My 2 main men

Today Jason and I have been married for 9 years. I realized the other day as I looked at our one-week old little Sammy that not only is it nearly impossible to believe that J and I are the parents of three kids, but I'd never really gotten used to the idea that we're parents at all. It just seems so recent that I was practicing eye contact in my favorite tube socks (the cute ones with grey stripes around the top) as I introduced myself at a Baptist Student Ministries mixer. What did I remember about him? Amy's little brother is really, really tall. What did he remember about me? I looked right at him. Just a little proof that God is in the small things.

Anyway, here we are, 12 years, 4 addresses, 8 jobs, 2 pets, (almost) 3 college degrees, 596 miles, and now three amazing children from that moment, and it feels like it all started yesterday. I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.

Lost in translation

Jason loves his job. And he's an amazing teacher. Latin and Ancient Greek don't always sound appealing to teenagers. They sound hard, old, and generally un-fun. But J's class is different. Here's a quick story from his class yesterday.

Mr. Lichte: So iste means "that dastardly one." Does anyone use words like that these days? Do you guys even know what that means?

Class: Blank deer-in-the-headlights stares.

Mr. Lichte: How about "that sneaky person?" Do you guys ever say things like that?

Class: Blank deer-in-the-headlights stares.

Mr. Lichte: So John,* what would be a better word? Something you'd use that everyone would understand?

John: [Thinking...] A**hole.

Mr. Lichte: Absolutely not. You know that's not an adjective. We need an adjective. Try again.

John: [more thinking...] Sh*##y.

Mr. Lichte: Maybe we should just stick with iste.

*Name changed to protect the innocent (and creative).

The first baby pics

Is this not amazing?!? I know I'm Mom, but seriously. This kid is in my BELLY! at this very moment, and hasn't ever seen the outside world, yet I can see him so clearly! The photo isn't even a photo - no camera involved - it's a 3D ultrasound. And the most amazing part of all is that just 35 (not-so-short) weeks ago, he was just a thought in God's mind. Or maybe a cell. And I did nothing. God "knit him" in my womb as I drank Dr. Pepper and ate millions of bowls of cereal. Incredible.

Candy cuteness

What a crazy, silly holiday. Fun, messy and, except for the sugar highs readily available for months afterward, exhausting. Neat opportunity to learn about giving to others for no reason, though. And I'm the learner in that scenario. I wanted to keep all the good stuff, but Zoe was at least as excited about handing it out to kids who would come to "visit" as she was wearing a tutu and leaving a glitter trail all around the neighborhood. So we gave away the good stuff (except for the Reece's pieces I smuggled into the pantry without her noticing...).

Whatever the origins of the holiday, at our house it's just become a good day to be together, be outside, dress up, and eat junk. Kind of like college for kids, now that I think about it. Anyway, it provided lots of good photo opportunities, and the girls had me in stitches all day long. And even if we do have enough candy to put a dino in dentures, those pudgy, sticky sweet faces at the end of the day were worth every single "That's enough candy today!" I'll have to say all month.

Maple Leaf mini-lessons

Maple Leaf was perfect this year. The weather was amazing, the girls were happy, J finished football early and made it in time for Zoe's parade debut, and some sweet friends joined us for a walk and a few roller coaster rides. And I learned a few things on this particular crazy day.

Lesson 1: (This one I should have known from growing up a small town girl. Duh.) Don't even try to drive in a small town on a festival day, no matter how early you think it is. Although we had to go all the way across town (maybe 2 miles?), we could have walked faster. 9 months pregnant.

Lesson 2: $6 is too much for a funnel cake. Evidently, even I have limits on how far I'll go for one. Who knew?

Lesson 3: Apparently, life doesn't really "calm down" after the nursing is over, the walking has started, or after the diapers are in the past. The busy craziness just moves out of the house. Parade, birthday party, a visit from friends, and a shift at Kiddie Land. Whew! What a whirlwind of wonderful, happy excitement.

Pumpkins, punkins and cheese

Zoe's preschool class went to the Pumpkin Patch yesterday, and parents and siblings were invited to come along. So come along we did!

The girls seemed to be a little overwhelmed by all the vines and leaves around their feet, but the jungle gyms were a big hit!

