My Yeti

Sometimes people ask me how Nate and I ended up together.  Not in a "how did you two meet?" kinda way, but in a "what brought the two of you together? you are so....different..." sort of way. And sometimes, and I know Nate would agree, we even wonder the same thing to ourselves. We really are quite different.  I am more of a morning person, he stays up late into the night.  I am a pile maker, and cant put things away until I know there is a proper place for them (which can drive him crazy); while Nate is a "tidier" who likes to "make things disappear" by hiding them away in drawers. So we can never find them.  Nate is easy going, and mellow, and even tempered, while I could be described as "spirited" or even a bit, ahem, "emotional" (at least that's what I have heard...). I wear my heart on my sleeve, so to speak.

Nate lovingly refers to my style of driving as "barreling" while I think he is a dawdler...a "side window-looker-outer"...one who is easily distracted by things in people's yards....or other cars...or conversation...!  He prefers the basement cave, which he keeps at a crisp 15* below 0 (so cold I get a jacket before I go down to visit him) (seriously I think I saw my breath downstairs on my last visit), while I prefer the main level temperature which Nate likes to call "tropical." His car is nice and clean, emptied of all children's items and trash after each trip.  My car at last count had 3 pairs of shoes, 2 folding chairs, 4 stadium chairs, 3 tennis rackets, a bag for Goodwill, 400 barrettes/bobby pins/hair bands, 4 water cups from various restaurants, lots of crumbs, some sort of lip gloss wiped on the back door, and an old apple rolling around on the floor.

Oh, and dont even get me started on our medical differences.  I am a regular doctor visitor.  I go. Whenever needed. I take various kinds of medicine that I need to live a regular life, so this forces me to participate in routine doctor visits. Nate, on the other hand, cut his foot last summer and walked around on it for 3 months before realizing, one evening while watching tv, that there was a 1/2 inch PIECE OF GLASS poking out of the cut!! Thankfully it hadnt become infected! He is the guy who comes home bleeding and has no idea how it happened, and doesnt even bother to bandaid it.  He has the stomach of an ox.  I have the stomach of a colicky baby.

But aside from these and other obvious differences (he is much more hairy, has been compared to a Polar Bear or Yeti; I am much paler and frailer, and could be compared to, say, a tiger cub) we work. I somehow fit perfectly in that crook under his arm when he snuggles me in.  And we get each other. His aim is to have fun getting there, my aim is to get there then hopefully have fun. And this balances us. He reminds me to enjoy the small things, to live in the moment, and to cherish the quirky family that we are.  I pop the dream balloons and bring us all back to earth so we can actually get where we are going, and be somewhat respectably clothed and cared for along the way. He's the sunshine and I am the rain (which is also very necessary to keep things growing, right? :). Im the business in the front and he's the party in the back. Im the apple, he's the Twinkie.  He's the Golden Retriever and Im the German Shepherd (on task?) or maybe the nervous little Italian Greyhound with the sweater...always shivering and cold. The point is for some crazy reason I love that guy.  And for an even crazier reason, he loves me.

Something Good

If you have time this week and would like to do some investing in your marriage, check out this message by one of my favorite pastors, Greg Laurie.  In fact, check out any of his sermons!  But I especially enjoyed this one this morning.

And Again

I am going to start writing again.  I am making myself write again.  Because I want to, and I love to, and I miss it.  I have a tendency in my life to give up on things when I start to lack confidence.  I question why I am doing it and then what is the purpose of it and then tell myself various reasons no one needs to hear what I am saying.  And then slowly but surely I come up with enough excuses that I quit.  I am not proud of this behavior, and it is something that needs to change.  I have reached my 40's and realized there are plenty of things I wish I had stuck with.  Dreams I wish I'd gone for.  Goals that were never achieved.  And most of the time it is because of my own lack of confidence.

I think this realization strikes me the most when we are talking together as a family and the girls begin pointing out each of our accomplishments, or interests.  Somehow when we get to Mom, they arent sure what to say.  "Dad makes art and videos!" "Lux loves to draw and write!" "Zaine is a gymnast and always full of energy."  "And mom....mom, what do you do? Mom is a mom and does mom things! She likes to go shopping! Oh, and she washes dishes! Mom likes to sit in her pj's and watch t.v.!" Hmm. While these statements are true (I do love me some comfy clothes and a good show;), I am not sure this is the only impression I want to leave on my children.  And Im not sure it is a full and clear reflection of who I am, truly.

