Building Up.

So apparently I only blog on Mondays in 2013.  (insert sarcastic eye rolling here.)  Seriously though, it's been a good start to the year, I've just been busy.  And pursuing other creative outlets. I've had to decide if it's still my desire to KEEP blogging.  

And I think it is, I just need to redefine a little purpose around here. It's not just the blog either, I feel like we've finally come out of the fog of financial issues, etc and now that I can see again I don't know exactly where we are going anymore.  

The last few years have been spent floating by, just getting from one week to the next, and sometimes one day to the next.  I stopped planning, and somewhere we lost a hold on our goals.

So that is the purpose of this week, to rebuild.  I'm working on a few "mission statements" of sorts, because I like to see things written out.  What are our goals?  Where are we going?  What's the point?

And not just for our lives but for the blog as well.  Stay tuned. Things could get interesting around here. 

In the meantime -- we're finding our footing.  We took a family road trip to the science museum yesterday, the kind of thing we used to do ALL the time.  The kind of thing we gave up.

Jason and I went out on a kid free date Saturday night, we need to do more of that too. 

The kids really enjoyed it, and I realized the last time we had been I Was carrying Charlotte around in the Moby wrap.  

P.S. As a bonus for Miss Ashley ( a fabulous photographer, and a great lady) very first photo challenge on her blog,  Little Mrs Sunshine  My take on "delicate" :

href ="http://ashleymckenney.blogspot.com/p/friday-throwdown.html" target="_blank"><img alt="Little {mrs} Sunshine" src="http://i711.photobucket.com/albums/ww116/ashlad07/button.jpg" />

Jumping Ship

So here's the thing, there seems to be this baby fever hitting a good number of my Facebook contacts.  They're either having babies, or wanting babies, or you know.. talking babies.  And as crazy as it sounds -- there are moments when I think about it.  

Babies.  Those sweet, newborn smelling, wrinkly skin babies.  But I wouldn't call it baby fever, maybe just.. a baby cough.  Because at the same time that I suffer from those fleeting moments of "baby", I am usually overcome with sense that ... maybe not.  

With the big kids around here getting big, and the "baby" turning out to be not so little, it feels a bit like we've come out of the baby fog.  We are still knee deep in it, but somewhere, stretched out straight in front of us, just there on the horizon there's a place where these kids are gonna be all grown up.  Though I can't see it yet, those kid - free years, I know they are out there. Looming.  And it's not those looming years that keep me from catching the baby cough.  IF anything it's those looming years then send me thinking about cribs, and onesies. 

Never mind that no matter what my heart or brain desired that adding a baby to this house, at this venture in the game would involve a lot of money I don't have.  And likely figuring out a way to add a baby that came from someone else's uterus.  (Because I'm not getting any younger, and sometimes our body betrays us that way.) 

At the crux of it is this strange thing has happened. 

I took the stroller out of our car last fall, in order go get our pumpkins.  It's never made it back in.  I'm starting to seriously doubt that it ever will. We babysit a friend's girls a few times a week, one of which is still in the toddler pre-potty training stage. I can literally NEVER remember to grab the diaper bag.  I'm out of practice.  To further exemplify that point about six months ago we watched another friends infant for a few hours.  A real bottle needing baby.  I had to read the instructions to figure out the whole formula gig, and it took me only a few minutes to figure out that I no longer knew how to feed the baby and take a phone call at the same time.  I seemed to have lost that extra set of hands I swear I used to possess.   Somewhere along the way when I wasn't even looking -- we fell off the baby wagon. 

And its' not all bad on this side of the trail.  I am planning summer adventures and weekend getaways that don't require play pens, or moby wraps.  We're going to restaurants that I don't worry about fussy toddlers in.      I find that I have at least started thinking about time for myself and Jason to be - gasp - alone.  On rare occasion all our kids go to bed before either of us.  It's shocking.  But monumentally freeing.  Maybe this getting old thing doesn't have to be so bad after all. 

Because I know that is at the very heart of the baby cough.  I don't relish the idea that I am, frankly, too old for the baby business.  It's offensive, and a little bit scary.   My whole life the one thing I really wanted to do was be a mom.  So making even small steps toward moving on to something else, is a terrifying thought.     But not quite as scary as a colicky newborn.   Oh, but I remember it well. 

Mommy Confession: I'm addicted to my three year old's pacifier.

She calls it her "ninky".  And we have about a million of them.   Old ones, and new ones.  She knows the picture on all of them, and she will only take "real" Ninkys, no substitution.  I get that, no way am I eating non blue box macaroni.  

Here's the thing -- because I know a good half of you are thinking it -- she's three years old.  She is totally potty trained (and has been for a long while.) She's the most linguistic three year old I know.  Her day to day vocabulary includes words like "successful" and "hypothesis", she's been fully conversational since she was 18 months old or so.  So no, that ninky is not preventing her speech.  She can talk with it in almost as well as when she takes it out. 