In case anyone wanted to feel sorry for J, don't. He was almost too enthusiastic about missing the trip. Dusty fields and haystack mazes are about as fun as an asthma attack (which usually follows) for my allergy-prone hubby.

What did one alien say to the other alien as they sat on the couch in their pajamas holding their flying saucers?

"You look really silly."

Washing machines are good...

Have you ever found yourself at a place in life where you feel like you’re in a rich person’s washing machine? Okay, probably not. But that’s the feeling I have right now. I’m surrounded by good things. Pretty things. Quality things. Things I’ve dreamed of having but never expected to actually have. But it’s all crammed in here spinning me around and around and honestly, I’m feeling a little dizzy.

I’ve probably been on my high horse a thinking that our “calm” lifestyle was so much better than the busy lives we see around us. So that’s what I get. WHACK! I’m on my tookus and seeing stars.

And that pretty much sums it up. We’re in a wonderful swirl of happy craziness (which, frankly, puts both picture-taking and blogging way down on the list). Life’s so good and we’re so very blessed. Even the tough things going on have been evidence of God’s goodness, mercy, and care for us. So I’m not complaining. After all, lots of people pay to be so dizzy. Ever been to Six Flags?

She's out there on her own...9 hours a week.

It's officially begun. She's started school. Somehow, from this point of view, it doesn't seem to matter that it's only three hours a day and three times a week. It might as well be college.

On the one hand, I'm so excited. It'll be wonderful for her. At the very least, she needs more social time. Daily she asks if all her friends (who she lists one at a time)can come to McDonald's, come to Daddy's school, come to our house, come to Chuck E. Cheese's, come to our driveway to play with her. Not such a subtle hint.

I'm also very eager to have some good one-on-one time with Addie. Zoe had us to herself for 22 months before Addie came along. Addie's never known our home without another kiddo, and once junior comes, she never will. He'll likely have a couple of years when he's toddling around the house while his sisters are away at school. So I'm glad she and I will have a few hours a few times a week for a few months.

And, honestly, I'm pretty thrilled to have a bit of a lighter load during the week. I am always behind on housework and never have time to start the projects that seem stuck like glue in my head. I know other moms feel just like me, but I also know other moms make it work. They get the laundry done before the pile is taller than their preschooler, get the dishes done before the old yogurt becomes a gel-like substance, sort through the mail before the pile finally falls over when the breeze of my walking by is finally too much for it to take. I want to be one of those moms.

So that's what's exciting about preschool. But then, there's that other hand. The downside. She's my first! And I know school is good and it's not like it's full-time boarding school, but it's somehow a little heart-breaking no less. I spent a good bit of time trying to figure out why I found myself crying as Addie and I drove home Wednesday. And I think I've got it.

She's starting her own life. Melodromatic? Yes. Overstated? Yes. But it made just enough sense to get the tears starting all day Wednesday. In her first 3.5 years of life, we've shared all her experiences. She's been with other people sometimes, but this is school. Think of how much of your life happened in school. How many memories you have. Your friends, your successes and failures, your mentors, your big "aha!" moments. They're at school. And although she was likely waiting with a listening ear somewhere nearby, your mom wasn't there in the hallways with you.

I can hardly wait to know the woman she is to become, and I'm eager to watch and encourage as she's molded by wise hands into that person. But it's just a little hard to let her go.

Psalm 103:17 "But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD's love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children's children...."

You know what's hard? Football. And I don't mean playing it. I'm sure carefully slamming into others so as to knock them down without permanent injury, throwing an oddly shaped object with just the right amount of torque and velocity, and coordinating movements of visually impaired giants with extra weights strapped on are all difficult. But that's not what's hard for me. It's what it takes from a person.

And again, I don't mean the energy and sweat it sucks out of the players and coaches. This is my blog, after all. And I don't play football. But my husband is a coach, so we're a football family. I'm very proud to say that J's so well equipped for that job that there's no doubt in my mind that it's his calling. He's a natural encourager, believes hard work produces results, esteems the role of positive relationships in the lives of those crazy, testosterone driven teenage boys. And of course he's good at football.

