LOST A SOCK

2011 in the rearview

Initially I thought to comment, Well that went fast, when I realized it was time to recap the year that just started five minutes ago.  But then as the past year came into better focus, I knew that the quickness of its passage was less about its days and moments, and more about the fact that the years--they are really moving.  I love growing, I love getting older, I love my grey hairs and tiny little wrinkles left from smiling, I love change.  Bring it, 2012.

But first, for the short and sweet in the record book, allow me to recap 2011.

We began the year as we always do, on a ladder with paint brush in hand.  (Myself, that is. Not my kids.)  My kids were elbow deep in homeschool, and in a bin of dry rice and beans at the time, and we were eight months into our wait for our baby to be referred to us, from Africa.

This was a path that I somehow knew I would walk, at least in the years after I became a mom, though I never could have predicted our story thus far to present as it does in this moment.  While waiting for our referral, we began learning of so much corruption surrounding the situation in that particular country, and eventually we made what felt like the only ethical choice to make, given the circumstances, and we brought our paperwork back home.  I know with certainty that even now, had we stayed the course in spite of our concerns, we still would not have had our baby home today, and if we felt waist-deep in a terrible situation at the beginning of the year, without going into detail, we would have been up to our eyeballs by now.  Even our own agency, who we once had so much faith in, has not emerged with clean hands, and it leaves me feeling just sick for the babies and children who are involuntarily growing up in the center of this cold and dirty hurricane.  In this way the world appears uglier than ever to me, having joined the scene ready to help a child or children as we could, and then having witnessed such an unfolding.  It left me feeling hopeless for the kids at the center, and so very sorry for the well-intentioned adoptive and birth families caught in the swirling periphery. 

I am sorry to say that I came away from this once-exciting time to experience a grief I hadn't known before- a miscarriage of sorts, only for which there are no pre-determined parameters for how one should expect to feel after spending the better part of two years preparing for and dreaming about this very real baby that would join our family, only to walk away with empty arms.  Adoption is not just a thing that people decide to get into, but something we get into with our whole hearts and with our kids and families and friends and finances.  We create space in our homes and excitedly count down until this little person who already feels like one of us, comes along to finally be one of us.  The process, then, of giving away the toys I had saved, the blankets and clothing I had collected and telling each and every person of our turn of events left me mournful and exhausted.  The winter went long, and it felt dark and sometimes lonely.

I journaled a lot through that time, and searched to find the silver lining day after day, because it was the best of my options.  And I opened myself up to the possibility that I could somehow come out of this experience with greater breadth, and build something from all the little pieces.

By the grace of God, I met a friend of a friend very soon after that, who somehow got me instantly, right where I was, and sat with me in the space where I chose to work through our adoption into its roots.  My sadness for everything that had ever failed was palpable, then.  I saw all of that emotion and heartache, some of which I had carried with me since I was my own little kid, and I picked it apart and allowed it to become something new when it was ready.  I had grown into a better mother for all I had learned, and a better self for what I now understood.  The process, the preparation, the loss and the disaster we witnessed was what we simply had to endure for all that could come out of it and still is yet to come.  

And just like that, Spring arrived.

We were okay. We were all okay.  We were built for these sorts of deep life lessons-- a whole Master's Degree, really, on what fear and disappointment and love are all about.  How thankful I am to have come through all of this with a heart open to possibility, though it was no picnic at the time.

It was Mother's Day before I knew it and I was the mom of three amazing little kids, and we spent the morning on a hike, and laying in green grass, absorbing the sunshine.  I will never forget that Sunday morning, because I think it was one of the most perfect, ever, in my book.  I hired our wonderful babysitter for a few hours a week, beginning last Spring, to give me the occasional break that I didn't know I could (should!) grant myself and my kids. I became more familiar with poetry and bounced along on positive, super-fun music.  We had kitchen dance parties in the afternoon and at night, just the kids and I, or the kids and I and Kevin and Sant and Leslie-- all through the house with the music blasting.   

I threw caution to the wind and painted on all sorts of canvases, and put hardwood floors in our house and painted a few walls more.

We saw art.  We made art.

We plastered art all over our walls, and we didn't apologize for the mess.

We hiked,

and we drove,

and we celebrated.  

I felt that I should meet my inner perfectionist, somewhere in all that, and shake her up a little bit.  The world was not perfect, and I was not perfect.  The world was ugly and messy and dissapointing, and I needed to stare into all of that to understand that it was somehow part of something beautiful.  And so with each opportunity, to this very moment, I am asking myself what I can do with the beautiful messiness, and who will still love and accept me should they walk right into it with me.

And the answer, of course, is this little, solid group of friends and family whom I have intentionally placed around myself, like a group of fluffy pillows to pad my falls.  I am blessed.  Not lucky, as I tossed out there in my last post.  I believe, actually, in neither luck, nor coincidence, nor accidents.  I am here and happy and more whole than ever because I chose to experience awe and gratitude, again and again, for all of the blessings that come my way.  I am following my intuition as best I can, always chasing truth and what is real, and facing the hard work as it shows up, so that I can continue growing into the best version of myself-- all of those failings, and all of that messiness included.  There is more work to be done.

I added to my inky collection last summer, the word that hums through the undertones of my life, and five little birds in flight, for the five of us- Kevin and the kids and I, making this journey together.

We traveled a good deal this year, down to Indianapolis to spend some days with these little buddies of ours while their Mama delivered their new baby, 

and with these buddies of ours (also speaking of new, third babies) to Wisconsin Dells for a fun vacation.

We did the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee this year with family, 

in a mountainside cabin with a view and a settling energy I will never forget,

and we found ourselves floating down a river in bright yellow innertubes.

Kevin and I took a trip to Vegas for our eleventh wedding anniversary, 

and we experienced Utah and Arizona, where we hiked through quiet and still, rocky caverns.

I collected twenty-three pages of favorite quotes this year,

and finally figured out a layout and an atmosphere that is comfortable to me, here.

We saw the Dalai Lama speak in person over the summer, and I attended a fantastic monthly Buddhist meditation class.  Each Kevin and I did something we said we would never do again, and spent the last six months settling into churches we both love, each of us supporting the other with where we need to be.  We've gotten involved with a monthly soup kitchen, and we've met more new friends who have turned out to be icing on the cake.

We've created bonds with our homeschool buddies and taken lots of day-trips.  I bought an iPhone, I conquered every version of Angry Birds, I took the kids to see lots of plays and musicals this year.   

Kevin and I saw U2, which was hands-down, the best concert ever (even if I failed to bring my real camera).

I read this year.  I read and read and read and read, 

and it was one journey inward (and backwards and forwards) after the next.

We said good-bye to friends, both very real friends and quasi-real,

and we watched quietly the sun set,

the silkworm dangle,

and the Autumn breeze blow.

We hosted the holidays again,

and counted ourselves so blessed for full tables and full bellies.

We enjoyed the glow, 

remain present,

and bring nothing but hope, bravery, possibility and love to the year ahead.

