Our First Decade

Ten years ago today, I was the stereotypical bride all caught up with decorations and flowers. I rattled off my vows, laughing because R tried to say mine too. We had a beautiful wedding and a great party.


And then real life began. No one, especially Hollywood, prepares you for real marriage. It's not all roses and romance and happily ever after. It's taking out the trash, paying the bills, having NOwhere to go when you have your first fight. (Oh, this is YOUR bedroom too, isn't it? Fine, come in. Just remember, I'm mad. REALLY mad!) Unfortunately, I think too many brides get all caught up in ONE day, instead of all the others that follow. You forget that marriage isn't a big white dress and a cake covered in buttercream. One day, you finally realize that life isn't the movies; it's not some Hollywood script where every dream comes true. But that's only because other dreams that you didn't even know you had HAVE. You have this house with sippy cups in the fridge, a handprint-smudged hallway that you refuse to paint AGAIN, and a pantry full of fruit snacks and Goldfish. It's the most romantic setting in the world--HOME. And you have something way better than roses. You have this guy who cooks breakfast for you every weekend (yes, every weekend!) and who doesn't even drink coffee but sees caramel creamer while he's grocery shopping (yes, he shops too!) and buys it for your next cup.

We recently renewed our vows and I could hardly get the words out because I was crying so hard. Ten years later, I love this man so much more than I did on our wedding day. It's a different love--a love that comes from building a life together. It's from bringing two babies into the world, from crying together when we had to say goodbye to loved ones, from dealing with all the ups and downs that can't be squeezed into a 90 minute comedy on the big screen.

I know that the next decade will bring even more joys and sorrows. That's real life. But we're both willing to stick it out until the credits roll at the very end. That's what married people do.

Seven Days

My dad has always said, "Summer is over at 4th of July." Growing up, I hated him saying this. What a party pooper! July 4th is far from the end of summer, dude! Way to spoil all the fun! However, as with many things, the older I get, the more I realize how right Dad is. . . (Added bonus for Dad--here it is in writing that I admit you're right--ha!) Honestly, it doesn't make much sense. I mean, really, July 4th is only the halfway point of our summer. I still have a whole month off before going back to work. But man, something about hitting the birthday of our nation makes the second half FLY. I'm sad that there isn't much time left, which is really selfish of me since there are few parents who get two months off every summer. And I have to remind myself that we pack a lot into those two months--which makes the most of our time together. This next week is no exception. In seven days, we're squeezing in:

a playdate
___? loads of laundry
packing
a Walmart trip for everything we thought we had but realized we don't
a girls-only road trip (while Daddy does a boys-only canoe excursion)
stops at two aunties'
swimming
a zoo trip
a picnic
meeting a brand new nephew!
a splash pad
a memorial car show
another picnic
___(?) loads of more laundry
more packing
two (hopefully FINAL) orthodontist appointments
meeting another auntie to pass off the girls
a 10th wedding anniversary
a flight to FL

Whew. Good thing there's 10,080 minutes in a week. We may need every second. On one hand, I'm a little sad because I know that these next few weeks of fun will fly. But on the other hand, I'm so excited for the memories we're making. I refuse to believe that it's all downhill from July 4th. Instead, we're going out with a BANG!!!

Firsts and Lasts

We've had an opportunity come up that involves moving to the town where I work. Nothing is definite (which doesn't sit well with this planner--I mean, as a teacher, there's a reason both of the girls have June birthdays) but I'm trying to be patient and know that everything will work out. It's hard because the decision is someone else's. Ultimately, we can tell the possible buyers "no," but like I've been telling R, it's not every day that someone asks to buy your property. In five years when we want to move closer to town, we may not find a buyer. Strike while the iron's hot, right? The good news is that either way it's a win/win situation. If the buyers can't do it, the "worst" that happens is we stay in a house that we love. And while I complain a lot about it (especially my blue toilet. . . yes, I really have a blue toilet. . .) I do love the home that we've created. We've put a lot of sweat and tears into this house. It's been hard to think about moving when this is the only home my girls have known. This is where we first brought them home, and where they have continued to amaze us with their firsts. Where they first smiled, crawled, and walked. It's hard to imagine that last December may have been our last Christmas here or that this weekend was our last get-together around the fire-pit. It's made me think about all the "firsts" in life that we anticipate and celebrate, while we sometimes miss out on all the lasts. The problem is that we can easily acknowledge a first smile or a first time of sleeping through the night. It's harder to pinpoint the lasts. You don't know at the time that it's the last time your baby will crawl or call you "Mama" instead of "Mom." We can't know until later when life has thrown us a curveball that it was a last Christmas, a last phone call, a last hug. I guess it's probably best that we can't know everything.

