SweetPeanuts

Ms. Vaughan teaches the iPad

2012-02-16T15:49:00.000-08:00

So I think I've figured out some of Piper's future career options - teacher, coach or technology expert. You'll see why . . .

She might be the cutest kid in the world to her mama, but most of all, I love her heart.

Lessons from the back row of the gym

2012-02-12T14:44:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I joined our local gym. I know, I know, it's the new year, what a cliche. I know. I honestly don't even make new year's resolutions. I just really, really needed to get my rear end off the couch. OKAY. And I also couldn't resist the free childcare! (Come on, you've been tempted, too.)

Anyway, it's been a few (cough) years since I worked out at a gym, and other than brisk stroller walks and chasing a prone-to-escape toddler, I haven't had much of an exercise routine. It was rather intimidating to walk into that gym full of muscly muscle guys (and gals) and hoist my unfit self onto one of those elliptical thingies, but I did it. And the funny this is, I went back the next day. And the next. Turns out, I kind of like panting red-faced on a torture device while unsuccessfully trying to avoid seeing my lumpy bits in the mirrors reflecting 365 degrees around me. Yeah, it's FUN! (Why don't you believe me?)

And I've learned a few things so far . . .

As hinted above, there's a reason why they have all those bright lights and mirrors at the gym - so you have no choice but to be reminded, CONSTANTLY, of exactly why you are putting yourself through this torture. ~ jigglejigglejiggle ~
I will always use the ellipticals and NOT the bicycles, stair climber or front-row treadmills. Why? Because the ellipticals are in the BACK of the room; therefore, no one is watching me work out from behind. Being viewed from behind is NEVER good, especially when wearing stretchy-clingy workout clothes.
If someone could please hurry up and invent a sports bra that does NOT make you feel like you're being strangled from behind by a piece of neon elastic, I would be most grateful. In fact, I thank you in advance on behalf of all womankind.
I don't NEED these killer-cute new Nikes, but I received some birthday money recently and I'm pretty sure owning these will help motivate me to work out even harder. Yes, they totally will.

Birthdays, bowling and good news

2012-02-09T15:14:00.000-08:00

Last week was quite eventful for our little family. We celebrated my birthday, Jeremy's birthday and we also made a special trip to Salt Lake City for a doctor's appointment for Piper.

First, the good news. When Piper was still a baby, I began noticing that one of her eyes sometimes misaligns. It will sort of "kick out" to the right, especially when she seems to be in a daydreaming/dazed state. I would notice it on and off and just chalked it up to her eyes still developing. (Okay, I webmd'ed it and that's what they told me).

But earlier this fall, it seemed that she might be having double vision. I would notice her eye veer off and then she would laugh and say, "Two mommies!" or "Two hands!" or whatever she might be looking at. It was hard to know what was going on, but double vision seemed like a likely possibility, and one that wasn't quite "normal." So I took her to the family doctor here in town, but she said we would probably need to take Piper to a pediatric ophthalmologist. The closest one is in Salt Lake, and their earliest appointment was - you guessed it - right on my birthday. Although a slight inconvenience to have to drive all that way for a doctor's appointment, we decided to see it as a good thing since we could celebrate our birthdays in a "real" city.

So we made the long road trip to SLC (only having to pull off the highway once for Piper to pee in her little potty - no accidents! yay!) and headed into the children's hospital. It was definitely humbling to be surrounded by so many little children, some of whom you could tell were seriously ill or preparing for/recovering from surgery. I was grateful that we were only there for a seemingly minor issue. In the end, the doctor told us that Piper does seem to have a problem in that one eye, but he thinks it will probably resolve itself in time. In the meantime, we'll have her checked out every year. If her eye seems to get worse, they can put in her glasses, give her a temporary eye patch or worst-case scenario, surgery. We felt good about the diagnosis and relieved that she'll probably be just fine on her own.

So the rest of the weekend included lots of shopping (for mommy), swimming at the hotel pool (for Peanut) and bowling and a movie for Dad on his birthday (which was just a few days after mine). All in all, it was really nice to get away, celebrate together and give thanks for our healthy little girl.

My bowling shoes might be a little too big, but they sure are cute on me.

Eyes after crying

2012-01-30T22:23:00.000-08:00

It was already going badly. A rough morning start with the leaky diaper soaking her sheets and then the tantrum because I don't even remember why. We battled on through the day, just her, just me, just getting by as the hours stumbled on.

I was already in tears at the kitchen sink, and it wasn't just the ridiculousness of having my feelings hurt because she wouldn't try the banana bread I had made her from scratch. It wasn't just that, or even the monotonousness, the endless cycle of loading and unloading dishes, wiping counters, those gritty, impossible to reach spaces upon the stove. It was the tiredness of being so needed - and worse, of being wanted when not really needed. Like I am a convenience, not a person. Like a maid, not a mother.

And the whole precarious front came crashing down when I heard her stamp her feet and demand that I help her with something I knew she could do herself. I stood my ground and told her this was her job, not mine, that I was busy with other things. Oh, the outrage and stubbornness, and it was exactly what I didn't need at that moment.

So she urinated right there on the floor. Right there. I couldn't believe it.

It might have been an accident, that she simply lost control because she was too focused on her rage, but in the moment, it didn't even matter - the why.

Shakily, barely grasping that last shred of control, I cleaned up the mess, set her aside, and shut my bedroom door. I cried harder than I've cried in a long, long time, and the release of it all felt good - good in the way that pain sometimes does.

My thoughts did not even touch what had just happened, but instead flitted to that place in the depths - the what am I doing with my life? who have I become? is this all I will ever be? it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair, itsnotfair.

And when I could cry no more, I stared in the mirror at my mascara-bleeding eyes and felt the stinging dryness and thought to myself how she asks more of me than I have to give. And it all felt so futile, because I cannot give what I do not have.

And then I forced my heart to go where I knew it should - to prayer, to trying to see from His eyes. So often we feel we can relate to God because He, too, is a Parent. But His resources never run out in the face of a shrieking, foot-stamping child. It wasn't a comfort and yet now I knew how to pray - that I could borrow from His resources when my own have run completely dry.

Ramblings of a novice shoveler

2012-01-24T13:28:00.000-08:00

Even though we live in the "desert," we're at such a high elevation that we tend to get a lot snow. Like, A LOT. A few locals even told us that every seven years they get a very, very big snowstorm, and guess which year this is? Yep! Number seven. However, I think we might have jinxed things. So far, snow has been unusually scarce. This made me very happy . . . until my neighbor (who grew up here) told me that this could cause problems with wildfires this summer. Apparently we depend on the snowmelt in the spring to moisten things up in preparation for those scorching summers. Yikes! There were a few wildfires this summer, but nothing that threatened our area too much. Still, it makes a homeowner a little nervous!

So I suppose we needed the snow that arrived yesterday. Although I was slightly chagrined to realize I probably couldn't get my car out of our cul-de-sac, I couldn't help but admire the beauty of seeing all the dirt and sagebrush covered in a blanket of perfect white. And, really, nothing can compare to seeing the excitement of a certain little girl who's been dying to wear her snow boots in actual SNOW.

She kind of just stood there with this huge grin.

Then she decided to pitch in. "Mommy? I help?"

I appreciated the sentiment.

This was taken today, after some significant sunshine to melt things up. Still beautiful, no?

The thing I discovered about shoveling is that it's kind of fulfilling. You see a problem that needs tackling, you put some hard work into it, and the problem is solved. Immediate gratification! Plus, all those tidy little rows of snow disappearing to reveal smooth, clean concrete underneath? (Can you tell I'm just a tad Type A?) I totally felt like I could conquer the world. Of course, if I had to do this day after day after day, that might change my tune a little (um, a lot). But in the meantime, and until my husband gets home, I will readily take on any snow that dares to fall upon my perfectly clear driveway. But once the husband's home? I might just have to buy him a matching shovel.

Making do and smiling through

2012-01-21T13:09:00.000-08:00

A couple days ago Jeremy left for a lengthy trip to Vancouver. He hasn't had a long trip like this in a while, so it's kind of strange to have him gone. Thankfully, the potty training is still going very well. Piper has mastered peeing and wears undies all day. I usually put her in a pull-up if I drop her off at the gym daycare (although she told the teacher when she needed to go potty yesterday), but I've taken her out in just her undies as well (um, well, with clothes too, of course), and so far, no accidents. She still isn't pooping on the potty, but we'll give that some time. I put her in a diaper for bedtime and naptime, but I noticed this morning that she waited to pee until I had changed her out of her diaper. Definite progress! I'm not sure at what point I can officially deem her to be "potty trained," but I figure she's probably adequately trained for something like preschool. Guess that means I should start hunting for a preschool! She would LOVE to go, I'm sure, although I think I would be a little lonely without my sidekick.

Unfortunately - other than the potty training success - things are not quite ideal with Jeremy being gone. I came down with a bad cold the day he left and haven't been able to sleep due to coughing. So tiring. We also got some snow today, with more in the forecast. This makes me nervous simply because our small car isn't great for driving on slick roads. Also, I really don't want to have to shovel our driveway! (That's the husband's job, right?!) Not to mention one slight problem: we don't even own a shovel. The thing that made me most nervous was seeing the electricity flickering this morning. Thankfully, it's still on and I'm praying it stays.

Despite these issues, things really are going okay. I know the cold and coughing will pass soon and once I have my energy back, the rest will seem doable. Until then, I'm laying low, letting the child watch way more TV than I should, and subsisting on lazy couch dwelling, grilled cheese sandwiches and those little Piper moments that make me smile . . .

"Mommy, my eyes are sick" (her eyes were watering)

"I fink I need some chop sicks" (chap stick)

"Mommy, I have problems"(not a problem in sight!)

"A-member (remember) when Piper was a baby?" (as if she remembers)

While I was crouched in front of her waiting for her to finish on the potty: "Mommy, you so beautiful." MELT MY HEART. Yes, I think I'll survive.

The princess wanted to take charge of dressing herself this day (and, like, every day).

We didn't even have any snow this day. But, still, she insisted on the snow boots.

"Mom, I've GOT this."

Potty talk

2012-01-16T21:13:00.000-08:00

Dare I say it? I think we almost have a potty trained little girl. Woweeeeeeeee!

Remember this summer, when we attempted but abruptly put an end to said potty training? I am SO glad we did that. To be able to compare that time with this time is very helpful. I honestly don't think she was ready then. Sure, I could've kept pushing and maybe she would have caught on after a lot of work and pressure on both of us, but there really was no reason to push it early. I knew it had to be done someday, and with preschool in mind and reaching a big milestone like her third birthday, this seemed like a good time. She was also really showing signs of interest again.

The amazing thing is - and please don't hate me for saying this, but - it's kind of been easy this time. From the first day, she was totally into it. I pulled the potty into the living room so it was easily accessible, and every 15-20 minutes or so, she'll gleefully shout, "I hafta go pee-pee!" and will make a run for the pot. She's even learned to pull her panties down herself. She'll sit there for a while, sometimes going, sometimes not, but we haven't had an accident in four days and she only had two small ones when we first started. I even took her out yesterday and she sat on a public restroom toilet twice. She didn't actually GO, but she thought it was super cool to be using "the big potty."

Being accident-free for so long and seeing how independent she is with this leads me to believe she is ALMOST there. Only one hurdle remains - the big P-O-O-P. This child has either been very constipated or she's gotten pretty good at holding it in. She's only pooped twice since starting and both times were in her diaper (we're still putting her in diapers at night and nap time - I guess that's the next challenge). However, I'm not complaining. I am so very, very proud of this child. I honestly couldn't see it going any easier than this. And THAT, my friends, is cause for celebration. If only we had a Chuck E Cheese in town to celebrate. Maybe a shopping spree at the dollar store will do . . . ooooh, and a pan of brownies (for me, of course).

Thanks to those of you who offered tips, support and back rubs along the way. (No one actually provided back rubs, but I know you would have if you could have.)

A birthday girl and one exploding princess butt

2012-01-12T15:23:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I feel this pressure to throw my kid amazing birthday parties. I swear I've never even seen a full episode of "My Super Sweet 16." I suppose it's because I have these shiny, sepia-toned memories of my childhood birthdays. I'm sure my parents did not have the money to throw us huge parties, but I remember thinking my birthday was like a little slice of heaven on earth . . . presents and friends and games and candy and carefully hoarded boxes of Kraft mac and cheese shipped all the way to Korea from our family back home.

