Exceedingly Abundant

In the Moment

2011-04-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

I make so many promises to myself. I will be kinder to strangers, I will cut back on Starbucks, I will read my Bible more often, I will work out regularly, I will write every day, and so on and so forth. When I am ninety, and my life is captured in my fleeting memories and stories I can still recall, will I care about the five pounds I wanted to lose or the cleanliness of my kitchen floor?

No. I think not.

These promises aren't unimportant. They just aren't the most important.

So I make new promises.

I will never look back and say that I wasn't paying attention or I wish I had enjoyed it more. The sleepless nights or the frustrating I-can't-wait-til-you-can-put-on-your-own-shoes moments. Because someday I'll have time to myself. A lot of time.

Someday I won't be their whole universe.

Someday I'll long for the little boy who wanted my attention.

I am here. Now.

I will not wonder or doubt that I

cherished appreciated loved drank deeply

every day I spent with them.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me to overflowing with sweet words, gentle hearts, and more boys than I ever thought my life could hold.

I will live inside the tired, the dishes, the toys to put away; I will live in the sippy cups and diapers and potty breaks; I will live in the playtime, the imagination of littles, the hugs and kisses and laughter. Live inside it all and roll around and take up residence. Comfy cozy and all mine.

I will do this quickly and without thinking because as surely as it is here, with me now, sitting on my lap and holding my hand...

it will soon be memories in albums and blog posts.

My Little Happiness

2011-04-14T08:11:00.000-07:00

A year of heart-fullness

A year of learning to mother two

A year of sleepless nights

A year of chasing Joy

A year of two boys taking room in my soul

A year of being tired (so.very.tired)

A year of love unimagined and unfathomed

A year of gratefulness

A year of hard times and bliss

A year of snuggles, runny noses, and so much laughter

A year with the biggest and best toothy smile

A year with my little happiness

A mommy heart celebrating one year of being twice as full

Happy One to you, my baby boy!

Caleb is our little happiness. No one smiles more than him. The bottom picture is fuzzy, but quite accurately portrays his personality. He never stops moving, he never stops eating, he never stops keeping us on our toes, and (as long as he sleeps and eats enough) he is always happy. We love you, baby!

Three!

2011-04-06T07:23:00.000-07:00

In a week, my baby will turn one. I can hardly believe it. However, before I blubber a post about that, I'd better touch upon another huge event that happened in February.

My big baby turned three.

What???? I know, crazy, right? But I was there and I saw him open his presents and blow out the candles (three different times on three separate days). Those of you with older kids are like, "Wow, that's nothing. Wait until they turn 10, or 16, or 21 or 30!" Those of you with no kids are probably saying, "What's the big deal?" I get that. That used to be me. Let me tell you though, as someone on the other side, turning three is HUGE. Here's why.

Theyarenolongerababy. Whew! I had to get that out as fast as possible. That's a really hard thing to admit, but so true. I remember after Caden was born, our friends who had "big kids" (mostly ages 2-3) would always refer to him as "Baby Caden." That lasted a long time. I thought, my son will NEVER be that old. I was barely adjusting to the idea that I had a baby. Caleb, at 11 months and 3 weeks, is still referred to as "Baby Caleb." It lasts a long time because it's hard to let it go. But somewhere along the way, they begin to toddle and then really walk and then really talk and away goes the crib and off goes the diapers and suddenly that baby is gone. Turning three solidifies it. I still need to kiss his owies to make them magically all better and he still wants to be held more often than my back says I should, but he now wants to take the world by storm, all by himself.

"I do it, momma."

He is officially a little boy with a hearty laugh, a sweet spirit, and a way with words that sneaks into your heart and plants roots of joy and love leaving you irrevocably changed for the better. Happy birthday to you, my love!

The Heart of Change

2011-04-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I don't write. I get it. I keep our other website fully stocked with pictures though, so if you get mad at me, just click on over to http://claarfamily.aboutmybaby.com. I save this site for my musings, and often, when I am the most overwhelmed is when I have the least to say for fear I will break down and be completely incoherent.

We are moving, selling our house.

It. Is. Scary.

And completely the right thing to do. This house has drained us financially, so we either go back to a double income and our kids go to daycare or we move. The decision was easy in that respect. The problem is that I love this house. It's our first real home and we brought both our babies home to this house. We have had countless gatherings here for birthday parties, playdates, coffee dates, bible studies, family dinners, holidays...countless moments that I will always associate with this place and the feeling it gave me when I walked through the door every day.

I'm okay though. Letting go of something this big opens another door that leads to a freedom we have not felt in a long time. Letting go means realizing

that it is just a building, a building that God lent us for awhile, and now we are free to really ask the question, "What now, Lord?" It is refreshing. And scary.

So, I've started a list of things I can't stand about this house. Weird, I know, but I like so much about it, that this list is helping me move on. So far, this is my list:

1. Ants. I never seem to stop killing them inside. I can't stand them.

2. Creaking. Whenever you walk upstairs, no matter how qui

et you are trying to be, the floor alerts any almost-sleeping child that you are close by. Ugh.

3. Temperature differential. The upstairs is about ten degrees warmer than downstairs, always, no matter what. This sucks in every season.

I will try to come up with more; it helps. Don't judge me, please. Sometimes thinking of the negative brings light to the positive. Like how in changing houses I realize that I only love this house because of the faces I see in it and that love will move with me, no matter where we go.

Breathe (Slow down, de-stress, and load up on stickers)

2010-11-29T14:14:00.001-08:00

I decided a few months ago that my life was a lot less stressful if we just stayed home. This was a novel concept for me. I was used to coming up with fun outings for us to do together, and I just assumed that baby Caleb would tag along. Don't laugh. I really did believe my life could continue it's regularly scheduled program. I thought we would (weekly) go to the children's museum, the zoo, the park, the science museum, etc.

My children, however, are teaching me to breathe.