So, I decided to start celebrating some of the "lasts" I DO know about:
our last summer with a preschooler
my last day with braces
our last day with two in daycare
our last family get-together with all nieces (can't wait to meet our new nephew!)
our last summer (hopefully) of diapers
our last day of being in a crib (though honestly Stinkus may stay there til she's 15. We tried a sister sleepover last night and after I saw her five times in three minutes, she found herself caged up again--much to her dismay)
our last summer with baby stuff filling our basement

If we move, there will be even more lasts around the corner. But on the flip side, that means a whole new world of firsts. A first night in a new home, a first bike ride in a new neighborhood, a first meal in a different kitchen. The great part is we don't have to move to experience exciting firsts and bittersweet lasts--we can just stay put and keep living this thing called life.

Warm Fuzzies

I can imagine that my big family takes some getting used to. We're loud, crazy, perhaps a tad obnoxious. Conversations often become yelling matches (not because we're angry--we're just making sure we can be heard over all the others who keep interrupting.) Dinners are usually buffet-style with disposable plates and silverware, Sharpie names on Solo cups, and "you're on your own to find a seat." If you spend the night, I hope you like the floor or a couch. There are just too many of us to do anything else.

And despite all that, we have found four "outlaws" who weren't scared off to join our rowdy group. It amazes me that not only would I pick my siblings if I could, I would also pick the people they married. Most came from small families (my husband included) and no one has batted an eye at anything. And although I picked R, his family was part of the package--again, a package I would have chosen.

We had a joint birthday party for the girls this weekend. There were 17 of us here. It was crazy, chaotic, noisy and absolutely perfect. We broke out the Sharpie marker and ate for two days straight, we laughed and shouted and played games, we sat outside with a fire and watched the guys blow up some fireworks. Last night, we had people sleeping in the kitchen, dining room, living room, foyer (my sister's idea--I really wasn't going to make her sleep in front of the door...) and both girls' rooms. We were crowded, out of hot water, and constantly either cleaning up a meal or getting another one ready. Did I mention it was perfect? I kept thinking that there aren't too many people who would love a weekend like that, and somehow God brought us all together, not as two sides, not as in-laws, but as ONE family. My girls' family. I feel so blessed to have all of these people in their lives. I hope they know how much they're loved. I hope they know how lucky they are to sleep on our bedroom floor when the rest of our house is packed with these people. I hope they regularly have the warm fuzzies I had all weekend.

I feel a little homesick tonight knowing that everyone is gone. And sometimes I'm sad that my girls won't know the chaos of a big family. But then I realize that this--having one sister--is "normal" for them. They'll have the next best thing--grandparents and lots of aunts, uncles and cousins. Lots of food, games, and laughter. And tons of dirty towels and sheets. :) Oh well, it was worth it. I may put that laundry off for a while though. I'm a little worn out, plus we might still be out of hot water.

Sugar and Spice

I remember being super nervous right after Sa was born. Which is understandable, I know. But I wasn't nervous for the "normal" reasons. In those first few moments, I wasn't thinking about middle-of-the-night feedings or the constant diaper changes. We hadn't found out the gender of our firstborn and I was a little nervous to hear, "It's a girl!"

Fast forward three years later. It's Baby Day and we're waiting to meet #2. During pregnancy, I remember thinking that Stinkus was a boy. My tummy looked like a basketball, I craved hot sauce, I was a little more nauseous this time. And we couldn't quite come up with a girl name we agreed on. Plus, doesn't every father need a son? We have to carry on that family name. We have to have someone catch a baseball. We have to take someone fishing. I had some selfish reasons for not finding out the gender this time around. My logic: Daddy might be disappointed if the ultrasound tech in an exam room reveals that it's another girl, but how can he be disappointed in an operating room?

And this birth quickly became a repeat of #1: the doctor commenting on all the dark hair and the long eyelashes, hearing "It's a girl!" and that flutter of anxiety. And each time, there was one more similarity that set all my worries aside: my husband's twinkling eyes.