I guess, in retrospect, those birthdays were actually pretty simple. Which makes me feel slightly less guilty about Piper's birthday this year. We knew we didn't really have the option of inviting lots of friends over for a party (still working on that "meeting people" and "making friends" thing here), but we wanted to make her day as special as we could. She's been longing for a doll house, and so we bought her an adorable one when we were last in Salt Lake City. I bought her a tangle of big balloons, made her favorite cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and (attempted to) bake a special Cinderella birthday cake (ohhhhhhh, the cake . . . ). We were going to take her swimming, too, but found out it was only open for adults swimming laps. We managed, though . . . Overall, I think she had a great day!

The beautiful birthday girl.
Her sweet little curls make me want to whimper. Can't handle the cuteness!

Oh, the excitement! She patiently waited all day to open this present, circling it and petting the wrapping paper affectionately. And she totally knew what was inside! Smart little stinker.

I think she was SLIGHTLY pleased. :-)

Hey, the swimming pool might have been closed to kids, but Mommy and Daddy's "special swimming pool" is always open! She probably thought this was more fun anyway.

And then there was cake. OHHHHH, THERE WAS CAKE.

She looks okay from the front (sort of - maybe a little too hip-py and smurf-hued) . . .

GACKKKKKK!!! The cake exploded when I tried to shove Cinderella inside.
But that dang YouTube video told me to do it that way! The internet lies.

Cinderella's butt was beyond saving, but Mommy made a noble effort.

At least she was sparkly.

And someone didn't seem to mind . . .

Huh. Maybe Mommy is a rock star, after all.

Today

2012-01-10T08:14:00.000-08:00

We met the little one we could only dream about.

Witnessed proof of God's fingerprint right before our eyes.

Felt the miracle of fingers, toes, knees and tummy.

Smiled into eyes of sweetest blue.

Glimpsed a hint of that personality about to unfurl.

Began one of the greatest love stories of all.

Today, we reflect, we give thanks, we smile and dance and laugh and play. We celebrate this precious life.

You are so very loved, our sweet Piper Elizabeth girl. Happy third birthday!

Photos by Rebecca Sehn, RebeccaSehn.com. If you're looking for a photographer in the Vancouver area, we highly recommend Rebecca.

The last of Christmas

2012-01-07T16:01:00.000-08:00

So I have about a bajillion (yes, that's a real number) photos from Christmas, which might be why it's taken me so long to update my blog. Actually, the truth is that I've had my nose stuck in a book for about three weeks now, and I DO NOT WANT TO PUT IT DOWN (The Hunger Games series - you MUST check it out).

Anyway, I'm so glad we were able to spend time with both my side of the family and Jeremy's. We saw so many people! And Piper was ecstatically happy to be around all of her cousins. As you can see . . .

Yes, she is yelling, "NAKEDNESS!" over and over in that video. So proud.

And here's the other set of cousins, minus two, who were playing tag football at that moment. Cousins are the best!

Here are a few more from Greenville:

Gettin' some love

Little girl heaven? Elizabeth and Piper became fast friends, bonding over babies . . . and messes.

Oh dear . . . full princess mode! The earrings had me dying.

Jeremy, Julie and "Sparkles" Vaughan

Grammy and Papa

She did NOT want those cousins to leave. I think Kate was determined to take her along.

The day after Christmas, we flew up to Indiana to see my family. Upon arrival, we pretty much immediately hopped into a van and headed to Ohio. Yep, lots of traveling, but totally worth it since we got to see my grandparents and some aunts/uncles I haven't seen in a long time.

This is THE spot to be at Grandma's house. And this is exactly where I loved to sit when I was little, too. Watchin' Grandma whip up her magic in the kitchen and sneaking bites of her famous sugar cookies.

Buddies, bonding over the iPad.

My beautiful niece. Love this girl to pieces!

A pretty new dress from Grandma and Grandpa! Had to try it on IMMEDIATELY.

My sweet grandma and her gag gift from our gift exchange.

Snow! She and the cousins woke up to this our first morning.

"Lemme back in! It's COLD."

"Mina, I fink you need some help."

Best picture ever!

So this was Christmas for our family (minus the multitude of other photos/moments I didn't have room to feature in this post - will have to post on Facebook or Photobucket). All that's left is to put away our Christmas tree. But I'll leave you with this last little somethin' featuring a certain little girl. Shortly before Christmas, we started singing this song to her at bedtime, but on this particular night, she suddenly joined me. I had no clue she had picked up the lyrics! Had to capture it on video. Love that sweet little voice. Hoping you had a wonderful Christmas!

Simply

2012-01-03T22:22:00.000-08:00

We are home at last. Though I have mounds of laundry and literally winced at the layers of grime and gross coating our home, today we simply eased in - played with our new Christmas presents (like my new Keurig coffee maker!), wore our pajamas most of the day (well, I did; Piper wore her Snow White costume), dined on grilled cheese and sorted through all the Christmas cards that had accumulated in our mailbox. It was a good day. In the spirit of easing in, I'm not going to update my blog for now other than to say we had a wonderful time with our families this Christmas. We are truly blessed. Hoping your holidays were extra special, too!

Christmas down south

2011-12-22T18:40:00.000-08:00

We're excited to be back in a very familiar place, Greenville, SC. My husband grew up here and I moved here after college for my first job. In fact, this is where we met - on that fateful blind date almost ten years ago (whoa, feeling old). There's something about Greenville that we both absolutely love; I can't put my finger on it, but it's just . . . comfortable. Familiar. Nice. (It doesn't hurt that it's currently 65 degrees here either.) I didn't live here for very long, but it feels somewhat like home to me. And of course Jeremy is right at home being back in his old house, sleeping in his old bed and visiting old haunts.

Speaking of Piper, she is in heaven here. An adorable little play area is set up on the top floor of Jeremy's parents' house, complete with a full play kitchen, pint-sized furniture and a mini slide. And the room where she's sleeping is extra special. We call it the "doll room." It houses her aunt's old doll house - a gorgeous, huge Victorian - lots of stuffed animals and cradles/furniture for her beloved Rosie. Needless to say, she's keeping very busy.

A few days ago, we also took a very excited little girl to the children's museum here. She LOVED it. And, uh, her parents kind of loved it, too.

With Aunt "Pooh Bear" (this was always Jeremy's nickname for his sister,
plus Piper has another Aunt Amanda, so this works out well)

Need for speed!

This was her favorite part - a fully stocked pretend grocery store, where the shelves are full of plastic food and (empty) boxes. The kids can even take turns playing check-out girl (or boy)

"Do you have a savings card, ma'am?"

Our little neat freak liked the water in theory, but pretty much freaked out at every drop that touched her.

Uncle Evan is an engineer, so he KNOWS what he's talking about...
unlike Mommy, who just kind of makes up stuff. :-)

Awww, I like this one.

We've really been enjoying seeing Jeremy's parents, too (although I've failed to get any photos of them so far). And tomorrow Piper's SIX cousins will arrive with Jeremy's brother and sister-in-law. She doesn't know these cousins since she was a baby the last time we saw them. In fact, two of these cousins are brand new, having been adopted earlier this year. We're SO very excited to meet these new family members. Piper's going to love having these built-in "friends" to cavort with once they arrive (aren't cousins the best?!). Until then, she's quite content (ecstatic, really) to play with Hobie, her aunt's dog.

Next week, we'll celebrate Christmas here, then on to Indiana and possibly Ohio to see my family. How blessed we are to visit with so many of our loved ones! Really enjoying this time away and feeling a new appreciation for being around the people we love. (All the shopping, restaurants and free babysitters don't hurt either!)

Parades are for peanuts

2011-12-12T15:42:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've seen that show "Gilmore Girls," right? You know how they live in that quaint little town where even the buildings are cute and everybody seems to know each other? That's how I used to picture small town life . . . simply put: charming.

Our little town? It's not like that at all - the people are a bit more rough around the edges and most of downtown is filled with old casinos and dusty shops. However, this weekend was like visiting a whole new place. Our town was absolutely cute! Charming, even.

We'd heard rumors of this town really liking parades, but we had never seen one or heard about one actually happening. Apparently we've just been out of the loop. Earlier last week, I heard about a festival happening this past weekend, described as having horse-drawn carriages rides, kiddie train rides, music, food, a parade and even fireworks in the evening. I wasn't expecting much - although it sounded fantastic - but we were very pleasantly surprised. Peanut, especially, had a great time.

"Let's get this started, Mama!"
They shut down most of the main streets downtown and filled the area with food vendors,
a stage for music, kiddie rides, carriage rides, etc.

She's slightly terrified of Santa (but warmed up to him by the end of the day - see video at end)

She rode the "train" all by herself. We were so proud! She did get a little scared by the end (hiding her face in her mittens), but it was adorable (and free!).

Santa's workshop was set up in a jewelry store. They had coloring pages while you waited to take your photo with Santa. She was happy to just wave at him from the outside, though.

There's one of our casinos. Yeehaw! She loves the polar bear on the outside of the building.

Ice sculptures!

Horse-drawn carriage rides (this was a little too popular, so we didn't get a chance - maybe next year!)

We met a princess! (This is the beauty queen for our town. She's actually our realtor's daughter,
so we got hooked up with a special photo opp)

Daddy and Mommy had hot chocolate while Piper played with her gingerbread man
(which she refused to eat, of course).

All bundled up and waiting for the parade to start. Someone was a little excited.

She kept saying, "Ohhhhhhh."

She could care less about candy, but she still had fun collecting the candy that the parade people tossed our way.

Gorgeous horses!

I think she was slightly over-stimulated/stunned by all the sights and sounds. Either that or she was frozen solid.

Awww, there's a smile! One of the parade people singled her out to give her a stuffed animal. She loves this doggy.

We waited for the fireworks to start from inside our toasty-warm car. We didn't even have to get out since we had a perfect view from the front seat.

Cue Charlie Brown Christmas music

2011-12-05T20:31:00.000-08:00

For some reason, Christmas this year seems like a really, really big deal. Maybe because Piper is old enough to grasp the excitement, or maybe it's being in our own home or simply having the time to slow down and appreciate the small things.

After we got back from Thanksgiving, I was so excited to put the tree up. We kind of had to do it right away anyway because Jeremy was going out of town right away, plus we're only here a few more short weeks before we take off for the east coast.

Therefore, UP, the tree went.

A little fairy delivered the star.

Following a tradition we started last year, we each opened up a new, specially chosen ornament. Piper's was a gingerbread man (which she calls a "ginger boy")

Daddy got a soccer ball and cleats.

I love my mini Starbucks cup! I'm sure no one is shocked. :-)

We also pulled out the toy Nativity set Piper received as a gift last year. She loved it even more! She's spent a LOT of time playing with it this week. Although I did hear her getting mad at Baby Jesus today because she couldn't find Him ("Baby Jesus! Where ARE you?!")

I've also been rather ambitious on the Christmas crafting front (and I am not a crafter, I'm afraid). I've now started three projects, all of which are incomplete and dragging along: homemade Christmas cards, a tree skirt and a wreath for our door. Hey, I'm trying. Apparently some people love this kind of thing. Apparently I don't. At least I can say I tried, right?

Thanksgiving two thousand eleven

2011-11-29T23:36:00.000-08:00

So it's not technically too late to blog about Thanksgiving, right? I mean, I'm clearly still within a week's timeframe. Of course, our household has already entered full Christmas mode, but that's okay. Because I have lots of CUUUUUTE pictures for ya! Mostly featuring three little pipsqueaks who had a grand time together at our Thanksgiving hurrah.

Directly after leaving Vancouver, we flew into Salt Lake City, then hit the road, heading for Denver. It's only about six hours away, and I was strangely intrigued about driving through Wyoming. WYYY-OMING. I don't know why I just wrote it that way. Perhaps because that's how I say it in my head, as if it's a word you just HAVE to drag out with a southern drawl. (shrug) I'm just weird like that.

Anyway, we arrived in Denver at my good friend Val's house, where my high-strung daughter immediately began terrorizing her two well-behaved little boys. I mean, MAN. I'm tellin' ya. We were in full time-out mode the whole time we were there. A total stranger could've walked into that house, pointed at my kid and said, "That girl is an only child, isn't she?" Let's just say, we need to work on sharing. And NOT pushing. And NOT yelling or being bossy. (I won't tell you that this child hauled off and HIT her mother today for the first time - OH-YES-SHE-DID.)

Here's my perfect angel child and her two adorable boyfriends, "Eaffin an Carder" (Ethan and Carter).

Ethan on the left, Carter on the right, Piper in the middle of the Cuteness Sandwich.

Cuddles

How does this woman look so calm and collected while juggling, like, a thousand dishes at once?

