Can You Find Me?

One of Abbey’s favorite games is Hide and Seek, and she makes me giggle when she says things like, “Mommy, I’ll hide and you seek.  I think I’ll hide by my dollhouse!”

So, if we were playing hide and seek today, I’ll hide and you seek…

I think I’ll hide over at Do Sweat the Small Stuff. 

I first met the lovely Ms. Sweaty over at Write on Edge, where she recently wrote a post that made me want to go out dancing.  And you just can't get any better than that.  Plus, she has a fabulous, retro blog design that I stare at in happiness for a few moments each time I click over to read what she’s writing.

Since she blogs somewhere called Do Sweat the Small stuff, it might seem strange that I’m talking about how I have completely flaked on Dylan’s baby book. 

I’d love it if you came over to see the kind of small stuff I sweat on a daily basis and the things I let slide.

If you're visiting from Sweaty's place, relax and stay for a while.  I can tell you all about what it's like to run a 10K in Michigan in August, how I desperately need a pedicure, why going to the beach with kids is fantastic, and what my Abbey wore for her first day of preschool.

Also?
Happy Birthday to the first man I ever loved

We love you, Dad, xoxo

The Constant in the Chaos

My fingers race over the keyboard, thoughts tumbling onto the screen.

Pausing, I read what I’ve written.

Sigh.  Select the text.  Delete.

More slowly, I begin again, attempting to form the sentences in my head before typing.

I read what I’ve written.

Sigh.  Select the text.  Delete.

Pushing back my laptop, I read the jotted prompt in my little notebook:

“The top area of your life where you would like to apply the Just.Be.Enough. mission of standing taller.”

My cursor blinks at me, the screen blank, glimpses of ideas scurrying around my mind, ducking behind columns as I try to grab them, pile them together, decide which part of my life most needs this important mantra: Just.Be.Enough.

I idly flip the pages in my planner, take a drink of water, reach for the book on the corner of my desk, ready to distract myself with another one of the endless tasks on my to-do list.

My nails are unpainted.  I need to empty the dishwasher.  There are new songs I want to add to my running playlist.

Each thought is a bouncing ball, a tiny sphere of pink rubber ricocheting back and forth in my mind, bumping against other thoughts, rebounding off each other, crowding the space and making it impossible to follow any one thought to its final destination.

Again, my eyes go to the prompt:

“The top area of your life where you would like to apply the Just.Be.Enough. mission…”

I jot notes.  Running.  Writing.  Self-Image.  Parenting.

Running has been a struggle lately; after the half marathon I need to rediscover what it means to run without a clock, without mileage expectations, without a goal other than the joy I find in running.

I’m writing and editing and collaborating on amazing projects, but I am unsure what all of those things mean in relation to my own professional path, unsure if it can even be considered a professional path.

Preschool has reawakened my worries about moving, where I want the kids to go to school, when we’ll be able to consider a move at all.

Dylan resisted going to bed tonight, and as he buried himself into my chest, I breathed him in and vowed to spend more time enjoying each little phase of their development instead of worrying about timelines and schedules.

“The top area of your life…”

I study the words I’ve doodled.  Which area is top?  How do I determine where I need to most accept my limitations and embrace my strengths, when I’m so unsure about so many of my end goals?

Deliberately, I reach for the computer.

I have not had a moment of clarity.

I can’t declare that I am enough as a runner, a writer, a mother, a wife.

I am uncertain about where any of these paths will lead.

Without a goal, a destination, I cannot state with certainty that I am enough.

There is only one certainty.

Today, in a parking lot, I held Abbey’s hand, her other hand holding Dylan’s small fingers.  Ryan completed our small chain, holding Dylan’s other hand firmly in his.  Our eyes met briefly, over the heads of our children, a smile holding the four of us together.

I am unsure where my path will lead, but I know who is walking at my side.

And that is enough.

Every MONDAY join us… 
Write, post, link-up, share your story and your voice. 
Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission
to empower, inspire, and remind women, parents and children
that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!

One Time, a Tree Fell on My House

Have you seen Grease?  The movie?