While waiting for Santa...

And also waiting for snow...

Some of us fondly remembering those post-Christmas days we've spent on sunny, sandy Florida beaches...

We build legos,

check out local lights,

drink coffee,

get goofy.

Create snowball art!

Which logically involves Storm Troopers in the snow.

Deer watching.

Deer adoring.  They are so gentle and serene.

Playing excitedly in the half inch of snow that stuck around for three hours one morning.  

We are kids sure that this magical time will last forever, and grown-ups remembering what it was like to experience this time of year as wide-eyed kids.  A time that passed so quickly.

Our church Nativity play, at which Mary showed off her striped knee-highs, and took off with a shepherd just after the birth of her tiny soft-plastic baby.  Thankfully, Joseph was willing to hold down the fort manger, and happily accepted gifts on behalf of the newborn king.

More holiday art,

and belly buttons!

Having fun with gift wrapping,

and happily strolling to our mailbox each afternoon to open cards from friends we love.

New year vision-boarding,

favorite bracelet creating,

and adoring the early afternoon sunshine, while it lasts.

I hope you are breathing in the one-of-a-kind Christmas glow, as well.

Waking up in Vegas

Earlier this month last month I started to get on a blogging kick and even considered NaBloPoMo, a commitment to write every day of November.  Alas, we took a trip and returned home seven days ago already.  We arrived home from Vegas at 3am Halloween morning, grabbing just a few hours of sleep before it was time to carve pumpkins and get everyone ready for trick or treating.  Since then, I painted my family room, got the kids caught up on school and a couple fun field trips, went on a major post-Halloween sugar binge, conquered both Angry Birds and a mountain of laundry, read a fantastic book and ordered my East Africa travel guide, to help myself think.

So yes, we took our trip.

Vegas was pretty neat to see.  

We were celebrating our wedding anniversary, so my wonderful husband took it upon himself to have special surprises built into the trip, like a massage down at the spa on our first morning, chocolate strawberries and champagne, and a marvelous anniversary dinner.

A dinner that included three varieties of mashed potatoes in pretty little cups, steak, lobster and creamed spinach.  Fun.     

(Also, writing the word Fun just after the words Creamed Spinach totally made me realize I am rocking my thirties.  Or my eighties.  Whatever.)

Vegas is one of Kevin's favorite places.  He loves the history of downtown and the architectural influences of each of the hotels on the Strip.  He knows what time certain fountains go off and who houses this art or that, and where to play good Blackjack and where to play cheap Blackjack, and where Dean Martin ate cheeseburgers.  And so while normally I am the trip planner of our team, this one was all his.

We walked and walked and walked.  I can tell you that I don't think we missed a single stop because that man was determined to show me everything.  

My favorite was this hotel, The Palazzo, and just as I was oohing and ahhing over how they pulled off Fall leaves in the middle of a desert, he told me that this was where we had our original reservation, just before he changed us to Mandalay Bay.  Oh well. 

Mandalay Bay was a great pick for my first visit because we were near the end of the Strip, with a view of the whole thing from way up on the 38th floor.  We stayed at THEhotel, which is kind of a big deal to them. THE word THE.  It's in capital letters on their pens, their towels, their shampoo.  On every paper, every sign on every wall.

I walked around the whole first morning proclaiming that I was getting out of THEbed and drinking THEdietcoke from THEoverpricedminibar and getting in THEshower.  Would he please get THEcar from THEvalet?

Am not kidding.  THEbig deal.  THEtp.

Am so glad I did not have THEexperience where I forgot to remove THEsticker.

We rented a fun car on our trip, which Kevin originally thought completely unnecessary, until I reassured him that if we were going to be so close to mountains and landscapes, I would probably need to climb on them.  

Which brings us to my favorite part of our adventure.  

Sorry friends, I do not enjoy gambling, or smoking cigars or drinking much, so while the Vegas sites were fun to see, the desert mountains were where my heart was.  (My vices, just for the record, include mashed potatoes, heavy caffeine and now banana splits the size of my forearm from Caesars Palace, all of which we indulged in while in the city of flashing lights.)

In our quest to see all fifty states together, I was aware that Las Vegas is in the Southeast corner of Nevada, quite close to Arizona and Utah...and we need all three of those.  Originally I had hoped that we could actually make a trip within a trip, out to THEgrandcanyon, but I knew we would not be able to dedicate enough of THEtime to do it THEjustice (heh, sorry!) so we decided to head up through Arizona and into Utah for hiking in those gorgeous red mountains.  

All lava rock, in such enormity- I had never seen anything like it.  See the two tiny cars up ahead in relation to the rock?  Compare.  

Fantastic.

So we made it through Arizona and into St. George, Utah, and I spotted a white church in the distance, which is one of my favorite things to photograph.  This wasn't any white church, though- it was a Mormon Temple!  And we'd never visited one! (Life List #61) There was a wedding spilling onto the perfect green grass of the front lawn, beneath the endless blue sky, and then this pristine, white building.  It sort of reminded me of winter mornings when you get that massive snowfall overnight, and then are lucky enough to wake up to bright blue skies over all of that bright white, untouched snow.  This was that. Church-style.

We moved on to Snow Canyon State Park, then, to hike.  I was so taken with the red rock, experiencing nothing like it near home.  It was so brittle and porous, with randomly scattered piles of deep black basalt rock here and there. Even all of the plants were completely unfamiliar to me, hardy and spikey and just completely different from the Midwest.  I loved it, and this is what I love about travel.  It changes you, and broadens your mind and deepens your understanding of the world.

The rock was somewhat unfriendly to the touch, reminding me a bit of chalk, which is not my favorite texture.  So this hike was for looking.  As we went along we kept finding the most incredible formations, and naming them like kindergartners identifying cloud shapes in the sky.

Owl!  

Elephant!  

This is how people stay married for a hundred years.  We entertain our quirks. And eat creamed spinach on our anniversaries.

This is my favorite shot from the Utah part of our trip- it sums up perfectly what the atmosphere was.  It was quiet.  It was awe-inspiring.  It was enormous, and dry and seventy-five degrees without even the slightest breeze and you got the feeling that things were simply permanent, and unchanging.  It was the kind of silence and stillness that allows you to stand right in the middle and not even have to breathe deeply to clear your mind.  You are just clear and quiet and synced with this stable, untouched section of the planet.  And you realize that it is you that is moving, all of your blood and your systems and your whole existence contained within your physical being, faster than any of this. You are transforming so quickly, and you will be gone and all of this rock and sand and dry desert heat will remain and outlive you.  And it is perfect.

You love my quasi-spiritual nature-hiking rants, don't you?

Late that night we returned to the glitz and the party in the downtown section of Vegas, which is Kevin's favorite.  It was then that my brain registered that it was Halloween weekend and the tourists?  They were costumed for it.  I think it was some of the best people watching I've ever done-- Snoop Dog, Beetlejuice, Kiss, The Pope smoking a big ol' cigar, and even a real wedding where every member of the wedding party, including the bride and groom, were made up like Zombies.  This was all so much fun to observe.