He's good at being Dad and my husband, too. We have such a unique family situation. With a teacher and a mom (who's always been a teacher before), we don't even know what it's like to not have June and July together, full time. And since our family has become more than just we two, J and I enjoy sharing household responsibilities and taking turns relaxing. Summers are somehow happily busy, and always together. And that's how we like it.

Which leads me back to why football is hard. We cruise merrily through the summer. Then mid-August hits us, and SMACK! He's gone 6:30am to 8:30pm. If we work hard, we can catch a 25 minute lunch with him, and if naptime goes well, he can join us for bedtime prayers and kisses at night. I know that's much more than wives whose husbands have highly demanding, high-powered jobs, or who work out of town for weeks or months at a time, and infinitely more than single moms. But it's not us, which is why it's hard.

This year, week one was (to be melodromatic) miserable. I mostly felt tired and sorry for myself. The upside for the girls was lots of TV time, lots of pizza, and lots of toys in lots of places. The downside (other than no Daddy silliness or bed jumping) was a strictly enforced naptime, some unique bottom-of-the-drawer, back-of-the-closet outfits, and boredom on a silver platter.

But then Pastor Bill talked a lot about joy in a sermon and it hit me pretty hard that I was being very backwards expecting my joy to come somehow from J or our marriage or family when really I was to grab the joy only Christ offers and then help infuse the family (and others) with a taste. So week two was better. For starters, we boosted our chocolate intake with a batch of chocolate chunk brownies. Then we got out of the house for some field trips, and we even cleaned and did some laundry (though it's still sitting unfolded in the big chair).

And now we'll get it together. We each have a calling. And none of us are called to a life of ease. So while J and the others sweat and shout and slam and stink, I'll remember the joy always at the ready and wash another load. Okay, and look forward to December.

Wow! We went to Paris! And almost as monumental, Momma left my baby girls for 8 whole days! It was a great trip, with amazing things to see, and the most honest thing I can say about having been on the trip is that I feel so hugely blessed. Free plane tickets and free hotels and a great vacation with Grandma and Grandpa for our girls - who could say it was anything other than a gift from a Loving Father and a not-so-subtle hint that I needed a little time away?

I must admit, being pregnant seemed to dominate the trip in my mind and body. I loved every walk, tour, and day trip we took, but seemed constantly reminded that I was sharing the experience with more than just Jason. But I wasn't alone - we counted 17 other pregnant ladies, and 4 that may have been.... It didn't seem so much like the romantic city you hear about in the movies. There were so many families and strollers, each of which reminded me how much easier we had it to be kid-free for a few days.

Jason and I both really enjoyed the Orangerie. It's a small museum near the Louvre built just for Monet's 8 water lily paintings, which were painted just for this building (converted from a greenhouse). Monet's paintings are HUGE which pleasantly surprised us, and we enjoyed the rest of the museum mostly because it was small and digestible.

We enjoyed, among other things, the sounds and smells of a mass at Notre Dame, the stories in the windows of St. Chapelle, the cool air atop the Eiffel Tower, the affordable shopping in the Latin Quarter, the architecture of the Orsay Museum, the flowers and peace at Giverny, and the fountain show at Versailles.

I must admit - the food was a little rich for us, and we weren't quite rich enough for much of it anyway. But we had quite a few yummy crepes, some baguette sandwiches, one incredible quiche lorraine, some really french fries, and an abundance of free "snacks" at the Hilton where we stayed the first three days.

After being home for three weeks, I guess what I remember most is just enjoying the perfect temperatures and having my husband all to myself. In a couple of months it will have been 12 years since our first date. I'm still working on finding the "secrets for a perfect marriage," but it's got to help that we just really enjoy being together.

How quickly they grow

A few totally random tidbits from last week:

Zoe told Jason the other morning, "Daddy, here are your choices. You can dance with me or do something else fun that we like to do together." We usually say something more like, "Zoe you can choose to stop throwing a fit or go to time out." Proof that she's much sweeter, I suppose.

And Sunday after we picked her up from her class, I asked what the story had been for the day. Here's what she told me. "There was a man that got hurt by the robins. And There was a man come by and he had to go to a meeting. And then another man couldn’t help him. And then one more man come and he helped him and he took him to a hotel. And he put a band-aid on him. And he told all the people to keep him better. Jesus says we should act like nice people." And we thought she wasn't much for listening.

