhaustion. I needed a break. I wanted coffee with a friend, a long bubble bath, a full nights sleep, a freakin' pedicure cause God knows I need one. I thought this isn't fair. I resent Kade's dad for not having this problem- if he wants to go on a run, he can go on a run. Without taking the stroller and a cranky baby along with him. If he wants to sleep in until noon, he has that freedom. But I have to remind myself: there's something he doesn't have. He doesn't have my strength, my patience, my dedication, my appreciation for the blessings I have. He doesn't have the positive attitude I have, hasn't learned the incredible lessons I've learned. Really, I'm the lucky one.Things are hard but there's a silver lining. As with everything, there is a hidden beauty, a raw lesson of integrity. I'm still learning.

finger lickin' comfort

The other day a friend of mine said something that sparked a fire beneath me- a peculiar thing that I thought about and related myself to and I'll admit, had a good bellowing laugh about. It used to be that women grew up to cook like their mothers. Now, they grow up to drink like their fathers. It was raw, it was blunt, it was real. It took me a moment to process the statement before finally, a panic bubbled in my gut. While I'm certainly no alcoholic, I'm no gourmet chef either. There is such a pressure to become the "Domestic Goddess" that no wonder young women are turning their backs to the traditions of the home. But I think about my grandmas Danish food, my mothers fantastic and exciting way of celebrating unique holidays with food, my aunts pasta salad that I look forward to for months before Christmas Eve. These are all things that I've depended on throughout my childhood. They were just there; warm and delicious and comforting.
Comfort is such a key component to a healthy, happy home. Right now my laptop sits propped upon the hope chest that was my grandmothers and my mothers before it was handed down to me. Tucked inside are quilts and afghans made by the most nurturing people in my life- the jelly bean quilt I slept with into adulthood, the afghan my great-grandma made me for high school graduation, a patchwork from my mother one Christmas, an intricate blue and yellow quilt from my dearest friend, Hailey. Each of them holds a special memory- the softness or stiffness of the fabric, the tattered edges of the jellybean blanket or the smooth, starched edges of the intricate machine quilt. The smells, the yarn, the patches, they bring me back to my center, a place deep in the depths of my soul that makes me feel home no matter where I am.
I want Kade to grow up in a home full of hand made things. I want him to have quilts piled in his closet, hand made baby clothes to hand down to my future grand babies, recipes that live longer than I do. I hope in a hundred years, in my great-great-grand daugher's kitchen there is a recipe card that reads "Grandma Jessica's Peach Muffins." My own legacy, my own generation of traditions, of food, of laughter, of nursery rhymes, of love.
You only get to live once. One fleeting journey that can be whisked from under your feet at any given moment. You have to white knuckle the steering wheel and pray to God that your doing things the way He would want you to, taking full advantage of the beautiful life that He has so graciously gifted you.
It's time, friends, to be an in the now mother. For this girl, there will be many more afternoons spent in my grand mothers kitchen. I want to perfect Danish almond cake, learn to make a killer sausage soup and jot down every trick there is to fantastic leftover casseroles. I want to sit in my mothers kitchen and learn to crochet bonnets, blankets, you-name-its. Summers will be spent on my hands and knees in the dirt of who-ever's garden.  But it isn't just the tasks that I want to absorb from the nurturing mothers in my life, it's the wisdom. The things they experienced, the lessons they learned, their greatest joys, regrets and hopes.
We're losing this- this legacy of family, of tradition, of familiar comfort in the home. Today I sat down and reflected on this; I was finishing a quilt for Kade's bed and was becoming increasingly frustrated with hand stitching the final opening. I thought, why didn't anyone teach me this? And suddenly was struck with a heart wrenching realization- my mother did teach me how to hand stitch the opening so that the thread would be hidden. I remember it vividly. I was sitting on the dining room floor, pregnant and in tears with frustration. I had her do it for me, I said I didn't want to look at it again until it was done, I didn't listen to her. So, retreating to my mother for her never ending thread of encouragement is my only option. This time, I'll pay attention.

