Father's Day

When I realized we had a completely free weekend for Father's Day, I started planning a camping trip for R.  We recently found a "new" lake a lot closer than our usual spots and we figured we could get up there Friday night and actually spend all weekend--rather than just one night.

I'm a planner.  I make lists, I cross stuff off (I think I've mentioned that I add things I've already done just for the satisfaction of crossing them off. . . ), in my mind, I've figured out how it's "supposed" to go.  So I packed sand toys, bubbles, bikes, and sidewalk chalk for the girls--they were going to frolic happily in the great outdoors.  I grabbed not one, not two, but THREE books for me--there would be lots of lazy, summer sitting soaking up the rays and reading.  I figured out what we would cook--LOVE eating at camp--and we packed up a "new-to-us" tent that had tons of room, our kayaks, beach umbrella, and coolers.  I was beyond excited to get away.

View from campsite--Not bad!

Then reality set in.  R got home late from work and the hour drive that I had planned involved three stops.  Gas/bathroom, another (false alarm--thanks Stinkus) bathroom break, and dinner.  It was dark by the time we got there--which isn't a fun time to set up camp.  By 10 am on Saturday, we had already endured:

• 1 6 am wake-up call:  "Wook!  It morning time!"  (Despite telling children that it's still "night-time,"  for some reason a tent is bright VERY early. . .)
• three Stinkus face plants--one involving a nasty scrape on her upper lip (not sure how you scrape your upper lip, but she found a way.)
• two runaway screenhouse incidents and one plate of French toast (Crazy wind. . . I guess that's why this lake is so popular for sailboating. . .)
• 8 million trips to the bathhouse. . . We were not-so-pleasantly surprised to find that the facility was a pit-toilet.  Bleh.  We had several "Never mind, I don't have to go" moments only to walk back to camp, change our minds, then hike BACK.  Though I will say, the girls were troopers.  It was nasty but they quickly became masters of the "Don't breathe or look and just let er go" technique.     
• way too many "What can we do nows?" because apparently I didn't pack enough entertainment. 

I was about ready to call it a day.  But then things started to look up.  We headed to the swim beach and ran into some gals I work with.  The girls LOVED the beach--it made me really excited to hit the "real" one next summer.  :)

Beach babe!

Hot sand!

Of course, there was sand everywhere, fights over sand toys, and sunblock protests--but I won and I'm happy to say no one got burned.  We had been telling the girls it was "ok" to pee in the lake and what does Stinkus do?  Squats at the water's edge so that a visible stream is running out of her suit, and THEN looks upside down between her legs at said visible stream running out.  Even better: she then runs full speed back to our umbrella yelling, "I peed, Mommy!  I peed!"  Yep, pretty sure everyone already knows. . . Later, she let it go again after napping ON Daddy's cot.  And gave us absolutely no warning other than, "I just peed."  Thanks for that, Stinkus.

We watched the lightning all evening and thought surely it was all north.  Then the wind woke me at 3 am.  It was whipping our tent around like CRAZY.  I truly thought the whole thing was going to get sucked up.  And then the rain started.  And not just any rain--crazy, hard BUCKETS of rain.  Mind you, we're in a different tent, one R just knew would leak because it was a Wal-mart brand.  And I will admit the fabric isn't nearly as thick and durable as our Cabela's one.  I was just totally in love with all the extra room we had.  Although, ironically enough, we soon got all kinds of cozy. . .   Sassy was awake by now and nervous about the storm, but to her credit, she never once cried (I meanwhile was trying not to!)  Stinkus, on the other hand, slept the whole time.  ha!  I actually had to wake her because not too long after the rain started, sure enough, water was coming in on the far side near their air mattress.  So I scooped her up and put her on my cot, and Sassy climbed onto Daddy's.  Two and half hours later, the lightning woke me.  It was that scary, cracking, hitting-way-too-close-to-us lightning and all I could think was we were REALLY close to the lake and under a big tree. . . .   Then suddenly I felt water on my face and well, the rain fly FLEW.  R yelled that it was off and we grabbed the girls and what bedding we could and made a mad dash for the truck.  The rain finally stopped about two hours later and of course, all I could think was: Worst. Camping.Trip. Ever.

It wasn't at all what I had envisioned or planned.  I think I may have read three pages all weekend, let alone three books.  Everything was absolutely drenched.  We didn't even take the kayaks out because today we just wanted to get home.  But there were some pretty sweet moments in the middle of all the chaos.  There we were on a Saturday morning at 6 am watching a crane right outside our window walk up and down the shore--that we would have missed had a certain someone not been wide awake at such an ungodly hour.  I got two and half hours of cuddle time with a little girl who won't fit on my cot much longer and until the rain fly went MIA, it was pretty cozy to sleep through the storm with her sweet little head tucked in under my chin.  We got some great swimming in at the beach and right off our shore--I love that the girls love the water.  We discovered an awesome new way to grill corn, and dinner last night was AMAZING.  And there were no plate casualties this time.  :)  This morning, amid all the clean-up, and trying to find missing stakes, and picking up other campers' things, a sweet little voice screeched through the whole campground when she remembered what day it was:  "Happy Fodder's Day, Daddy!!!!!"  