There’s a lovely animated opening, where Olivia Newton-John’s character wakes up, blissfully lovely, birds chirping, and you just know she’s going to have a good hair day.

Earlier this month, I woke up and saw that a tree had fallen on our house.

I would have preferred the chirping birds…

I’m sharing the story over at Taming Insanity, where the irreverently hilarious KLZ is allowing me to visit for the day. 

Not only is she half responsible for the creation of uber-helpful Eli Rose Social Media, but she always writes in a way that makes me feel like I could run into her on the street and just hang out.  She’s honest, forthright, and bought her adorable son some bedding I might copy when it’s time for Dylan to give up his crib.  Did I mention hilarious?

If you're visiting from Taming Insanity, I’d love it if you looked around a bit.  I can tell you all about how much I depend on the rhythm of my runs (psst…KLZ likes that one,) how I desperately need a pedicure, why going to the beach with kids is fantastic, and what my Abbey wore on her first day of preschool.

 

Abbey concentrating on her puzzle

Dylan watched Daddy and Grandpa Ray work on the roof for quite some time

Sweetness of Summer

For months, the humidity seeped through the cracks in doors, dampening foreheads with sweat.  

Temperatures climbed upwards, causing us to spend days playing in water or retreating to the coolness of the library.

Playing at the park meant ponytails to keep hair off our necks and baths every night to scrub away the thin film of sunscreen, sweat, and dirt unique to little boys enamored with feeding wood chips to plastic dinosaurs and the little stone turtle in our backyard.

We lingered in wayward sprinklers on neighborhood walks.

Slid feet into sandals and flip flops and Crocs.

Ignored the back-to-school sales and the days slipping by on the calendar.

Rode the lazy days and evenings towards Labor Day without realizing how near that weekend loomed.

Then, September.

Labor Day in Michigan marks the change of seasons more than the autumnal equinox. 

Even if the temperature climbs back into summer-like heat, we have already pushed aside our swimsuits to make room for sweaters, and the heat is just a reminder of what lies in wait at the end of a long winter.

Years ago, my family welcomed fall with a soccer tournament at the Peach Festival, a Labor Day celebration in a nearby community.

This year, I decided the kids would experience the Peach Festival for their first time.

And they did.

And the experience was nothing like I imagined.

Driving as a passenger with my mom meant not really needing to pay attention to where we were going all those years.  With Ryan in buckled down study mode, I scoured the website map and still drove to the wrong location on my own.

Friday and Saturday were sweltering, and Saturday’s storms cooled things down for the remainder of the weekend, possibly a little too much.

With the temperature dropping by the minute, we wore hoodies and wandered around the craft show tents with sides, to block the wind.  I found myself wishing for pants or gloves or my comfortable brown boots as I tried to indulge the kids on the swings for a while.

My hair stuck in my lip balm; I used more than several tissues chasing running noses around the playground. 

Six eyes watered from the wind, and I let myself slide into thinking maybe I should have waited another year, a warmer year, a year Ryan could have joined us.

But then Abbey saw the farmers' market stands and forgot the wind.

Carefully, she inspected the four peaches in each "cute little basket" until finding the perfect combination.

And in the car, out of the wind, we enjoyed a few last bites of summer.

not a fan of the peaches

maybe he's waiting for fresh picked apples this fall

Every MONDAY join us… 

Write, Post, Link-Up, share your story and your voice.
Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission to empower, inspire,
and remind women, parents and children
that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!

How have you have lived the Be Enough Me feeling this week?

Planning for Halloween

Five o'clock is a crazy time of day at our house.

Dylan's nap creeps late into the afternoon, leaving us with a small window of time between nap and dinner time.  Most days, that sliver of time is too small to wander over to the park, but it's too large to just read a book and play for a few minutes. 

So after Dylan snuggles himself awake, taking a few moments to climb into my lap after I retrieve him from his crib, we often find ourselves outside.

Sidewalk chalk, bike rides, bubbles occupy our time until about five o'clock, when we have to go inside to clean up and begin dinner.

Before that, though, I have to wrangle Abbey and Dylan inside, like a shepherd with wayward sheep as Abbey rides up the driveway "one more time" or Dylan takes out the chalk that I just placed back on the shelf.