As for her teeth, she comes from a long line of ninky lovers.  Her siblings have a decent set of teeth, and I'm not overly worried. 

But the real big question is.. "don't you think she'd give it up?"  And I wonder.  There are times when I will say to her "you know Charlotte... ninkies are for babies"  And she'll counter "well, I'm a baby".  And then instead of pushing the argument I tell her she's my baby.  Do I think she would go to bed without it if pushed?  Maybe.  But I haven't tried.  If she asks for it I still hunt around the house trying to find one in the wee hours of the night.  Because here's my dirty little secret -- if I didn't I wouldn't get my ninky kisses.  

That's what we call it when she kisses me with her ninky still in -- ninky kisses - and when she does it she yells "ninky kisses!", kisses me, and then says "you love ninky kisses!"  And then she giggles.  Her giggle is like hearing angels.   It's how we've gone to bed, all snuggled together and giggling about ninky kisses since she weaned.  And that in and of itself was a process.  I was not one to force the issue, and she held on forever.  Still nursing to fall asleep until she was more than two.  

Those last few months she would nurse only for a moment or two, it was the act itself not the actual nourishment at that point, but it was her routine.  Our routine as we drifted off to sleep at night in that relaxing, snuggling, nursing mama fog.   There was one night, when I had laid down early, my wisdom teeth acting up and she curled up to join me when she actually nursed again.  Not just for a moment but for real, and I remember being barely awake thinking "wow, this might be the last time she does this".  I can remember her little hand up on my cheek the way she used to do when she was nursing and her little baby body all curled up with me even still.  She never asked to nurse again.  That last hurrah though is forever burned in my memory. 

And now -- as I start to get evil looks from other moms,  as my preschool fishes in my coat pocket after dance class loudly announcing "I know there's a ninky in there somewhere , or as I feel the societal guilt at the back of my own mind creeping in when my perfectly intelligent preschooler comes up to me during the day and asks "where's my ninky mom?" and I immediately help her find it, I know deep down that if I were to push the issue I could break her of ninky habit.  I know that she would give it up.  In the grand scheme of things, it probably wouldn't even be that hard.     But I'm not ready. 

She's MY baby, and I'm not ready to ask her to be the big girl I know she's fading into.  So I keep assuring her that yes I DO love her ninky kisses, and hoping that when the last one comes I feel it and remember to burn it into my memory bank. 

Big Day. Big.

From the time that Molly was old enough to know what pointe shoes were -- she wanted some.  

I can clearly remember her at age 5 standing on the benches of her old dance studio just in awe of the big girls class inside the window.  And last week -- the day was finally hers.

One pair of Russian pointe shoes, handmade in Russia.

We may have celebrated by stopping by Michigan Stadium for a quick picture.  (Every victory is better at Michigan stadium.)

And of course, times like these call for a celebratory cupcake. Red velvet, if you please. 

The girls in her class that got shoes were jumping out  of their SKIN waiting to go in with them. 

The excitement on her here kills me. She was waiting to have the instructor approve the fit of her shoes. 

They're approved~!  Bring on the dancing!

Currently...

The kiddos went back to school today after a LONG and restful break.  Christmas Break 2012 will go down as "the Christmas of the Flu"  -- we have never gone through so much cough syrup in such a short period of time. 

Thankfully we are all healthy and ready to go now.   Because despite the illness, it was GREAT to kick back and relax, to let the house get dark with just the TV going in the late afternoon, to color at the table, to take naps on the couch, to just BE.  And now the reality of our actual lives awaits.

Currently......

Obsessing over...   decluttering.  I have been slowly going through the entire house -- all this stuff needs to get out and make room for health and organization.  Too much , is just too much.  Molly's bedroom is 8 feet by 10 feet.  It's basically a closet.  I took FOUR bags of stuff out of their yesterday.  Oy vey!

Working on....  both a diet and exercise plan and also vacation plans.   We have a five point plan and step two is loose the next 30 pounds.  I WILL do it by summer.

Thinking about...  all the projects I need to do in the house this year to finally make it a home I am PROUD of.   And also about how much it's all going to cost.  Boo to money.

Anticipating....   I know this is gonna sound awful, but .... summer vacation. I am also looking forward to my birthday next month.   I have a big plan.

Listening to...   My song of the week.. Drop in The Ocean.  I am in LOVE with this song.

Drinking...   Water.  LOTS of water.  Silly weight loss, oh how I miss thee soda. 

Wishing...   I had the funds to just start all the house projects RIGHT NOW.   And that the kids are having a great day at school. 

"My Peace I Leave You, My Peace I Give You."

