Threaded and dangerous...

What did you do this weekend?

I was busy, but not with the Superbowl.
I was busy being thrifty.

Over the past year, I've built up quite a stock of jeans with holes.
As a mother of 3 boys, it's a given.  Got Jeans, got holes. 
If a pair got a hole, it was relegated to the guest room until further notice.
They added up too fast.  I couldn't ignore them anymore.
I laid them out, all 14 pair, and got to work.  Brigham even helped.

BUT, that's not all.

I sewed the gaping holes on each side of Brigham's coat.
I altered the cutest dress I found at a thrift store.

It was quite a busy Saturday night.  I felt so domestic.
It was actually fun.  I never considered myself a "project" person--going to the store and buying it was great for me.  Funny the things we learn to enjoy out of necessity.

Spoke too soon...

Do you remember what I was saying about scummy-life sort of days (post below)?
Well, today was one of those days.
I'm not seeing the beauty...yet.

On a more positive note, I did get all the closets cleaned out today.  That was a good thing.

Here's to better days...tommorow.  Cheers.

Beauty?

Annie taught me a great lesson today.  If you're a church-going sort of person, it was one of those, I could use this in a talk moments (maybe I'm the only one who thinks like that).

We were walking out of the grocery store.  It was warmer today so the roads were slushy and wet, dirty puddles everywhere.  Walking to our car, Annie stops.  On the ground was this beautiful, circular, little rainbow from a drop of oil in the road.  We stopped and enjoyed it for a several moments.  I'll be honest, I was waiting for Annie to reach out and touch it, taste it, etc.  A few steps further, another pretty rainbow, another pause to admire.  She kept saying how "bootiful" it was.  She was right and she got me thinking.

Thought #1: most people wouldn't consider oil in the road beautiful.  Frankly, most people wouldn't even look down to notice, or if they did, they wouldn't stop.  Too busy.  Beauty hits us in the most obscure ways, if we're looking.  We'll always see it, if we're looking.

Thought #2:  sometimes my life feels like a drop of dirty oil in the middle of a scummy parking lot.  Do you ever feel that way?  It's usually short-lived, but real nonetheless.  Yet, with a little water the rainbow appears.  The water is grace.  God's grace turns my sometimes-scummy life into a thing of beauty.  The beauty comes in the struggle, the overcoming, the lessons, and the resulting strength.  Here's the catcher: I have to make a choice.  Look to this source of grace or keep on walking.  I have to admit, sometimes I wallow in my scumminess.  Sometimes I want to stay mad or upset.  Ridiculous, I know. Where's the beauty in that? 

Life's a process.  I'm obviously still working on it.

p.s. the picture is not "our" drop of oil.  Courtesy of the internet.  But it looked just like it.

Number of the day: 3

Happy Birthday, Annie.

What a day.

The heart pancakes Mommy made probably confused you about what a heart really looks like.

We tried to play your very first computer game (just like your brothers), but Mommy couldn't get any googled "online learning games for toddlers" to load.  Thank goodness for daddies and pbskids.org. 

Mommy lost her temper after you made a complete mess with the play-doh.  She was upset with your daddy for volunteering at the Cannery today, and took out her frustration on you.  Shame on Mommy, twofold.  Don't worry, Mommy and Daddy are friends again.

We did have a lot of fun at Lincoln's gymnastics.  Thanks for saying, "Mommy, I llliiiikkke you."  That was so sweet.  I like you, too.

The cake.  What didn't go wrong.  I'll leave it at that...wait, it was pink inside.

Dinner at McDonald's was full of adventure.  When you and your brothers commented about the sticky floor, in bare feet, I almost gagged.  McDonald's is not Mommy's favorite, but it's yours and that's what matters.

Cake, ice cream, and presents at Grandma's was exciting.  Brigham nearly burned off  his finger lighting the candles. Watching you open your gifts was delightful.  You're so innocent.  I love that.

Nearly everything went wrong today and you never noticed.

You loved the less-than-perfect heart pancakes.
You loved the mutilated cake held together by frosting.
You loved everything because stuff doesn't matter.
We were together all day. 
That's what mattered.

You are our little blessing.

Annie, the greatest thing about today was YOU.
Happy Birthday.

Gratitude...

I've been meaning to do this for weeks:
My gratitude post.
I know that gratitude isn't a one-day or one-post sort of character trait, it's more of a way of life.
Daily.

However, I have felt a tremendous amount of gratitude since Christmas for two things in particular.  I would be a total ingrate to let these things slip by.

