Hikes

After a balmy weekend the weather snapped back to chilly 

and I spent two days working up the courage to brave being cold.  

And it's not even that cold 

but somehow 40 degrees seemed intimidating.  

The only logical thing to do with such temperatures is stay inside and bake cookies.  And drink tea and read books.  

Unfortunately too much indoors plus too much pumpkin-oatmeal-chocolate-chip-cookie dough isn't a good combination for our clan.  And drinking tea and reading books (quietly to yourself) doesn't appeal to the dominent demographic.  And, honestly, I can only read "Llama Llama Learns to Share" patiently so many times.  

So today, in a fit of desperation (too dramatic?), Jon loaded us all in the car, drove up the road, dropped us off, and left for work.  

We had one of the best hikes ever.  I'm so thankful to live near long, meandering trails that can leave you feeling miles from neighborhoods, cars, piles of toys, unwashed dishes, bad attitudes.  It was what we needed.

How silly of me then, to reach a natural pausing point, a playground of logs and mini bridges and feel...rushed.  

Where   else   did   I   have   to   be?  

I had to fight the urge to hurry my little companions along.  The urge to say, "ok...only one more jump.  only one more restaurant hot-dog order.  only one more race across the bridge." 

Why? Was I trying to bring the grumpy back?  Did the four off-white walls of home seem suddenly super appealing?  

This is when I rely on the Holy Spirit to illuminate sanity.  To whisper "chill out for five minutes and let those children play forcryingoutloud." 

So we played.  And the longer we stayed the easier it was to   stay.

Complimentary

Our two breakfasts.

Having breakfast with Jon is a treat. Usually our sleeping schedules aren't synchronized or one of us isn't hungry. But when we both sit down together with our tea/coffee and eggs/jelly toast my whole day feels brighter and more purposefully.

He is definitely the sweet to my savory.

Thirteen Twelve

 Twelve hours.  Thirteen photos.  Normal Life (filtered). 

9:12 am.  Each of us in our corner.  Quiet morning wake-up.

10:12 am.  Quick snack before pre-school hour at the library.

11:12 am.  The Discovery Room at the library.  Our first time.

12:12 pm.  Just checked out our books!

1:12 pm.  Kids napping, candles freshly lit, chai tea on, pumpkin roasting in the oven.

2:12 pm.  Typing a little about Owen and Ever in my journal.  

 3:12 pm.  Ever is just up.  Looking through some photos on daddy phone while she snuggles.

4:12 pm.  Making pumpkin oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

5:12 pm.  Reading books together.

6:12 pm.  Dinner time.

7:12 pm.  Out for a walk to see the Christmas lights.

8:12 pm.  Starting the last book with Owen.  

9:12 pm.  Dishes.

sneaking in a little second breakfast.

Two

Two. 

Honestly...I don't know if time is actually legitimate.  It seems far to fluid to be a concrete, measurable entity.  Everly has been in my life for ever.  There is no way that this smiling, mischievous, excitable, funny, cuddly bundle of human honey hasn't been here, just as she is now, for much longer than 730 days.  

But apparently it's only been two years.  (Calling your bluff, time.) 

It was a very low key birthday for our low key girl.  Plenty of big squeezes and sappy mama eyes following her around all day.  More than required repetitions of Happy Birthday (which she insisted on singing to everyone except for herself).

A cheesecake (she doesn't like regular cake?  or chocolate??) from daddy with strawberries (her choice).  A few plastic animals are now her favorite toys.  She takes her (small) private zoo everywhere now.  A new coloring book.  Just a few simple things that I knew would make her smile without overwhelming.  That smiles means everything to me.  

Oh, and balloons, of course.  The best present.

Speaking of best presents...Everly got a special skype call with her best birthday buddy.  

Nana and Ever blew out their candles together and we all sang to two of the most important, and loved, ladies in our lives.  

It's so wonderful that these two have such a unique birthday bond.  

Oh, Ever.  You are loved beyond measure.  

And even if you've only been here two years 

there was never a time 

when my heart didn't hold you close.  

Life Keeps on Moving

The sofa forts are in constant rotation - up and down and up again.  Nap time is from 1 to 3 followed by a walk.  Some days we paint and some days we just read but outside of simple variation the days look and act very much the same.  

Sometimes my progress feels slow.  The push to see more correctly, act more responsibly, mature more quickly.  The constancy of each day is comforting in these times.  Tomorrow will bring the same challenges...each one familiar but still a fresh chance to try again from a different angle.

So I remind myself that there is aways movement beneath the surface.  The complex buried in the simplicity of routine.

I, like many others, tend to romanticize dramatic changes: the new job, the move across the globe, marriage, childbirth.  Those result in complete personal upheavals, clear and concise before and after pictures.  Or so I seem to think.

This season, though, has shown me depth of value in slow, steady growth.  A softer response to the same whining request.  A greater commitment to the work I've been given.  Less weariness when, at the end of the day I walk over to take down the fort and put the cushions back on the sofa.  The cushions that will find their way back up in the morning.

Every day that I see a little more love, patience, kindness, faith, obedience, respect, dedication, industriousness...those days are victories.

First Baseball Game

A few weeks back now, my sister Leslie was in town with Jeff and we all decided to head down to catch a baseball game in DC. It was Owen's first professional game and, most likely, his first game ever, but he was excited nonetheless.

Here we are walking into Nationals Park.  It was hot and I'm not even sure I remember who the Nats were playing (I think the Brewers?).  

We were up in the nosebleed section but it really didn't matter.  We had some shade from the sun and a great view of the park.  We couldn't see much that was going on and definitely couldn't see the ball, but O seemed to remember best how the pitcher would kick his leg up in the air before throwing the ball.

Actually, I may have just lied a little bit.  I think what he remembered most what the gallon of soda that dad shared with him... and maybe the hot dog and ice cream (courtesy of auntie Leslie). 

We surprisingly made it to the 5th inning when Owen looked at me and said, "Daddy, can we go home now?"

I'm proud of that boy!!