Caden actually likes being at home. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. I think he is learning to entertain himself as opposed to being entertained by our errands. In order to keep busy at home, we started doing craft projects. Every day we do a letter or a number. He loves it and, as you can see from the picture, does not feel constrained by the paper. I also have really understanding friends, and so we have lots of playdates at our house. (Thank you!)

Until just recently, going places was more work than it was worth. Caleb never stops moving. Ever. He is tiny. He is mighty. He is strong. He is fast. He is only seven months old. It's getting better though. I think I stopped long enough to learn about who he is and what he needs.

The older he gets, the easier it seems. Maybe we'll go to the children's museum today after all. Or maybe we'll just all sit on the ground and play trucks in the living room. The important thing, I'm learning, is to take deep breaths and enjoy them. Everything is for a season, after all, and seasons change so fast.

Dreaming of You

2010-10-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Every morning when Caden wakes up, I ask him what he dreamed about. I'm not sure if he really understands the concept yet, but almost every time, his answer is the same, "I dreamed about momma." Of course, he will also say that he dreamed about trucks or dad or blocks, but the first thing he always says is that he dreamed about me.

The last few days have been rough for the Claar boys. Caden has some kind of stomach bug. He's been getting a tummy ache that doubles him over in tears. Caleb is teething so badly that he just screams, mostly at night. They take turns waking each other up. Caleb, who is not even six months old, has decided that now would be a good time to start crawling. He doesn't even sit up yet, but there he goes, straight to Caden's toys. We also had to lower his crib because we found him almost out of it last night. High maintenance does not even begin to describe the last few days. I know I only have two kids, but yesterday, I felt like I had ten.

I know the saying "the days are long, but the years are short." I say it to myself a lot. Tomorrow morning I will ask Caden again what he dreamed about. I will remind myself that in many ways, I am their whole world. I am their healer, their protector, their boo-boo kisser, their playmate, their boundary-giver, their love and joy, their comforter. And I will tell Caden that never in a million years could I have dreamed of a life so filled to overflowing.

A Few Words...

2010-10-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

Today is the day of days.

Today is the day that he, the boy that I have loved the longest, gets married.

Today is the day that he becomes a husband, the day he irrevocably becomes One from two.

Today is the first day of his new

forever, and I am at a loss for words.

For how do I tell this boy,

who built garages for my dollhouse, who beat me at duck hunt and mario brothers, who made up silly "butt" names for me, who went to all my school plays, who tackled his Hulk Hogan pillow doll, who let me teach him a terrible choir song just so we could sing together in the hot tub, who got all of the athletic genes, who understands me, who also experienced "Say So" at Malibu and Palancas on the Encounter,

who has the most contagious laugh, who makes me so proud I beam, who lives his heart out loud and on his sleeve...

Yes, how do I tell this boy that I look up to him? And how do I tell him that I am so happy for him?

I think the truth is that I can't adequately do justice to my heart with words alone. I will have to let the past 25 years speak for itself, and simply say that before there were any boyfriends, before there was the boy, the one that I married, and before I had two baby boys of my own, there was you.

There was always you.

I'm Full

2010-10-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Caden's newest phrase is, "I'm full," and it doesn't mean what you think.

Me: "Caden, do you need me to change your diaper?"

C: "No, I'm full."

Me: "Caden, are you hungry?"

C: "No, I'm full."

Me: "Okay, honey, let's put your toys away."

C: "No, I'm full.

To Caden, "I'm full" means "I'm okay, mom, I'm good." We aren't sure how it started, but it's become so commonplace nowadays that when he says it, it makes perfect sense to us. So many words and phrases are like that. Other people might need a translator, but we think he speaks exactly the way he should. Another one of our favorites is the color orange. He says "orange juice" when talking about the color. This from a kid who has never in his little life had orange juice. He also calls himself "Bubba" which makes people look at us strangely.

The way I figure it, pretty soon he will start to realize the correct vernacular for things and before we know it he will be using words like vernacular and we will miss the little baby voice, adorably incorrect words and all.

So for now, my sweet Bubba, "I'm full" and my heart overflows.

The Negotiator

2010-09-20T20:44:00.000-07:00

I have never seen anything like it. At two, he has discovered the perfect head tilt, half smile, and phrases to get exactly what he wants. He is so sweet and precious and subtle that you hardly realize you compromised. Seriously. This might get out of hand.

Me: "Okay, Caden, put the bubbles away. It's time to go in."

Caden: (head tilt, half smile, lovely blue eyes...) "I do bubbles just one more time?"

Me: "Okay, one more time."

Then he does it one more time and he put them away. That's it. No more asking. He negotiated with me and then he didn't push it. Amazing.

Me: "Caden, put your trucks away. It's time for a bath."

Caden: "Play with me for a few minutes, Momma."

Me: "No, honey, it's time for a bath."

Caden: (head tilt, half smile, lovely blue eyes...) "Please oh please oh please, Momma."

Me: (thinking, wow, he's good) "Sure, baby, mommy would love to play with you."

So, I am officially the world's newest pushover. There is no doubt that I have been had by one of the smallest negotiators on the planet. Someday, though, this boy will be too big to play with his momma, and I will be calling him up, trying to negotiate a time when he can meet me for lunch or coffee. I might miss this sweet little boy who has all the time in the world to play trucks or blow bubbles. So let's play, my baby, just one more time, again and again and again.

The Twos Have It

2010-09-08T13:49:00.003-07:00

I am in love. I am in love with Two. Never before have I been so amazed, so in awe. Never have I laughed so often or fallen to my knees in thanksgiving so many times in my life as I do now.

Two is captivated by a leaf that crunches or a bee that buzzes, two is serious about his playtime, two is imagination in it's raw blossoming beginning, two is playful and silly, two is discovering his strength, and two is unexpectedly joyful in all things common and everyday.

Two is magical as his thoughts materialize into full blown conversations.

His wonderment fascinates me.

He laughs and my heart spills out.

I am in love with Two.