The feast, and the cooks. Okay, ALRIGHT. I didn't cook, but I did wash some dishes and chop some veggies 'n stuff. I also did NOT set fire to Valerie's kitchen. You're welcome, my friend!

Um, make yourself at home, Piper.

This is the picture taken just before we set out for some serious Black Friday shopping on THURSDAY night. That's right - we brave ladies stood in line, we waited, we froze our tushies, we pepper-sprayed (no we didn't), we conquered.

In this photo, we were supposed to be giving our
"WE'RE-TOUGH-CHICKS-SO-BACK-OFF-WE-ARE-SHOPPING-WARRIORS" look.
Totally intimidating, right?

Yeahhhhh

WYYYY-OMING!!!

But, seriously, it's pretty, right? This was the view from our hotel.

(For some reason, I failed to capture photos of the husbands - sorry, dudes!)

Many thanks to Valerie, Craig and their boys for a lovely time! We missed our families, but we had such a great time.

Vancouver wrap-up

2011-11-20T16:31:00.000-08:00

Wow, I can't believe we only have one full day left here. These past few weeks have absolutely flown by. We've been busy with friends, old haunts, a trip to Seattle, even a date night last night and another service at our old church today. I suspect that our Tuesday morning flight is going to totally be a bummer! On the other hand, we'll be going directly to my good friend Val's house for Thanksgiving, which I am really looking forward to!

Good times in Vancouver . . .

Dinner in a real train car! (At Spaghetti Factory)

Coolest dinner ever, Dad!

If you ever go to Vancouver, you can't miss Gastown. This is the famous steam clock.

Dinner with some good friends. These boys loved our little Piper girl and she loved them right back.

Markus loved carrying her around; she didn't seem to mind at all! And see all those stuffed animals? The boys decided it would be fun to bury her alive. All we could see were her feet sticking out and hear her muffled giggles. She LOVED it. Hmmm, she would've made a good little sister.

Buddies. They were both so sad to say goodbye.
However, they gave Piper a parting gift: a Canucks hockey stick and puck! She was thrilled.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take any photos while we were down in Seattle visiting two of my old college friends (except for this silly one, taken at Panera Bread while waiting on our food). It was a long drive, but totally worth it!

Kristen and I had dinner out one night, just us girls! It was the day before her birthday, so the chef whipped up this delectable feat of sugar artistry. There was a wedge of chocolate cake buried inside that sugar "nest." So cool!

Piper has spent a lot of time in this car seat! On this particular night, we just drove around downtown, taking in all the lights and buildings and people. Snacks in hand, she didn't seem to mind.

The Olympic torch

Other motherland

2011-11-10T17:30:00.000-08:00

We're here! Vancouver! Happiness!

To say that we're having a great time would be an understatement. We arrived Sunday evening and haven't stopped since. Just going, going, going . . . and I love it!

Already we've spent a couple days with some of our best friends, and I even made it out to my old office to visit with my former coworkers. I don't really consider these people JUST coworkers; they truly were my friends, and my support network, while I was here. We'll be visiting our other support network at our old church on Sunday. Next week I might even venture down to Seattle to visit some old college buddies I haven't seen in years. Yep, I'm stuffing in as much fun as possible while I'm here. Socializing and city life have never seemed so good!

Some pics so far . . .

First stop, directly after leaving the airport: Triple O's (one of our favorite old burger joints)

This is the face of a happy man.

First day: An entire day with our best buds!
Royal Majesties: Princess Autumn and Princess Piper.

More dress-up: Autumn has REAL ballerina clothes. Twirling was a must.

Outfit change #3 (still on day 1). Making popcorn.

Outfit change #4 (still first day): A pajama party before bedtime.
They watched the Princess Veggie Tales movie, of course. With matching baby dolls clutched firmly in their arms.

Day 2: Aquarium! That's little man Mattias over there, Kristen's new baby (our first time meeting him!).

I believe they were equally mesmerized by all the fishies.

Da Mamas

Beluga!

Cuteness!

What would a visit to Canada be without a trip to Tim Hortons?! Piper and I had fun sitting downtown and watching all the interesting people go by.

Stay tuned for more!

First prayers

2011-11-04T23:51:00.000-07:00

Oh, she was so sincere. Her little heart full of thanks and her prayer tumbling on and on and on . . .

"Dee Jesus - thank you snacks, thank you park, thank you Rosie, thank you Papa, thank you Santa, thank you toys, thank you books, thank you friends, thank you Parker, thank you blanket, thank you bebbins [bandaids] . . . "

She flitted from this to that while I bounced between hidden laughter and the marvel of seeing her heart laid bare before me in that moment.

At first I thought she might just be saying anything that came into her head, but then I knew - she's made the connection. That these things are good, her favorites, her joys, her blessings.

She teaches me thankfulness.

In defense of Facebook friendships

2011-11-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

I once attended a conference where the main speaker spent a good deal of time denouncing Facebook. This guy was some kind of psychologist or something (obviously, I wasn't that impressed). He argued that Facebook friendships couldn't possibly be real friendships since most of these interactions happen only "virtually."

I agree that many Facebook friendships are rather superficial (I doubt most people would argue that they have deep relationships with each of their 300+ Facebook friends). But being someone who has moved constantly in my life, I've been so excited to rediscover people I thought I would never see again. Sometimes reconnecting simply means a quick message to catch up, but some of these friendships seem to have picked up right where they left off. Now that I'm in a new town where it's slow-going making friends, there are days when I am SO very thankful to have even "virtual" friends to lean on. In many cases, I believe there's something deeper there than just the virtual interaction; especially if we already have a foundation that was built previously. I've also found Facebook to be a good way to build friendships with people I rarely see, such as Jeremy's extended family.

This past weekend, I even had the opportunity to meet up with an old high school friend! If we had never reconnected on Facebook, I would never have known that she was temporarily living just a few hours away from me in Las Vegas. Jeremy was kind enough to stay home with Piper so I could have some "Mommy Time" away. It was such a welcome escape from my daily routine and truly a wonderful time catching up with an old friend.

This is Kim. She and I went to high school together in Korea. In fact, we were
both on the girls' volleyball team. We lost almost every game, but . . . go, Panthers!

I think this was inside the Wynn Hotel/Casino. Hard to capture the scene, but it was quite beautiful.

Pretty lady!
She took me to the best breakfast place ever. Yummmm.

Palm trees make me happy.

This was probably the highlight of my trip. Before I headed home, she took me to a Korean coffee shop/bakery. It felt just like being back home! I even made her read a Korean magazine to me. My personal translator.

This one's for my family. I know y'all are jealous now. :-) Come visit and I'll share!

Maybe it sounds lame to defend something like Facebook, but on days like today when Jeremy is out of town for a week, I'll probably only have the opportunity to interact with two other human beings - Piper and the grocery store checkout lady. No offense to the checkout lady or anything, but I'm thankful for the technology that keeps me in touch with my long-distance support system.

Letter to a faithful friend

2011-10-26T18:34:00.000-07:00

Dearest Pacifier,

Oh, how I have both dreaded and anticipated this day. What day is this? The day you die. Wait, that sounded rather harsh. You're not dead, just discarded, trashed, obliterated, erased from our memories. Or are you . . . ?

Because, dear Paci, I miss you. Don't mistake my aforementioned harsh words for happiness that you're gone. It's true, I'm relieved that you're no longer a part of our lives. I know it's time. Errr, well past time for you to leave, but, still, I'm not sure I'm ready for it.

For one, you were an ever-present part of our little Peanut's infancy. We tried and tried to get her to latch on to you, and once she did, you were SO very helpful: soothing her during sickness, lulling her to sleep, quieting her shrieks when she loathed her car seat. How sad to see you tossed nonchalantly into the trash - no ceremony, no goodbye, no pomp and circumstance. Just, gone. Plop.

Paci's final resting place.

But here's the other problem. My child, your former codependent little friend, she just hasn't slept the same since you left. It's been, what, three weeks since you, uh, retired? And ever since then, our normally fantastic sleeper has morphed into an insomniac toddler! When I put her down for naps at her usual time, it takes her two hours to fall asleep. One day - hold on, please give me a moment to collect myself - SHE DIDN'T NAP AT ALL! I wanted to bang my head against the wall. And even sadder yet, once she does finally fall asleep, she wakes up after no time at all! And let's not even discuss bedtime. She's been fighting it off like you wouldn't believe. She takes an hour or longer to slip into unconsciousness and, then, do you know what she does in the morning? AT EXACTLY 7:09 A.M.? She wakes up! Not 7:08, not 7:10, and certainly NOT her usual 8:00. UGH!

Okay, I get it, I do. It's pretty lame of me to be complaining to you when I'm the one who broke up this relationship. But break-ups are hard! I'm not bringing you back, but let me just say . . . I miss you, I love you, you served us well.

Fare thee well, you lovely little piece of plastic. Don't take it personally. Every good thing must come to an end.

In deepest mourning,
An Insomnious Toddler's Grumpy Mother

Love, regathered

2011-10-24T18:21:00.000-07:00

Marriage. It twirls up tight like a ball of yarn. Intertwining threads, fingers laced together into hues of differences blending together, a monochromatic weave. It bundles over the years, tangles together, heaps up and loops around.

But sometimes a thread slips loose, a harsh word bleeding into silence, an unkind act left unacknowledged, a neglect left too long neglected. And in disrepair, the yarn becomes unwoven. Loose threads meander, lonely they go. Until - scooped up, gathered back together, tucked in tight. Remembering the promises that give structure to this human mess - and the Frame that holds.

Even after it all, through years of threading and weaving and coming undone, he still makes me feel like the only woman he sees. The only one that matters.

The thread gathers back, yarn pulls together, continues on, it grows.

Girlhood

2011-10-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

She dances, this little girl. Arms spread wide, eyes shut tight, toes pointed, twirling 'round, joy.

I remember this, the feeling. It's like dipping into the past.

And this, too, we share.

Hangouts and hangovers at the playground

2011-10-11T16:43:00.000-07:00

So we're at the playground today and this mom pulls up with two small children. We immediately notice them because a.) we're the only people within sight for, like, miles; and b.) they did something no one else in this town has done before - they talked to us!

Okay, so people in this town have talked to us before, but pretty much only when necessary, like the uber-bored teenager at the fast food place who asks if our ponytailed-pink-princess-dressed child would like a GIRL toy or a BOY toy with her Happy Meal. (?!!!)

So anyway, this mom immediately came over to us and started making small talk. I stammered my responses in a state of shock while physically holding myself back from hugging her and asking her to be my new best friend.

Sadly, I realized she would probably not be my new BFF as I discovered she doesn't even live in this town. She lives about an hour away and - get this - comes to our town occasionally when she wants to experience a "big city." Did you hear that? A BIG CITY. HahahaHAHAHAHA. Okay, I didn't quite laugh in her face like a maniac, but I think she was wondering why I appeared to be choking.

In the meantime, Piper was in heaven, having two new playmates to toodle around the playground with. And as this lady and I watched the kids playing together, she told me that both kids were four years old; one was her son, the other a niece. And then we both suddenly realized that, oh my gosh, I have a MONSTER GIANT BABY because this daughter of mine is two years younger than her niece, yet two full inches taller. I also couldn't help but notice the size 7 printed on the bottom of this girl's shoe as she climbed up the slide. Piper, my adorable monster baby, is almost pushing out of her size 8 sneakers. Amazon baby.

Before I knew it, I was enlisted to take part in a game of make-believe with the kids while the mom took a phone call. While this was very fun, it paled in comparison to seeing the look that crossed this lady's face when she returned to find her son informing me that he likes to have "hangovers" for dinner. Her eyes bugged out as he proceeded to very seriously repeat his stance that he really, really likes hangovers.

"HAMBURGERS!" she blurted loudly. "He likes HAMBURGERS for dinner."

And while she didn't full-out smack her forehead in mortification, the priceless look on her face served to reassure me that I am not the only mother in the world who has these moments. Ah, motherhood . . . so entertaining, so humbling, so awesome when you have other moms to help you laugh along the way.

The first sound of raindrops on my roof

2011-10-05T16:32:00.000-07:00

Today has been hard. At first I thought it was just because of the weather - it's suddenly cold, overcast and gloomy. But as I pulled on my favorite cozy yellow hoodie and warmed up a mug of steaming coffee, I realized . . . I'm sad because I like this weather, because it makes me think of Vancouver.

I almost wrote "home" instead of "Vancouver" just now. Perhaps that word is appropriate, although I always hesitate to use it. I've moved so much in my life that I find the need to reserve that word for either the past - my childhood home of Pusan, Korea - or the future - some far-off place where we will finally feel settled and at rest.