This is where a Zombie and a guy dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business take pictures of the Zombie wedding.  Oh Vegas.

I will be back send my husband and his buddies back to see you someday soon.

I throw my hands up in the air sometimes...

I guess you could take that title one of two ways, but I was quoting a fun and energizing song.  My oldest child has been singing it without taking a breath, I think, for several days now.

I wanna celebrate and live my life, 

singing Ayo! Baby let's go!

So it is mid-September already, and we are about to witness the color scheme of these pictures shift from their Lake Michigan blues, sands and silvers to green.  All green!  

(And soon, bright red, fire orange and explosive yellow, yes, friends?  Fall is upon us.)

See that special kind of Autumn late-afternoon sunshine?  There it is!

My favorite.

And monarch butterflies all around, and Canadian Geese up above in their V-formations for the long journey South-- the kids and I wishing them well on their way.

Early Fall, September, draws me to the outdoors even more so than during the summer months, I think.  It is a different time when sweatshirt weather taps you on the shoulder by surprise, and then the two of you play chase for a few weeks, until finally you're ready to snuggle up by the fire together for a few long months.

I remember once during my senior year of college, being asked randomly by a professor what my hobbies were.  And truthfully I did not know myself well at the time.  I worked, a lot, and went to class-- lots and lots of class, and I went on dates with Kevin to the movies and to the local bar with my girlfriends for Malibu rum & pineapple juice over ice, in little plastic cups, for a buck or two.  

"Hiking," I blurted out in response.  And then I sort of stepped outside of my self and cocked my head to the side and gave a puzzled look to the girl who just said that, because I did not hike, then.  At all.

But it was like we were meant to be, the woods and I, and my rapidly growing-up family.  I just could not have understood this, back then.

What would I have done back then, with my one wild and precious life?  (I love that Mary Oliver quote.)  Back then, I would become a shiny new teacher, and a partner.  And now?  An experienced teacher-- in my best classroom yet, and a partner redefined many times over, in this year fifteen.

What will I do now, with my one wild and precious life?  Now that I am here? Photograph and explore, paint and sew, cook, travel, dabble in poetry, meditate and exercise bravery.  And learn and grow alongside my children every day.  Breathe it in deeply and be who I am, a girl on land, in the process of becoming whatever comes next.  It feels like the perfect thing to do, because there is no external force, no person's opinion, no thing I can ever think of that would be worth waking up to say, I am not the person I want to be.      

So early September calls my crew to hiking shoes and the changing woods, and of course to the zoo, and to the apple orchard every year.  

Mmm, yes, the apple orchard.  We understand by now, the differences between the Galas, Granny Smiths and Red Delicious, and that to get an apple off of a tree you must first twist, then pull.  And after that, of course, shine it up on your pant leg and take a big bite.

Everyone right down to Marin can weave the tale of Johnny Appleseed, and bake cobbler, and create apple art.  

I honestly cannot put rhyme or reason to it.  Nothing more than it being the perfect way to celebrate September.

I did these things with KJ and Jack in the very first few weeks we ever homeschooled, a few years ago, and every year since.  By now my big guy has mostly outgrown apple prints, but I am lucky enough to have a new preschooler coming up through the ranks, and she is very excited about investigating cores and seeds and textures with her Kindergarten brother.

This, our third year of homeschooling, is the year of the project.  Exploration! One true, unapologetic mess after the next all for the sake of enjoying, and also learning at the same time.

Dare I say I think we are getting a rhythm down?  

(Year three, friends.  Sense emerges.)  

When I compile our list of topics to investigate, we generally start in the same place each year and build.  We are lovers of the outdoors, and so we do trees and plants in the Fall.  And Native Americans.  And Space, because it's fun.

Jack is especially interested in all things Space, here with his diorama-in-the-works that includes the Hercules constellation, wielding his giant club somewhere in the neighborhood south of the Little Dipper.  We were also so excited to read of the fifty newly discovered exoplanets this week.  What great timing, Scientists.

So honestly I was a bit unsure of my footing, stepping out of summer this year and into the cooler season.  I knew I was doing well with sunsets on the beach and pb & j's and rock collecting, so I was not thrilled with letting go just yet. But little by little, through the process of diving head first into our school year and embracing the goodness that comes with the dawn of a new phase, 

we've arrived here.

Happily!

And it's birthday season!

Marin, myself, my sister and KJ all together in just a few short, super-celebrated weeks.

My sister and sister-in-law?  Pure genius.  This is how you weave together a couple very different party themes, apparently.

My baby is now three, and my oldest on the brink of nine.  I remember nine, vividly, and I attempt to remind myself over and over that he will too.

Here's to making it count: every day, every step, every exchange. And every swiftly changing leaf, and child.

2010 in review. This time with words!

In the eleventh hour I am borrowing this Q & A format from Amanda, for reflecting on the year past.  I have read so many of these question and answer posts this week, and have always wanted to try one out.

1. What did you do that you have never done before?  Assembled a dossier to adopt a child from the other side of the planet.  Sold a house.  Owned my writing and my photography, by slapping my name across the top of my blog.  It only took me five years.  Also, I embraced the unknown.

2. Did you keep your 2010 New Year's Resolutions?  Is weight loss always going to show up on them?  Other than that, mostly.  Yes.  Will you make more?  Does the pope wear a funny hat?

3. Did anyone near you give birth?  Kevin's brother's wife had their first baby just a couple days ago.

4. Did anyone close to you die?  Papa Tipping, Granny Ray and my old friend Tina, who I was once very close to.  

5. What countries did you visit?  No countries, but we've made it up to thirty-seven states now!

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you didn't have in 2010?  Feet that move quicker than my mouth.  Better endurance.

7. What dates in 2010 will remain in your memory?  September 24th, as Sant & Leslie's beautiful wedding.

8. What was your biggest achievement in 2010?  I cannot figure out any other way to convey this, without sounding like a total lame-ass, but my biggest achievement in 2010 was without a doubt the peace I've found through so much meditation.

9. What was your biggest failure?  My inability to better structure our days at home, for the sake of the kids and I and school.  I am far too lax in sticking to any sort of regimented schedule, even though I know we would all be better for it.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?  Ha!  I broke my foot just as we started painting the old house!  I still can't believe that.

11. What was the best thing you bought?  My laptop.  Welcome to the millenium, right?

12. Who's behavior merited celebration?  Elizabeth Edwards, who lived and died a beacon of strength and repose.

13. Who's behavior made you appalled?  Those who rejected us after we shared the news of our adoption.  Not for the sake of us, but for the sake of orphaned children in need of love and family, all over the world.

14. Where did most of your money go?  Dare I say that we dumped more money into that house than we did into our notoriously expensive international adoption?  Yes, the house.  Then the new baby.  