Usually there's a breakdown on our way inside.  Screaming.  Refusing to walk through the door.  Tears.

Usually, it's not me.  Usually.

Tension fills the kitchen.  I gently wipe tears and find cool water bottles and try remember to breathe and not let my own annoyance poison the air.

I may try to faciliate a truce with a cheese snack, cheddar for Dylan, mozzarella for Abbey.

Surprisingly, these times often bring forth some of our silliest moments. 

"Get it? Got it? Good!" I exclaimed one evening as Abbey pulled her favorite Tinkerbell cup from the refrigerator.

Hilarity ensued; it was obviously the funniest thing I have ever said in my life.

"Say it again!" she managed to gasp out, between giggles.

"Get it?  Got it?  Good!"

"Again!"

Repeat the exchange at least ten times, both of us saying it, Dylan laughing, possibly because he thinks we're crazy.

Any tension in the room dissipated, I pull out pasta and parmesean, pots and pans in comfortable silence.

"Mommy?"

"That's what YOU should be for Halloween!"

"What honey?" I ask absently, my mind on what vegetables I can sneak into their meal.

"Get it, got it, good!"

What?

"How would I be get it, got it, good?" I ask, confused.

"You know...get a shirt with the words.  Then ride a pink scooter and wear a helmet."

Like I said, it's a crazy time of day at our house.

Feel free to thank me for the excellent costume advice.  I'll pass the gratitude onto Abbey.  What are your plans for costumes this year?  Is it too early to think about Halloween?

Linking up with Elaine, because everyone needs ideas for Halloween, right?

Five Fall Favorites

Join us at Mama Insomnia and share your favorite parts of fall!

Fall in Michigan is a particularly lovely bridge between summer and winter.  The humidity relents but the sunshine remains.  Leaves change colors, blanketing the lawns and providing a perfect backdrop for pumpkins and the perfect shade of brown leather boots.

Following are my five fall favorites

(because I love alliteration)

Cider mills

Apples to pick, haystacks to climb, cider to drink, donuts to scarf, petting farms to furiously sanitize our hands after visiting, I love it all.  We've visited one of our favorite cider mills twice already this summer, to pick strawberries and raspberries, but it's just not the same as the cider mill in the fall.  If I could figure out a way to keep the cider-happy bees away, I might not leave for the entire month of September.  Or October.

Back-to-school shopping

Abbey actually needs supplies this year!  (insert hyperventilation here)

In order to harness my emotions about sending her to pre-school, I've made a list of my own.  I'm thinking a new writers' notebook and a giant pack of Flair pens, in all of the colors of the rainbow.  There's nothing like a notebook filled with empty pages and a fun new writing tool to make a former school-lover giddy with anticipation of endless possibilities.

Football Saturdays

Ryan is going to want to call my bluff on this one, mainly because of my habit (pre-children) of falling asleep during halftime and napping until the end of the game, but I adore the atmosphere of football Saturday.  Particularly when I am on a college campus, kicking back at a tailgate, and clapping along to the Michigan State fight song.  Even for non-sports lovers, college athletics are contagious in their enthusiasm.

Halloween

Pumpkins and costumes and candy, oh my!  In Michigan, even the trees get into the spirit of the holiday, trading their green leaves for gorgeous colors, their silky textures for a crunchiness that sounds so perfect that you ignore the little pieces of leaves trailed into the house in the treads of your shoes.

Fall Fashion

I love a sundress as much as the next girl, but there's something about a flattering sweater and a great pair of boots that makes me feel confident and put together.  Layering a dress with cozy tights helps me feel pretty when I'm chasing the kids around.  Jewel tones, broken-in denim, and no real need for a coat or jacket all mesh together to make fall the most drool-worthy fashion season for me.  I'm even hoping to find a way to break my ponytail habit over the next few months!

What's your favorite part of fall?  And if you don't have one, come visit for the weekend, and we'll do a fall extravagaza until you find something you love.  Maybe you can even figure out what to do about this hair of mine?

the day we picked raspberries

not surprisingly, that is an outfit of her choosing

surprisingly, she came home without a stain on it 

hanging out on the horse swing

made of tires

weird? cute? you decide

A Summer Slumber Party

We've been having such a fun summer, it was tough to decide which pictures to use for Shell's Summer Fun Show Off. 