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

One of the things I really need to work on is realizing that life seldom goes as planned.  Things happen.  Like rain.  And I want the girls to handle it better than I do.  I want them to see by example that you can roll with the punches and not sweat the small stuff.  So on the way home, when we stopped at Sonic for some food, there was only one thing to do when I heard a little voice (strapped in her car seat) say, "I just peed."  Laugh.  Hard.          

I'm "FREE!"

I don't have any problems growing older, but I will admit that birthdays just aren't as fun as they used to be. . .  unless you're three.  :)  Wow, was this girl excited.  I'm not even sure how many times during the week I heard:  "It almost my BURP-bay!"  (Love how she says "birthday!")  After Daddy made birthday French toast, we headed down to a local amusement park for the day.  Thanks to R's work, we have season passes and I'm so grateful that the girls are riders--Daddy and I get to have some fun too!  

This is the only ride when my camera's not in a cubby

LOVE this picture.  Pure JOY!

Later that night, it was cake and ice cream and presents.  In the past, I've stayed up WAY too late decorating a cake that I'm really not very good at and getting way too upset because my perfectionism won't let the MANY imperfections go.  Sigh.  This year, Stinkus wanted a Day-Day cake.  Day-Day is the lovey she's had since she was TINY--a bear head attached to a little pink blanket.  I had great plans for a Day-Day cake. . .  of course, it didn't turn out quite how I pictured.  But I free-handed a bear head on a 9X13 pink frosted cake and called it good.  The good news:  it's a total original.  NO ONE has ever had a cake like this.  The better news:  She was thrilled.  :)

It was such a great day.  Sometimes I think God gives us children so we can go back and re-live all the wonderful moments we took for granted as kids.  I'm sure she'll never remember turning three but she gave US lots of memories.  Like when we were driving home and it's that peaceful calm before everyone (well except the driver) falls asleep.  Totally out of the blue, "Heyyyy, I not two any mo!"  And when I carried her to bed and she said, "Tank you for my burp-bay," while hugging my neck.  "You da best mommy in da world."  Hmmm. . . that's funny because somehow, I got the best Stinkus.  Happy birthday, Lovey!!!

June 3

I don't remember much about this night three years ago.  I remember thinking I needed to take it all in and remember life with just one child, but I guess when two becomes your new "normal," it's hard to imagine it any other way.  I remember it was a strange feeling to know that the next day we would be meeting Baby #2.  (I went into labor with Sassy and then had a C-section--more on that later this month--so this time around, we had a scheduled appointment.)  On June 2, I remember Sassy and Daddy played dress-up on the couch and she kept calling him, "Cousin."  "What you doing, Cousin?"  "Cousin, you ready to go?"  I remember laughing SO hard and then crying because I felt SO guilty for bringing a new baby into her life and rocking her world.  And I just wasn't sure, despite what I'd heard, that I could love someone else as much as I loved her.  Hormones.  :)

The next morning, my parents showed up early because we had to be at the hospital at 10:00 am.  We told Sassy goodbye and got on the road.  Again, it was so strange to feel perfectly fine and know that in a few hours, we would be having a baby.  I remember talking on the way about names (we were STILL finalizing a girl's name) and wondering what we were having.  We were "those" people who didn't find out either time.  :)  And I loved it.

We got into our room and unfortunately, stayed there a lot longer than we anticipated.  Several women decided (ha) to go into labor and since I wasn't in any rush or at risk, we got pushed back.  The waiting was horrible.  I was READY.  And the longer we waited, the more I worried.  It was a weird situation--the first time around, I obviously didn't know what to expect with a C-section so I was terrified about what would happen. This time, I knew too much, and therefore worried about everything that could go wrong.  It didn't help that there was NOTHING on TV to help pass the time.  At one point, I looked over at R and realized he was wearing the same shirt as when Sassy was born, which would have been super sweet. . . except it wasn't intentional.  Ha!  We got a good laugh and that shirt has since become known as "The Baby Birthin' Shirt."