I woke up Christmas day with anticipation (as usual).  Ben made me wait with the kids at the top of the steps.  I walked down and looked towards the loveseat.  There, in all its amazing, stylish glory was IT.  You know, the coat.  The "it-spoke-to-me-coat" from Macy's.  Do you remember the posts (11-18-2009 and 11-21-2009)?  I looked to Ben quizzically.  He shrugged his shoulders, told me to read the note laying on top of the coat.  I did...in shock.  Some kind, generous, thoughtful, selfless individuals whom I assume are readers of my little blog gave me the coat!  Humbled was an understatement.  I was quietly contemplative at the generosity of friends.  I was borderline teary--not that the coat made me cry (well, maybe a little bit...it's THAT cute), it was the fact that friends cared for me enough to do something completely unexpected, unecessary and chose to remain nameless.  I thought of that scripture in the New Testament (Matthew 6:1,2,3-4): Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them....  Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee...but when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth: That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.

I know, whoever you are, that God blessed you for your kindness (at least I prayed that He would, and he usually answers those kinds of prayers).  Thank you.  Really.  I wear that coat humbly, and feel so gosh-darn cute.  Not that I'm cute, it's the coat's "magic."  You (all) have forever left an impression on me that I hope to emulate.  FYI: I have received many compliments about that coat...all because of you.

The second Christmas gift, completely unexpected, but gratefully enjoyed and used daily is this cute, cute, apron.  My sweet cousin, Shelley, made it for me (with a little help from Diana).  Cooking in style makes meal prep slightly dreamy.  It's fun, domestic, and dare I admit, a little sexy (to Ben, of course).  I feel like my Grandma, who always wore an apron, but this is a 21st century apron--so cool.  Thanks, you guys.  You really make my day--every day (It's usually on for breakfast and dinner).

Needless to say, gratitude for "things" are not the only reasons for gratitude, but I will cherish these things as long as my little brain is functioning clearly.  Thank you all so much.  XOXO.

p.s. I'm not really sure why I have to stick out my arms in every picture...I guess it's to add a little more pizazz, or to make myself look like a total nerd.  Either way's fine.

All on a winter's day...

Like most of you, I'm ready for winter's end.  Unfortunately, in my part of the world spring is still MONTHS away.  Days are hard when I can't see the sun.  However, there is one time of day that is most appealing to my wintery-self: early in the morning, when the sun is just beginning to rise.  The sky is the most beautiful, wispy pink, and there's still a blanket of fog hugging the ground.  I love it.  I've had several of those perfect winter mornings and I never tire of them.  It's so peaceful.  The calm before the storm, right?  Then it's non-stop until the kiddos are in bed.

I was lying in bed thinking about how much I love the summer, and came up with this little ditty, dedicated to all of you:

If you're ready for the summer, clap your hands.  clap, clap.
If you're ready for the summer, clap your hands.  clap, clap.
If you're ready for the summer, 'cause this winter is a bummer,
If you're ready for the summer, clap your hands.  clap, clap. 

Feast fit for a king...

Life's a little more crazy with the kids involved in different activites.  And I'm a little slacker lately, because the idea of cooking dinner just doesn't sound like fun.  Cereal, pancakes, Little Ceasar's $5 pizzas and other delicacies have graced our table lately.  Granted, I know the reason why: when you don't plan ahead, cooking dinner isn't fun.  I actually enjoy cooking...when I'm prepared. 

Ben has picked up the slack, bless his little heart.  This was his dinner: corn dogs, tater-tots, a few chicken nuggets.  Can you see the care with which he consolidated everything onto one cookie sheet?  Notice the artistic display.  Fancy, huh?  That's my guy.  I better get my act together soon, though, because I'm not sure how many more bowls of Honey-Nut Cheerios he can take and still keep a smile on his face.  Wish me luck.        

Schizophrenic...

Beauty or Beast?

Sometimes, I wonder...

Simple Sundays...

I awoke to the sound of a kitchen chair sliding across the floor, little voices, giggles, and the crinkle-crinkle of fruit snack wrappers.  I was too tired to stop the shenanigans.  I just listened.  They (Lincoln and Annie) made their way to the stairs, and this is what I hear, in whispered tones:):

"No, Grace, you can't come up."

"I doooo have a p**** (male anatomical feature), I do."

"No you don't."

"I have a P****!"

I guess they worked it out, because they both made it up the stairs, p****s notwithstanding.

(Annie's name is Annie Grace.  Lincoln always calls her Grace...just so you know.)

From previous posts, you know that the Carter house has a weekly strip-fest after church.  Today was no different.  I loved this shot of Annie and her dad--tights, undies and a sunday snack.  Can't beat that.

This was by far the greatest Christmas present ever! Have you heard of the Schleich castle/ accessories? Hours and hours of imagination are spent on this bad-boy. It was a great investment. Not a single piece has broken in any way since Christmas--the sign of a true kid-friendly toy. Annie wanted to be the topless knight. Her contribution to medieval madness, I guess.

