Sunday, September 25, 2016

The Baby's Birthday




He may have had a birthday, but Jack is a baby.  He will always be a baby.  I will change his name to Peter Pan if I have to.  Because what would I do without a baby?  I've had a baby for more than 11 years.  Babies are my jam. 

So seriously, don't tell me he's not a baby anymore or I'll cry.  Let me live in denial.  It's the right thing to do.


I will not allow him to grow up, but I couldn't deny him a celebration now, could I?













He's really obsessed with trains right now, so Thomas was a hit.








And I think he loved the stuffed Curious George from Grandma Linda and Grandpa Don just as much.













Thursday, September 22, 2016

My Little Baby Jack


I can't help but picture God chuckling to himself as He sent Jack to our family 2 years ago. Not because He was amused to ruin our false belief we were actually in charge of our family planning, not because, despite my pleading prayers to send me the easiest baby on earth because I was already in way over my head, He wasn't going to oblige. I don't think He was laughing because He knew we would spend the better part of the first year in Colic Hell, and not because He enjoyed seeing us overwhelmed. No, I picture Him laughing because while He knew our life was going to be kicked into a whole new gear, He also knew how a baby can heal the aching heart of a sibling, He knew that camping and hiking were about to turn into real adventures, He knew a hole would be filled that we didn't realize was empty, He knew that Jack and Finn were about to be reunited, He knew that Jack would cinch us closer together as a family and cause us to pull into a true team, He knew how much we would love his laugh and his face and his hugs, He knew that Jack would keep us on our toes and that because of him we would be doing an awful lot more laughing ourselves. 2 years might be the limit for some folks, but I'm not sure I'll ever stop referring to him as my baby. Always, always my little baby Jack. And I know now, better than ever, that God was never laughing at us, but He is, no doubt, laughing with us. #happybirthdayjack  #two


Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Luke is 9

Luke really wanted to wear athletic clothes for his pictures but I insisted on a shirt with buttons. At 9 years old he is still so himself--smart, quiet, and good. I wouldn't mind if that never changed. 
































































Ava's 11 Year Pictures

It's that time of year again when I realize that my kid's birthday photo shoots are piling up.  So here is Ava, my beautiful Ava, who is growing up so much and turning into a really great friend.  

I try to use discretion when posting on Facebook but this here is my space and I'll post as many pictures of my kids as I want, without even a drop of shame. 

































































Isn't it Ironic?

Since my last installment, sharing my new found freedom of nap time on the days Ava has school,  the boys have been on a nap strike and as we speak, Jack is screaming from his crib, while Finn is sucking on his paci in my bed, watching a movie.

I'm sad to see my window of free time not work out and I think the hardest part is knowing that when they're all grown up I am going to miss this.  But even knowing that, it's still hard to "enjoy it".  But whatever, I will insist upon my quiet time (even if Jack screams through it.)

I've had my eyes on this horse property not too far from where we currently live.  I went through it on Saturday's open house.  I could really love it.  I told myself to forget about it though because our house isn't even on the market and the logistics seem impossible.  But while my memory fails me on a daily basis, I just can't seem to forget it.

We have no idea how long we will stay in Colorado.  There are things we absolutely love about it, like the weather (seriously, the winters aren't even that bad), and the mountains, and the endless hiking and camping options. While Dan and I differ on a few things (like trying to sell our house in the next two weeks and move to the aforementioned property) we meet in a great big bear hug around our mutual love of the outdoors. The scare with his job earlier this year really put us on edge though.  We could stay for a while, or we could be gone in a month.  When you work for somebody else, some things are just out of your control. I have a little gypsy in me too, so moving on to the next thing is never far from my heart. With those types of variables, it always makes you question how much effort to move is worth it.

We bought an older Yukon a few weeks ago.  We've been planning on getting something that can tow a camper for a while, but figured it would be down the road a ways.  But I saw this one for sale, mentioned it to Dan, and he blew it off.  It was older and only had 2 wheel drive (which is not ideal for the snow here). But it didn't sell and so I mentioned it again.  And then again.  Finally, he started to warm to the idea.  It was a good price and it seats 9, which has been a long standing dream for us.  So we bought it.  I was convinced that it didn't sell because it was meant to be ours.  He's prefers to think it was because it was only 2 wheel drive.









Now, maybe I should just hope for a similar situation about this house! Maybe it won't sell long enough for Dan to really consider it.  Actually come to think of it, I see a pattern.  He agreed to marry me after all, only after I had asked no less than 2 times. I try to stop myself from just wishing he would just recognize my ideas for the genius they are the first time I bring them up.  But between our marriage and the Yukon, I guess our M.O. has worked out pretty well.

I just really want out of the suburbs.  I want privacy for my kids to have fits on the trampoline and me not be instantly panicked about them disturbing the neighbors.  I don't want to awkwardly dodge the culdesac-beer-drinking-in-the-driveway-parties.  Do I sound like a hermit? A recluse?  I think I am.  Growing up I definitely identified as an extrovert.  But interestingly enough, as I've gotten older, I have shifted to the opposite end of the spectrum. I want to be in control of my social interactions. I need space. I don't want to feel we are on display when we go in the yard.  And I want animals.  And I want to be surrounded by nature.  I want to let my kids out the back door to run and scream and explore and discover.  Someday, it will happen, I know it. I just hope it's not before these paci-sucking, nap-dodgers are all grown up.