FINALLY, a nurse came in who was actually ready to take me.  The rest is all so surreal.  I'm not sure if it's the drugs or the experience itself but both times, it almost felt like a dream.  R joined me after they got me ready.  I remember getting really nauseous (yay for instant IV meds that help that) and then I worried about coughing (I had a horrible cold) in the middle of the procedure.  At one point, it felt like an 800 pound man was sitting on my chest, squeezing the air out of me. . . I'm not sure that I want to know what that was. . .   We had a different doctor this time around and I loved hearing the same thing from her that Dr. T had remarked about Sassy:  "Ohhhh, look at all the dark hair and eyelashes."  Then I heard a baby crying from what sounded like next door, and my eyes filled up, thinking, "Ohhhh, we get that SOON."  And then I looked over and it WAS our baby!  haha!  I asked what it was and heard for the second time, "It's a girl!" and R rushed over to her.  And I cried.  :)  She was beautiful, and absolutely perfect.  And it was major deja vu because she looked SO much like Big Sister.  They were even one ounce, and one inch apart.

Big Sis was waiting in the room when they wheeled me in and I can't even explain how amazing it was to see her face light up.  In that moment, I knew that (as usual) I had nothing to worry about.  There was more than enough love to go around, and Stinkus was the perfect gift--for all of us.  

In the Spotlight

Both girls got to celebrate a "first" at almost the same time this year--school programs.  In April, Sassy got to be the Fox in her kindergarten musical, "The Gingerbread Man."  It was one of the lead roles, and in the end, she ate the gingerbread man, so really. . .   who's more important?  :)  She brought home a CD of music, and we practiced.  And practiced.  And practiced.  So much that Stinkus knew all the words too.  On the night of the big performance, she did a great job and it was really fun to see her up on stage.  She had two solos and then of course, she got to chomp the gingerbread man--backstage, never fear.  :)    

Then a few weeks ago, Stinkus had an end-of-year program at her new daycare.  The theme was "God Bless America" so for months, we've been hearing the cutest rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner."  I just knew she'd get up there and belt out everything she'd been practicing.  They walked in to "Coming to America" and the tears started.  I was just completely overwhelmed with gratitude for this wonderful place that has been SO good for her.  What an incredible silver lining (which I knew was there, but too often, we can't see through the clouds.)  Well. . . once again, I think God was looking out for me, because my tears didn't last long.  For some reason, Stinkus did everything BUT sing.  She twirled her pigtails, she sucked her thumb, she popped her thumb out and looked at it, she turned around and stood backwards, she stuck her tongue out at the boy next to her. . .  Yes, really.  

I did a great job on that pigtail part. . .  and I
had plenty of time to admire it.  HA!

R thinks she was bored, others say she was nervous, I think she was looking out for her emotional basket-case of a mother.  :)  It definitely made for a memorable program.  And in typical Stinkus fashion, when I asked the next day why she didn't sing, I got a quick, nonchalant shrug: "I sing a wittle bit, Mom."

I love seeing how different these two little people are.  I love that one got up there and did exactly what she was supposed to do.  I love that the other one did everything but.  I'm so proud of each of them and I can't wait to see what other "spotlight moments" life has in store.                  

Without Children

Problem:  school is out for Sassy, but yours truly still has to work.  Solution:  Grandparents!  We met my parents last week (R's parents will get a turn in August) and they had the girls until Monday.  FOUR days of freedom!!!

Without children:

• we went out to eat, not once but TWICE--and neither time was under the Golden Arches.
• we went to a local amusement park and rode all the "big kid" rides.
• we met one of our favorite couples at a local festival.
• we slept in and then made breakfast--with a Pandora "island" station playing--LOUDLY.
• there were no toys to pick up every night.
• I never had to sweep under the bar stools.
• I walked into mass on Sunday morning totally empty-handed.  No coloring books, no drinks, no snacks, no markers, no extra underwear, no squirming two year old.   
• I got to ENJOY mass.  I had time AND peace to listen and pray.
• we did a spur-of-the-moment drive to a nearby lake--no scheduling around nap time, or looking for matching shoes, or packing drinks.
• we bought and ate a whole package of Swiss Cake Rolls.  By ourselves. 
• we watched whatever we wanted on TV and only used the "rewind" feature because we wanted to, not because we missed something due to someone screaming.
• I had ONE head of hair to fix.
• we remembered life. . . . BEFORE children.

Without children:

• I slept so long that my back hurt every morning.
• it was WAY too quiet.
• my lap was way too empty.
• there was no one to tuck in or check on 20 times before I went to bed.  (I love that when they're sleeping, I still see them as the babies we brought home from the hospital.)
• I was almost bored during mass.
• there was no one exclaiming, "Dis is da best fam-wee in da world!"
• I didn't ride any of the little kid rides that I secretly love because my "excuses" weren't around.
• we bought our usual gallon of milk at the store only to find that we still had a gallon and a half in the fridge.
• I snacked constantly because I didn't have to share with little people (the scale was NOT my friend with them gone!)
• I found myself taking pictures of things the girls would love (like baby geese at the lake) since they weren't there
• the house stayed way too clean (yes, I really just said that)
• we were reminded that someday this will be life. . . AFTER children are gone.  