And last of all, the moment I've been waiting for for months: the premiere of the newest Masterpiece Theater (on PBS) version of Jane Austen's Emma.  Even after months of anticipation, I can honestly say that I was not dissapointed in the least.  I loved it!  I'm anxiously awaiting part II, next Sunday, 9pm.  Care to join me?

Sports and scratches...

Brigham is finally old enough to play rec basketball.  I was unsure how he would take to basketball--I was pleasantly surprised.  He loved it. And, he's good at it; that's what surprised me.  That sounds awful, I know, but at our house, Dad is a football guy through and through.  We've spent more time with football and soccer (my baby) than with basketball.  It's fun watching him play, his excitement is evident the entire game.  He's even excited for practice.  I'm anxious for spring, when we can get out there and shoot some hoops.  I can't begin to count the hours I spent as a kid on my driveway shooting baskets, practicing lay-ups with my right and left hand, playing P-I-G and Lightning with my dad and brothers.  Good times, to be sure.  It's so fun and nostalgic to share those things you did as a kid with your own kids.

As you can see, the other kids found their own fun.  Unfortunately, Lincoln's fun took a turn for the worse, and he has a long, red war-wound to prove it.  Poor fella.

Fun in Utah...

We spent five fabulous family fun days in Utah.  We hit a lot of great sales!  As you can see, my mother-in-law had lots of fun guarding the cart as Teri and I scoured the clearance racks at Old Navy.  50% of the clearance price--I bought 8 shirts for $13!  Moments of glory, ladies.  I'm sure you all can appreciate a good deal.

Uncle Jeffrey indulged us, saddling up the horses.  The kids loved it, I loved it.  As you know, in my other life, I was a real cowgirl. If you could have seen me jump up on a horse, bareback, swinging my agile, cowgirl leg over it's severly bowed:) back, you would have been impressed.

We saw Sherlock Holmes at the movies, played games, saw the cousins' new litter of puppies, watched lots of basketball and football, and just relaxed.  We are so grateful for such a wonderful family; however, it was so nice to get back to my own bed.  Sleeping in a full-size bed, two children joining you EVERY night, is not my idea of a restful sleep.  Call me crazy.

Oh, and that last picture of Annie (in the cute hat made by my sister-in-law, Jen)--notice the difference in length, right vs. left.  Thanks, Lincoln.

Our turn...

I'm assured by my mother that all households share this moment.  This singular, defining moment of childhood:

the sibling haircut.

Five minutes (no exaggeration) before we left for Utah, the guilty party was discovered.  I'm not joking when I say that I had tears brimming.  All mothers think their little girls are the cutest, as it should be, and to see my sweet, innocent, beautiful little girl's hair BUTCHED, about did me in.  It's funny now, but for a split second I thought, what if people think I cut her hair like this on purpose?  You can't tell from the pictures, but her left side is three inches shorter than her right.  AHH.

We went to Utah with plans to fix her hair the next day.  Five days later, still no hair-cut.  I don't want to cut the rest of her hair to even it out.  I'm hoping that variations of pig-tails and side parts will hide it for a month or so until it's semi-blended.  Here's hoping.  I've saved her beautiful locks in my cedar chest as a memory.  I'm not ready to part with them, holding on to the dream of creating some way to weave them back in.  Ridiculous, I know.  Lincoln (sweet, sweet boy) has been lovingly assured that his life is at stake if he becomes a repeat-offender.

Utah, here we come.

I thought I'd start my weekend with a smile.  This picture cracks me up!  Poor Brigham.  He looks so helpless, sad, cold.  I remember times like this as a kid.  It's miserable.  Imagine me taking this picture as he's walking towards me for help:  "Wait...Brigham, don't move, I've just about got it...stay still.  There."  Some mom, right?  Take note of the top, baby-front tooth resting comfortably in front of the permanent tooth.  That's a $700 procedure to fix.  Can you believe it?  The permanent tooth will never correct itself because it sits behind the bottom teeth when his mouth is closed.  Speaking of needs (post below), looks like he needs his mother to wipe his face with a warm towel.  Bless his little heart.

Well, we're off to Utah.  Fun, fun, fun with the Carter family.  See you soon.  Happy Friday!

Oh, as an aside, I know a 12 year-old girl named Georgia, like Georgia O'Keefe.  What do you think of that name?  I'm not pregnant, I was just thinking it sounded kind of cool, old, I'm not really sure what I think.  How 'bout you?

Who needs what?

I finally had a few minutes to myself this evening, sitting in the semi-darkness of a lamp-lit room (don't you love that kind of light at night?).  My mind went to every person in my family and how all of their needs are different.  I was a little overwhelmed that the majority of the responsibility for meeting those needs rests on my shoulders. 

Ben needs a happy home.  He needs to feel that we're all together.  He needs encouragement that our present employment issues don't define our happiness as a family.  That we'll be okay.