I had two C-sections and R had to wear a mask and cap as he sat by my side. I remember searching his face after each birth to a) find out if she was ok and b) find out if HE was ok with a "she." Each time, I held it together until I saw his eyes. I will never forget how they just LIT up and I could tell how big he was smiling without even seeing his mouth.

In all honesty, I had a really hard time picturing R as a dad. Now I know that I could have never imagined a dad this good. And to see him with two girls just warms my heart. There was a reason God sent us Sa and Stinkus. And while they may not carry on the name, they still hit the river with their Daddy. Who knows--maybe that Barbie hat and tacklebox will bring them some luck.

Thank You

When you're a kid, you just don't get it. You don't get how lucky you are when you are raised by amazing people. You only see all the "injustices" of life like having a curfew, driving a beater car, and how ____________(insert sibling name here) always gets his/her way. Then you go away to college. Funny how smart my parents became when I was the one getting an education. I remember writing my parents a letter thanking them for my last 18 years. After being on my own for a while and meeting kids from all different walks of life, I realized I had it GOOD. My worst "problems" growing up were hardly problems at all. Funny how green the grass is when it's no longer right in your own backyard.



Have you heard the song Amarillo Sky by Jason Aldean? Google it if not. It's my dad. With the exception of the Amarillo part. :) I actually tear up every time I hear it because I'm so proud of the work he's done all these years. Farming isn't easy, it's not glorious, it's not very lucrative, but it's what he LOVES, and he wouldn't give it up for anything. Even when he has a bad year, or it doesn't rain when it's supposed to, or it rains too much and he has to start over. It's his LIFE. And I hope he knows how much that life gave us--things like integrity, honesty, patience, faith, and the importance of good old fashioned hard work. It's these things I want to pass on to my own kids. I want them to have more than just his blue eyes.


And while I can't speak for my husband's childhood, I know that he too had it pretty good. I remember my first date with R--he told me his dad was a farmer and his mom worked in a school and he too had grown up in a small Midwestern town. It was one of the things that first attracted me to him--we came from this similar "place" growing up. (Oh and he also drove a beater car. Is it weird that this chick was impressed by a beater car?) I want to thank my father in law for all he did because he raised an incredible young man who grew up to be the daddy to my girls. And you definitely can't put a price tag on that. More thank yous to come tomorrow. :)

10 Days

So I intended to do this post two days ago. Go figure. As "efficient" and organized as I am, I'll be late to my own funeral. So to make this less confusing (as well as require minimal math), we're going to pretend that it's June 13. :) Today (again it's June 13) my girls' birthdays are 10 days away. One will be five in ten days and the other was two ten days ago. I obviously knew their birth-dates were close (I was there and all), but I had never realized that on this one day (did I mention that today is June 13?) both dates are ten days away. And how happy Big Sister is that hers is coming up rather than over! She's had a hard time understanding that she was born first but Little Sister gets her birthday first.

Speaking of Little Sister. . . that's her. Better known as Stinkus. We were at the zoo a few weeks ago, and the picture says it all. Wow. She's you-know-what on wheels. I laugh and say that either a)God wanted to humble us a bit (we were PROS at parenting with #1. . . maybe #1 was just easy?) or b)don't mix caffeine (which I avoided during pregnancy #1) and hot sauce (which I CRAVED during pregnancy #2.) At any rate, she keeps us on our toes and I have to admit, I love it. She's feisty, funny, brave, and full of life. I hope she never loses these qualities. On the other hand, I'm sprouting gray hairs like crazy and running out of answers for "Why?" It definitely makes a case for "nature" over "nurture."

Because then there's Sa.

Sa (sounds like the beginning of Sally or sack) got her name from Stinkus. We're not sure if it's short for Sis but it's stuck and I think I'll be sad when Little Sister uses her real name. I'm not sure if my parenting is different each time around or if these two little people just came out different, but wow, day and night. Sa is our sweet, sensitive people pleaser. She has a heart of gold and I often forget that she's only 4. She has a witty sense of humor and a drive to succeed. It's bittersweet to see her start school in the fall--it doesn't seem that she should be old enough, but I'm so excited to see her in action.

And anyone with more than one kid will tell you that they love their kids for different reasons--that life would be boring if they were the same. It's so fun to see how different they are. And I'm excited to see how they balance each other in the years to come. It's ok that one is a little more argumentative, one is a little more emotional. Today they are "equal"--10 days away from a birthday.