Things that make me smile

I'm back and hoping to be back more frequently, but life is life and I'm embracing what it is and at this time not what my vision for it would be.

I've accumulated a image gallery of things that have made me smile in the past few weeks and I'll share them here with you.

Proof that my little girl is bookended by two smaller boys and one boyish daddy. Wielding a sword before her first birthday and regularly requesting her brother to fight with her, I love that my little sweetie does maintain girlish loves as well. And so it is no surprise and yet completely shocking to see this T-Rex serving as a holder for her Hello Kitty necklace.

My Superbowl contribution! I didn't invent this tasty cupcake, I found it somewhere here online with all the inspirations I intend to do someday!  I love the smile it gave to everyone who saw it and I loved even more the tastiness of buffalo flavor, blue cheese, and hot sauce infused cake.  My new Superbowl staple!

And finally these chairs. I don't ever want to forget these chairs.

You might wonder what is out of the ordinary, but I will point out that the closeness of the two is no accident. I usually sit on the left chair and Amelie sits on the right.  I start off breakfast or lunch a reasonable distance away from  my girl, but as soon as she realizes where she is, she hops off her chair and pushes her stool into mine until they are lined up and touching all along the seat.

It actually drives me crazy since she often wiggles herself onto my chair entirely and being a right handed eater, I have little room to feed myself or reach for a drink.
In the moment I get annoyed. But in the big scheme, I love it. Love that she wants to be "right next to you."
These are the things. The things that make me smile today!
Take a look around. Be a stranger in your home and find the ordinary to you but unusual to the world things that make you smile.

2012 Intentional soaking

Am I too late for 2012 resolutions?  One month into the year and although I've been thinking about this for weeks, I'm finally finding time to get my hopes and plans down.

I'm not a big resolution person, but for the past two years, I've loved writing a story for the year. Maybe it's more of setting the scene for the year and dreaming of the setting I'd like to be living in next December.

Last year I planned for a year of quiet purpose. I wanted to write and read much. Honestly those stacks of journals I had hoped to fill still have many blank pages. The writing books I planned to read were carried around with me for a few days and then other reading priorities replaced them.
My bookshelves did get decorated and the weed boxes in our backyard produced radishes, peas, tomatoes, and one fantastic green pepper. And so I completed the practical.

At this stage of life, the practical usually rises to the top of the pile as the urgent and the dreaming, the planning, the reflection sinks lower and lower on the priority list.

In the middle of the practical, I did lots of snuggling, soaked in the sweetness of my newborn, and tried to take a mental snapshot of those precious times.

For 2012 then, I look forward to more of the same. I hope to write. Not just the assignments or hoped submissions, but write to write. The way I always have in a small cute notebook where my thoughts jump and wander.

As I think of a friend, one I've wanted to know deeper, who is facing a scary health issue, my thoughts have been wondering what she would be doing in her moments when uncertainty about the future is so real. Would she be finishing one last kitchen chore or reading a book with her preschooler? I imagine there is much intentionality.

In 2012, I want to frequently ask myself those questions about the best use of my time and more often than not choose the thing that will not always be the option.

When December 31 2012 arrives, I hope to roll my eyes over the number of words I've written on a page wondering when I'll ever read them again and what purpose they will serve in all practicality. The setting in my house still won't be perfect or as cute as I'd want it to be, but I would like to have our office transformed into a well-used working space. As Asa gets older and we figure out what works in getting us out of the house, I hope we have chosen to geocache, be outside, get the table messy, and soak in the time.
Although it's well into 2012, I take this time to say goodbye to 2011 the year of quiet purpose and welcome 2012 the year of intentional soaking.

Here's to a year of soaking it all in!

Desperation

We haven't had a lot of snow yet this year and my kids are so anxious to do all the snow things.  They have great memories from all of the angels, forts, and snowball fights they had with all of the snow last year and are getting desperate to experience that fun again. So when it snowed (dusted) last week, they were out the door and getting their fill. 


I've wanted things that bad. I know how they feel.
Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

Bootcamp

On this last day of Christmas break, I pushed the snooze button, reset my alarm, and justified to myself that I would still get some quiet time in because the kids would probably sleep in. After all I had reminded them before turning out the lights last night that it would be their last chance to have a lazy morning.

Actually, I meant to say, this is mommy's last chance to sleep in, so please don't wake up early!

And so why am I surprised that I had companions on both sides of me this morning while I tried to have a quiet time alone? We've already had a fight over pillows, a meltdown about wanting me to retrieve a blanket, and spilled coffee two times and it's not yet 8 o'clock.