A flour dusted apron, a fresh cup of coffee and being completely engulfed by love and security. This is but a small flower on the path to happiness but it's bright and it's beautiful; a flower that you tuck behind your ear and take with you on the rest of your journey.

***

Kade has been progressing rapidly in the way he communicates and has been much calmer transitioning from Mama to whoever-is-babysitting. He's been so patient and has floated calmly on the raging sea that has become our life. He's relaxing a bit, sleeping in more often, "singing" in the car; finally settling in to the new life we're trying to mold. He's adjusting- a perfect example for me to look upon when, like lately, I've got a bad case of the Single Mom Blues.

It's good to be back to this place- this place of writing and relating- to slough off the layers of doubt and insecurity that are building up on my chest. A familiar place for me to dump my thoughts and finally have them come out fluidly. After weeks and weeks of pacing, rapidly typing, deleting... I'm back.

And dang, it feels good.

Bowling. I don't care if you haven't done it since high school and your terrible at it. Just Do It. It's fantastic. 

 

Kade beat me. twice. 

 

***

If you take your favorite peanut butter cookie recipe and then add Nutella, you get these:

And these are finger lickin' good. I made a batch for fun and then decided they were so good I had to share them with my bible study class. This one earned a five star spot in my recipe box.

 

And lastly, I received something in the mail today that made me jump for joy. I am an official member of the Letter Writers Alliance. Which means a never ending stream of pen pal opportunities, cool gifts and much, much more. Hurray! Long summer evenings spent scrawling out messages on personalized stationary? Sounds like a paradise vacation to me.

Do yourself a favor, call up a loved one and spend time with them. Write more letters. Weed more gardens. Bake more cookies. Whatever your craving: a book club, a coffee joint study group, a movie night. Your soul needs that kind of stuff, dude. Don't deprive it.

Sugar Coated Air

Sometimes, you have to sit down and force yourself to write. You don't want to, you cringe at the thought of banging out the words in your head and arranging them in straight little lines. The chaos of your life can't possibly be captured within this little white box- words simply do no justice to the incredibly inspiring, sad, peculiar events that have become the carousal theme music of my life. But writing is like tapping a stack of pages against a flat surface. All the crooked edges and loose corners suddenly lay straight against each other. The words on the pages don't have to make any sense at all- they look nice. They look presentable. You might be tricked into believing there's a novel written on those pages, if you only glance. I guess what I'm trying to say is that writing puts some order into my life. So, without further ado:

Spring has shown it's gleaming pearly whites. The air smells sweet. I'm not even kidding; all day I've been looking for the culprit to the incredibly enticing sweet smell in the air. But then, after an hour of yard work and many, many deep breaths I realized that is was the air. It's like sugar plum fairies were dancing on the wind. (Pause. Let us for a moment appreciate that sentence). So, spring has shown it's gleaming, pearly whites. And apparently, spring has good breath.

We slept in today. I woke up before Kade and lay with my face beneath the sheets, breathing and listening to the groans of the house, kids playing next door, the cat clawing at the carpet on the stairs. I knew it would be a good day before I stumbled my way up to the kitchen. The sunlight literally seeped into the house,  tiny dust particles floated across the kitchen table. When Kade woke up, it was time for play. We took a huge bite out of Spring, let it dribble down our faces, wiped it on our shirts. We played in the dirt, we went on three walks, we have eaten more fresh produce in the last week than I probably have in my entire life combined. We drove to the grocery store with our windows rolled down, cleaned out the car, changed our sheets.  It's been a few years since Utah got a real spring. I'm not sure how long it will last so while its here, we're going to hold on tight.

Kade is such a lover- his favorite toy right now is a stroller that he can push his 'baby' around in. He pushed it almost two blocks today before tiring out. He pauses to make sure baby is still tucked in safely, goes extra careful over hills and "pops wheeleys."

 

***

I love the smell of dirt. Around three o'clock pm today I was down on all fours in a flower bed. I pulled weeds, raked leaves, threw rocks back into the window wells. By the time I found myself back in the house my knees and hands were black, I had a spider bite on my knee and my cheeks were a rosy red. I also had a giant smile on my face and the faint smell of dirt in my nose long after my shower. There will be much, much more yard work for these hands in the near future.