Coming of Age

2010-08-30T06:08:00.000-07:00

Turning thirty was strange for me. It was like an out of body experience. I knew chronologically that thirty was right, but I felt forever frozen in time at twenty five. My whole life I thought that thirty was old, and suddenly, I was thirty, and yet, not old. How Strange.

As I reflected back over my twenties, I realized that it was an insane journey full of incredible milestones. I got my Bachelor's degree at a school 3000 miles away from home, I traveled to South America and Europe, I dated a cute boy with a great smile and then I married him, I got my Master's degree, we bought a house, we had a baby, not to mention, I worked, volunteered, & traveled some more. And these are only the highlights. My twenties were packed, and yet, I don't think I would ever do them over again.

That one decade was amazing, memorable, exciting. It was also confusing, disappointing, scary. After I graduated from college, I had no idea who I was, and that searching led me on a great journey, but a journey nonetheless that I am grateful to be on the other side of. With the birth of my babies, I see a whole new journey ahead of me. One full of hope and joy and more love than I ever knew existed. There are still unknowns and disappointments to be had, but I think I am starting this journey on different ground. I am stronger and a little more sure of who I am. Of course, I'm still searching and growing, but I see myself and my purpose in a whole new light.

I hope I never feel my age. I hope I realize that thirty is young and being in my thirties is a grand adventure. I hope I like myself even more at forty and at fifty. I hope with each passing decade I can be proud of the journey thus far and be ready for the next one. I hope, from time to time, that I stop and realize that a memory is being made.

Tonight, before I go to bed, I will go to each of my boys as they sleep, tuck them in and kiss their soft little cheeks. I hope, that as they continue to come of age, that I mark each kiss and remember that my thirties were full, full of ageless love and soft baby kisses.

Saying Goodbye to Superlatives

2010-08-29T06:08:00.000-07:00

In April, our newest little joy was born, Caleb Matthew James. He is our little happiness. He smiles with his whole face; even his nose scrunches up with his grin. Transitioning to two has been challenging, but our steep learning curve has been worth it.

Before he was born, I used to always tell my two and a half year old son, Caden, that he was mommy's best boy and the cutest boy in the whole world and the smartest boy and the most...well, you get the idea. After Caleb was born, I realized I was going to have to figure out new terms of endearment and praise. Suddenly, I was not just in love with one little boy, but two little boys. No longer could I say that only one of them was the cutest or the smartest or the most kind; I needed to get rid of these specific superlatives that had become so commonplace in my dialogue with my son.

Caleb is four months now, and my vocabulary has shifted and expanded. I can say proudly that I have the two best boys and Caleb is so cute, just like his big brother, and they both have the best laugh. Caden is a great teacher, showing his brother how to be just like him. Now, however, I can also say that my days keep getting better and better, and the louder my house becomes, the happier I am.

And that is the very best there is.

My Love

2010-08-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

Six years ago today, I married my best friend, my one and only. I fell in love hard and fast; he fell in love slowly but surely. To this day, he is positive that we met three different times before we actually met. I don't remember a single one. What I do remember is this gorgeous smile walking up to me and asking, "Do you remember me this time?"

"Of course, I do!" I replied, but only because I wanted him to keep talking to me.

He did keep talking to me (thank goodness!) and eight years after that brief, but fortuitous conversation, we are here, in 2010, celebrating our life and love, celebrating our differences, celebrating our beautiful babies, and celebrating the hope that comes from sharing a journey with your very best friend.

So Many Reasons

2010-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

There are so many reasons why I stopped writing: lack of time, having another baby, writing a book I think I'll never finish, too much to say...

I have finally decided that this sabbatical is over. I am overflowing with thoughts and musings, and I am sure that if I don't pour them out somewhere, my creative juices will run dry.

So here I am. If no one reads this but me, then I will think of this space as a memoir of my inner self for my boys, my family. I will think of this space as a place for me to practice the writing that I so desperately want to publish. I will think of this space as a holding center for a gift I was given, and a talent I have no idea what to do with. I will think of this space as a way to clear my mind. I will not put this space on my to-do list. That list is long enough already.

I will write, and I will do it for myself, and for you, so that you and I will remember the journey.

A Mini Photo Shoot

2009-03-21T22:04:00.001-07:00

A friend of ours, Sara Gray, is starting a photography business. So, as a swap, we posed for her to help her start her portfolio, and we got some really great photos for free. We were going to do Caden's 12 month pictures anyway, and luckily, were really blessed with Sara's offer. Here are just a few samples:-)

Baby Mind-Reading

2009-03-04T08:42:00.000-08:00

So many times, you have to just wonder....

What in the world was he thinking about?

A Year of Joy

2009-03-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

525,600 minutes spent thinking about this little boy

8,760 hours of overwhelming adoration

365 days of unending, heart melting love

52 weeks of I-could-eat-you-up kisses

12 months of blissful blue eyes and bubbly laughter

1 year of my-cup-runneth-over joy

Dry Spell

2009-03-01T20:36:00.000-08:00

Oftentimes, as I lay down to sleep, I think of this blog that I have let go dormant over the last few months and I wonder, 'Why haven't I written?'

I think the more applicable question would be, 'Where do I start?'

I was writing pretty regularly up until November, and then suddenly it seemed, I stopped. Looking back now, I see two reasons for this lull. The first is that I have been trying to write a young adult book. For awhile there, I was really on a roll. I think I felt like whatever free time I could muster between teaching 8th grade, doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Caden, should be entirely devoted to writing this book. Well, sometime in December I got to the 10,000 word mark (Yipee! you say and then I inform you that I need 3-4 times that amount:-). Promptly after that, I got writer's block and haven't written since. So any time I spend on the blog incites guilt for spending time here and not there. Am I making any sense? Anyway, this, I believe, is only one of the reasons for my blogging hiatus.