Yes, I am (using Superhero announcer voice):
"Mom! Locator of all missing items, and finder of all that could not be found!"
"Mom! First responder to all crises, real and imagined!"
"Mom! Keeper of all important documents, dates, and appointments!"
"Mom! Vomit cleaner upper, medicine dispenser, and toilet bowl scrubber!"
"Mom!  Personal consultant for clothes, hair, and interior design!"

But I am also Mom, who loved dance and wishes she had made more time for it as the years went by. And Mom, who secretly dreams of playing an instrument like the piano, or guitar or ukelele, like the kids do.  And Mom, who would also like to learn to speak Spanish fluently! And Mom, who likes to make others smile and even laugh with crazy stories about her quirky family.

So I am going for it, once again.  Because Jon Acuff says I should.  And because my life is not over, not yet.  And because people like Jen Hatmaker inspire me with their own crazy stories.  And because life is too short to not go for it...again.

Just a Glimpse

Our girl, Lux, has always marched to the beat of her own drum. She is an incredibly creative girl, and she is always looking for the next project, or developing with her next big idea. This can be exhausting for Nate and I as parents.  There are always paper clippings, markers, and q-tips with glue, and cut up straws and cereal boxes to be found on her floor.  She usually has glue or glitter in her hair and pen markings all over her hands and clothes.  This is a girl who is always in need of "just one more minute!" or "a piece of string about *this* long..." or " a door cut into this piece cardboard" and Nate and I are typically the wingmen to her zaney ideas.  We are the ones who can actually cut through cardboard.  We are the ones who know where to find the string.  We are the ones who can help solve the mystery of how to hang the towel from the door as to make a tent for the pretend world she has created.

There are times when this constant desire of hers to fulfill creative ideas overwhelms me.  Sometimes Nate and I have to "talk her down from the ledge", so to speak, and remind her of what is realistically possible.  But we love this girl, and are completely inspired and amazed by her fascinating mind.  It is that part of us that leaves the creative leash loose so far as no one is getting hurt, and allows her to experiment and develop and accomplish her goals.

As I stood in her room the other day I felt the need to document this little world of hers.  I know someday her interests will change, and the childlike dreamland she has made for herself will be torn down and replaces with new teenage fascinations.  And I dont want to forget this spot in time.  This time when she needed us so often to help in the process. When she was still innocent, and the creations were inspired by toys and treats and fun.  A time when she was not intimidated by what seems impossible or by what the world may think of her work.  A time of endless possibilities for a girl age 9.

A favorite painting of mine, made by Lux.

Her art entries for school along with various other drawings and art work.

little creations

Typically when she learns something new at school that inspires her she creates a piece of artwork to commemorate it. This one is in honor of Roy G. Biv and the song they learned about the color spectrum.

And this was during her class study of the Revolutionary War.

Some hanging objects inspired by a study of the solar system. And a chain link made in class.

A bag made of Dum-Dum wrappers.

And one made of duct tape.

A display inspired by her favorite iphone game, Stick Man Epic.

And one for her favorite tv show at the time, Blue Water High.

Another favorite tv show, H2O.

Fortune tellers in a variety of colors.

Doodles

Tons of books written and illustrated by Lux.

Just a few more books.

Clothing designs for dolls of all kinds.

The sign upon entering her room..

The "arcade" games inside...

The actual game she created with inspiration from a project at school.

The claw machine created for a class project.

And her New Year's Resolution written in a new font she is learning, "New Years Resolution: Fill up my whole bedroom with my drawings. Yea, I can draw that much."

Thoughts and Reflections on Being Midlife...

Tomorrow I turn 40.

It is here. No turning back.  I am literally hours from my 40th birthday. And I dont know what to do.  I am cleaning the house per usual.  I am washing dishes and paying bills and all the while in the back of my mind I am thinking:

Tomorrow I turn 40.

I am also having PMS, which is so unfortunate for everyone involved.  When my dear husband realized these two events were culminating on the same weekend he deemed them "the perfect storm." He then asked, quietly, with both love and fear in his eyes..."What should I do?"