Brigham needs to feel that all of his hard work, every single day, is valued.  That his efforts are good enough, even if he gets an answer wrong, or doesn't perform to his expectations.  He needs to feel independence, that I trust him to make the "better" choice, on his own.  He needs time with just me.  Time to talk, even if he really doesn't have anything to say.  He needs to know what's for breakfast tommorow:). 

William.  Sweet William.  He needs to be loved, hugged, kissed, smiled at.  He needs encouragement to stay on task.  He needs moments of silliness and joking.  He needs to be reminded to change his underwear every day and to keep his pee IN the toilet.  He needs his intellect stretched and challenged. 

Lincoln.  Well, he needs a lot right now.  He needs unconditional love.  He needs a sweet tempered mother who is ever-so-patient.  He needs kind words and lots of praise.  He needs boundaries and limits.  He needs physical activity, an indoor gym connected to our house would be beneficial.  He needs to be heard and he needs his wild imagination to be appreciated and indulged. 

Annie needs to feel a part of everyone else's life.  She needs to follow me everywhere and do everything I'm doing.  She needs to wipe herself--I'm not ready to give her that yet.  Her needs are simple, really: love her, feed her, clothe her, nap beside her, and she's good to go.

When I look at all these needs, all needing to be met at the same time, I kind of go crazy inside wondering how I can do it all.  But I'm wrong.  I CAN'T do it all.  That's what I'm learning over and over again.  It's not just me.  It's God, too.  God gives me the know-how to juggle the neediness.  How does that happen?  I NEED to know:).

Thoughts...

For days, I've wanted to write about this.  I hesitate because it's not my experience at all to share.  I was there as a support, an onlooker to something beautiful and sacred. I'm not sure I even have the words.  There's a place beyond words, I think, that's more powerful than anything you could ever say; however, I witnessed so much love and am completely affected, awed by it all, I wanted to try. 

As many (family) reading my blog know, our Uncle Stephen passed away Friday morning.  Thursday, I wanted to be with Shelley, his daughter, to offer whatever support she or the family needed.  I wanted to love her and hold her hand through an experience that I had absolutely no experience with.  I didn't know what to do or what to say, but I knew I loved her, all of them.  A lot.

Like everyone, my loved ones have passed away.  In my experience, however, they were always so far away.  I didn't feel the pains of losing them because my life went on as normal.  I guess being so young when they passed had something to do with it, too.  I'm older now.  It's different.  There's an awareness, in myself, and an awareness of others, their sufferings, etc., but my experience Thursday was so much more...

What feelings I had, as I sat with Shelley, and her siblings: Diana and Emily, Jeff,  Aunt Nanette, Uncle Stephen's wife, my own mother, my other Aunts: Kathy and Bev, friends, the hospice nurse, all gathered around his bed.  A large, framed picture of their wedding day on the wall.  There was always someone holding his hands, rubbing his arms, wiping his brow, putting chapstick on his lips.  There were memories shared, glimpses to happy moments, hilarious moments, loving moments of the past.  There were moments when nobody spoke at all, but you could feel it.  The love was all-encompassing.  Even through the tears, there was always so much love.

At one point, another cousin stopped by with her infant son.  There he was, this little, tiny baby so new to the world juxtaposed with my Uncle, so close to leaving this world.  Shelley made this little guy smile, he even giggled, and it was a reminder of how precious life is, but also, that life goes on.  Our life on earth is such a brief moment compared with eternity.  It was life's natural cycle, God's plan, right before my eyes.

Sometimes, I had to go downstairs and I'd see Uncle Stephen's grandchildren.  They knew what was happening upstairs, but they're children, too.  They were visiting with eachother, laughing.  They were living their lives.  I realized what a role children play in healing.  They make you realize just how much life is worth living.  They make you want to keep going.  What a blessing those little grandchildren will be in the days, months, years to come.

Friday morning, Uncle Stephen passed away.  The viewing on Sunday was full of family, friends, associates who loved my Uncle and his family.  There was a line for hours, how Shelley's and all the family's feet must have ached as they were comforted and offered comfort.  The funeral was the same: so many loving friends and family.  It was a beautiful service.  A celebration of a life well-lived.

I don't claim to know the depth of sorrow Uncle Stephen's family is feeling, nor the loneliness.  I know they miss him terribly.  My heart aches for their loss.  I also know that they know where he is, that he's not suffering anymore, that he's happy.  They know, without a doubt, that they can be with him again.

What do I take from this?  Love.  Love my family.  Love my friends.  Look past the little things that don't matter, forgive, make someone happy.  Stop thinking about myself.  Place value on those things that are of REAL value--Relationships.  I hugged Ben a little tighter that night.  And lastly, to thank God for His love, for all of us.  That He gave His Son, so that when we die, we can live again.  Death is certainly not the end, just another beginning.

Shelley and Diana, I love you.