But today it is striking me hard - the fact that Vancouver did become home for us. This, despite the fact that it wasn't even our own country; despite the fact that I always told myself it was temporary; still, it somehow became a home.

This realization hurts even more today because I know that we no longer belong there. It's a realization too late, because while I was there, my mind was here, or some vague version of "here." I didn't know what was coming - just that we would be somewhere else someday. We are always moving on to somewhere else. It tires me.

I think about the rainy fall and gloomy skies of that city; the crisp, beautiful beaches; the familiar haunts; the mountains and the endless possibilities for adventure; but most of all - the people. Somewhere along the way, I dropped my guard, I couldn't help it. Those people were just so darned nice. I was determined to bide my time and be pleasant and all, but I didn't expect the depths of friendship to open so wide, there in that place where I "didn't belong."

I should have known better, because I call "home" another place where I didn't belong, where I was the last person who looked like she belonged. I don't know why I've been so determined to make the U.S. my home. Perhaps all those years in Korea, I knew I would end up in the States and it was supposed to be my place of belonging. And I've been waiting ever since to feel that this is where I belong - and why? Because my passport says USA? Because my birth certificate says Kentucky? Truth is, I've lived more years outside the U.S. than in it.

In a few short weeks, our little family will excitedly pack our bags and board a plane headed for home. We'll spend three weeks in Vancouver, visiting old friends, wandering the city, seeing it with new eyes and a new appreciation for what we've left behind. It is bittersweet, but I am so happy to be returning.

Spunkiness, and all that jazz

2011-10-01T17:05:00.000-07:00

The thing about kids is this - they change. Well, duh, right? I know, I know, this is Parenting 101, but why do I always feel surprised when my little girl changes? Usually these changes are good. She learns something new, she grows into something, becomes more coordinated, more easily understandable . . . but it still catches me off-guard.

What I love lately are the ways her personality is growing. She's always been a funny little kid, but the older she grows, the spunkier she gets.

"SILLY HATS!" with Daddy

One recent change has been bath time. This kid swings from hating the bath to loving it, and back and forth we go. Guess which stage she's in right now . . .

She also has new interests lately, like soccer . . .

She loves watching soccer practice at the school up the road.

Her soccer-loving daddy is thrilled.

And another shared interest with Daddy - rocks . . .

This looks like a good one for plunking.

"Mommy, A ROCK!"
(Mommy is getting used to feigning interest in rocks - sorry, Jeremy)

She also likes to help me cook. We recently made cupcakes together, and on many Saturday mornings (like today), she will assist me in making cinnamon rolls. Every morning she also loves to help me brew my coffee; she pours the water in, punches the little filter in, scoops the coffee and pushes the On button. She also likes to practice her "chopping" on Mommy's counter . . .

My little assistant saw me prepping a meal one day and decided to come join me with her plastic fruit.

Mommy demonstrated the importance of TRYING NEW FOODS (ahem!).

And let's not forget one of life's greatest joys . . .

That wonderful invention called "the babysitter"

2011-09-26T22:43:00.000-07:00

I realized the other day that my life has come full circle. Actually, I'm not sure if "full circle" is the proper term, but I suddenly find myself in a place I've seen before.

When I was in college, I had to work several jobs to keep my head above water. I didn't mind it, actually, because I had pretty cool jobs. I worked at a thrift store, publishing house, restaurant, as a girls' volleyball team stats girl, and I was also a babysitter for all four years - "nanny" might be a better term, although I wasn't full-time by any means.

This babysitting job was great. The kids were adorable and sweet, and I also really liked the parents. It was great having a steady babysitting gig I could depend on. For two summers I even lived with this family. I worked other jobs, too, but I basically traded room and board for babysitting.

It's strange to think back on that time, because although I was taking care of these children pretty steadily, I still had no concept of what it meant to be a mother. Perhaps that's why I never quite understood why the mom of this family was always so grateful to me. I remember how profusely she thanked me when I agreed to not only watch her kids a few afternoons a week, but also one weekend night every week. She seemed surprised when I agreed, but I was like, Lady, I don't exactly have an impressive social life, and you're basically paying me to put your kids to bed and do my homework on the couch.

Some ten-plus years later, I find myself sitting on my own couch, with my own child next to me, and an outdated cartoon on the TV that I remember from those babysitting years (came across it on Netflix). Just hearing the theme song brought back so many memories - being a busy college student with more of a social life than I realized, the freedom of only having to look after myself, the intellectual stimulation of college classes, the experience of being on my own for the first time. And when I think back on those times, I remember that mom and her gratitude. To have someone come watch my child two times a week, plus one night every weekend? Oh my gosh. And those summers when I lived with that family, I often distracted the kids while the mom made dinner or ran to the store. I can't even imagine having help like that. Needless to say, I get it now. I really do. The thought of having even one night every other month sounds heavenly at this point.

Guess this means we need to get more serious about finding a babysitter. Then I need to remind myself NOT to scare her off by hugging her and profusely proffering my endless thanks.

You do it!

2011-09-13T17:36:00.000-07:00

We have two new talents . . .

1.) singing
2.) pouting

It's a toss-up which one she's better at.

This truth

2011-09-11T17:17:00.000-07:00

"Scared, Daddy!" she said as they ambled down the dusty trail. He was holding her in his arms, the path too bumpy for her unsteady toddler gait.

"I've got you. Don't worry."

"Scared!" she insisted.

And he held her tighter. "Piper, I'll protect you. When Daddy is here, you don't have to worry."

Pause. She smiled. "Okay."

And that was that.

Because 60 deserves some fun

2011-09-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

It was not the weekend we pictured - filled with lazy days reading silly novels on the beach, the sunshine warming our pale, white bodies, the sound of gentle waves lulling us to sleep. No, it was not this . . . but it was grand.

This year my beautiful mother turned 60. Some women prefer not to celebrate milestones like this, but not my mom. She's one of the few women I know who prides herself on her greying hair. Of course, it doesn't hurt that she's blessed with amazing skin and nary a wrinkle (I probably have more wrinkles than her at this point). But what really keeps her young? Her spirit. I know that might sound cliche, but if you've ever met my mother, you know that she has a youthful soul. She loves to laugh and tease and act silly. This weekend, she was the first one of us to charge into that ocean; at one point, I thought she had stumbled in the water, but I realized with a laugh that she was body surfing! This is my mom.

So in honor of her 60th birthday, my sisters and I planned a girls' weekend away in Orange Beach, Alabama. Yep, you heard that right - the Gulf Coast. In other words, Tropical Storm Lee decided to crash our beach party. Hmmph! Although we didn't get to spend very much time on the beach, we did enjoy a laid-back weekend of shopping, reading, chick flicks, games, popcorn, restaurants and sleep. One morning we even noticed that the rain had stopped, so we ran outside to the beach for an hour or two. We got a little sand-whipped at times, but the water was warm and the waves were humongous. Very fun! So TAKE THAT, Tropical Storm Lee.

The original Blanchard girls (still Blanchards at heart)

My sisters, Rachel and Amanda. Do they not have the exact same smile?

The birthday girl and her favorite child (RIGHT, MOM?!!!).

We did a little shopping.

So chic.

Lunch at Mellow Mushroom.

. . . and MORE shopping.

Okay, we might have the same smile, too.

See. Still having fun . . . even after our 96th time sprinting through the wind and rain from the car to the condo.

It was a little windy. We didn't even make it down to the water this day.
The sand was whipping our legs and faces too hard. Ow.

This was the most "sun" we saw all weekend.

Ooh la la, what a paradise.

See. Paradise.

Okay, this was a little bit of paradise: southern barbecue! We instantly knew it was going to be good when we saw what a shack it was inside. No frills needed when you've got authentic southern bbq.

We finally made it to the beach.

The water was SOOOOOO warm and the sand so fine and white. Sigh.

Goodbye, sand. Goodbye, beach. Goodbye, summer.

Ladies, you are three of the most important women in my life. Thank you for a lovely weekend. Let's do it again someday . . . far, far away from hurricane season.

When this day is done

2011-08-25T22:19:00.000-07:00

These days stretch long, pulled wide and taut and thin, and we're tugged - this to that and back again, we go. Days dotted with doing, and yet the doing collides and accumulates, somehow mixing to form the forgettable, the dull-white blank of routine. I feed, I diaper, I distract, I contrive - coaxing us through our day, until I shut the door of her room and sit on the couch and worry. . . That though I ticked all my boxes today, provided food and clothing and cleanliness - did I do enough?

It's easy, most days, to do what I must, but what about the more? What about the playing and the laughing, the eye-to-eye and listening? What about the stretching of mind, the beautiful bloom of imagination evolving? What about the subtleties of I-love-you, of showing more than saying? Did I do enough? Does she know? My love, my faith, my strength, these things, are they seeping beneath the surface?

The mystery of it all, of who she will be, meanders into the distance. I can't know if it's enough, if this day will make a difference. So I will pray harder - for the gossamer veil of grace to cover over, correct, these things I have forgotten or failed to do just so.

Mini vacation

2011-08-23T15:15:00.000-07:00

We may live in a small town with limited options for entertainment, but we do live in the vicinity of some pretty cool cities. They aren't necessarily close, but they're doable. Piper is getting better at road trips, so we've definitely hit the road quite a bit since moving here. I find that I really need these times away - I need something to look forward to, and I really, really need to escape small-town life every now and then.

This weekend, we headed west for the first time - to the big, bad city of Reno! Okay, Reno definitely gets a bad rap, but after visiting this weekend, I have to say, I think it's underrated. Yes, there are some tacky parts of town (not nearly as bad as I thought they would be), but the suburbs are nice, and Reno is close to Lake Tahoe - meaning, gorgeousness! Truly, it felt like we were on a real beach vacation. I'm excited to know that we live so close to this beautiful location - and I had no idea California was so within reach! Jeremy has a lot of family there, so now we definitely want to plan some road trips to CA.

Mommy and her sidekick.
(That's California across the water.)

"Daddy, fetch me that rock!"

This little floaty swimsuit is awesome . . . when she's willing to get into the water. It was a little bit cold, so she didn't swim (float) at the beach, but she loved swimming in the hotel pool. She's a Vaughan baby, after all!

We had to hike down to the beach, but the view was gorgeous.
(I might have peed in the woods on the way down, but don't tell anyone.)

Piper's first game of miniature golf! We told her we were going to play "hockey."

"I can do it by myself!"

This is the proper golf stance, right?

Oh, how she loves cars! She was a little bit afraid here but also had her "Weeeeee!" moments, according to Daddy.

The exciting life and times of . . .

2011-08-18T13:12:00.000-07:00

I'm usually half awake when I hear this from the baby monitor: "Mommy? Are coming? Mommy? Are coming? MOMMY? ARE COMING? MOMMY!!! ARE COMING?!!!"

Every day, this is how we start. At this point, usually my husband has already left for the day. Therefore, I can't nudge him with my toe and hope that he will go put an end to the endless mommy-are-coming chant.

This child is willing and able to continue said chant for a very long time. A very, very long time. Somehow I manage to drag myself from bed and open her door to see a chipper, smily toddler wielding her blankie and pirouetting in her pretty-pink-princess jammies. There's usually no greeting, she simply launches into her typical stream of toddler babble exactly where we left off the night before.

Diaper changed, coffee on, "Curious George" queued up, Mommy sits at kitchen table, trying to remember what day of the week it is and catching up on important world matters (like Facebook). And then she showers and Piper takes a full half hour to choose her outfit for the day (yet another "princess dress," which is pretty much just any dress or billowy shirt at this point - because I told her so).

Then we choose what we're going to do today. There are usually only a few choices: library, park, grocery store, thrift store, the "blue store" (Walmart) or the "orange store" (Home Depot). Yesterday, the orange store won.

Piper is usually not so keen on going to the orange store, but when I told her it was now the "flower store" (because I wanted to pick out some flowers for the front porch), she found this to be an acceptable destination.

Hmmm, what color shall I choose? Just kidding! PINK, of course. Duh.

When we got home, we dug around in the dirt with our shovels. Suddenly, we had a visitor! Piper shrieked with half-delight, half-terror as our new friend wound his way through our legs, purring his hellos and making himself thoroughly comfortable . . .

After our new friend decided he'd had enough of his comfy bed of dirt, he took off for home, leaving us to finish off our flower pots and move on to our next adventure of the day . . . child labor. I mean, washing the car.

It was a busy day for these two small-town girls, but we found the perfect way to finish off our day . . .