15. What did you get really, really excited about?  Our baby.  Girls' weekend in Michigan.  Seeing our East Coast trip become a reality.  Seeing the East Coast.  Closing on the old house.  Making a new friend.  The Christmas donation that was made in our name to the school and orphanage in Ethiopia, run by our adoption agency.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?  Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

Happier or Sadder?  Happier.

Thinner or Larger?  Larger, baby.

Richer or Poorer?  Richer, on so many levels.

18. What do you wish you had done more of?  Exercise.  Sleep.  Play board games with my kids.

19. What do you wish you had done less of?  Speaking to fill space.

20. How did you spend Christmas?  Surrounded by family, at our house.  Fantastic.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?  Wow.  Yes I did.

22. What was your favorite TV program?  Listing Oprah as my favorite tv show is like listing "swimming" as a hobby for fish.  So let's go one beyond and say Modern Family.  Love it!

23.  Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate last year?  I do not hate a single soul.  I am so blessed for that.

24. What was the best book you read?  There is No Me Without You by Melissa Fay Greene

25. What was your best musical discovery?  Mumford and Sons.  I have a bit of an obsession.  Also, Ryan Adams.

26. What did you want and get?  Our completed dossier to Ethiopia.  When I re-read my goals for 2010, written at this time last year, I was at that time on pins and needles about our adoption.  We didn't have an agency, a homestudy, a support group, enough money...  I wasn't sure how fast we would take it or if we could even dive in one hundred percent.  And here we are awaiting our referral, one hundred fifty percent.  Smiling.

27. What did you want and not get?  A profit upon selling the old house. Though not to say I am not most grateful for the sale, because that is what I wanted more than anything.  I had to answer the question, though.  

28. What was your favorite film of this year?  I thought for sure it would be Eat Pray Love since I adored the book, and the experience of going to see it with some of my best girlfriends was certainly wonderful, but the film itself left much to be desired.  My favorite movie this year, I think, was the HBO Miniseries John Adams.  (What?  It's on DVD.)

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?  I was thirty-two, and Kevin and I and the kids spent the day at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago.

30. What one thing would have made the year immeasurably more satisfying?  A babysitter.  I mean that.  The kids and I never, ever get a break from each other and I think we all suffer because of it, in our own ways.  I think I could be a better mom if I could find a babysitter for just an hour or two or three.  

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?  How would you describe solid color t-shirts, jeans and Converse gym shoes?  Sorry, toss in a few of my hand-made bracelets and a spritz on the neck of Ralph Lauren Romance.  Trade up the jeans for black yoga capris, if I am home. That's my style, whatever it is.

32. What kept you sane?  Meditation.  An empathetic husband.  Going on dates with my girlfriends.

33. Which public figure/celebrity did you fancy the most?  Oprah Winfrey wins this one, hands down.  I also love George Clooney for his work in Darfur, Sudan.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?  Gay Marriage.  I felt it to my core this year.

35. Who do you miss?  My closest friends when I cannot be with them. Especially those who live farthest away.  I have found an entirely new adoration this year for the amazing women in my life.  

36. Who was the best new person you met?  Does seeing someone in an entirely new light count?

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.  Follow your heart, as fearlessly as you can muster, in love.  If following your heart pisses people off, the world will not end.  

38.  Quote a song lyric that sums up 2010.

So tie me to a post and block my ears

I can see widows and orphans through my tears

I know my call despite my faults

And despite my growing fears.

But I will hold on hope

And I won't let you choke

On the noose around your neck.

And I'll find strength in pain

And I will change my ways

I'll know my name as it's called again...

(Mumford and Sons, The Cave)

39. Quote a line from a book that sums up 2010.  Be responsible for the energy you bring to people.  --Jill Bolte Taylor, A Stroke of Insight

40. Favorite shot of the year?

I was so humbled to be here. 

***

Happy New Year, friends.

2010 in review, photo style

Pressure Release Valve

A month ago already, just after we traveled out East, I received an email asking how we manage extended road trips with young children.  I kept thinking after that how neat it would be to write a post talking about stops and stretches every couple hours, the way we are really forced to live flexibly for those couple weeks, and when all else fails blast some fun music or read a story.  The potential post began to morph in my brain, then, into how I am managing to homeschool with three young children-- an equally difficult task if I’ve ever seen one.  

So, late two nights ago I sat down to write about what I would title (in a most worn-out manner) How To Accomplish Anything At All With Young Children, and then just as I got comfy with my laptop, Jack woke up with frantic complaints of a stomach ache.  My brain leapt at once from relaxed blog-writing sunshine and unicorns into vomit-panic mode, a person well versed in the devastation that One Child With A Stomach Bug wreaks on a family of five (heh, particularly the maid matriarch of said family) and the writing of the post was again delayed.

Finally now, another few days later, I shall answer the question of how to do anything as the mother of young children, from road trip to homeschool to writing a blog entry in less than three days:  

Good.  Luck.

My friends, I would have been certain in my earlier days of motherhood that I would be better equipped to handle certain calamities by now.  Everything would be brand new with my first child, every day, every age, of course, but at least by the third time I was wading in the icy, perilous, shark infested waters that are the Terrible Twos, I should be equipped to ride them out as a calm, well-experienced ship captain.  

But they didn't coin them Terrible for nothing.  And the toddler-- she is drowning the ship captain, one small drop of water at a time.

For a while I had been saying that raising three children is a handful, especially when their father works long-extended hours and I am the sole parent on call through all their waking hours.  We are homeschoolers, which adds to my already full plate the great responsibility of All Education- everything from science projects to art concepts to retelling the history of the world from start to present.  It is not convenient to get out when the weather turns cold.  No one wants to concoct breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day around a flurry of scheduled activities that rivals that of three simultaneous Olympic Hurdle events.  But I no longer believe it is all of those things distressing me so.  I think I could manage my eight- and four-year-old's school, activities, meals and laundry without much difficulty.  And someday I will add Marin into that mix of "manageable," I hope, once she makes it out of these tumultuous toddler times.

I vaguely remember feeling this way with Jackson a few years ago- like a complete and utter failure of a parent when it came to Toddler Management. (Heh, maybe instead this entry should be a celebration: Raising Baby Jack Didn't Kill Me!)  Specifically this evening in the tiny sitting room at Karate as I physically wrestled my girl, who had removed her shoes and socks and was red-faced screaming, kicking and flailing, disturbing the quiet class in progress and audience of attentive parents, I recalled chasing my two-year-old son down his brother's quiet preschool hallway as teachers disapprovingly closed doors to shield their students from my son's echoing screeches, as he desperately and angrily insisted that he too should have a try at fifth grade Science, or a quick dip in the germy water fountain or the bleachy bucket in the janitor's closet.