Then I decided that showing off their sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's would be perfect.  After all, who loves showing off the babies more than the grandparents?  I thought I'd return the favor and show the fun things Abbey and Dylan got to do when they stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for the night.

visiting the nature center with her favorite purse

one of her favorite parts of the playscape

our little monkey

feeding ducks

watching ducks

hanging out at the pool

sitting in the shade of the umbrella

obviously Grandma & Grandpa weren't giving them enough to drink

enjoying the sprinkler

Operation Organization - Playroom Edition

There's an old saying: When the cat's away, the mice will play. 

Obviously, the mice never tried to cram a toy store's worth of goodies into a three bedroom house, because while our little kittens were with Grandma and Grandpa, there wasn't a lot of playing going on at home. 

The plan was to move a lot of their toys down to the basement, including two thirds of the heavy hitting trifecta (dollhouse, train table, kitchen), along with our dining room rug.  

And, oh, we had a little run in the morning, a 10K as part of our half marathon training. 

Easy peasy, right? 

So, run, move some toys, a leisurely dinner, maybe the midnight movie.  I had it all mapped out in my trusty planner.  What could go wrong? 

For starters, the 87% humidity during the run wiped us out, and I ended up laying down “for a few minutes” and not waking up for an hour. 

The dining room rug looked even more stained under the bright lights of the basement, so we hatched another plan, one involving moving the living room rug, a trip to IKEA, Elmer’s glue and copious amounts of glitter.  (Kidding about the glue and the glitter, but Abbey would have been thrilled to come home to a glittered house!) 

Sorting and tossing and categorizing and moving toys between the kids’ rooms and the basement meant countless trips up and down stairs, taking a few hours instead of “about an hour”. 

Late afternoon slid into evening, and we hurried through showers, driving past the movie theater in a rush, our chances of relaxing in the theater vanishing with each tick of the clock. 

We slid out of IKEA with ten minutes to spare, our leisurely dinner consisting of some casual fish tacos, sharing raised eyebrows and dissolving into laughter as our waiter bounced around the restaurant. 

After the drive home, we had neither the time nor energy to take advantage of our child-free night outside of the house. 

But by the time I brought the kids home the next day, their new little playroom was organized. 

Abbey did her silly little dance of joy. 

Dylan grinned and hugged us and wandered around happily. 

Maybe we’ll find time to play a little next time, but for now, I’m content to reclaim our living room from the multiplying-toy monster. 

What would you do with a child-free Saturday?

road map playmat from IKEA 

playing pom poms next to her dress-up stuff

hooks for dress up clothes from IKEA

toy box from IKEA

big rug from IKEA, via our living room

fabric bins from Target (courtesy of my mom!) 

he loves his trains

Always There

For days, she chatted about it to anyone who would listen.

"We're having a sleepover tomorrow!" (actually, not until Saturday)

"We're going to the nature center - the one by Grandma's house."

"Maybe we will watch the Bare Necessities?" (the song in The Jungle Book she danced to in her recital)

In the car, I heard her murmering about it to Dylan, who is likely oblivious to the meaning of "sleepover" but who listened and smiled, enchanted by everything she says.

Outwardly, I smiled, laughing with her and talking about how much fun they would have. 

Inwardly, I sighed, missing them before they even left.

We carefully chose which pajamas and outfits to pack.  And yes, I said outfits, plural, for her one night stay at Grandma and Grandpa's.  I guess overpacking runs in the family.

Saturday morning came, and I kissed and hugged and kissed them goodbye, burying my nose into each little head of hair, inhaling them.

They were only gone a little more than twenty-four hours, but I missed Abbey's constant updates about Mit the Mouse and Dylan's garbled, giggled babbling.

My heart felt a little out of place, but...

...I didn't mind listening to an Eminem song without headphones.

...I cherished the long dinner out with Ryan, laughing about our slightly spastic waiter without worrying that one of us would have to leave the table with a restless child, food growing cold on the table.