I only call her Stinky because I love her

2011-08-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

This weekend was superb! Know why? A little person named Stinky. Yes, once upon a time, I bequeathed my little sister with the name "Stinky," though she is not actually stinky . . . anymore (kidding, Rachel!).

I have to apologize to her, though. Apparently all of the cowboys and wild horses went into hiding when they heard she was coming. I mean, this woman was SO disappointed that there were no cowboys to greet her upon arrival. (There really are a lot of cowboys in this town, but we don't necessarily run into them all that often. Maybe we're hanging out in the wrong places? Gotta try the rodeo soon.) And during the whole LOOOOONG trip to and from our house to the airport, she kept her eyes peeled for wild horses. I've made that drive through the desert many, many times now, and twice I've seen actual wild horses near the road. They're quite stunning, so I was really hoping she would get to see some. Alas, no. I guess this means she needs to come back again soon!

At a museum/exhibit thingy near our town where you can learn about the gold rush and all the families that journeyed across the wild west. Yes, there were a lot of wagons and bonnets this day.

Peanut loves her Aunt Rachel.

Photo courtesy of scary looking biker dude who approached us with an offer to take our picture. Rachel (the wary one) immediately said, "No, thanks," as I simultaneously said, "Sure!" Awkward. Thankfully, he didn't hit on us or try to throw Rachel over the back of his Harley. (However, if he'd been a cowboy, she would have gladly gone with him.)

And . . . further proof that we are not only similar, we are similarly dorky:

Same pose, but why does she look cute . . .

. . . while I look CRAZY-LADY-PSYCHO?
(This was supposed to be my jumping-joyfully-in-the-air pose, until I realized at the last minute that my dress was rather short in front, and I was about to flash my undies at nearby Scary Mr. Biker Dude.)

Okay, other sister, Amanda, your turn to visit!

The present and the mouse

2011-08-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a certain little girl accompanied her mama on a walk to the mailbox. Upon opening the door, she found . . . a present! With her very own name on it! This present was from a very special person - her Uncle Bubba. (We hear Aunt Amanda was also in on the plan.)

So excited!

What could it be?

("Reading" the title)

Look, Mommy! It's a princess!

Not only is this a princess DVD (big points right there), but it's also one of her favorite genres: VeggieTales! Oh, boy. Uncle Bubba hit a home-run on this one! We've now watched this video many, many times in the last 24 hours. Thank you very much to our Tennessee family!

Piper must have had a premonition about you guys yesterday because when I came to get her out of her crib in the morning, she informed me of the following: cousin Ann Catherine wears Mickey jammies, cousin Will is building a house, and Aunt Amanda is not only her aunt but also her cousin. She also thinks Uncle Bubba is pretty funny.

To honor her Disney-loving cousins (um, AND aunt and uncle), we had the following for dinner last night:

Mickey pancakes!

Sweet escape

2011-08-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

So, life in our new town is not always the most exciting of times. We spend a lot of time doing the same things over and over and over. And that's why this weekend was such a welcome break from our routine.

For the last week and a half, Jeremy has been at a conference in Park City and Salt Lake City, Utah. Piper and I had a long, lonely week without him, but on Friday, we packed our bags and headed for the city to join him. Jeremy's company was putting him up in a hotel and since he had Saturday free, we figured we would join him for the weekend.

On Saturday he ended up taking Piper out for a special daddy date - to see the dinosaur museum! - while Mommy got some much-needed time to herself. I, of course, went shopping - found the perfect casual summer dress (I would wear it every day if I could - wait, I probably could!) and some shorts. I really hate shorts, and for the last previous five summers in Vancouver, I was able to get away with not having any. Capris, skirts or rolled-up jeans always sufficed for those mild Canadian summers, but here in the desert? Not a chance. So after finding a cheap pair that aren't too ugly, I moved on to my new favorite form of shopping: home decor!

There are still lots of items we need for the house, and while we need to space things out for the sake of budgeting, I'm very motivated to finish up our guest room. My little sister is coming to visit in just a few weeks, and my mom, dad and aunt are also talking of visiting sometime soon. If I can twist my other sister's arm enough, maybe I'll get her family here someday, too! (Hey, I can dream, Amanda.) :-)

Another highlight of the weekend was meeting up with one of my old college roommates, Gwen. I hadn't seen her in TEN years! I can't believe it's been that long since we graduated from college. She now lives in Park City, which is the DARLING-EST little town ever. Gwen introduced us to her oh-so-sweet ~~horse~~ dog, Jasper (whom Piper adored, but mostly from a distance - this dog is HUGE). She then gave us the grand tour, and we enjoyed a lovely dinner out, catching up on each other's lives. I'm so glad to have a friend within driving distance, and I hope Gwen will come use our guest room soon as well. I'm just kicking myself that I forgot to get a picture of us together. Oh well, here are some other pics from the weekend:

Dinner out! Man, do we miss having a variety of restaurants.
(Yes, that is my "perfect summer dress." So in love. It was on sale, too! Which makes it so much better.)

My little family of three. (My husband is kind of hot, isn't he?)

Pants-less! What could be better on a warm summer evening?

Breakfast at her favorite place, " 'Donalds!"

Oi. First of the morning, looking a little rough, but it was a good day. Jeremy had to work this day, so Peanut and I had breakfast, then swam at the hotel pool most of the day. She even made some new friends.

Salt flats on the drive home. Looks like snow, but it was in the upper 90s that day!

The pillow upon which the entire guest room decor will be based on... at least, until I change my mind or find something I like better. :-)

Back to Piper diapers

2011-07-25T20:16:00.000-07:00

Well, we have officially put a fork in it. Potty training is now on hold for another few months.

You might expect me to be writing this with a sense of defeat or disappointment, but is it wrong to admit I'm kind of relieved? The further we got into potty training, the more I started thinking about how our lives would change once we were finished with diapers. For one, I kind of abhor public restrooms, and I do not look forward to making those frequent potty breaks for Peanut's little toddler-sized bladder. And what about that three-hour drive we often make to the nearest big town? That drive is primarily through uninhabited wild-land desert, meaning no rest stops, no gas stations, no fast-food restaurants where we can pull off for a quick restroom break. Just one little town about halfway through and that's IT. What will we do once she's potty trained? Have her pee on the side of the highway? Behind a cactus? In a bottle? Or what about when we're flying? She always, inevitably, poops during take-off or landing, when I absolutely can't go dashing up the aisle to the bathroom. Hrmm! These are problems I would rather postpone (hey, I can - for a little while longer).

Anyway, Piper was a trooper throughout the potty training. Four days of running to the potty every 15 minutes or so, sometimes sitting on the potty for a half hour at a time. I heard no complaints from her. She actually seemed to enjoy it, especially the times when she was rewarded with a sticker (and one time with some quarters for her piggy bank after successfully going number 2). So, yes, we did make SOME progress. She learned to tell me when she had to go. She was very good about announcing this (as it was happening); unfortunately, she was not so good at holding it in long enough to make it to the potty itself. We had accident after accident after accident. Yes, we did have some successes, but for every success, there were probably five accidents. I stuck with it, believing it would eventually improve, but she really seemed to peak on day three with no improvement (even regression) after that.

Anyway, today we went back to diapers and she hasn't asked about her princess panties even once. A few times she announced that she needed to go potty, and while I knew she had already gone in her diaper, I went ahead and let her sit on the potty. No sense in confusing her now. I guess we'll be making some regular visits to our old friend Potty every now and then, but I'm not going to push it again for a while. I think we're all quite happy with this arrangement, and we shall try again in a few months. In the meantime, I'm appreciating the ease of diapers in a brand new way!

Sometimes she just likes to mess with me

2011-07-22T13:30:00.000-07:00

So this morning Piper was wandering around the house in only her undies. We are in full-swing potty-mode, and no matter how many times she pees on me, herself, the carpet, the couch or in her daddy's closet (shhhhh, no one tell him about that one), WE SHALL BATTLE ON. . . at least until Tuesday.

This morning I seriously think she was messing with me. It was right around the same time as yesterday's poopy disaster, so I knew something might be "brewing" down there. I was in my bathroom getting ready for the day when I realized I hadn't seen or heard her for a good 15 minutes or so. This is strange considering she's the child who's usually stuck to my hip like a magnet. As soon as that feeling rose up inside me - PANIC! IT'S TOO QUIET! - I bolted for the living room.

Panic turned to dread when I saw a mysterious lump in her undies. POOOOOOP! She has pooped in her panties and not even noticed. Crap! This will neverrrrrrrrr work! I whined to myself.

But the thing is, that bulge was not located in the rear of undies - it was nestled right under her belly button. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no . . . How did she get the poop to the FRONT of her panties?!!! I frantically began to search the room, her little body, everywhere, for traces of poopy smudges. Had she somehow maneuvered the poop to the front of her undies while sitting down? Or had she - HORROR - reached her hands in, grabbed the poo and shoved it back down the front of her undies?

With great fear and trepidation, I approached the mysterious lump, poking it with one finger. Gross, gross, gross! It was soft and squishy, just as I expected.

"Piper, did you go poopy in your panties?" I asked, trying to hide my frustration.

She smiled sweetly up at me. Big, adorable, classic-Piper grin. I sighed and began to un-peel her undies, expecting a ghastly sight to unfold before my eyes. But then I saw something . . .

Two peachy-colored, pointy soft mounds.

"What in the world . . . ?"

Cotton. Soft. NOT poopy (thank you!), but what? I pulled the mysterious lumps out as she giggled into her hands.

"What are these?"

BRA CUPS. She had found the two little cup-lets that we'd cut out of my sister's 80s prom dress while on vacation. I'd saved them because my mom and I were plotting to sew them into my brother-in-law's t-shirt one day, but it'd totally slipped my mind (now come on, wouldn't that have been hilarious to see his face as he pulled that t-shirt on and discovered he'd grown some man-boobs? And then he would've had to CUT those sewn-in fake boobies out!). Apparently the practical-joke gene that is a requirement for being in my family did NOT skip the next generation.

Well done, my little peanut girl. You have made your mother proud.

Project: Piper Learns to Potty (and other P words)

2011-07-21T12:37:00.000-07:00

We have lift-off!

Actually, I'm not sure this really counts.

Last night we came home with two packets of princess panties - which Piper proudly carried around the store, then plopped authoritatively on the checkout counter with a self-assured "Here go! Gank you!" to the cashier. Of course she was dying to put her new undies on. About an hour later, I heard a shriek in the living room. Sure enough, there was a stream of pee running down her leg. I hoisted her dripping bum and ran to the potty, plopping her down just in time for a few trickles to hit the bowl.

"Piper! You went pee-pee in the potty!" I proclaimed. And you would not believe the look of pride on her face as she peered into that little pink bowl. Soon Daddy came to check things out and together we cheered and clapped. Her face beaming with pride, she exclaimed, "I did it!"

And I was very excited. This is going to work! I thought to myself, the picture of Mom Determination.

But today? Um, not so much. Today we've had about six of these episodes, meaning she pees in her panties, not the potty. I don't know if I should reward her with stickers - we usually reach the potty in time for a few dribbles to make it in, but the idea was to let her see the goal (pee in the pot) with the hopes that she would make the connection on her own. It's not really catching . . . so far (yes, I realize this may take some time).

Not that anyone wants to know this information, (but if you've read this far, you might as well keep reading!), but my ultimate frustration came this morning when she pooped - two inches away from the potty, right there on the floor. SO CLOSE! If only I had been watching. She'd been sitting on her potty for quite a while (behind the living room armchair, which is where she goes to do her business - I scootched the potty in there when I realized her intent). I guess she had stood up to check out Elmo on TV, then the inevitable happened. Oh well.

Anyway, they aren't kidding when they say potty training is one of the biggest frustrations of parenthood. I'm trying not to lose hope too early in the game, but if she doesn't seem to be getting it in the next few days, I may hold off and try again later.

Back to the potty throne for another pee-pee check!

Life, here

2011-07-17T22:12:00.000-07:00

Years ago, when Jeremy first started working on his PhD, he would leave Vancouver to spend three or so months every year in this one little town back in the USA - the town where we now reside. And I remember the funny stories he would tell, of how barren and backwards this place was, how there was nothing to do but troll the aisles of Walmart (actually, I think he gravitated more toward watching endless sporting events while sitting at local restaurant bars). Sometimes he would even make jokes about how he was going to move us here someday, and I would laugh and shake my head, "No way, buddy." And, really, I thought there was no way that would ever happen.

But here we are, almost five years later, sitting in a house just up the road from that very same Walmart he always joked about (well, we're pretty much "just up the road" from everything in this little town). I still shake my head in disbelief when filling out our new address. We live here? Seriously?