In the same vein, my two-year-old girl has mastered the zipper on crib tent, which was once the answer to her acrobatic nightly escapes, and she is again roaming the house.  She is refusing sleep at all costs to the both of us, and I am just plain exhausted.  In my days with two-year-old KJ I might have opted to just stay home with him, day after day at only a cost to myself, but that is no longer an option when the girl with the Iron Will abides alongside active older siblings-- and therein lies the Mount Everest of our life in the present day: How can everyone have a little something?  KJ's growing up will not wait for our youngest child to comprehend social expectations, and therefore I cannot have him (or Jack) lose out on wonderful opportunities simply because maintaining a quiet, well-behaved toddler during said activities is like asking a frog to please not bump his ass when he hops.  

Which leads me to the driver's seat of my car, finishing my quick lunchmeat sandwich as we cross the state line for a weekly (loved) homeschool gathering, holding a well-iced Diet Coke to my throbbing forehead as it begs for just a few more hours of sleep and respite from the meltdown-worthy frustration, all while praying to God that she would just doze off already for this last leg of the drive so that I can have five minutes of peace before I chase her around, again, for the next four hours.  She never sleeps, and I spend the drive counting my blessings in hopes that I can pull myself together enough to make it through just this afternoon and evening until bedtime.  Maybe she will sleep, then. Maybe I will, too.

My friend reminded me today that all of these miserable baby-raising scenarios somehow melt into the cobwebby backs of our brains over time and we begin to romanticize what it is to be in the trenches.  Even from Jackson to Marin I had forgotten so many things.  But I am going to do this again, and somehow I will survive that too and come away from it a better soul.  Or at least that is my hope.  I am learning through much reading, listening, meditation and practice how to calm myself in the face of mayhem, though I am far from perfecting it. I no longer worry about the unsympathetic opinions of nay-sayers who told me I brought these difficult days on myself, or that the easy solution would be to pop my kids back into traditional school, or stop having more altogether.  Instead I have learned to lean on even the idea of the handful of wonderful, supportive select individuals closest to me who serve as my comfortable, welcoming couch and soft blanket where I can rest when I am so tired from all of this good and challenging business.  

It is so tangible to me that I could put it on bread and eat it for lunch, this understanding that anything worth doing-- anything that will really expand us and strengthen us as people, is going to be both difficult and amazing at the very same time.  And raising children, I think, is an extreme example of this concept.  What an amazing, exciting, unconditional love I feel for my children even in the moments where they test me to the last threads of my patience. What can I give them in the ruins of this exhausted, messy, overwhelming morning?  All I can do is explain to them that I have been up all night and that I am so tired, and that I need help to pull this thing together so we can get out of the house.  

I have stopped hoping for easier and continue searching for better tools, and this is what will make the difference.  One foot in front of the other, and this too shall pass, right?

The absolute apple of my eye, and also the reason for the dark circles beneath them.

Coast the East, Part the Second

So when I last left you we were in New York.  

Pretty green ladies, those two above

We spent time at the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island-- an experience I was so happy to give my kids, but also one that I was so grateful to have myself.  We talked and talked about all of the people before us who came through after leaving everything they knew, in order to create a new life for their families. And here we are, generations later.  

Just before heading to Boston we also visited Ground Zero in New York, which I actually didn't end up photographing at all.  Much of the area we were in was closed off with fences and barriers, and there was quite a bit of construction going on, it seemed.  But being there, even just driving up the street approaching the area, took our understanding of what happened on 9/11 to an entirely new level.  It can be felt throughout the city, we thought, especially with every firehouse we passed.  There are enormous, shadow casting buildings set closely together on every street in New York, and then suddenly this gigantic, gaping hole that takes your breath away knowing why it is so.  

We visited both Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut and then Harvard University in the Boston area.  The architecture is fantastic, though both universities were set in much more of an urban area than I had always imagined them, reminding me more of a Northwestern University setting in Chicago than the Notre Dame campus I had previously believed them to be. Such historic, and downright cool places to see!  We enjoyed pizza on the Harvard Campus, and not too shabby either!

Also, these visits sent me into a mental tailspin wondering at what point I will have time to begin grad school.  (Hello my name is Molly and I have too much on my plate right now to even consider such a thing. Why do I consider such things?)   

And then one of the big moments Kevin had been waiting for- we found Jack Kerouak's grave in a cemetery in Lowell, Massachusetts.  I think Kevin has read just about everything the man ever wrote, and I was so glad we had the chance to get out there.

...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time.  The ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like the fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop, and everybody goes, "Aww!"  -Jack Kerouac

Old cemeteries in the peak of fall?  Awesomeness.

Cape Cod and Plymouth Rock were fantastic to see as well, though sadly our experience with Plymouth Rock will forever be remembered as The Time We Dragged Our Kicking Screaming Toddler From A Quaint Shop Loaded With Glass Trinkets, Jellies and Disapproving Elderly Folk.  Thankfully no one was hurt in that episode.  Not even the lady who failed to keep her comments to herself.

We were the closest to the Atlantic Ocean when we stayed up in a stand-alone cabin up in Kennebunkport, Maine, just a quick quarter mile to the shore.  Here is where I prayed that God would expeditiously relocate all of our worldly possessions right to somewhere- hell, anywhere in Maine, where my family and I could live in peace and harmony and nature forever.  

Magnificent, that place.  

Also in our little beach cabin in Maine is where I prayed for heeeeeat, not that you could ever tell we might need that by my two smallest children parading around the beds like the dog days of summer were upon us.  Meh.  

October temperatures reached the thirties that night, and unfortunately our cabin was both poorly insulated and only heated by two space heaters: one of which was definitely left behind by Benjamin Franklin on the occasion of his chilly October visit in 1765, and another newer model that frightened me just because I had already seen the old one first.  

I could not run those things while we slept.

This is me early the next morning on the little pullout couch in the living room, dressed in everything my suitcase had left to offer, beneath double blankets.  I had just finished taking the coldest shower of my entire life, and my hair was frozen.  And probably my eyes, here, too.  Kevin thought it an appropriate time for a photograph.  Aah memories.

Maine and I reconciled very quickly.

We took our children to breakfast at a tiny, adorable coastal cafe where we totally should have known better to ever set foot in with three children, and then headed for the mountains of New Hampshire.

Oh the White Mountain National Forest...

Did I mention that we were experiencing all of this in the fall?  

It was stunning!

I was clearly freezing again, up in the mountains, but I couldn't have cared any less.  All the way through New Hampshire and Vermont the scenery was breathtaking.  We drove and drove that entire day, occupying the kids with whatever their hearts desired just because we didn't want to miss a thing.  The roads were winding, a bit of snow came down for the first time in the season, and excited in the moment Kevin and I grabbed up inexpensive t-shirts in a New Hampshire roadside shop that read "New Hampshire: Live Free Or Die."  

Yes.

The end of our journey saw a rainy visit to the New York side of Niagara Falls and a pretty sunrise over Pennsylvania.  

And we headed home to say Ten Happy Years of Marriage, thirty seven states, hearts full of memories and hopes for another adventure soon.  