...I luxuriated in sleeping all night and reading 8:10 a.m. on the bedside clock in the morning.

And when I saw them Sunday, comfortable and happy with my parents, I remembered.

I am not the only one who loves them.

Grandpa's got this one

A Few More Drops in the Bucket List

My Summer Bucket List is getting checked off a little at a time...

play bubbles

 

nothing but the utmost in bubble concentration from these two

walk to get ice cream after dinner

(ok, it was before dinner, but after lunch!)

paint my toenails (ok and my fingernails) bright blue

enjoy the heat (it won't be along for long)

 

Abbey's new favorite heat-enjoying hair styles

braids or a "ban", known to the rest of us as a bun

Sleep Tight

He cries out in the middle of the night.  Instinctively, my eyes fly open, waiting to hear if the next cry is louder and more urgent or a softer whine indicating he’s on his way back to sleep.  Hearing need in his voice, I roll out of bed, my feet groggily stepping over the gate at the top of the stairs, counting stairs in the darkness.

I always offer water, but usually his sip is brief, a quick swallow before he buries his head into hollow between my chin and my shoulder.

His chubby fingers reach up, tangling into the back of my hair.  Out of habit, I sing to him, usually Baby Mine or Little Boy Blue, but I know he is ready to return to his crib when his grip on my hair relaxes, fingers still caught in the messy strands of sleep.

 

The four of us read together at bedtime whenever we’re all home, curled together on the big bed in Mommy and Daddy’s room before Dylan and I walk downstairs, pausing to say goodnight to Abbey as Ryan tucks her into bed.

Tonight, though, Dylan is inconsolable that tooth-brushing time is over, and I have to take him downstairs to read on the glider, kissing Abbey briefly, so she can listen to Fancy Nancy without hearing him sob.  After a few moments, he calms down, snuggling into his crib with his blankets and musical dog.

Climbing the stairs yet again, I open the door to my girl’s room, ceiling covered in stars projected from her stuffed turtle, always the violet stars.  Her smile beams up at me from her pillow, eyes sparkling, arms reaching up for a goodnight hug and kiss. 

prompt 1...

the simple things

their sleep habits are questionable, but they sure know how to melt my heart as they're keeping me awake and dependent on coffee

Arts and Crafts and Things Like That

After the long, cold winter months, I embrace the heat.  Sometimes I even embrace the humidity.

I also embrace air conditioning and inside activities when everyone's at the end of their ropes, and I don't think it's possible to apply anymore sunscreen to three bodies, two of whom get fairly squirmy when I do their faces, and one of whom refuses to wear a hat.

Some afternoons, it just seems like anymore playing outside is just going to result in tears.  Dylan could play out there all day, but Abbey reaches her limit occasionally and starts to make impossible demands, like wanting to ride her bike to the park. 

I'm all for her making her own decisions, but I can't get on board with that yet, because I don't see how I can possibly push the double stroller AND carry her tricycle, because that would absolutely be how we ended up walking after a few blocks.

Instead, we make a mess.

I mean we make art.  Museum quality art.

Abbey gets her supplies first, because she could paint or glue or color for the whole afternoon.  Conversely, Dylan's attention span wanes fairly quickly, so I strip him down, let him play, and swoop him out of there before things get more out of control than even my plastic tablecloth can handle.

Of course, when Abbey innocently calls into the kitchen: "Can I make a handprint?", I calmly answer: "Sure, just be careful not to touch anything before you wash your hands."

And lo and behold, I now have Smurfette for a daughter.

Did someone mention the park?  Maybe sunscreen isn't such a bad option after all.

sitting on her stool and painting 

yes, he's in a diaper 

as you can see, he's dangerous with the paintbrush 

the oh-so-innocent looking handprints 

caught blue-handed

Going Down the List

There are fifty things on my summer bucket list, and more of them were crossed off this week!

run through sprinklers

frog sprinklers at the zoo

we always do this last, because Dylan inevitably ends up soaked

pictures (again) courtesy of my friend Rachel

take a spontaneous road trip

(day trip to Michigan State!)

photos from the Children's Garden

drive with the windows down

no pictures of this

that doesn't seem safe