Life has been its usual rhythmic chaos. Pockets of stress encased in glorious, fleeting moments of comfort. I'm ready for spring and the freshness that it brings with it. I hope the sweet smelling air lingers, leaving traces on my clothes and hair. I hope the sun's warm kisses leave freckles on my nose. I hope I can slow down and enjoy this. But mostly, I hope that you can too.

 

Happy Spring.

A Funky Celebration

My lifestyle choices these last weeks have left my belongings disarrayed in a way that somewhat resembles a frat house. In fact, our lifestyle, period has been somewhat equivalent to those of frat  house occupants. We stay up too late, go out to eat far more often than I'd like to admit, sleep in until noon (yes, even Kade), leave dirty clothes on the floor and make second, then third pots of coffee, struggling to keep our eyes preyed open mid-afternoons.

I suppose you could accurately determine that we're in a funk. A big one. While we made it to church this morning, it was only after driving away while my phone sat vulnerable on top of the car. Kade plainly refused a nap. He sat in his dim room babbling and after an hour I gave in. We made it to Sunday dinner- an evening filled with temper tantrums and an unusually clingy baby. I was becoming increasingly agitated, wringing my hands and ducking out of my grandmas house earlier than usual.

I start work tomorrow. That means we have a new rhythm to fall into- of early rising and babysitters and (hopefully) a schedule. We (Kade and I) thrive on a schedule, something to rely on, a slow and steady pace of familiarity with bonuses thrown in; trips to the library, tap dancing through the grocery store (more on that to come), and jumping on the bed every great once in a while when we're feeling really dangerous.

After our long and frustrating day, I buckled Kade into the car and contemplated on my next move. I had errands to run- to fill my gas tank to save time before work tomorrow and go to the grocery store so I'd have coffee for my six a.m. wake up call. Kade was already crying but I determined to make the best of it- if necessary, I could quickly grab the coffee and get the heck outta dodge, waiting until tomorrow afternoon to make other purchases. I hesitantly pulled up to the gas pump and climbed out of the car, slid my card and began filling my tank. Kade immediately started flailing. I quickly put my mouth close to the glass of the window and blew my warm breath against it. I drew a smiley face, and received a smile in return. I wiped it away and continued making shapes in the glass. Finally, after shaking my head at the astonishing amount of cash it required to fill my tank, we drove to the grocery store. I felt lifted- accomplished. But I was still hesitant. Anyone who has or has had a toddler knows how quickly things can go from elevated to catastrophic.

The grocery store- I moved fast, happily chiming in to Kade everything on our list, letting him hold the items and toss them behind him into the basket. I bolted down the aisles, "tap dancing" and exclaiming Kade! Lookit! Progresso is on sale today! Woohoo! I was acting seriously over the top. But there was no shame, I smiled all the way and thought, My baby is so dang happy right now. And you know what? me too. Just as I was noting my sudden complete absence of insecurity, Kade let out a squeal, a celebration.

What have I been so afraid of? Things took a turn swiftly- it seemed in one infinite, fleeting moment in a Walmart I came to a fantastic realization: I am loved. I can dance in grocery store aisles, sing "Teddy Bear Picnic" not-so-quietly into my pillsbury cinnamon roll microphone and crank up Jewels Merry Go Round Childrens CD in my car like it's no body's business. I can, I can, I can. And I can feel dang good about it, maynard.

There are so many things to celebrate- dear friends moving home, a new job, Faith.. so many things to raise a toast to. In my case, this weekend prompted a huge chocolate pudding toast.

A toast to birthdays

A toast to $8 jeans that make me feel fabulous.

A toast to this game- seriously I can't say it enough I love this game.

A toast to library books- to all books and their warm characters.

A toast to growth- new teeth and new jammies mean a bigger Kade. A healthy, strong Kade.

As of this afternoon Kade has twelve teeth.. Possibly two more by tomorrow morning. 

And a toast specially for getting us out of this funk- a new routine that will hopefully chase away the I wish I had's and fill us to the bring with I'm glad we did's.

What are you celebrating today?