Reasons to smile

We received an offer on our little old house this week.  It was from the young couple that walked through in the first few days we hit the market last month. We countered the offer, and it was accepted.  It was accepted!!  Assuming that all goes smoothly, we should close by the end of next month.

My dear friend Bree and her husband Luke?  Are joining our family in the Parents Outnumbered By Children Club.  I cannot express how much our excited, blissful conversations about this beautiful new baby have brightened my week.

I am so blessed with people in my life who are beyond supportive-- whatever the term is for people with whom you can be so unapologetically honest, who feel so safe and are without hesitation willing to scrape you up from the proverbial puddle you've melted into on the floor before their feet, suddenly and without warning. These are the friends we all need in our lives, and I am so grateful for mine.  And for you guys.

Today Kevin and I officially reached ten years of marriage.  Before our trip, before bad news and laundry and before Halloween festivities with the kids, I thought I would do some sort of video something for our ten years.  Or write something thoughtful.  Or shower before five p.m. or have a sitter lined up for us to go out to dinner together.  But as things stand, year ten finds us in a place that is perfect.  The kids and I shared a quiet day and eventually managed showers and non-pajamas before the five of us converged on a (thankfully) noisy Mexican joint for what turned out to be a celebration of the beginning of our family, as per my eight year old.

I was finally able to go through our vacation pictures today.  All thirty-eight hundred of them, which sort of works out since we drove thirty-three hundred miles this time (a whopping four hundred less than our last big road trip). That's about a shot a mile.  

Making our way through the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia

I was thinking on this trip that we are finally safe to consider ourselves travelers.  We have now been through thirty-seven states together, and even a couple months ago when travel could have been the easy martyr for the unexpected financial hit we took with the old house, I stuck my neck out and pledged to save money in any way except for sacrificing this understood priority of ours.  We live for the chance to be out on the open roads, and have already discussed which countries we move onto after we finish with the nifty fifty. (Beyond Ethiopia next year, that is.)  This is an education and life experience that can happen in no other way, and we love it.

Connecticut, Oh My God

While my family took road trips to many parts of the country as I was growing up, we never made it out to the East Coast.  This was my very first time heading in that direction, and Kevin had only been to certain parts as a kid. We were determined to see as much as humanly possible, and this journey did not disappoint.  

As a family of crazed history lovers, getting into Washington DC that first night held nothing short of an excitement comparable to our first Tour de Disney.  I couldn't believe that everything I had ever read in books or only seen in pictures was right there in front of me.

The Thomas Jefferson Memorial:  I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.  

Visiting the enormous Lincoln Memorial was every bit as awe-inspiring as I thought it would be, but just in the few minutes before we climbed the stairs to go inside, I turned and realized that we were standing in the exact spot Martin Luther King stood in when he gave his I Have a Dream speech in 1963, and right in the middle of all those tourists and my energetic children, I burst into tears. (I know, you guys, I am not even a crier.  Apparently this time in my life is a bit overwhelming on multiple unexpected levels.)

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.  I have a dream today.

Wow, right?

There was really no question, that our nation's entire capitol city was built with greatness in mind.  It was surreal.  We walked our kids' little feet off in the days we stayed there, and we could have easily spent the entire trip there, just exploring.  We will most certainly be back.

Also surreal, though in a completely different way from DC, was Philadelphia. Our initial reaction as we rolled into downtown Philly at lunchtime on a weekday, was one of Holy Shit-- it's History, Cheese and Onions!

Chicago has got to catch onto this cart thing.

In Philly we explored central historic places such as this, 

as well as places like this, which in some ways didn't even feel like 2010 America.  This was the 9th Street Italian Market, with tightly laid out streets lined with awnings, tables and storefronts selling fresh fruits and vegetables and meats of all sorts.  It was block after block of this, and just really, really neat.

Also indescribable was the diversity in Philadelphia. Kevin and I would point out to each other, Oh look at the Jewish market!  Next to the Mexican restaurant! Across from a crowd of white collar black, white, Asian and Indian folks with a few noisy construction workers thrown in, all waiting to cross the street for the nearest Cheese Steak Cart, obviously. And then down the very next block a crazy man with a knife who might kill you if the light doesn't change fast enough.  It was really cool, and also a bit chaotic.  Half of me wanted to live there while the other half wanted to floor it to the expressway before we even got a glimpse of the crack in the Liberty Bell.  I've never had quite that experience before.

Um, not that it stopped us from partaking in the famous local cuisine, you understand.

Geno's and Pat's are kiddie corner to each other, and fierce competitors.  And we were equal opportunity taste testers.  We had to be fair.  

For the record, we preferred Geno's for the straight-up sandwich, but liked Pat's for the variety of choices.  You can put practically anything on a steak sandwich.  Who knew?

Life List #76: Brooklyn Bridge

The really neat thing about driving across the eastern states is that so many of them are incredibly small, and if you doze off for even a few minutes (heh, not while manning the steering wheel, preferably) you might miss one.  My kids are used to driving across places like Georgia or Wyoming where you can navigate on the same unrelenting highway in one gigantic state for something like fifteen hours and you swear you've seen that same town or tumbleweed at least nine times.  Not on the East Coast, though.  Three pages of Mad Libs and you've gotten yourself from Washington DC all the way through Wilmington, DE, Baltimore, MD, Philadelphia, PA and straight into the heart of New York City. Now look who's not even stopped to pee!

Growing up a Chicago girl I have always wondered about New York.  Could it really be that different from Chicago, with the skyscrapers and the traffic and the crowds?  We drove across Staten Island on our way in, onto Long Island and then right into Manhattan at exactly five o'clock.  It happened this way completely by accident, of course, but the traffic was both completely expected and actually not that unusual for a big city.  Driving to all of the different major NYC sites I was surprised by two things: one, Manhattan went on forever. Forever!  I've always known Chicago to be the third largest city in the US, but Ohhhhh Riiiiiight...Our two point nine million people compared to New York's EIGHT million.  Well. That changes things.

The second thing that got me was the realization that my city?  Is not feeding me half as well as some of these East Coast cities.  New York has everything from Halal Carts on every corner offering every cuisine imaginable, to Mom and Pop diners to coffee shops and upscale deli's.  That, and boutiques.  Boutiques for art, boutiques for clothing, for furniture, for jewelery, for baby gear.  If you name it, someone is selling it in their own little original shop.  Hear this, Oh Walmarts.

There were a few biggies we planned visits for in New York City itself, as we walked and walked and walked.  The most important to our kids, of course, and the one reason they were so willing to tread miles on foot, was for their long awaited visit with what we knew to be The Big Toy Store.  From even before our trip we had promised that they could pick out a toy there, and we did crazy things like show them the giant piano from the movie Big.  We worked with all the cheesy pre-NYC knowledge we had.

When we were in Lexington, Kentucky, our children asked when we would be at the big toy store.  When we were at the White House, they needed to know how many days until the big toy store.  When we parked the car in New York wanted neither meals nor Central Park nor a thousand downpours of white granulated sugar rained down from the heavens.  They wanted the big toy store.