Addie, not one to be left out of the story, told Daddy as he left yesterday, "Bye, bye. I uy you," which we're both positive was "I love you" in Addish.

And lastly, today we got all good reports for number three from the doc, and even saw some wonderful pictures of precious toes, legs, fingers, and ... was that a third leg? We'll know better in a few weeks, but are happy all's going well so far : )

The Smeller's the Feller

You knew if I (Jason) was ever in charge of the blog it'd be about gas, right? As the Daddy on Duty this past weekend while Jenny relaxed in Northern Georgia with Cricket in their mutual great-with-childness, Zoe and I had some fun times talking about gas. It went like this, "Say excuse me, Daaaaddy." "I didn't toot Zoe, you say excuse me." And again, "Daaady, when you toot, you have to say excuse me."

After a few rounds of that methane-accusing banter, we realized that Addie was on the bed with us tootin' up a storm. She was smellin' them and dealing them as fast as Zoe and I could blame each other. Addie didn't say anything, but she turned up her lip in a knowing way each time the toots came. In the end, the old adage holds true that she who smelt it dealt it, even if she never said a word.

In a separate (but related) tooting story, at some point over the weekend I must have actually let one slip. Zoe, used to helping with poopy diapers, bellowed, "Somebody's got poop!" "No, Zoe, excuse me, I tooted," I sheepishly admitted.

All in all, we had a great weekend bouncing on the bed and eating pizza and playing at Grandma' house, gas notwithstanding.

[I (Jenny) must add that although I don't really think I like the idea of blogging on my beautiful baby girl's flatulence, J breezed through three days wholly alone with the girls, which is more than I do, so I'm figuring he's earned the right to blog this week. I had a wonderful and relaxing vacation with Jen in Georgia, where I gained a recipe for peanut butter pie that the family already loves. The photo is of Addie "helping" me make it today.]

Camping

Last Wednesday, we were feeling adventurous. J had one week with no responsibility, so we decided to use the opportunity to the fullest. We took the girls camping to a nearby lake, and though the whole trip lasted less than 18 hours, it was full of new experiences and quite an exhausting adventure.

Zoe says, "We went camping with some different friends [strangers with kids who camped nearby] and the Brians and some [aforementioned] different friends and played with them [in the playground by our tents]. Aunt Susan taked us on a hike. We saw white signs and yellow signs and the number five [trail markers]. We walked in the grass and on a little bridge. But Carter didn't want to go anymore but he changed his mind and he went fast fast fast and I telled him to wait up and he did. After that we ate chips [and steak, potatoes, asparagus, and spinach dip!] and we sat by the fire and ate fire and marshmallows [also known as s'mores] and read books and went tee tee in the grass. It [the whole camping experience] was plain old fun!"

Although preggo Mom was tired for a day, Addie gained an unidentified rash, and Zoe was pegged as the sweetest for parasite attacks, we're better for having "roughed it" for the first time all together. And we enjoyed a happy weekend hunting for swimsuits, ticks, and Royals victories, eventually finding all three elusive items. Nice when you get what you look for...unless you're looking for ticks.

the End of May

So very much has happened in the last week and a half. Graduation was Sunday. J was chosen as a reader this year, and did brilliantly pronouncing names like "Abdhouramane" and "Chanthalangsy" and messed up on Ms. Bird. Even my perfect man's human.

Monday we had an impromptu barbeque. The kids (ours and the Brians') even helped make a patriotic cake topped with strawberries and blueberries, but I think the most american part was the chili in the hair, on the face, and covering the clothes of the littlest one.

One of the funniest sayings from the weekend came not from one of my own two cuties, but from my dear ma-in-law. As we prepared for a quick shopping run, she was mentioning the rooms in her house that she'd like to de-clutter. I added the garage to the list, unless it was Sam's territory. She said, "No, the garage doesn't have clutter, just Amy's stuff, and Jason's stuff, and Sam's stuff, and Christmas stuff....except for the box or two of [this]. And, well, there are a couple of boxes of [that]. And I guess some boxes of [the other]." At that point I couldn't contain my laughter any more and we both enjoyed a chuckle. I have her permission to retell the story at her funeral (a LONG time from now) when I ask for help sorting through things, but I'm sure by then I will have forgotten it. Who knows? Maybe it'll get sorted before then. But there are many things in life more important. Like shopping : )

Home

Home is full. This photo is from Jason's annual Latin Lovers' Barbeque. And this is just half of the students that came. Lots of food, a little ping pong, and gifts for all the seniors. Jason loves his job.