Tomorrow I turn 40.

40. The same age my mom was when I was 19. But she was so...old. Is this how she felt? She felt like she was young and hip and full of life and surely only 29, or 33 tops? Because I am still young! I am not a "ma'am!" I am not "Mrs. Corrona!" (well, I am, but you know what I mean..) This is all so weird. I was just 30. I blinked my eyes, (or is it 'blunk' my eyes? or 'blanked' my eyes? It's already happening, improper grammar usage... another casualty of age) and had gray hairs and wrinkles and "mom arms" and, well, other stuff.

I am sitting at my computer dressed, with a towel on my head, having just showered; having just contemplated the meaning of this monumental day that is so quickly approaching.  Every minute another piece of my youthful self disappearing in the sands of time. (It seems I am becoming more dramatic by the minute, too...)

Tomorrow I turn 40.

I already know it will be just another day.  Really, nothing will change.  I will (God willing) awaken as usual, get kids off to school, do some dishes, and live another day.  But I will be 40.  F-O-R-T-Y. for-tay. fordee. no longer 39,

Tomorrow I turn 40.

Typically when summer ends and the school year begins I am excited. I am so looking forward to the time alone; time spent accomplishing tasks I have put off the last three months because they are just too difficult to tackle with the kids under foot.  And because the summer offers me such little independence, and those dog days seem to last forever, about a month in I will often resort to hiding in the bathroom to finish a good book, or pulling weeds and mowing the lawn for some "peace and quiet." I begin to wonder how I will possibly make it through the summer? How can I make it through the day?

But something happened this year during that last week before school.  I began to realize how much I would miss them.  As difficult as those summer days could be, on the night before school I found myself teary-eyed and sad to see them go.  And after they boarded the bus that next morning I found the house terribly quiet, and I was felt very alone.  It was such wonderful wake up call to the fact that one day my girls would be moving on and the days of them running through the house making a racket would soon come to an end.  And I would not be seeing them for days or weeks at a time and that would be good because they will have gone forth on their own as every child should, but it would also be terribly difficult to see them go.  And it reminded me of these words I had once read by Dr. James Dobson that meant so much before, but have suddenly left a profound impact on my life.  

Dr James Dobson, "Night Light for Parents"

(please excuse the funny way this transfered over to my blog:)

1st World Problems.

I have found that one of the most difficult things about being a mother is the lack of time alone.  And the second most difficult thing about it is getting your husband to understand that.  I know I don't do a lot of "work," and that most husbands spend hours a day fighting the good fight to bring home a paycheck to feed their families.  I know that it is a privilege to even have a partner to share parenting duties with, and a blessing to be able to stay home with my kids.  I love my kids.  I would give my life for my kids.  But I still need time alone.  Time that does not involve meeting any other person's needs.

Recently (5 minutes ago) Nate and I became frustrated with each other over this "need for time alone."  The conversation went something like this.

Me: "Sometime in the next few days can I just have some time alone? Time to go do whatever?"
Nate: "Yeah...sure.  How about tomorrow (Saturday) morning before swim lessons."
Me: "Swim lessons start at 11:30.  I'd rather take some time when there isnt a deadline on when I have to be home."
Nate: "I always have to come home too.  I dont think it is possible to not have a time to be home."
Me: "What I mean is, that feels rushed.  I'd rather do it some other time."
Nate: "You are getting ready to have 5 days a week of free time with school starting soon."
Me: "I know, but it has been a long summer without any free time.  I just want to be alone to do my own thing. Why are you getting frustrated?"
Nate: "Because I just had a hard week of work and I am frustrated that you..."


At that point I said something about it not being a good time to talk about this, and he agreed.  But Im thinking we are not alone in these conversations.  I am thinking there are a lot of husbands and wives having this conversations.  I dont have a concrete reason for my request, I just know that it is something I need. It has nothing to do with shirking my responsibilities or thinking my work is somehow more difficult or tiresome than his.  It has to do with taking care of myself so that I can continue to meet all of the other needs that are before me each day. And now I have had some time alone writing this post. And now I feel refreshed enough to go tackle the BBQ chicken dinner my family is waiting on.  And now I will be a much more pleasant wife and mother to be around. Because I had some time alone.