We arrived, finally, at the long anticipated toy store at seven twenty p.m..

The big toy store had closed at seven o'clock p.m..  

!!!

!!!...

!!1111!!!$*!#@!*&!!!!

Let this photographed moment be from now on understood as F-A-OH-SHIT.

On a Tuesday night!?  In New York City!?  

(Needle scratches across record.)

We didn't even know what to say to them.  It was a massive disappointment, and the only thing we could offer was a trip back the very next morning.  There was no way around the toys.  And yet the night still needed some salvaging.

Ice cream before dinner right in the heart of Times Square helped a little,

until we came upon the best kept secret in Times Square, apparently.  The Worlds Largest Toys R US lives there.  

Note my children:  KJ as the oldest, fully comprehends what a three story ferris wheel in the middle of a toy store means.  Jack, a four year old partly dazed by all the blinking lights-- my God the lights-- mostly gets it but remains mildly skeptical.  At first outdoor glance this appears to be the runner-up toy store of the evening and quite possibly his parents' way of squirming out of yet another day's parking fees in Manhattan. Two year old Marin's little mind is hardly on this planet, let alone in the middle of loud, flashy Times Square for toys.

Just.  Mind blowing.

I crossed off Life List #1 and my children each scored a souvenir and one hell of a ride with their dad on the ferris wheel.

More to come, lest I author here some sick sequel to War and Peace.  And as a side note, as I technically post this at 3:30am on October the 29th, it is no longer our tenth wedding anniversary but now my parents thirty-third wedding anniversary, so happy day for them. 

October Sunset

I think this one falls under Do What You Love, Love What You Do.

Sunset over Lake Michigan, at our favorite beach spot.

The Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore brings us just far enough around the bottom of Lake Michigan that on a clear night, we get a sunset and a unique view of the Chicago skyline.  

No two sunsets are ever the same.  I have given full attention to a fair many of them, and each one has been just as breathtaking as the last but also completely its own.  I always find myself sure that I never want to leave this moment.  

This night, everything turned golden and red.  

It was gorgeous.  The red glow was absolutely gorgeous.

Often when I watch a sunset I have to remind myself that the sun is the constant and we are what is moving.  It may appear that the tiny glowing sun is what is slipping away, but really it is a ball of energy and fire ninety-three million miles away, more than one hundred times our Earth's diameter, and it is a simple rotation of the tiny blue-green ball we live on that creates the illusion that is sun sinking beyond our horizon.  Human life is huge, and also minuscule.

Wedded science and psychology.  You're welcome. 

What was I saying now?

Oh yes, red.

Red glow, red clouds, red reflection on the faraway buildings.

And just as we lose sight of the sun, that redness appears in the clouds.  Another day.

Perfection.

First

So our Florida trip was...exactly what you would expect when you fly to your favorite sunny, familiar vacation spot with your spouse all alone without the kids...to attend the funeral of a person you love dearly.  It was both wonderful and heartbreaking all at the same time.

Cocoa Beach at sunrise

We slept off our jet-lag and swam in the warm, salty August tide, and we had dinner as late as we wanted and spent two marvelous hours in a bookstore one afternoon because we could. 

As an aside, I did get my tattoo last week, which now feels like forever ago.  Really. 

It hurt like hell and we took breaks every four seconds because my brother is nice to me like that.  I can easily imagine that I will do it again.

We visited our usual favorite spots, as well as the hotel we stayed at just about ten years ago for our honeymoon.  Time sure does fly, but that's a post for another day.

One afternoon I found the most sprawling, gorgeous tree that I was sure I could spend my whole life under,

and a new white church! 

Well, a very old, very charming white church.  More of a chapel.  But just beautiful.

  

 I love me a good white church. 

 

About eight years when we spent time down in Florida together, Granny drove us to the cemetery where her husband, Kevin's grandfather, was buried in 1995.  It made such an impact on me, where the lush, beautiful landscape met thousands of perfect white headstones to mark the graves of soldiers and their wives.

I imagine sometimes what it will feel like to be His Wife, and Together Forever.  Gran had the ability to go there more easily in our conversations than the average person, and I wonder if that is because her person had already passed on.  She said that she saw her husband several times in her last few days, and eventually she took his hand and went with him.

The headstones are amazing.  I wish I could somehow know their stories better.

We watched the sun rise over the Atlantic coastline one morning, and witnessed it set over the Banana River one evening.  That's how it just seems to go.  On and on and on. 

==

(I sit here so determined tonight to put write just a little about our trip.  So determined, in fact, that I am falling asleep on the couch as I type this after a long, long, forever long day.  That, we shall approach, next.  And for now I will finally sleep.)

The Colorful Weekend

Earlier this month, I randomly came across a fabric that I loved for couch pillows.  Couch pillows for my tan and black and other shade of tan and tan and tan living room.  I made new pillows, happily.

Have you ever started a tiny, insignificant project that blew up into something much larger?

Making new, colorful pillow covers inspired me to replace some of my larger black & whites with a few of my favorite colorful shots from recent months.

Swapping pictures made me want to frame the canvas my sister painted for us.

And then, um, empty out my living room. 

And take a roller to it. 

A *yellow* one.

We took a break from gutting my main floor Saturday afternoon to team up with Sant & Leslie for a drive up to Holland, Michigan for the annual Tulip Festival. 

(Wait, that's not a tulip.)

Tulip!

Tuilp!

Fields of tulips!

Little girl with tulip!

I should mention that there is pretty much only one way to attract four and seven year old rough-and-tumble little boys (and their father) to a Flower Festival.  And that is to promise something like, games.  Or dirt. 

Fine, the tulips are growing everywhere from beds of dirt.  Inaccessible dirt.  So as we gals had just a marvelous time strolling from flower beds to tented craft vendors, honestly having not much of an idea of what we would encounter at the festival, my poor boys had a keen eye out for The Games.  I assumed there would be games at a festival.  We all assumed that festivals include games.  That would be a proper assumption, no?

Half way through the afternoon my patient child Jackson tugs his father's shirt to inform him:

"She tricked us."

(Snaps another tulip shot.)

(Respectfully places a quarter into child appropriate Therapy Fund.)

We traipsed all over Eastern Michigan that day, admiring the beautiful Maple leaves that have returned to recently barren branches, and watching the orange sun set over Lake Michigan.  We treated the kids to delicious burgers, gorgeous sites, fresh air and fun driving music if nothing else. 

Nothing else being the carnival we encountered on our way out of town, in the rain.

By the (very late) end of the weekend, I had a living room filled with new color. 

A living room filled with color, and new words scribbled at the top of my Summertime To-Do list:

Find children a carnival.  Play games.

May I also remind myself for future reference, that at thirty-one years old I am blessed with a heck of a lot of energy.  And that Monday morning was indeed blessed by a heck of a lot of ibuprofin.  Weekends such as these are the very best kinds.