But the funny thing is, each day I wake up expecting to be filled with dread, or loathing, or resentment, or something. But, so far, I haven't. Yes, I'm utterly bored at times, and on weekends like this, oh man, my skin crawls a little when I realize that even if I could go out for some "mommy time" by myself, I would have nowhere to go. Starbucks again? Meh. Did that two days ago. Thrift store? Same. Walmart - ha! I practically live there. Hey, I even willingly went to Home Depot by myself the other day. I bought a plant. And some dirt. Yee-haw!

So, okay, I feel trapped at times, bored, lonely . . . but there are also good things, really good things. Like, I never tire of the view of those mountains outside my kitchen window. I feel utterly spoiled to be living in the home we now call ours. I could spend hours on our back deck, reading a book, sipping sweet tea and watching my little peanut-girl play in her backyard (still a dusty, weedy "beach," but we got her a sand/water table that she loves). There are some awesome playgrounds here, a really good Mexican restaurant, and perhaps one of the best things of all - constant sunshine! After four and a half years in rainy, grey Vancouver, sunshine is such a treat.

You also wouldn't believe the sky here. I know that sounds weird, but the skies are just so clear and beautiful and BIG. I can't put my finger on it, because this is a mountainous area, but perhaps it's because there aren't tall buildings here. Those wide-open, fierce-blue skies are absolutely breathtaking, and, oh my gosh, each night when the sun starts to sink, that sky turns shades of pink and orange and purple so beautiful you kind of want to cry. And after the darkness finally descends on this valley . . . you. can. see. stars. Not one or two or ten - but gobs!

So, yeah, I guess that's what I do - I stare at the sky. I watch the stars, the clouds, the tiny prop plane that flies into and out of our rinky-dink airport twice every day. I smile at the tumbleweed bumbling so stereotypically through my front yard. I watch my daughter catch the sun on her face as she tilts backwards, laughing, on the swings. I pray when there's no other voice to answer in the loneliness. And I try to see the beauty in the simplicity, the blessings in the slowness, the possibilities in the silence. Because they're there, and that's something worth holding onto.

Good times and goodbyes

2011-07-14T13:52:00.000-07:00

Now that we're back home, we sure do miss Mina and Parker.

Stickers with Mina!

Games with Parker!

Mina is very gifted at finding ways to be silly.

Exploring all the flowers and "bubble bees" in Mina/Parker's yard.

Happy (late) 4th of July, Mommy's favorite holiday! We celebrated at a fair where
Parker played his trombone with a local orchestra group.

Excited about fireworks! I was nervous she'd be afraid, but she kept saying, "More! Boom!"

She also did a little streaking (dress fully over head at one point)

Before saying goodbye to ~~civilization~~ Indianapolis, Mommy got all her hair chopped off. Eep!
Ah well, bring on summer.

Love is a battlefield

2011-07-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

My little sis turned 30 while my family was on vacation together, and of course this called for a very big shindig. And when I say "big," I mean BIG, BIG BANGS OF THE 80s! Oh yeahhhhhh.

This child was the only one of us sisters to be born in the magnificent 80s, which I thought would be the perfect theme for her 30th. I mean, who doesn't dream of pegging their jeans or teasing their bangs or swiping on that electric blue eye shadow one more time?

The gorgeous birthday girl and her man. We made them do the 80s prom pose.

Dang it! Amanda always managed to get her bangs higher than mine! Also, that is a killer denim jumper.

Props to my brother-in-law for attempting the "flock of seagulls" hairstyle.

And major props to my dad for wearing the NETTED tank top that we found for him at Goodwill.
He's the coolest pastor ever.

Check out my inverted french braid. And, yes, there was A LOT of very bad 80s dancing.

Okay, is my nephew not the cutest little 80s dude, ever?
He ASKED to wear this outfit again the next day. Like, in public.

My mom is SO going to kill me for posting this, but I think she's adorable.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a picture of Piper in her 80s get-up. She was napping during most of the party, and then when I tried to put her in her specially chosen 80s baby denim vest, she flat out refused. I can't imagine why.

A little lake called Erie

2011-07-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

There was once this place, a magical place - my great-grandmother's cottage house, perched on the edge of a serene lake in Reading, Michigan. Many of my earliest memories are from the cottage - swinging from a rope with the neighbor boys, howling like wild animals, dropping down - splat! - into the sandy-bottomed water. I remember the sun glinting off my grandfather's boat at the height of a hot summer day, the smell of Grandma's cooking wafting in the air and the feel of sunburned skin dipping under crisp, cold lake. When the sun began to wane ever so slightly, it was time for dinner and so we trudged indoors, half-reluctantly - but I want to swim! - half-eagerly - but Grandma's chicken and noodles! We slept in late, sunbathed for hours, fished off the dock, pulled pranks, ate s'mores around the campfire, played games and watched movies late into the night. And this was my little piece of heaven.

But then our summers came to an abrupt end. The upkeep of the cottage and grounds became too much for my grandparents and so they sold my grandpa's share to my great-aunt and her children. The cottage was gone and so, it seemed, were our summers. What were we going to do now? The-way-it-had-always-been was no longer.

So we tried other places, a different house on a lake, a condo on the beach, a trip to Disney . . . but it was never the same. Last year, for the first time, we did nothing at all - and I think we all felt that loss.

But this year we tried again - a rental house on the banks of Lake Erie, big enough to fit our ever-growing family. And there was sun. There was lake water and game nights and sunbathing while reading on the shore. We had a campfire on the beach and ate sticky s'mores, and they let me start the fire - not because I'm better at it, but because it's tradition. We played games and ate until we couldn't breathe, and the cousins ran wild until their feet were black from playing in the grass and their fingernails were caked with dirt.

It wasn't the same, nothing will ever be the cottage, but it was good. I was blessed - with rest, with peace, with prayer and searching, with laughter and fun, with answers and nights of deep sleep, with a book as-good-as-dessert to devour, with family. I don't take these things for granted.

My favorite way to end the day: sand between my toes and my little girl at my side.

Aunt Rachel helping find shells.

Sigh . . .

Many an hour was spent on this beach.

Dig, dig, dig. One day, all she wanted to do was collect all of the orange rocks she could find. Then she threw them in the water, one by one - plunk! The cousins would pluck them back out, toss them in her bucket, and it would begin all over again. Oh, the joys of childhood!

Can't believe how fast this girl is growing.

Three of the sweetest, funniest kiddos in the world!

Aunt Amanda taught Piper a fun new skill: pinching someone's butt. She said she hopes Piper pulls out this trick the next time we're at a restaurant and a cute server walks by. THANKS, SIS!

My cute mama and Amanda's Brian (Rachel also has a Bryan).

My chauffeurs. (During our day at Cedar Point)

The whole gang (minus little squirt and generous Uncle Bubba, who offered to stay home with her so I could sit by the fire). There is nothing I love more than a campfire; add a beach, the sound of waves, stars, fireflies, fireworks and s'mores, and I am the happiest girl in the world! This was the perfect ending to our vacation.

I have a lot more photos, but I'll put the rest of them on Facebook. However, FAMILY, this your fair warning - I might have to post pics from our 80s party in my next blog update. OH YES I WILL (bribes accepted).

The striving and ceasing

2011-06-25T21:17:00.000-07:00

He says to be soft, as yielding as reeds bending low in the grass. And so we try. We think we are obeying as we push and strive. See, look. I'm doing it all by myself. Like a child, we sound.

We forget that He says, I will do it. Not you. That He says to be still. To be silent. To be yielding not in our striving but in our waiting.

The hardest part of obeying is not obedience itself; it is the emptying, and the yielding to Spirit breath rushing forth to fill the empty vessels of our hearts.

The fight

2011-06-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

So Jeremy and I were laying in bed last night having an argument. Well, not a real argument. It was this one (I'm sure you've had it before):

"Today is Tuesday, right?" - me.

"No, it's Wednesday." - him.

"What? No, it isn't." - me, still confident.

"Yes, it is." - him, matter-of-factly.

"Whatever, today is Tuesday." - me, slightly worried now.

"Julie, it's Wednesday."

Silence.

"Check your calendar, dude. It's totally Tuesday." - me, rather alarmed, but willing to stick my neck out.

Humoring his stubborn wife, he pulls out his phone and checks the calendar. "It's Wednesday."

I stare at him incredulously, then concede my defeat with a mumbled, "Crap."

So anyway, the reason why I was particularly alarmed over this revelation is because Piper and I are leaving for a trip on Friday. That's right, I thought I had TWO whole days to do laundry, pack, finish up some freelancing projects and overall freak out about yet another dreaded airplane trip (yeah, I'm still rather nervous about flying and have to mentally prepare myself for it days in advance). Needless to say, today has been busy.

This is my family's annual week-long vacation, which we planned out quite a while ago. It's too bad it piggybacked so closely together with my Denver trip, but I really am looking forward to it. Although Jeremy can't come, it's actually working out for him in a way, because he has some final revisions he needs to make on his thesis. He couldn't take off the vacation time so soon after starting his new job anyway, and this should allow him some good quiet time to focus on his paper. In the meantime, Piper and I are headed back to the midwest - wahoo!

I just realized I haven't posted any pics of Piper lately, so I'll leave you with a few recent ones to show you what she's been up to. She's a busy little body!

New house means LOTS of trip to Home Depot.
Taking a "nap" out of sheer boredom.

Our mini interior decorator helps us choose window blinds.

"Surprise!!! I will actually eat a grilled cheese sandwich now."

This is what she calls her "princess dress." She would wear it every day if I let her.

She is SO into trains right now. They have an old one on display downtown. She was in heaven.

My little grumpy-faced cutie-patootie.

See this box? That is the potty box. Still no actual peeing on the potty, but the box is fun.

The Great Mommy Getaway

2011-06-19T22:00:00.000-07:00

For the last few days, I have truly been spoiled - a solo trip far from small-town-ville (sans diaper bag!), a live concert featuring my favorite band, and, best of all, a visit with one of my very best friends. Oh, and my first pedicure! Pics from Denver:

I've known this girl for almost 14 years! Such a great friend.

Big E! (Ethan is my special little man.)

Carter is pure BOY - look at that impressive mess! Such a cutie-pie.

The pedicure! It was heavenly. Definitely trying this again.

A thank you to my husband for the concert/trip tickets, to my mother-in-law for babysitting, and to Valerie's husband for watching her boys so the mommies could get away for a much-needed and oh-so-fun adventure. And, of course, a big thank you to Val for the pedicure and for the many years of amazing friendship. Truly blessed!

Letter to an observant toddler

2011-06-14T15:18:00.000-07:00

Dearest child,

I just want to say thank you. Remember earlier today when we were at Dairy Queen and you started pointing at someone behind me, saying, "Look, Mommy!" and I turned to behold a rather angry looking, platinum-haired, large-biceped, ultra-tanned woman covered in tattoos? And I yanked your little pointing finger down with a vaguely alarmed "Uh-huh . . . "

"Look, Mommy, there's a . . . " (Little finger pointing again.)

Oh, please no.

"Look, Mommy, there's a . . . " (Still with the finger.)

"Mmm hmm," I mumbled. (Yanking finger down.)

"Look, Mommy --"

Shh, SHHH, SHHHHHHHH!!!

"There's a PWINCESS!"

Thank you, thank you for getting this one very wrong. I am slightly concerned by your interpretation of what constitutes a princess; however, I appreciate not having to apologize to that particular genre of "princess" today.

The forgotten words

2011-06-12T17:39:00.000-07:00

While unpacking a box of books a few days ago, I came across my teen study Bible. There's an inscription on the inside cover that says my parents gave me that Bible when I was 13 years old. It was probably a present or something, and I'm sure I thanked them for it at the time, but I know it sat unopened on my dresser for years.

Somewhere late in my teens, I began to feel like I should be reading that Bible - like in a guilty kind of way. And so I would open it every now and then and scan a few verses, not really getting it but always hoping to open to that one special verse that was going to supernaturally speak into my exact life circumstances at that moment. I don't remember if that ever happened; I might have forgotten it even if it had.

But then I picked up a certain habit in college. I learned how to read - how to really read. I was taught by my literature professors to look for deeper meanings, to think about symbolism and the way words are strewn together like an intricate, beautiful web - how a writer can agonize over the choice of a single perfect word. I also learned to scribble, and soon my literature books were filled with underlined words and my chicken-scratch handwriting crammed into impossibly small margins.

And soon it was not just my literature books. I picked up that teen study Bible (though I was hardly a teen anymore) and began my scratchings and scribblings and highlighting and questions. And in dark corners of shops filled with the sound of coffee grinders and the subtle babble of conversation floating around me, I opened that Bible again and again. And I grew.