I'm SO grateful that our parents are such wonderful grandparents.  I love that the girls are making incredible memories with the people who raised us.  I love having some time to be "us."  And I have to admit--I love getting them back.  A quiet house is overrated.  Though I must say, Swiss Cake Rolls are NOT.    

Just Another Day

For over a week, R bugged me about what I wanted to do for Mother's Day.  I'm embarrassed to say that last year I threw a little bit of a hissy because nothing "special" was planned.  It was just another day. Of course, I forgot to realize that around here, it's Mother's Day more than one day out of the year.  I take for granted that I have a husband who cooks me breakfast every day.  On the weekends, it's a ham and cheese omelette and during the week, he fixes me toast--without making himself any because he runs out of time.  He makes my lunch for work every day and leaves it on the counter by the back door.  He cleans the kitchen after dinner while I wrestle little people in the tub (Shhh. . . .Don't tell him that bath-time is WAY easier than dishes.  And it's totally worth not seeing the mess under the table.)  He does laundry, he gets us out the door in the morning, he has the oil changed in my car. . . . The more I think about it,  this guy makes me look like a total slacker! :)

Flowers from church and homemade gifts

Another great fill-in-the blank from Sassy.  Note to self: watch more
TV in front of her.   I swear I don't watch Wheel of Fortune!

So this year, I didn't want anything "special."  We've been running around like crazy lately and I really just wanted some good quality time at home with my couch.  I mean, the people I love.  But man, I do LOVE my couch.  We did lunch after church, then went home and napped all afternoon.  It was heaven.

       

And yet, he still found a way to do something special.  A year and a half ago, our home was broken into, and among other things, the dirtbags took the two necklaces R gave me when the girls were born.  I was devastated.  Of course, we were all safe and I still had the memories of their births, but it was hard to lose something with such sentimental value.  This year, R and the girls got me another mother's necklace.  I love it.  And I love that I have another memory to add to all the others.  

I know that I take my life for granted.  I fail to see how much R does for me 365 days out of the year and how blessed I am to have this beautiful family.  It really hits home when a total stranger notices something that I can easily forget.  Yesterday during mass, an elderly man sat behind us.  I chased Stinkus down the aisle, kept her from crawling under the pews, peeled stickers off my back (apparently someone stuck them on after Communion), and tried to keep a straight face while they sang.  Loudly.  When mass was over, he simply said:  "You are truly blessed."  Yes, yes I am.  And oh-so-grateful.                     

Farm Wife of the Year

A while ago, my dad asked for a favor.  He wanted me to write an essay about my mom and enter it in a  "Farm Wife of the Year" contest.  I was pumped.  a) I love to write, b) I was touched that my dad wanted to recognize her, and c) I couldn't think of anyone more deserving than my mom.  So I sat down to write.  It was tough.  The essay couldn't be more than 300 words, which is hard to do when there is SO much to say about this lady.  But I did it.  I cut it down to 298, hoping that I had captured how much she has given of herself in a job she never expected having.  And then life got busy.  And I was away at a conference when I realized that the deadline was. . . . the day before.  And the essay was on my laptop at home. . .  I still haven't told my dad that I didn't get it entered.  I'm so disappointed and I hope that he's not too upset.  I thought that since it's Mother's Day, I would at least post it so Mom can see what I would have entered.  Dad, I'm sorry that I didn't fulfill your wish.  I'm touched that you thought to honor Mom though; we're truly blessed that God chose her for our brood.  Though she kind of failed on that oldest daughter who can't meet a deadline. . .     

When Mary M. graduated from college, she had big dreams. First: leave Smalltown, America. Second, NEVER marry a farmer. When she was offered a job in (my hometown), her brother encouraged her to accept—stay long enough to get some experience under your belt and move on, he insisted. Of course, life had other plans. She moved to (my hometown) in 1973, and met Mike J. Who just happened to be single. And who just happened to be a farmer. Two years later, they were married, and in 1976, I was born. Mom left teaching to raise a family and help Dad on the farm. It turned out to be a bigger job than she expected. Thirty-seven years and eight children later, she is still Dad's right-hand man. The girl who was never going to marry a farmer learned how to drive a grain truck, keep track of the never-ending paperwork, and bottle-feed a calf. As a mom now myself, I'm in awe of the sacrifices she made. She held down the fort AND the farm, and often went without so her children never did. She has also given of herself to the town that has become her home. She's involved in a local home extension club and numerous committees at church. Every September, she helps ensure the future of agriculture with a softball tournament in memory of my brother, with proceeds going to FFA scholarships for high school students. She's the most selfless person I know; I doubt that I'll ever grasp how much she's given up for us. I'm so glad she fell in love with a farmer almost forty years ago. Her life might be a far cry from the one she envisioned in 1973, but maybe it's because bigger and better dreams came true instead.