baby steps

Fall has always been my my favorite time of year. Not just because of the beautiful colors and the lovely cooler temperatures, but because important significant things have always happened to me during fall. (like changing life directions, like "finding" myself, like meeting and getting to know my husband...)
I just feel fall.
I feel happy, warm, honest, giving...
There is just no better time of year.
But there is one part about fall that I don't enjoy:

Halloween.
Yes, I know some of you are convulsing with sadness and outrage (Heather and Marla in particular), but I loathe Halloween.

You see, fall sets off my inner alarm clock for Christmas planning and shopping. I get in the Christmas spirit in late September so I find it hard to enjoy spending 60$ on some cheap polyester and Velcro costumes that will cause my children to slide into hypothermia by dusk on Halloween night.
I hate spending 15$ at a pumpkin patch just so my kids can gut a pumpkin that will inevitably be smashed by some kids trying to live out their teenage rebellion and leave me to clean up the remains.
I hate buying Halloween candy, eating it, then having to go buy more.
I hate all the horror movies and haunted houses.

I just hate spending all the time, money and energy on a pointless holiday when I really just want to fast forward to one that really matters. (Bring on thanksgiving and Christmas!)

But when you are mom, you don't get to skip holidays. Especially ones that involve your children ingesting lethal quantities of sugar.
So in an effort to be mother of the year, I have made a concerted effort to be more chipper about the whole holiday this year.

Here is my progress:
I bought some candy corn and stuck it in a jar.
I made some Halloween signs and put them in my home.
I made orange colored hot chocolate for the kids. (that stuff is NASTY.)
and I didn't complain once about the cost of the cheap, er, super cool costumes.
And Monday, I took the kids to the pumpkin patch. I let them pick out pumpkins. I didn't go so far as to take pictures, but I took them, and I didn't complain about spending the money on something that will be smashed on my street in a week.
We brought them home and set them on the porch.

And that, my friends, is where my progress shall end.

Mother of the year or not, you can't make me carve them.
In fact, you cannot even make me clean up the mess.
This is when being in a parenting partnership comes in handy.
This weekend, as I lounge on the couch reading a book,
I will let my husband be the mom.

and I am so OK with that.

we knew him when...

Brian and I love music. In fact, our love for good music (the kind you hear and get chills from) is largely what brought us together.
And please do not mistake that statement as any sort of declaration that I have any musical abilities WHATSOEVER.
But, my husband can sing. I mean, really sing.
He can play the guitar. I mean, really play.
He can write songs that will get stuck in your head for a month... (trust me on this one.)
He's our own music genius.
We are very proud of him.

So, naturally, when we had offspring we were sure music would be a BIG thing with them.
And it was.
It always is with little ones.
But then they turned 5.
And start to grow inhibitions.
And the music got buried deep within them.
It only peeks out now when we show them a piece of music genius and they get the chills and ask to listen to it again.

It makes me sad that Jonas, the boy who would sing for anyone, won't even open his mouth anymore.
It breaks my heart that the girl who sang in front of LOTS of people at her dad's concert wouldn't be caught dead on stage anymore.

But the up side to our sad story is him:


He is different in every.single.way.


He needs a stage.



He sings like it is part of him.


He feels it.



He makes us have hope in the musical future of this family.

To a friend...

Dear Val,
thank you for commiserating with me on the cost of this stuff:


It costs an arm and a leg.

Thank you, thank you for turning me onto the Sam's Club version.


It is twice the size and only costs and arm!


Thank you, thank you, thank you
for making the trip to Sam's every few weeks to buy some for me.

Now I can take all that money I am saving and spend it on some ear plugs.

Why?

Because I have a fourth grader and you know what that means:


Jonas came home with the recorder last week and practiced ALL WEEKEND LONG. You feel bad for me?

Well it gets worse:




bless his heart, I think my ears are going to bleed to death and fall off if I don't do something about it soon.


Feel free to commiserate with me on this too.

love,
your nearly deaf, but happy to be saving $ friend,
mel

Dear Home,

We haven't had a home of our own in a long time. Four years to be precise. We really missed it. We loved our old home and my in laws home (in which we spent the last 4 years), but we have never had a home we love so much as you.
I think the best way to appreciate something is to not have it. FOR A LONG TIME. To crave it, and even cry for it a little. Then when you get it, it doesn't matter what it looks like, it is just thrilling.