The other reason happened back in early November when Brian got laid off from his bank job. I never would have connected the two, but this was a big event in our life and I didn't want to talk about it here, in the open like this. And if I couldn't talk about it then it was like a huge blockage on all other creative outlets. Almost like I, myself, have to be an open book in order to emote and divulge my life here in this blog and there in my book.

A lot has happened since November. Brian got a job with Sterling Savings Bank. We are blessed and grateful that in this economy he can get a job in his field. He has also decided to go back to school for health administration. Starting in September, he will work and take classes and become a very busy man. We have also taken two trips, one to California and the other to Arizona. And the icing on the cake, and why nothing will ever truly get us down, our little man turned one (and that is another blog all to itself!)

I think perhaps my writer's block has let up. Some people don't believe in writer's block, and I can honestly tell you that for me it exists in a realm of emotional truths. When I am open then my words feel free to come up and out. When I don't use this space, I feel a void somewhere deep in my heart, as if, my words mean more out loud than they do locked up inside me.

Little Boy Wonder

2009-01-20T22:29:00.000-08:00

This Little Boy Wonder will soon be turning one. Three weeks from now, he will leave the months behind and start to be known in years. How did it happen? Where did the time go? He is always on the move, exploring and tasting, testing and experimenting. There is so much wonder in his face as he takes in the world around him. He wants to walk so badly and his desire to communicate brings on much yelling. I completely rescind any prior posts about Brian being the loudest person I know. I'm sorry, honey. You have been outmatched. This little boy is still a baby, but it is disappearing faster than I would like. These first twelve months have been an adventure I could never have imagined. Such joy to behold. What will the next twelve bring, my baby, my little boy wonder?

The Mirror

2008-12-29T14:43:00.000-08:00

I had a very strange out of body experience this past week. I was at my mom's house in my old room that had been converted into a baby's room. As I was rocking Caden, I glanced at myself in the mirror, the same mirror I have looked into a thousand times before. A rush of images filled my head. I saw myself on my bed talking to my cat; I saw my friend Amy doing homework with me in 8th grade; I saw myself getting ready for dances and parties; I saw the scrutiny of teenage eyes that wondered why I wasn't skinnier and the laughter that bounced around the room from sleepovers. I saw the girl who used to play with dolls and the girl who wore a cinderella dress to prom. I saw her and knew she was me, but as those memories were flooding my mind, I looked through them and saw that same girl rocking her baby, and I couldn't believe we were one and the same. I looked at her again, and for the first time, felt all grown up. I think that sometimes I still think of myself as that teenager, but the face that was reflected back to me contained no scrutiny or self-doubt. It gave me pause because I liked what I saw: the girl who became a woman; the girl who became a mom. Suddenly, I saw clearly.

Winter Wonderland

2008-12-19T11:19:00.000-08:00

For those of you that don't live in the Portland/Seattle area, persistent snow is not normal. Snow that sticks and stays for a whole week or more, snow that falls in big flakes and small, snow that rests gently on our big tall fir trees is just not normal.

And for you teachers and students out there, neither is three weeks of Christmas break, for that matter.

But as inconvenient as it is for Christmas shopping, Christmas parties, and Christmas-time plans, it is sure cause to stop and rest and enjoy. Because, ironically, how often does that happen around the holidays? So whether you are snowed in (and maybe getting cabin fever) or lying on a beach somewhere (please, oh please, get a tan for me), take a day or even a few hours and just stop. Make some cookies with your kids, put your pajamas on and watch a movie, or just sit in your most decorated room and do nothing else but rest and enjoy.

'Tis the Season...to make the holidays what you want them to be.

My Point of View

2008-12-03T19:25:00.000-08:00

I have noticed, as of late, that when I am captured unaware in photograph or in film, I am looking primarily in one direction. I am looking into the eyes of joy, through the lens of new discoveries, and I am finding myself lost in love.

My point of view used to be mine alone filled with opinions and thoughts and musings. I looked at the world through the lens of my life experience. Now, it seems, that my view has shifted anew. It is fresh and innocent and easily awed. It is beautiful in its laughter and full of grace.

I find myself viewing the world through new eyes, and I very much like what I see.

A November Dry Spell

2008-11-29T11:00:00.000-08:00

I only blogged twice this month. Why, I wonder? Most days, my head is full of topics to write on or sentences that string together like music and I can't wait to put them down. This month, for some reason, my writer's brain was empty...or maybe, there was so much noise I felt overwhelmed. I broke down this last month into small moments; moments when I stopped and said, 'I should really write about this.' So my goal is to try to write down one moment at a time until I catch up. For me, being overwhelmed only comes undone when I slowly unravel the knot.

I remember one day this month, I wanted to write about a student of mine who is always getting into trouble. Just before Thanksgiving, she was suspended for 10 days. She steals, she doesn't do any school work, she gets into fights. She has also been homeless. Her mom works hard and is never home. Her dad doesn't work and doesn't want to. When this girl goes home, wherever that happens to be, no one cares. Her walls are high and carefully guarded. She won't talk to me. I rarely see her with friends. She is on my mind a lot. I look at Caden and realize that at one time, she was that small and innocent too. It's so unfair. It's like she didn't get a chance. I hope that someday, she will get to unravel the tangles and snarles and knots of her life. I hope that she gets to do it with people who care about her and love her. I hope that somewhere along the way she finds hope.

Bravery with a Purpose

2008-11-07T20:26:00.000-08:00

My baby turned one and is no longer so little. He walks, he stumbles, he falls, and it doesn't faze him at all. He is so brave in how he discovers this big new world. Today, he will see something he did not notice yesterday, and, unafraid, he will jump in with both feet. He lives his life loudly, with big emotions and big steps forward. He lives for the next discovery; he goes in search of the small things he never saw before. This small sweetness of a boy is teaching his mommy to look with new eyes and to then have the courage to go after it.

Baby to Baby

2008-11-07T20:15:00.000-08:00

His chubby little baby hands patting pictures of his mommy's little baby cheeks.