I read that Bible from cover to cover one year - for the first time ever. I felt relieved, as if it had long been my duty as a Christian to have read the entire Bible. But more than that, I began to flip back through the pages I had already read, searching out the words that had stood out to me as I journeyed through that book. I've never been much for memorization - in fact, I'm particularly bad at remembering Scripture references - but those words began to jostle around in my head. And sometimes they would bubble up to the top of my brain, the perfect words at just the right moment. And I grew.

But somewhere along the way, I began to open that Bible less and less frequently, perhaps assuming I already knew what it said; perhaps not wanting to remember what it said; perhaps just bored; or maybe I shoved it away in the busyness of life. I don't really know why, but I stopped. And the words stopped floating up out of my memory, and the comfort and gentle reminders and promises - they were gone, too. And I asked God why He had disappeared.

But there was no answer.

So I said I would walk away, too. If He was going to be silent, I would be silent, too. And my prayers dried up like dead, crackling leaves swept into the gutter. My eyes dimmed and my world followed in darkness. And I cried, because I felt abandoned and alone. Everyone around me, my fellow believers, they seemed to thrive and twist upwards in the sunshine of their faith, and the witnessing of this drove me even further away.

It's funny how we misinterpret things, how we blame others when we're at fault, how we forget what we've learned, how rebellious we can be without even realizing it.

As I opened that dusty box the other day and prepared to mindlessly plop those books onto the shelf, I caught sight of that teen Bible and remembered home. Remembered being that young girl in her frilly pink bedroom, opening that book for the wrong reasons. Remembered the lonely, searching college girl sitting at countless coffee shop tables, digging through word after word because I was nothing but hungry. Remembered how I had grown and how I met Him there and how the words would rise up off that page and grip my heart so hard I would cry, because I knew He saw me, that He spoke to me in ways I could never even explain.

I sat on the floor next to that box and flipped through the first few pages. Words highlighted in girly-adolescent neon blue marker: "You are the God who sees me" (Gen. 16:13), and finally it happened - the supernatural pouring of words into the empty, angry places. The holy filling and forgiving.

Because I haven't blogged about poop yet this week

2011-06-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

Note: I am about to blog about something that I dare not speak of audibly. In fact, please read this post as if it were written in a whisper.

I need some advice. However, I'm still in denial that this is about to happen and therefore I am going to say this quickly . . .

I need to buy a potty.

There! I said it. Phew. Why so squeamish? Because I've been successfully pretending that I won't, in fact, have to actually potty train this child. One day, she will simply wake up, whisk off her diaper, stomp purposefully to the bathroom and promptly do her business on the toilet. She will then wipe (effectively so, of course), flush, wash her hands and announce to the world, "I have conquered the toilet. Shall we do some math now, Mother?"

Actually, the weird thing is, lately she's been showing a real interest in the potty - and all on her own. Of course, it's always during those times when Mommy is, er, occupied with the "big-girl potty" (am I really talking about this? Meh, I'm a mom, it's okay). Like every kid, she insists on being in the room when Mommy most misses her privacy, and so she'll trundle in behind me, saying, "Mommy go potty? Okay, Piper go potty." As if, Oh, it's that time again? Sigh. Alright, let's do this.

And so she plops down on the bathroom scale - which she has deemed "Piper's potty" - and then asks for a "wipe" (toilet paper). So I tear her off one sheet and she pretends to go potty, even wiping her little (still-diapered) bum when she's done. And it's so cute, but it's also made me wonder if this is a window of opportunity. Like, maybe the potty angels are shining down on us and are miraculously going to teach her how to go potty all by herself. No coaxing, pleading or begging required of Mommy. No sitting for hours just waiting for one little squirt so a sticker or gummy-bear reward can be shoved her way.

So I figure, maybe I'll just sneak a real potty in there. Like, "Oh, this little thing? It's no big deal, kid. Take a seat, here's a wipe. Hey, wouldn't you be more comfortable without a diaper on?"

This is TOTALLY going to work.

But can I ask for your advice, fellow moms (and dads)? What kind of potty should I get? I've never shopped for one; in fact, I purposefully avoid making eye contact with that aisle. But I believe I have glimpsed the shiny, colorful plastic of what seems to be an ARMY of potties in that aisle. So what the heck kind of potty am I supposed to get? Any specific brand suggestions? Is going cheap okay or is it truly helpful to spend money on this kind of thing? Are there features I should look for? Do we need more than one? Any potty advice is welcome!

Oh yeah, and shhhhhh. This conversation NEVER happened. Tra-la-la-la-la!

Contemplating domesticity

2011-06-07T19:44:00.000-07:00

It's a well-known fact that I'm not a particularly "domestic" girl. I've never really enjoyed cooking, I don't line my kitchen drawers, sew things, organize my closets, make jam or bake cakes. However . . . I'm starting to re-think this.

Maybe it's something about this house - that it just feels like home - or maybe it's the layout, or having space, or maybe it's having so much time on my hands, or not having the option of putting on my trusty career-woman "shoes" (actual heels on a particularly aspirational day) to head out the door for a day at the office. In a lot of ways, the pressure is off, and although I'm struggling with feelings of boredom and purposelessness, so far, it hasn't been too bad.

Truth be told, I was dreading being a stay-at-home mom. And I feel guilty saying that, because I know a lot of women would give their right arm to do just that. Though this hasn't been exactly my choice, it's the life I now live, and I want to make the best of it.

Today was a particularly good day. The blessed child slept until a decent hour, and we started our day together sitting in the sunshine of our little eating nook, munching on cereal and milk (for her) and yogurt and coffee (for me). And then we sat on the couch in our pajamas, she watching Curious George and me watching her as she slipped contentedly into the crook of my arm. And there we sat, in the comfort of our home, two peas in a pod.

Next we dressed and took a long stroller walk around the neighborhood, ending at our own cul-de-sac, where we pulled out her "bike" (one of those toddler rolling thingies) and she went up and down the sloping hill, over and over, her skinny little legs flailing and her blond hair fluffing in the wind.

Later I unpacked some boxes and Daddy joined us for a lunch of leftovers. Before I knew it, she had sidled over to me and actually said, "Mama? Is nap time?" And I about fell over dead. What kind of child asks to take a nap? Certainly not MY child! So I put this mysterious child down to bed and she didn't fight it at all - just . . . out like a light! Poof.

So I sat at the table to answer emails and edit articles (yes, thankfully I still have some freelance work to add to my daily menu of domesticity) and, OKAY, I Facebooked, too (that's a verb now, right?). And then I got really crazy and made some real spaghetti sauce - the from-scratch kind you have to start three hours ahead so it can simmer all afternoon and fill the entire house with the smells of Y-U-M-iness. Mmmm.

I'm even contemplating baking cookies now, which just about rounds out my day of domesticity, wouldn't you say? I suppose the only thing left to do is don an apron (which I don't own, of course). Tonight I might even watch one of those cooking shows that I inexplicably like. Perhaps I'll also shop online for that apron. Or maybe a pair of heels - for memory's sake, of course.

I doubt every day will feel like this, but at least we had this day. And for that, I'm thankful.

Zee house

2011-06-04T21:02:00.000-07:00

So it didn't all happen quite as planned, but we DID finally close on our house yesterday! Someone pinch me.

Around 9:45 a.m. yesterday, Jeremy was informed by our new neighbor (who works in the same office) that his wife had called to say a moving truck had arrived - guess we were up! Unfortunately, we still hadn't heard anything from the realtor, which meant the house still wasn't officially ours (we were just waiting on the money from the bank to transfer). Freaking out just slightly (ahem!), we all headed over there. And waited. And waited. And waited. The moving guys were quite perplexed since they were on a tight schedule, so they actually started unloading our stuff in the driveway. Finally the realtor called (still no official close) and said she would just bring the key over anyway. You can imagine our relief!

So the moving guys started hauling it all in, and about three hours later, they were done. Then the builder arrived to finish up a few things that needed some last touches, but still, we had heard nothing. So, feeling ever so sheepish (since we had just moved our stuff into what was technically still his house), I said to him, "Sooooooo . . . heard anything about the money transfer yet?"

Blank stare. He scratches his head.

"Well, let's see . . . "

Awkwardness, awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah. It went through." And as he nonchalantly lumbered out of the room, I heard him say, "Congratulations, I guess it's yours."

Huh. Guess he hadn't been as concerned about it as us.

Anyway, today was a very, very long day of unpacking, but it was also ever so fun. I cannot express to you what a pure luxury it is to have a garage - to be able to pull in, unload the groceries and walk a few feet to the kitchen. So easy! And the ultimate luxury so far: Space! Storage! Cupboards! We are so used to smushing and squeezing and stacking our belongings into tiny condo-sized cupboards and closets - but, people, get this: after unpacking the entire kitchen, I still have a few completely empty cupboards! Oh my goodness, it is so delightful, it feels wrong.

Okay, so I don't have very many pictures yet, and the place is pretty much a wasteland of cardboard boxes at the moment, but here are a few that were taken before we bought the house.

Pardon all the trucks (the blue one is Jeremy's). Every man in this town drives a pick-up.

You can see snow-capped mountains from those windows. Sigh! So blessed.

Pre-appliance installation. That empty space is where the stove and microwave are.
There are cupboards, fridge and pantry on the right side as well (LOVE this kitchen - maybe I'll have to learn how to cook or something).

Those stairs go up to the guest room, where YOU, dear reader, are going to stay when you come to visit.
Now book those tickets!

Stalkers, homeowners and fairy-winged pixies

2011-06-02T21:34:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow a certain moving truck full of a certain family's belongings is scheduled to arrive at a certain house . . . that we still do not yet own. (Gulp.)

So, no official news yet; however, this afternoon we did finally sign the paperwork at the title company, the bank is (supposedly) wiring the money first thing tomorrow morning and once the builder signs the paperwork as well, we should officially own that house. Let's just hope that all happens before 10:00 a.m., which is when that big ol' moving truck shows up with all our furniture.

Needless to say, we are beyond ready for this all to be over. It even seems as if Piper is aware of what's going on. As we drove away from the title company, she was in the backseat, tearfully wailing, "I want Piper's house! I want Piper's house!" And all I could do was think to myself, Me too!

So after dinner tonight, we decided to pop on over to "Piper's house" for a bit of sighing and oohing and ahhing from the car. The neighbors are probably creeped out by us at this point, since we often make these stalker-esque trips to the house. Sometimes it's a quick drive-by, but usually we linger, slowing to a roll and craning our necks to check out this and that. Let's just hope that by tomorrow morning, we can morph from stalkers to homeowners. I think I do finally, truly believe that it's all going to happen. (Please, please, please, please, PLEASE.)

And for those of you needing a Piper fix, here's my little pixie-girl enjoying her fairy wings from her Mimi/Mina/Grandma (these were taken at my parents' house). If only she could wave her wand and make some magic happen on that closing tomorrow morning . . .

Running out of patience and underwear

2011-05-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

Well, poop. Our closing has been delayed. It's amazing the hoops we're having to jump through for this mortgage. I don't know if it's because we're first-time home buyers, or because we just spent the last four years in a different country, or because of all the changes in the economy lately, but we're kind of sitting here scratching our heads. Just when we think we've met all their requests, more come our way. They keep digging and digging, hoping to find . . . I'm not sure what. Since we've never bought a house before, we don't really know if this is normal, but I guess it doesn't matter. It is what it is (cliche of the day brought to you by yours truly!).

Anyway, I'm sort of cursing this long weekend. We're itching to be done with the paperwork, but it looks like it might not happen until Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. Good thing we didn't have our furniture delivered today!

Since nothing's going to happen with the house today or even Monday, we're contemplating a long road trip for the weekend. We might even be a little presumptive and buy something for the house. Or maybe some new underwear. This apartment doesn't have laundry facilities and I'm avoiding laundromat drudgery at all costs!

Life in make-do purgatory

2011-05-26T11:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we did our official walk-through of our new house. Thankfully, there were no huge problems and we should be able to move in very soon. In fact, our closing is still set for tomorrow (although we're still a tad nervous about all the mortgage paperwork coming through on time).

Unfortunately, all of our belongings are sitting in a storage facility three hours away. The relocation company was scheduled to deliver everything to our new house tomorrow, but since the house isn't final yet, we postponed them, not wanting to get stuck with a truck full of furniture and no house to move it all into! The real bummer is that the company doesn't have another opening to move our stuff out here until NEXT Friday. Oh well. We figured we better be safe and go with the later date.