So yeah, no pain no gain. If I had pushed through my sleepiness and rolled out of bed when my alarm buzzed, I would have had a quiet hour alone but I didn't take the pain and I missed out on the gain of time spent alone receiving from God.

I hate to say it, but doing hard things often gets the best results.

I've been squatting, lunging, sprinting, and planking at bootcamp twice a week for almost six months.  While those workouts leave me exhausted and believing I will not be able to hold my baby for the rest of the day, I am seeing great results. (Thanks Emily!)

I also see results of facing family difficulties head-on.  Amelie is almost potty-trained. Asher is kind to his siblings. Asa is still nursing even though I thought we would not make it this long. Getting the kids to embrace behaviors that seemed like mountains to climb hasn't been easy, but that pain has also been worth the gain.

Living life as a bootcamp isn't what I'm advocating.  But I am suggesting that pushing through the hard things we don't want to do might just be worth it.

Read more at The Pantagraph.com

Imperfect Christmas

I am the perfect example of why we need Christmas.
It's been one of those months when things I do come out just not quite right.

There's been nothing big. No glaring mistakes, just small ones that magnify my less than perfect status.

Because of that unfortunate status,  my house is not decorated as I would like. The gifts I made turned out just not quite right.  Our Christmas tree only has decorations on the bottom, and the stockings are lying on the fireplace rather than hanging.

I need grace.

When you come to my home, I need you to overlook the dirty floor.
When the kids open their knitted animals, I need them to not notice the crooked owl wing and twisted bird foot.

It's not that I haven't worked hard or put in the effort. 
I have.
And that is why I need grace, hope and assurance that me working my hardest to make it happen is not what I have to rely on.

I am thankful that I get to rely on the hope of Christmas. The birth of Jesus took away the need for me to strive for more and better good deeds. Instead I can depend on Him to look fully at my mistakes, forgive me, and love me completely.

Because of the real hope of Christmas, I can still have a fabulous Christmas while the stockings lie rather than hang, the tree is half decorated, and my projects are not complete.

All of these displays of imperfectness remind me of exactly why I need Christmas. The birth of a Savior to lift me out of this cycle of working hard and failing to meet expectations brought the greatest freedom to have peace even when everything I do is just not quite right.

It is because of the imperfect that I need Christmas.

Waste the day

I try not to waste.

I recycle.
Eat leftovers.
Shop at thrift stores.
Print on both sides of computer paper.
Carry my own shopping bags.
I even am currently using my brother's girlfriend's old phone (pathetic, I know).

I think wasting time must be the most difficult thing for me to watch go by. I bring magazines to read in line, knit at stoplights (shhh....). If there's a way to multi-task, I'm doing it.

December always reminds me of a deep desire to slow down. To enjoy the moment, because these Christmas times go so quick, and before I know it the celebration of the best GIFT ever will be come and gone and I might have missed it. So for these reasons, I wrote to encourage myself (and anyone else I can convince), to waste the day...

Go ahead, try it.

Owls

I'm writing this post for my husband. If he were a writer, he would be filling this blog with posts of sweetness.

He would tell you about his "Big Girl Owl" and describe his interactions with her as "Daddy Owl."

Sure I am "Mommy Owl" to Amelie, but my imagination hasn't allowed me to flap my wings and hoot around like Daddy Owl does with her.

Daddy Owl loves mornings when Big Girl Owl finds a perch on the bathroom counter just in time to help him shave. She eagerly points out any leftover shaving cream behind his ears or under his chin. And when the work of shaving is done, the two of them move on to picking out his clothes.

When they emerge downstairs, Big Girl Owl proudly points out the shirt she picked out for him and they smile at each other knowing what the process entailed to find that perfect shirt.

He pours his coffee, grabs his coat and gives everyone a kiss goodbye. He's ready to leave when Big Girl Owl reminds,

"Oh Daddy Owl, I forgot to give you a hug."
"I will miss you so much Daddy Owl."

I hope she doesn't see me gagging out of the corner of her eye. Daddy Owl sees and agrees with my assessment of the sickening sweetness of it all, but we both know he is soaking in this time.

How long will she be Big Girl Owl before she turns into Teenage Owl? I doubt Teenage Owl will grab her daddy and hold him with so much intense adoration.

And so I smile and share the moment with him. Someday when our interactions with our Amelie need a little sweetness, we will spoon this memory out and remember the relationship of Big Girl and Daddy Owl.