So, dear house, we like you.

You are neat. You remind me of the 80's.
(See cabinetry.)

You are quirky.
(see laundry in the garage.)

You overcompensate.
(See 2nd kitchen in the basement.)


You have LOADS of fancy upgrades.
(See outdoor thermometer.)

(AND see STAINLESS STEEL pencil sharpener.)


You have lots of "potential".
(See pretty much everything in the house.)

So to sum it all up House, we love you.
Not for what you are,
but for what we are when we are within you...
a family.

One man's trash...

I will let you in on a little secret.
Brian has been known on occasion, to get a teeny bit annoyed with me.
I know this fact is shocking. I know it is difficult to wrap your brain around. You very well may loose sleep over this revelation, but...
it's true.

One thing Brian gets annoyed with is the fact that I let the kids use our camera.
It's not that it's nice by any means, but it's all we've got and my kids do have a poor track record for keeping things in tact and in working order.

So, he does have a point.

But I still rarely heed his advice on this.

Why you ask? (I know you didn't but go with me on this one...)

Because I love seeing the world through their eyes. I love to see what they capture on the lens. The pictures are by no means award winning shots, but they are life.
They are all the little things that I love.

They are all the precious unimportant things:

Like Hailey capturing her dad giving them what he calls the "daily dose" at breakfast. (a thought and scripture to start the day).



Or Caleb shooting his "house" that he worked on tirelessly with his dad while mom worked on homework with the other kids. Something I would have missed had he not taken the photographic evidence:


It's Caleb taking a picture of the things that matter most in this world:
(things that are always discarded somewhere on the floor and I am always stepping over and cursing.)

It's Hailey shooting Jonas holding Porter. Always holding Porter.
It makes me see his goofy side. but it make me look deeper and see the love he has for his baby brother. The tender heart he has. The generous nature he possesses.

it's someone (I don't know who) capturing all we had in our food storage room for the first few weeks:
Hey don't judge me... they were 78 cents! And please don't bring up my post about giving the stuff up. I am not into public announcements of my failures.

It's in all the kids snapping away at all different angles at their favorite toy:

In the last 6 weeks I have taken literally no shots of this little guy. I would have no documentation of him whatsoever if it weren't for my kids. and blurry documentation is better than no documentation. That's what I always say.

It's some random child capturing childhood in a perfect light like this:
it makes me think how someday, I will open the back door and I won't see things like this anymore. It makes me warm and happy to know I see it now.

and it's Caleb, capturing Saturday morning breakfast.


it's the little things that are so important, but that I won't remember 15 years from now. But thanks to my kids and their camera addiction, I get all this documented right under my nose, while I am attending to my other duties. (I threw that in there so it makes cooking and doing the dishes sound REALLY important. It worked, right?)

So now you see why I ignore Brian.
And some day he will too.

Absence makes the heart....

I have been chastised more than I care to admit about my lack of posting. But people keep letting me slide, assuming that I am busy unpacking.
However, I am not.
I unpack a box or two a day. (That is how the lazy move)
Truth is,
Internet, I am just not that into you.
I don't know why.
I sit down and I can't think of anything remotely interesting to write.

Instead I have been spending time:

1. starting and completing little projects that are very low priority, but make me happy anyway.

like a place for the homework:

and a place for the artwork:


2. going to the DI over and over and over in search of very cheap things, like plates.



3. Buying a swiffer wet jet. (side note: I pledge my allegiance to the swiffer wet jet. really. If it were to run for president, I would vote for it... I kid you not!)

4. Sitting in the "library." Attempting to read. (Reading, I am just not into you either....sorry)

5. Staring at my hands. They could use lotion.

6. Baking banana bread... this is interesting because I happen to think that bananas are the most disgusting edible object on the planet.

7. Watch drool fall out of this baby's mouth which is permanently in this position:

(p.s. photo courtesy Jonas.)
(p.p.s. that very gross blob thing on the table are sticky buns. and they taste about a million times better than they look.)

8. Making little things for an upcoming charity event my sister in law is throwing, because I am just that giving:


Overall, on my Internet vacation, I have been semi productive. It has been nice. But the Internet is like chocolate. You can't stay away for too long, it calls you back with it's sweet aroma and rich taste.
OK, wait... maybe the Internet isn't THAT much like chocolate.
But you know what I meant.


So internet... you can count me back in.