Home is busy. The night before, my three 9th grade girls joined me for Tyler Clements' music at the coffee shop, for the new Narnia movie, for a "sleep" over at our house, and then for breakfast and a pedicure. Lots of fun.

Home is not clean. But the cars are. Just in case someone might think us lazy, on Sunday (after naps), J slathered the girls with sunscreen and enlisted their help in washing the cars. Zoe says, "I sprayed in the water with Daddy." But to be clear, she ran from the spray and squealed with delight while Addie splashed in the foamy bubbles.

Home is a free space. We love it when Zoe says funny things at home, but I don't like her free speech everywhere. Her verbal skills often make me nervous. At her checkup yesterday, Dr. Kelley asked her how she got the boo-boo on her ankle. Her reply, "I got burned," had visions of myself in handcuffs getting slandered and left alone in a cell running rampant in my mind. When Zoe finally explained that the scrape was "by the sun," and Dr. Kelley gave his knowing nod, I secretly sighed relief and gave thanks that I'd go home with the kids at the end of the appointment.

And that makes me think of one more thing as I sit here on the couch half listening to Sesame Street with my tutu-clad three year old beside me. Home is good.

Tee ball

What an experience. The sport itself is kind of like a BMX bike with training wheels. All the rules of normal baseball seem to apply (though I know any true baseball aficionados will tell me otherwise), except that the kiddos hit the ball off a "tee" instead of whacking it mid-air. So take 20 three year olds, 15 of their parents and a very nice dad/coach. Put them in a field full of perfect gravelly dirt on a sunny day and ask them to stand in a specific spot to wait for someone they can't quite see and certainly don't know to hit a ball. Right. No one'll be picking noses or building dirt mountains or chatting with Mom.

Being the helpful mom I am, I tried to give very specific and encouraging directions to my little pitcher (which by the way is both the most useless and the most important position on the tee ball field: no pitching, practically all the fielding). "When the little boy in the red shirt hits the ball off that thing, run as fast as you can to pick up that ball, and then throw it over to the girl with the blue and pink glove. Try to be quick before the red shirt boy gets to first base!" Mmm hmm. I didn't even understand that.

After doing remarkably well considering the coaching she was given, Zoe took a turn at first. "But he's standing on my white thing, Mommy." How do I explain that when I never really got it myself? Dad couldn't make it for the big questions tonight, obviously, or this post might sound quite different.

Zoe seemed to have fun with Grandpa and Addie looking on, and after a picnic at the park, she was even excited to talk about it. But I think we're both glad it'll be up to dad from here on out.

Mother's Day

So this was a nice one. Jason asked last week, "Would you rather have your landscaping supplies or sparkle?" Now in most homes, you wouldn't have to ask a gal. But I honestly couldn't decide. Our "curb appeal" is about that of a nice cardboard box, so I've been kind of eager to put some nice flower beds in our front yard. And last year, we landscaped around the play area in the back, and it's been the gift that keeps on giving. (What mom doesn't love that their kids can run out back and play by themselves?!)

Eventually, I decided on the sparkle, though I fully expected to get landscaping stuff with gift money from the parents, so I could have my dirt and sparkle, too. And WOW! A "journey" string of 7 little diamonds on a white gold chain. I feel like a real queen. The jeweler has some sweet thing about how the diamonds' slight increase in size as they go down the row represents the growth of our love over time. But my favorite part was J telling me he knew I deserved the gift after he took out Friday's trash and counted 7 poopie diapers. I just feel blessed to have the kind of hubbie that counts those things. I think.

We chatted with my parents on the way to church, and J's folks came for lunch, naptime (with my new body pillow from the girls), dinner and dessert. It was a great day, and I'm glad to have such a loving family.

Oh, and I spent my money at Pottery Barn on a spur of the moment purchase. Oh, well. Dirt can wait.