Just fun

A rare moment.

Nobody needed anything. Lunch dishes washed and drying in the rack. Diapers changed and everyone smelling fresh. All satisfied and all happy.

At that moment yesterday after lunch, we had a rare ten minutes of just fun. Amelie, Asa, and me playing peek-a-boo, giggling, and chanting the knee, clap, snap rhyme.

This morning, I thought of the giggles and smiles we shared. Immediately I knew that out of all the moments with young kids, I want to remember that kind of time. Laughing with silly elephant/hedgehog toy brought the sort of joy that I rarely find as a parent, but when I do,I know it is what real living is meant to feel like.

That kind of peaceful joy evades me most of the time. Usually the list on the counter holds my mind in such a grip that pausing for even a free moment of purely enjoying my kids can't happen.

For whatever reason, it happened yesterday and that moment of just fun, pure joy, and really living is one I want to relive over and over again.

Some years

The sun shone the brightest it ever has on September 6, 2003.  Walter and I rode away from the church that looks like a church in the old-time red convertible while bubbles filled the air.  One of my favorite mental snapshots from one of  the best days ever.

We celebrated the anniversary of that great day the following year when we spent the weekend in Door County. Over the years, we've celebrated our marriage in big and small ways. One year it was a trip to Galena, another an afternoon grape-stomping at a local winery and last year, a day at the friendly confines of Wrigley Field.

This year, we remembered the occasion at the park across the road. No, we didn't have a romantic picnic.  We watched Asher practice soccer while Amelie turned herself brown while playing in the dirt of the baseball field.  And this remembrance was good.

I'm not saying I'm giving up on celebrating big with exciting trips and romantic dinners, but after eight years and three kids, I guess I have reached a place of contentment with the simple remembrances.

I loved my Gerber daisies and Tanner's apple doughnut and I'm happy that Walter decided to share his Ghirardelli brownies.  But I'm even more happy that we still love each other and that the depth of quality in his character through highs and lows continues to amaze me.

Some years simple celebrations are exactly perfect.

Gippet and Papoops

Amelie's bedtime can't be complete without the gippet and a papoop (preferably the pink one). Of course, I'm talking about her blanket and her pacifier.  Yes, she is two and a half and still has a pacifier...but only at bedtime.  And yes, I let her drink coffee every once in a while too just so your bad mom judgements of me can be complete.

Everyone needs a gippet and a papoop, don't they?

A few days ago, I pulled out the frayed and torn blanket from my childhood to show Amelie that while I don't need it every night anymore, Mommy has a gippet too.

Sometimes a gippet is just the thing I need. I crave security, comfort, something soft against my face to remind me about little sweetnesses.

I think about the upcoming tenth anniversary of 9/11 and wish our security could be found in something so simple as a gippet and papoop.  On September 10, 2001, I had no idea how safe I felt. When the terrorists attacked our country and the naivete of security was blown away, how many of us wished we could go home and hide under a blanket while ignoring the new knowledge that people hated us simply for being us?

When I look for my security in savings or living in a safe neighborhood, God regularly reminds me that while those might be good ideas, they are also deceptive. Busted boilers have melted through our savings faster than we ever thought. Our idea of a safe street turned out to be not so safe. On those days, I could only look up and into God's words to find assurance that all was still well.

A gippet and a papoop give Amelie the security she needs.  I hope that lasts for her as long as it possibly can.

Some  days the tangible softness of a blanket is all I need for comfort. And on the days when the world news seems scary and uncertain, I know true security and promises kept are only found in the One who is in never ending control.

Better than a gippet and papoop.

The right words

Lines like

"Grace and Peace"
"Give me Jesus"
"Ride with me through the breaking of the dawn."
"This good day, it is a gift from  you."

have played in my mind repeatedly through the years. Some days I hear the clear voice of Fernando Ortega remind me of exactly the right encouragement and even in those moments peace returns.

My new friend, the alpaca farmer gave me her prime seat so I would have a picture perfect view of the man with my favorite voice. He sang all of the right things. Even though I heard whispers of people singing along throughout the entire concert, his voice led us in a couple of worship songs providing a time for everyone to sing along loudly.

His stories are his. I love hearing more details about Mildred Madalyn Johnson who drives her big red car at every concert, but its those lines - the ones with less than ten words - that I pull out and repeat into my story.  Those lines describe my days with the same plot, just different characters maybe because we're centered on the same author.

That same author who is guiding me today through deciphering which of  the three kids are crying at any given moment. "grace and peace"

The one who leads me to make good decisions when I crave those things I don't need. "give me Jesus."

And the God who has led me through many dark hours into each new day and "the breaking of the dawn."

This good day, it is a gift.

Cramming

The countdown is now down to one week. I'm feeling like I need to cram everything into Asher's consciousness in these final days like a giant run on sentence of

Be kind eat all of your lunch share be friendly respect your teacher wash your hands don't hit anyone try not to get too angry girls are nice to play with too don't be afraid to answer questions don't yell stand up for truth if you fall get up don't act too crazy talk to God anytime you want say please and thank you always remember I love you!

These and a hundred others are phrases I've repeated to him a zillion times over the past five years. And I guess this is what I've been preparing him for.  Days when I won't be there to remind him. Now days when he lives on the strong foundation.

"The rains came down, the streams rose, the winds beat against the house; yet it did not fall because it had its foundation on the rock."

I've been wondering what I will do on the first day of kindergarten, here are some of those thoughts.

A person too

Sometimes I forget that I'm a person too.

The three extensions of myself demand constant energy and their needs (or wants) get all of my attention.

We finished bedtimes before 8:00 last night and I spent time alone outside with my book. The book is good, but I stopped reading often just to rest, to sit with nobody asking me to do something or dream over a Lego catalog.

Just sitting can be so fine for me. I really don't need to talk or listen, but sometimes I just need to be.

This morning I read from Sarah Young, "Sit quietly in my presence while I bless you." She writes from God's perspective and I love this letter that allows me to sit and let God's fullness wash over me with newness.
new strength
new energy
new love

It's from this filling of newness and remembering that I am not simpy a machine meeting constant requests that I can enter a day when there may one again always be someone crying.

The Girl with the Dinosaur Tattoo

Amelie is my fighting warrior who can wield a sword quick enough to fight off the attacks of a five year old boy.

She is also my scared sweetie who runs to me when Asher pretends to be a tiger or dragon or simply puts his hands up in a menacing growl.

And Amelie is a diva.  Refusing to move her hand an extra millimeter to grab the sippy cup, she insisted Grams walk across the kitchen to place it in her hand.  Even though she is two and fully capable of feeding herself, she refuses to move her mouth to the food, but makes Mommy stick the food in her mouth. 

Spoiled? Maybe.  But she is my only girl - the one who wears dinosaur tattoos. 

'