From Flip-Flops to Snow Shoes

2008-11-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

Matty left last night. We all went to the airport to see him off. He had two bags packed solid, and a carry-on with 10 hours worth of books and music. His seat assignment: 38E--the absolute center of the plane in a center seat for t-e-n hours. He left in jeans and a t-shirt, and tied to his bag, was a snow jacket and zip-up fleece. This California boy is trading in his flip-flops for the snowy slopes of Switzerland. Davos, Switzerland to be exact. He will be blogging about his journey, so check it out when you can. He already has a few stories, including running into the Amazing Race contestants at the Frankfurt airport!

He is joining up with YWAM (Youth With a Mission), and he will be gone for six months, and then after that, who knows where God will take him. Davos is a ski resort town, so his main focus will be the skiers and snowboarders that are just looking for a good time. Building relationships with people is one of his strongest gifts. Living his faith out loud is another one.

"Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity." I Timothy 4:12

I'm so excited for you, Matty. I am so proud of you.

Matt Markley, my little brother, changing the world, one snowboarder at a time.

The Sweetest of all the Punkins!

2008-10-31T17:42:00.001-07:00

And the sweetest of all the honeybees (except when he didn't want to be sweet anymore:-)

Poor Bailey

2008-10-29T15:45:00.000-07:00

I feel compelled to write a little blurb about our dog, Bailey. As if, by writing about her, it is proof that we do indeed own a dog and do (still) love her.

Before Caden was born, Bailey was our baby. She was a lap dog, a car dog, a bed dog, a loving beautiful creature we took everywhere.

And then, our real baby was born.

Oh, poor, poor Bailey.

When Caden arrived, Bailey became a dog. No more laps, no more car trips (well, occasionally with Brian, but definitely not as many), no more baby Bailey. Suddenly, her hair was everywhere, she smelled, and she was not the center of attention. Needless to say, Bailey became depressed. She ignored the baby and laid on the floor. She stopped chasing her toys (or did we stop throwing them?). Each visitor was met with sad Beagle eyes that pleaded to be taken away from this crazy house. Grandma would go out to her car to leave, and Bailey would jump in too, uninvited. Don't leave me here! her eyes would say. Oh, Bailey. Poor dog.

Eight months later, Bailey is still not the center of attention and her hair does bother me more than it did before we had a baby of our own. But she has acclimated to this new world where a little person just her size has come to stay. She has gotten used to this boy who is so enamored with her that the only word we've heard him say is "og." (That would be "dog" in baby speak). Whether this dog likes it or not, Caden thinks she is IT. Soon he will be the one to chase her and throw toys and run with her, and Bailey will be glad this little person, just her size, came to stay.

Punkin'

2008-10-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

How did a big orange vegetable with deep ridges and odd shapes come to be a term of endearment? I mean, why don't we call people we love, "cucumber" or "radish"?

What if it has to do with what pumpkins represent? No one goes to a pumpkin patch alone. Rarely does a person carve one by themselves. We do it together, with family or with friends. We drink apple cider and eat caramel apples. We bake pies and roast seeds. Maybe we light a fire in our house for the first time since last winter.

We spend time together.

Life outside stops, and for a little while, we allow ourselves to get caught up in pumpkin acquisition and pumpkin creations and pumpkin eating and pumpkin decorating. Maybe pumpkins represent sweet times and sweet food and sweet memories, and that's why sometimes they represent your sweetheart too.

Family Self-Portrait

2008-10-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

The imperfect, the attempted, the out-of-focus, the off-center, the crooked, the most fun, that one moment, the best laughter, the silliest idea, "hey, remember that one time..."

Those are the best pictures.

Oh, How Blessed He Is

2008-10-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

A little boy and his daddy...what better picture could there be?

Riding on his shoulders or sitting on his knee,

Watching football or climbing a tree;

Carving pumpkins or throwing the ball,

Piggy-back rides and feeling really tall;

Learning from daddy how to be a man,

How to love Jesus the best he can;

What a gift dads are to little boys

They each bless the other with so much JOY.

Just for Fun (Caden Daniel-8 months)

2008-10-14T22:41:00.000-07:00

The Shack

2008-10-13T21:45:00.000-07:00

Have you read it yet?

My friend Michaela gave it to me. She said she was buying one for all her friends. Sometimes I love to be told what to read. It takes the pressure off of me. My list of "books-to-be-read" is so long, I often grab a magazine so I don't have to choose. Brian will sometimes ask me if he can check a book out from my library--the library that is my nightstand. The piles can get so tall you need a ladder to add a book to the stack. Anyway, I'm digressing.

When Michaela gave me The Shack, I instantly started reading. Two chapters later, I decided I didn't really like where the story was going, and added it to my nightstand collection where it quickly reached the bottom of the pile. Over the next few weeks, not only did my husband read it, but so did many of our relatives. It seemed to be the book everyone was talking about. I couldn't understand it. Well, I'm not one to be out of the book loop. I like to be part of book discussions, and this one seemed heated. So, finally, I read it.

I devoured it.

I let it soak into my very soul and tried to process the journey it had taken me on.

How can a work of fiction affect me so deeply, I thought to myself. How can a book seem so real as to change the way I picture God? Religion frustrates me. It is man-made. It is ritualistic. It is guilt-inducing. Relationship, however, is real and loving with no bonds and chains telling you what to do and when. This book, at its core, disqualifies religion, and uplifts God as we never knew Him. Read this book. Even if you don't believe it, it will present you with a different perspective of God. Even if you don't believe it, you will hear that you are loved. Even if you don't believe it, you will wish it could be true.

When I was eight years old, I remember my best friend, Kimberly, and I were talking about what we thought God looked like. I thought He looked like my dad (20 years ago:-) and she thought He looked like an old man with a long white beard. (Don't laugh, Kim, this conversation really happened). As kids, I think it's important to put a face with your prayers. It helps make Him more real. As adults, it's important we don't keep God in the box we created for Him when we were eight. He is so much bigger. He is so much more capable. He is so much more loving and forgiving. He is so much more...