Wanna know a secret ?  The "peace be with you" is my favorite part of Mass.  And not because as my dear cousin once pointed out "that means it's almost over!"  But because of what it is. 

I'm not gonna sugar coat this - we've had a ROUGH couple of years.  And New Year's Day has not always been one of great optimism.  When it was it was often met with a total fallout later.  Several years ago when the downward spiral started I was totally focused on God's plan.  That all of that bad stuff was just a part of his plan, that he had a way, a path, a provision.  That all the bad stuff would just lead to good things, to blessings in the end.  Only to learn that I was wrong. 

As the bad things piled up, I grew tired.  I was beaten down, hurt, and angry.  I was battle weary from this world of ours.  I declared that maybe God DID have a plan.  But the realization that my tiny problems were likely not a blip on his radar was hard, and I felt oh, so alone.  I began to think that maybe God DID have a plan -- on a grander scale and that it was good.  But maybe, just maybe, he didn't worry himself with the small details.  That we are all just pieces on a much larger puzzle.  I know many of you don't agree with this, but  for myself, it brought comfort to think that it wasn't that God didn't care about my problems, or that God wanted my problems, just that they weren't as important in the bigger picture as they were to me. 

And then there came one singular moment about a year and a half ago.  I can remember it VERY clearly, but I won't go into what catastrophic setback it was that started it.  Needless to say there was this ONE moment when something had gone badly -- yet again -- and I had been blind sided by this one.  I never saw it coming.  I can remember standing in the shower, in the middle of that very hot July afternoon (because that is what I do when I need to the kids to leave me alone to cry) and feeling like I wanted to scream at the heavens "Okay.  You have my attention now. -- I don't know what you want me to do, or what you are trying to tell me, but yes.  You have my attention."  

I would like to tell you that God opened up divine answers for me that afternoon.  Or any of the afternoons that followed.  I would like to tell you the catastrophic setback didn't happen.  That his holy provision set things on track and that from that moment on our lives were beautiful.  But it wouldn't be true.  Believe it or not, things got worse after that, there were other setbacks.  Some even bigger then before.  

But in the middle of all that attention seeking , I found myself back at church.  Not the church we had been attending,  or the amazing community driven church we'd visited.  But in the church, the Catholic church.  The church I had grown up in.  (Although loosely, we were never great church attenders.) And even though on that first visit, I felt unsure of myself, and like I didn't know what to do, I never felt unwelcome.  In fact, I felt like I had come home.  The peace that surrounded me from the moment I walked into that beautiful old building, the sense of being very small again, was truly overwhelming.     

And even though it provided no easy answers, and the course of our lives weren't changing, I kept going.  The family kept going, and to my surprise they all liked it.  Jason fell in love.  Like in everything else in our circumstance we just kept trudging along.  Moving steadfast from one disaster to the next, focusing on the idea that at we could, just keep going. 

And somewhere over the course of last year there was a slight shift in the axis of our lives.  Things no longer feel like a downward spiral.  

Yes, Jason (finally) got a new job last year.  And a raise.   And yes, that small increase in income thus far has made an unimaginable difference in our lives.  I've said all along -- that such a small amount of money is never that much money until you don't have it.  Then it's everything.  

But the disasters, and the setbacks haven't stopped coming.  We now laugh when we say with friends, or hear friends say "I would say the best case scenario, but let's face it -- that doesn't happen for you guys."  Because it's true.  We're rarely (if ever) afforded the easy way.  And I'm still, at times, jealous of those friends who seemingly so always are.  But I've found the peace that comes from knowing what my true riches are.    I am rich beyond measure, in the people I am blessed to call friends.  There is NOTHING my community of friends and I can't overcome, can't work through, can't see one another to other side of.  I am sure of it.  Because I've seen it happen -- over and over.  And more times then I care to admit I've felt them carry me through it when it got to hard to go alone.  

And that my dear, dear friends, is the peace of God at work.  I think that's what he meant, when he said "My peace I leave you, my peace I give you."  (John 14:27)  I think he was talking about the peace with which we can all give each other.  We can't make life without mountains, without job loss, without electric bills.   That is life.  But we can offer each other the peace of knowing they aren't in it alone.  Whether you do that by offering your bestie a laundry filled couch to cry on, or by offering a stranger a smile as you hold a door.  Whether you do it by dropping donations at the goodwill, or by passing along your babies outgrown hand me downs.  Be the peace in someone else's crisis.  And when someone gets the chance to be the peace for you, let them. 

  

Peace be with you, all of you as we welcome in another year of this messy, complicated, stressful, beautiful thing we call life. 

editors note: Yes my house is messy, and yes we partied for new year's anyway.  Yes there are SEVERAL paint splotches on the walls , I've been trying to pick a color and yes -- I finally have one!