And Florida

This was apparently our year for travel.  (Love that.)  We had no plans on traveling to Florida this year, and in fact had recently been talking about how great it would be to spend some time with the kids at Disney next holiday season, just before they get their new brother or sister. 

Our plans changed pretty quickly when, two weeks ago, Kevin's granny called to tell us that she's been diagnosed with stage four cancer.  It had already spread throughout her intestines, liver and colon and such, and doctors are allowing her to decide what treatment, if any, should happen.  As if that isn't a difficult enough conversation to have across eleven hundred miles, she reminded us, at the end of the phone call, to tell our babies how much she loves them. 

We did what anyone with a heart and half a savings account would do, and we booked airline tickets to go spend time with her.

 
Terror in the skies. 

(Who, me?)

 
We were able to spend several hours each day with Granny, until we completely exhausted her she needed to rest, and then we'd head out to explore places both new and familiar to us, until our return the next day. 

 
Having spent the majority of our Floridian time in the Orlando and Cocoa Beach areas, and driving up and down A1A on the East Coast, we decided on a whim one afternoon (most importantly, with a sleeping back seat) to explore St. Petersburg and the Gulf of Mexico.  It was just wonderful, and an afternoon with my young family that I hope to always remember.   

 
We hit the beach just as the sun was setting on that chilly evening, and simultaneously began running as fast as our legs would carry us, to the salty waves.  We hopped around on the shore, cuffing our pantlegs and breathing in the ocean air as deeply as possible, loving every minute of it.

 
Genuine happiness.

 
Here, too. 

 
That's how it is when you pay a visit to the happiest place on Earth. 

...And your parents treat you to a lollipop the size of your entire head.

 
Our parents are Idiots!

 
Cinderella, showing off to the neighborhood with her Mad Strandz.  Merry, beautiful Christmas in Disneyworld. 

 
We've now been down to Florida quite a bit since our honeymoon back in 2000, and every time, especially this one, we wonder why it is we're always leaving-- returning home to twenty-eight degrees and snow.  Maybe one day we will just stay.  Wouldn't that be incredible?

(Come on, friends, dream a little dream with me...)

 
Or at least, we should visit again, very soon.

Telling them, herself, how much she loves them.

During which we added nearly 3,400 miles to our car

We have been home for three days now, and I've mostly gotten things unpacked, in between washing ninety-four loads of laundry, cleaning house, running errands, cutting grass, homeschooling, celebrating Sant's 28th birthday and steam cleaning our family room carpet twelve times, thanks to our miserable canine, who decided to it use as his personal pissing space the whole time we were away.  Not that he didn't have an entire entrouage of extended family letting him out and playing with him a couple times each day.  Nonono. 

So as of this afternoon I can add to the list of things I've done, Ordered four hundred square feet of new family room carpeting.  Isn't that the kind of money everyone wants to shell out three days after returning home from a long vacation?  Meh.

At least we have this going for us!  As our very first vacation stop we visited Olympic Gymnast Shawn Johnson's Iowa gym.  KJ has long loved her (whatever long is for a six-year-old) so it was only natural that as we were rolling our tires through her state, we look up Chow's.  Can you see the Playing it Cool look in the boy's eyes?  Endearing and hysterical all at the same time.

(Jack on the other hand...nevermind.)

We have been blessed, and are yet to know whether it be by nature or nurture, with amazing car travelers.  We are very much an on-the-go family, so it was great fun to see so many places across the country with a crew who was, for the most part, patient enough to get there.  We stopped every couple hours for stretches, picnics and to throw the football around, and when we were lucky enough to have all three kids asleep at the same time, we gunned the engine for as long as possible, our own bladders be damned.

Also, we taught them to throw their hands up and scream as we flew down steeply-graded mountainsides.  For effect, you know.

By night two we'd gone from Indiana through Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, quickly into Minnesota, and we sleepily dropped anchor in South Dakota.  There are many bugs in South Dakota.  Less now, thanks to our windshield. 

We visited the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota, by day and by night (maximizing on the Extreme Dork that is our tendency)

and I hooked up with a new Indian Baby Daddy out there

after Kevin ditched me for Sacajawea.  (Jerk)

Lots more quirky fun was had at Wall Drug in South Dakota, where Jack entered into holy matrimomy with a life-sized statue of a 1920's show girl (very scantily clad, and, uh, busty, might I add,) cracking up bus-loads of elderly folk as he conversed with his "Wifey" as she became.  And the only picture I have of Jack and Wifey, my new daughter-in-law, is blurry something awful, and stuck in my cell phone.  Score.

Later that day we finally reached our first major destination, Mount Rushmore!

I had been there a couple times as a kid, but didn't realize until we got there what a child's memory of the place I had.  It was so neat to see it as an adult, and to teach my own children about how the memorial was created, and why, and of which presidents were up there. 

In South Dakota we also visited Dinosaur Hill at sunset one night, which is so simple with its steep climb and aged, concrete giants, but also quite beautiful as it overlooks all of Rapid City, and many, many mountains.  Nothing could complete that evening better than knocking back some serious ice cream for the first time, I think, of forty, on the trip.   

We got up-close with the wildlife at Bear Country USA, which is a driving park filled with free-roaming (duh) bears, and also elk, buffalo, wolves and bighorn sheep.  We put these two out on a bench for hungry animals to snack on, but there were no takers.

Bear Country was the place where Jack purchased his first souvenir of the trip, a black bear named May.  May, the boy, to be exact. 

He loved May like I'd not seen him love many stuffed animals, excited to show May his first dvd, his second state, and so on.  Then we managed to leave May behind, several days later, in our hotel in Colorado Springs.  For the low, low price of twenty-some dollars (more than his original price tag, might I add) May took another route home, arriving on our porch today via Fed-Ex.  It's love, kids.

Next to driving, the thing we did the most of on this trip was swim, for sure.  Back in March when Kevin and I were in California, our greatest expenses involved fancy dinners and we barely saw our (inexpensive) hotel room.  On this trip with the kids, however, quality of hotel (and cleanliness, God Help Me) with indoor pool, water slide and sometimes separate bedrooms and kitchen were of top priority.  Fancy, quiet dinners?  Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaha. 

We swam every morning after breakfast, with the exception of our last morning, when road time was seriously of the essence.  I was so glad to indulge them in that every day, and sometimes even late at night.

After heading out of South Dakota we traveled through quite a bit of Wyoming, the eastern part of which was infinitely flatter than I had imagined, but no less pretty with it's golden grasses and unclaimed wildlife. 

It had a lot of nice buttes, too, heh heh.

And holy hell, may I not forget to mention the Casinos! Everywhere! in South Dakota and Wyoming.  Gas station casinos, restaurant casinos, strip mall casinos, old fast food restaurant buildings turned into casinos...  Crazy about gambling out there!

Being only half-way through our trip route, (now getting into Colorado!  See Rockies!?) I better pause here and check on my children's whereabouts.  (Only half kidding.)  I will be back with part the second soon.