I hope you read the book, if only to see what all the fuss is about.

Baby Laughter

2008-10-01T22:22:00.000-07:00

In August, I wrote about bottling baby laughter. Well, I did manage to capture it, and while the video is poor quality, the laughter comes bubbling through. Caden is lying on Brian's chest, and Brian has the hiccups. Apparently, this is the funniest thing Caden has ever heard. I hope you enjoy it, and that Caden's joy spills over into your day.

Beautiful life, beautiful death

2008-09-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

Before dawn Saturday morning, Brian's stepdad, Paul, went to be with Jesus, where I'm sure, at this very moment, he is dancing with Grandpa Gerald. I'm sure he knows that is the first thing his wife, Colleen, would want him to do.

For the last few months, Paul had been battling liver cancer, the most viscious kind of beast. It worked quickly on his body, and the last few weeks had brought many visitors to their house, mostly to say their goodbyes. This past weekend, with perfect timing, Colleen's brother and sister and Paul's brother were all there. Around midnight, Colleen realized that things with Paul were changing. She called Paul's son, Mike, who lives close-by, and asked if he wanted to come over. So for a few hours, in the middle of the night, they all surrounded Paul. They talked to him and comforted each other; they prayed and sang songs. Then a little after three that morning, Paul went Home. No more pain, no more fighting, only peace. After everyone left to go sleep for awhile, Colleen cuddled up next to her husband, and for a final few hours, got to sleep next to the man she loved so very much. The beauty and sweetness of that is overwhelming. I cannot even begin to imagine the magnitude and depth of her emotions in those precious hours as she held him close one last time.

Death has always frightened me. I am not afraid of the unknown, like so many people of this world. I believe that Jesus was sent here to die for us, so that we could spend eternity in heaven. I know that saying goodbye to Paul is not goodbye forever; Colleen and Paul will be together again someday. I rest in that belief, and therefore, do not fear what happens next. I am afraid, however, of friends and family dying. I am afraid of them not knowing Jesus, and I am afraid of the lonliness I expect to feel when they are gone. I am afraid I would not survive in the way that Colleen has. I am afraid that the loss would consume me. I can only hope that when it happens, when death takes someone that I think I cannot live without, that it is as full of love and support as Paul's passing. For there are so many ways to die, and this one, despite the cancer, was beautiful.

Our Beautiful Mess

2008-09-15T11:52:00.000-07:00

Trying to leave for a trip with a baby is similar to driving in a hail storm.

At night.

With broken wipers.

And the tank on empty.

Packing for a plane trip is challenging because you have to be simple, concise, and neat. It takes a lot of planning, packing, and repacking because you only get a certain number of bags and carry-ons. Going on a road trip, however, is a whole other can of worms. There is no detailed planning. Only my list of what not to forget. I actually titled this list the "holy-cow-this-is-a-long-list" list. Road trips are not simple and neat. They are messy, unorganized, and spontaneous and not in a good way.

We were close to leaving when I noticed the kitchen counter: six jars of baby food, two bottles, three baby bowls and baby spoons, the sippy cup, the rice cereal, the baby Tylenol, a baby hat, five toys, and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, this is a car trip, not a plane ride, I told myself, so I grab a paper bag and shovel it in. Until, suddenly, there are so many extraneous things in bags that we may as well be driving to Goodwill.

As I write this we are driving up I-5, first to Olympia and then on to Camano Island, WA. In the front seat next to Brian is the afore mentioned bag, the camera bag, a water bottle, and two plates of banana muffins. In the back seat is the diaper bag, a bible, and the high chair/grocery cart cover (which will double as a car pillow). Oh, and me and Caden. In the back are two suitcases, the stroller, a backpack, diapers, wipes, two sweaters, two big blankets, his bepod chair with the tray...I'm getting carsick. Can't turn around anymore. How do people have more than one baby?

Chaos comes in many forms. Right now I am surrounded by a mess that essentially I created. It is crazy and disorganized, and despite my poor packing job, it is all because of this little person sitting beside me. I look at his face, and he gives me a toothy grin.

On second thought, I think maybe I don't mind this mess, after all.

Bus Duty

2008-09-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

Today, I had bus duty. Bus duty is one of those minor responsibilities as a teacher that is assigned to you and you have no choice but to accept. Bus duty is simple: stand on your corner and make sure the kids get on the buses and no one causes trouble. Sometimes, students will wave at you or attempt a smile, but mostly you're ignored. Their faces are buried in their iPod or in a really important text message on their cell phone. This is middle school. Take it or leave it.

So, since I was mostly getting ignored, my eyes drifted over to the kids getting picked up. I watched as a mom rolled down her window to wave to her approaching son. I saw him change his walk to a jog as he excitedly waved back. This was a rare experience, and one that brought back my own after-school memories.

Ironically, I went to the middle school where I now teach. It was only for 8th grade, and it was, by far, the worst school year of my life. Isn't it funny that I would end up teaching at the same school I couldn't wait to get away from? I always wanted my mom to pick me up. All the way through high school even, I remember pleading with her to pick me up. Not very "teenagery" I know. But I loved how instantly relaxed I felt when I got in the car, how excited she was to see me, and how I could just spill my day and she would sop it up with love.

Today, as I watched that boy get into the car with his mom, I thought about my long Monday and how tired I was and how I wanted to simultaneously see my baby and take a nap, and I realized that what I really wanted...

was for my mom to pick me up from school and take me home.

My Reminder

2008-09-06T12:38:00.000-07:00

My cousin Sarah reminded me what I am here to do. She reminded me why I entered this crazy world of blogging and bloggers. She reminded me that this new addiction I have to writing blogs is born from my LOVE OF WRITING.

Period.

She reminded me (by reminding herself--go read her blog, it's amazing) that I am here to emote, expound, and elucidate (or really just to share my thoughts and talk about my family), but more than that, I am here to PRACTICE. For what I really want to do is write the kind of books my middle schoolers love to read.

I want to emulate Stephenie Meyer in Twilight and have my books inspire young people to READ AND NOT WATCH TV. I want to create new worlds from the old like Rick Riordan in The Lightning Thief. And like Scott Westerfeld in Uglies, I want to teach kids that it is better to be who you are than someone you were not meant to be.

I am accountable now. To you, to me, and to Him who gave me the desire and the gift.

My Tree

2008-09-04T21:20:00.000-07:00

School started a few days ago. Each day this week, I have wanted to write, but between meeting my new students, getting lessons planned, and coming home to the baby I have missed, I haven't had time to write. On Tuesday, I wanted to write about the freshly sharpened pencils and the hope of all that they would write. On Wednesday, I wanted to write about the hot weather and how quickly a clean school can start to smell, well, not so clean. Then today, I decided I had better just start writing.

So I'll tell you about this tree I can see from my classroom window. I tend to forget about it when I leave in June, but thankfully it is still there when I return every September. It is a gigantic oak tree with limbs so tall, it seems its leaves could touch the sky. When I am stressed or tired, I look at the tree and watch it wave in the wind. It sounds ridiculous, but it is somehow calming. It often reminds me to breathe. It reminds me that life goes on outside of my classroom. It reminds me that time passes, no matter how slowly the clock may be moving. As the seasons change, so too does my tree. Right now it is green and full and lush, but soon it will ignite with the reds and yellows and oranges that make fall glow. With winter, it will stand bare and cold, quietly preparing to reveal its secret. For with the spring, it will blossom anew and remind me, once again, that I have made it through.

First Day of School

2008-09-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

As an English teacher, journaling is an integral part of what my students do in class. They write about their weekend, they reflect on what they just read, they write about certain motifs or themes, they describe characters and places and events. Sometimes, they get to imagine and dream. As a teacher, this is my ideal.

The first week of school is the only time all year when every student has all their supplies. As teachers, we're not really sure what happens to them after this first week, but without fail, "Um, I don't have a pencil" becomes commonplace after the first few days. We're sure that the locker monster, garbage monster, and backpack monster ate your school supplies and, no, don't worry about getting any more. As a teacher, this is real life.

But the first week always inspires us. Today I saw a young man with a pencil case of 10 unsharpened pencils. I thought of all the writing he will do this year; all the thinking that will be put down on paper. My ideal often clashes with my reality, but in this instant, I smiled in the hope that his pencils would help him to dream.

The Eyes Have it

2008-09-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

No matter the expression

No matter how much food is smeared

No matter how silly the grin

No matter what he

is wearing

No matter how much he drools

No matter what...

The eyes have me

and I am in love.

Life as Joy

2008-08-28T18:42:00.000-07:00

Chronically Loud

2008-08-27T18:05:00.000-07:00

Chronic: persisting for a long time or constantly reoccurring

Loud: capable of producing much noise or volume

This is my husband who is, without question, one of the loudest people I know. It is an unconscious quality, for, so often, he thinks he is being quiet. But my husband is loud even when he is trying not to be. He walks with big heavy steps; he turns on a faucet and I can hear it in the next room; he even manages to throw a light switch so that it echos in the hall. He lives in his house, and really fills it with his presence. Does that even make sense?

But he is also loud in laughter--one of his greatest qualities. It is loud and exuberant and contagious and seems to bounce from one wall to the next. It booms, and there is nothing left to do, but laugh as well.

Someday he will play with our son and they will be loud together (for I believe this to be a male gene passed from one generation to the next). They will fill the house with their presence and make themselves known. And after I have shushed them for the hundredth time, I hope I will sit back and listen to the laughter that comes from my two very loud boys.

School Supplies

2008-08-25T17:48:00.000-07:00

So today was the first day back to school for teachers. We are given this week of inservice to get our classroom and lessons ready. We are also "given" this week to attend hours of staff development where we learn to better assess our students. Sigh. HOWEVER, there are a number of things I've learned to take advantage of this first week back. One of the most important is acquiring the necessary school supplies to see you through the year. It's not always an easy task...

1. School supplies are like currency to teachers. We trade, barter, buy, and "borrow" supplies any place we can find them. If supplies are left out in the open (i.e. you accidentally left your stapler outside your door when you finished working on that bulletin board), you can pretty much forget about it being there when you go back for it. (Note to new teachers: write your name on EVERYTHING). Students are supposed to bring their own, yes, but take it from this teacher: by November (dare I say October?), "I don't have a pencil" and "Can I borrow a glue stick?" are as common as "Can I go to the bathroom?"

2. Our school has a "garage sale" at the beginning of the year. Basically, whatever you don't want in your room goes onto a community (read: free-for-all) table. If you want something, just take it; if you don't want something anymore, leave it there. Now, with recycled supplies, you have to be creative. You have to think outside the box. Well, today, I found my gold mine.

A working vacuum cleaner that my grandma would be proud of. It was pea green (can we say 1970?) with a layer of grime on the base that so thick you couldn't read the label. But all I saw in that beautiful vacuum...Lunch Detention! And a really really clean floor. It was awesome.

3. My job share partner came to school last week with a gigantic bin full of teacher stuff (or should I say five bins full of stuff). I looked at her in horror, but she assured me she would weed through it and get it organized. Well, today, we hit the jackpot. One complete bin was all SCHOOL SUPPLIES. Pens, markers, white board markers, overhead pens, glue sticks, paper, rubber bands, erasers, paper clips, staples...I mean we could make big bucks here! Suddenly, we were like our own private Office Depot. As she was pulling things out, I was reminded of the carpet bag in 'Mary Poppins.' For over an hour, supplies just kept appearing! Pretty soon, we had an audience. Teachers from nearby classrooms were coming over to see what all the commotion was. This was a big deal!! Needless to say, today we hit the jackpot. And in teacher-land, when pencils and paperclips are overflowing, you are definitely in the money.

Family portraits/Family firsts

2008-08-24T18:10:00.000-07:00

So today we had our first official FAMILY PORTRAITS. We decided that since Caden is six months old, this would be a good time to get them done. We should get them back in a few days, and I will post a few for you to see.

Looking back, it seems like professional pictures always symbolized some accomplishment or milestone. There were the holiday pictures (I guess we'll have to find a reindeer hat for Caden this year), the graduation pictures (6th grade was the worst), and the vacation pictures (Disneyland is still my favorite). Then there were the wedding pictures. Those monumental snapshots that forever change your family pictures. They change, not only because there is a new member of your family, but because a new family is inadvertently created--a family of two. Those pictures, in many ways, are the first ones that truly say, 'Okay, we're grown up enough to have pictures and albums and milestones and MOMENTS all by ourselves.' Those wedding pictures are beautiful and perfect, but unbeknownst to us at the time, totally and utterly incomplete.

For today, you see, in black and white, in sepia, and in vibrant colors, we became a family picture of three.

Summer's End

2008-08-21T16:28:00.000-07:00

As summer slowly wanes (or if you live here in the Northwest, you could say that summer quickly falls off a cliff), the start of school looms just around the corner. And in my case, the corner is three days long. Three more days of staying in my pajamas as long as I want. Three more days of seeing my baby's face any time of the day. Three more days of lunch dates and napping and watching our postman drop off our mail. For when Monday finally gets here, Grandma will come over and I'll kiss Caden goodbye, and more than likely, will cry all the way to school.

This summer's end, more than any other, seems the hardest to let go.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I am going back part time, and I am looking forward to a new school year. There is always something hopeful and exciting about a new year, new kids, and new ideas that come with the start of school. It is just that for the first time, I am starting the school year with a goodbye.

And that is just too much irony for one English teacher to handle.

Baby Kisses

2008-08-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

So Caden has started giving, what I lovingly refer to as, BABY KISSES. He opens his mouth as wide as it will go and slobbers on my face. It is slimy and wet and, by far, one of my newest favorite things. He will even squeeze my neck in the process to add emphasis to this affection.

How does he know, I wonder, that this slobbering on my cheek and embrace of my neck shows love? He obviously doesn't have any intellectual connection to it yet, so is it purely an innate quality to demonstrate

our love in hugs and kisses, in touch and in closeness? I have no doubt that six months of hugging and kissing him has influenced his senses, but I am amazed and grateful to be on the receiving end of such endearment. My heart overflows each day anew.

Slobber away, my baby! My cheeks are all yours.

P.S. Nothing is funnier than when Caden tries to kiss my scruffy husband. His face wrinkles up, and he gives Brian a look of bewilderment. 'What was that?' his face says. As soon as I get that on camera, I will pass it along!

Old Friends

2008-08-19T11:04:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, Brian and I had dinner with some of my very dearest friends. Lara and Andrea have been in my life for almost 15 years. Lara now lives in Boston with her husband, David, and Andrea lives here in Portland with her husband, Rob. The gift is that no matter the distance or time spent apart, our friendship remains the same. When the three of us are together, we fall right back into "us" as if nothing separated us at all. Our friendship resume is long, but to highlight...

We have written and passed notes in class,

We have ditched P.E. with "sick" notes

We have sung on the stairs every song we know

We have gone to dances, formal and informal (oh, the pictures...)

We have watched hearts be broken, and been there to mend them

We have travelled near and far from Europe to South America

We went into medicine, law, and education (we are so original:-)

We have been witness to love's effect on us...one right after another

We have been in each other's weddings in blue and green and purple

We have been able to withstand 3000 miles of distance

and a mere 10 miles that separate our busy lives

And now, there is a BABY, new and fresh to add to our list.

This, once again, is a beginning...

So sweet it is to watch the two sisters of my heart hold my baby boy. To capture their faces and his as they take each other in and memorize this new person, this beloved of mine. I know this is only the beginning. In 15 more years we will sit and watch our children play together, a span of ages and personalities coming together to complete this friendship. I await those days with anticipation, but in the meantime, I revel in the joy of watching my baby, the only baby between us thus far, gaze into their eyes and see his mommy's childhood memories.

The Point

2008-08-17T14:20:00.001-07:00

As my husband and I were making the three hour drive from Timber Lake, WA back home to Portland, I became lost in thought as I often do on long car trips. Our six month old was sleeping, and I began to wonder what I was doing with my life. This is not a new question for me, but the full moon, the rhythmic baby breaths, and the lull of the car engine plunged me deep into thought.

I am a teacher (8th grade, no less) which I am told is a noble career. I like my job, but it is not all I am or all that I want to be. At the end of my life, if I was only known as one thing, a teacher, let's say, I feel like I would burst at the seams for the lost potential.

I used to want to be a singer. Country, Christian, Pop, Broadway...any genre would have been fine with me. I didn't know that the songs I would sing would be of a softer more gentle variety.

For now, you see, I sing lullabies.

I used to want to be an actress. On the stage, in movies, on television, anywhere really. I didn't know my greatest fan would eventually be an audience of one. I act out silly stories, songs, and faces. I close my eyes and make a memory of my audience, hoping to tuck the sight and sound away in my mind.

For now, you see, I act for the sole purpose of bottling baby laughter.

I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend--all these and more. So, why, I wonder, do I still question my purpose.

But as I sat in the car pondering my life, I stopped to listen to the little baby breaths beside me, warm and deep. I realized that THIS is the point. The soft arms and pudgy cheeks; the pouty lips and dimpled hands. My husband, strong and sure, taking us home.

At the end of my life I do not think I will wonder what I did with myself. I know I found the point on Interstate 5, somewhere between lullabies and laughter.

It Begins...

2008-08-17T14:17:00.000-07:00

So this is day one.

Day one of purging my thoughts, my need to write, into the abyss of the world wide web.

I'm not sure who will read this or how dedicated I'll be to writing, but my need to expound has won.

I have given into THE BLOG.