Seeing the house yesterday made me so excited to move in. It still seems unreal that this is going to be our house, but it also feels like "us" at the same time. I can't wait to see Piper's excitement at seeing all of her toys and familiar belongings again. The poor little pipsqueak has had to settle for Mommy's homemade "toys" while we're in temporary housing (for example, the babydoll "bathtub" that is really just an empty box).

Okay, and I don't mean to complain (in other words, here I go), but this so-called "furnished" apartment we're living in is not cutting it. The kitchen is woefully empty, making me even less enthusiastic about cooking (I know, didn't think that was possible, did you?). For example, there's not a mixing bowl. Can you imagine life without a mixing bowl? I had never thought about it before, but I needed to mix something up for dinner the other night and my only options were a small cereal bowl, a coffee mug, coffee pot or a casserole dish. I used the casserole dish (shallow one, at that) and ended up spilling everything all over the counter. Sigh. This has translated into the Vaughan family visiting pretty much every restaurant in town (and Julie probably gaining about ten pounds from all the restaurant food).

I am thankful that we're aren't literally homeless, or having to pay for a hotel out of our pockets, but I'm ready to stop living in temporary mode. Because of this, we're actually thinking about moving into our house as soon as it closes, even though we won't have our furniture. (Um, does that make us crazy?) Yes, I realize we'll have even less "stuff," but, hey, we actually need to buy a new mattress for the guest room, and we can survive with paper plates and cups for a while. We're already eating out most of the time anyway, and, come on, what kid wouldn't get excited about sleeping on the floor in her very first sleeping bag? Let's just think of it as "camping, Julie-style" (= no bugs, bears or peeing in the woods).

To come as you are

2011-05-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

So we walk into church today, the Baptist one, because I think there's probably only one church per denomination here (other than the Mormons, of course). And I smile at the occasional cowboy boots and weather-beaten faces of the mining and ranching men. The women are in jeans and dresses, shorts and skirts - whatever floats your boat, which is nice, considering I only brought one dress and my jeans and sneakers fit in just fine here.

And then I see him. Just out of the corner of my eye - longish white hair, a big hat stuffed down on top of his head, shadowing squinty, wrinkled eyes. And he's outfitted in head-to-toe hunting camouflage. Truly, this wouldn't have made me blink twice in this town, but then I notice the fishing pole. Big, long fishing pole like he was just stopping in from his everyday trek to the local "crik" but hadn't had time to stash it away.

And he marched that ol' fishing pole right to the front of the sanctuary and took his seat. He stood through the worship songs, pole at his side, and he slept through most of the sermon, meandering out at one point - to use the restroom, I assume - entrusting his fishing pole to that church pew as if he were in a room full of converted sinners who wouldn't dream of stealing an old man's fishing gear.

I nudged Jeremy at one point and whispered out of the side of my mouth, "See the guy with the fishing pole?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Maybe it's for a skit? I bet they're doing a skit." Because we Baptists know about the skits.

I suppressed an unladylike guffaw and whispered, "Maybe. But I wouldn't be surprised . . . "

And secretly I hoped - really, really hoped - that the guy with the fishing pole was the real deal; that he was the kind of man who shows up at church wearing what he wears every day of the week - or at least every Sunday of the year - with his fishing gear on and his trusty pole at his side . . . because, ultimately, who cares?

There's something refreshing about the authentic, about the setting aside of "proper" appearances and the just-being-who-you-are. Especially there in that church pew, where I saw not one other person give this man the once-over. He fit, and though he also didn't, it made me happy to know that on this beautiful, sunny desert day, he stopped by - maybe on his way to the fishing hole, maybe on his way back, but he came. And he wanted to be there, though he didn't have to be. It made me smile, but I think it probably made God smile the biggest.

And guess what. There were no skits today.

Life in small-town-ville

2011-05-20T21:21:00.000-07:00

We have been in this town for three days now. I think. It could've been longer, could've been shorter, I really don't know. All I know is that my sense of time is off. I really, really have to think about what day of the week it is. Based on the noisy party taking place in the apartment upstairs, I'm guessing it's a weekend night?

Anyway, I guess this is small-town life. I find that an adjustment in thinking has had to occur. Instead of picking and choosing from an assortment of options for how to spend our weekend together, this evening we had two options: go on a walk to the playground (again) or go to Dairy Queen. Ice cream won.

And tomorrow night? When Jeremy got home from work this evening, he announced that everyone in town (and I'm guessing he really does mean everyone) will be spending tomorrow night at the roller derby. And I actually got kind of excited. Why? Because it's something to do! And I'm totally picturing the movie Whip It (which I kind of love because I secretly have a dream of being a roller-derby girl - except I'm kind of scared of the women in this town).

Anyway, here are our adventures in small-town life so far . . . (hold on to your seats!)

Wha? We're here? Ok, snnnnnzzzzz...

We've already hit up every playground in town. Piper is not complaining.

Yes, there are horses here! (She gets excited about the real ones, too.)

Tonight's exciting adventure: DQ! Actually, this was rather exciting because it was the first time Piper has ever willingly eaten ice cream (yeah, I've tried shoving it in her mouth - "You'll like it!" - many a times only to have her spit it out at me with a disgruntled, "I DON'T LIKE!!!") I guess she's a fan now.

Last adventures and new things

2011-05-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I had the immense pleasure of taking off for Chicago all by myself (all by myself!!!). I mean, I SOOOO missed my little peanut girl, but she was happy and safe and thoroughly entertained in the doting company of my parents. I've been wanting to visit my younger sister since she moved to my old college town of Chicago (well, technically my college town was in the suburbs, but we spent a lot of time in the city, too).

A must-do: The Art Institute of Chicago

My adorable little sister

"The Bean" at Millennium Park

Waiting for the L. This totally made me think of While You Were Sleeping

On our way home. Rachel rides the L every day to work. She's a pro by now.

Ain't these newlyweds cute?

Mmmm... Giordano's does not disappoint.

All in all, my trip to Chicago was much too short, but I loved it all (yes, even my sister/bro-in-law's two cats, "Hammer-Pants Louie" and "I-Will-Stare-At-You-Until-You-Pet-Me Jack"). It was especially meaningful since it was my last "adventure" during this time of transition for our family.

Bright and early yesterday morning, we hugged my parents goodbye and hopped a plane to our new town. And here we are! We're still in temporary housing (it's a pretty bare bones apartment but doable for a little while). But the good news is, I finally saw our new house yesterday and I LOVE IT! We're supposed to close on it next Friday. I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high, since you so often hear of new builds being delayed, but it should come through very soon. I can't wait to move in and start decorating! Oh, wait, decorating would require stores of some kind . . . poo. Guess this means some shopping road trips are in order!

Her moment of shining glory

2011-05-10T20:18:00.000-07:00

Truthfully, haven't we all dreamed of grooving our way down a Barbie runway in a huge pink tutu while a cute DJ mixes it up? I know I have.

So ends the hunt

2011-05-05T13:34:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are Facebook friends with me, you probably know by now that we finally bought a house! At least, I think we did. I haven't actually seen the house (in person), and I have no clue what the house-buying process entails, but I do know this: we made an offer, the offer was accepted, I signed a million pieces of paper (via email/fax, since I'm still not actually in our new town) and now . . . we wait? I don't know, but it's nice to know the hunting is done.

I do have some photos of the house, but I'm kind of worried about jinxing the whole thing. I don't think it'll fall through, but since there's still a chance (and, yeah, I'm slightly pessimistic), I'll wait to post those until it's official.

In the meantime, Piper and I are still traveling around, visiting family. We just got back from a trip down south to visit my older sister and her family in Nashville. Man, I love that town! Seriously wish we could've done some house-hunting THERE, but oh well. Now we're back in Indianapolis, but we leave again on Saturday for Ohio. Then back to Indy, where I'll drop Piper off with my parents and take off for a short trip to Chicago by myself (to see my younger sis)! Whew, yeah, I could really use a break from single parenting. I love my child, but she's driving me a little crazy lately. In all fairness, I'm probably driving her crazy, too. Ah well, it's nice to have family around to help out, and I'm really savoring these days with my loved ones. I don't see my family nearly enough. It's nice to know that we're at least in the same country now!

Temporary digs, Easter egg hunts and parties for old people

2011-04-27T21:04:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are. In America. At last. It's been a crazy week, but I think the craziness is finally dying down.

As of this evening, we are now officially homeless! Kind of. We've been placed in temporary housing by Jeremy's new company, but we still haven't found a house to move into. Our prospects are looking rather unpromising at the moment, but I guess there's no rush.

Right now, Piper and I are currently staying with my parents. That's right - I'm jobless, car-less, homeless, somewhat aimless, and I'm living with my parents . . . just like my post-college days! Seriously, it's like I've come full circle. After graduating from college, I remember holing up in my parents' house for months on end, feeling this same sense of bewilderment and lack of clarity about the future. Eventually I found my way - I just keep telling myself that.

On a more upbeat note, this past weekend we had an amazing time with my whole family! My mom's 60th birthday is coming up, so we gathered together to throw her a bash and to celebrate Easter. Some pics from our fun weekend:

Our egg-dyeing extravaganza

The Easter Bunny came early to the Blanchard house. We had an Easter egg hunt on Saturday
since my dad had to preach at a faraway church on Sunday. Couldn't let Parker miss out on all the fun!

This child is the queen of collecting things. She was LOVING the hunt.

Happy birthday to the ol' lady! For her birthday gift, my sisters and I are going to take
her on a girls' weekend sometime this summer.

Note: Uncle Bryan is holding a baby doll and a pink blankie on his lap. We're putting him through
child-rearing bootcamp in case he ever knocks up my sister someday.

My pretty baby!

My sisters, niece and mama.
(We did not plan the all-flowered ensembles on purpose - we're not THAT dorky)

This is Uncle Brian, a.k.a. "Bubba!" These two are special buddies. She even let Uncle Bubba put her down for naps. She would fall asleep for him in 10 seconds - for me: 10 minutes. I will assume that's because he's so boring! Yeah, that's it.

Checkin' out the goods

Messages from daycare

2011-04-18T14:54:00.000-07:00

Friday was Piper's last day at daycare, and it was surprisingly sad. Her teachers seemed truly upset that she was leaving. Of course, Piper was oblivious to it all, but she doled out hugs and waves and, according to her teachers, even told her little boyfriend, Carson (a.k.a. "Carsie"), that she loves him (apparently he was napping at the time, so he might have missed her declaration of love).

It's amazing how my perceptions of daycare have changed now that we've experienced our version of daycare life. Every time we drove there, as we approached this one intersection near the building, she would pipe up from the back seat with a super excited "DAYCARE!" It might sound like a small thing, but it always put my heart at ease. And I loved coming to pick her up at the end of the day. I could stand and watch her interacting with her peers, having all kinds of creative fun (until she would notice me and come stampeding towards me with outstretched arms and a hearty "Mama!" Yeah, that was nice, too).

At daycare, she got to get really messy (bless those teachers, they actually encouraged it), she learned the ABC song and "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and was well-loved by her little friends. When we would walk in the door in the mornings, we would be greeted by a chorus of toddler voices yelling, "Popper!" (or whatever they could manage to pronounce). Truly one of the best parts was knowing how loved she was by her teachers. They always had funny stories about her day and got a kick out of her constant chatter.

On Piper's last day, they handed us a memory book full of pictures and crafts she'd created. And at the back was a page containing handwritten notes from her teachers. I teared up reading these! I especially love their little nicknames for her. Thought I'd share their notes here . . .

Oh, Pipeski! Who am I going to have jibber conversations with when you leave? You're my BLF (best li'l friend)! You make me laugh and smile always! I'll miss you. Love, Miss Sam.

Piper, your time here in the Ocean Room was short, but your impact is lasting. You made me smile every day. I am going to miss you. Have fun on your new adventure. Love, Miss Amanda.

Peter Piper, you are so funny and delightful, you always have something to say. I'm just not always sure what you are saying! :-) I will miss your special ways. Keep us posted on your adventures with a postcard. We'll always love hearing from you! Love, Miss Sarah.

Piper, you have been a joy to have in the Ocean Room! I'm going to miss you. :-( Good luck on your adventures in the U.S. Keep in touch. Love, Miss Shana.

Piperoo, you're a magical little girl, whom I'm going to greatly miss. I know one day I'll open up the paper and see that you've done something amazing. Love, Miss Carlissa.

To trace love on skin

2011-04-13T22:26:00.000-07:00

I remember reading, before she was born, about the power of touch. How the sensation of a mother's touch on her newborn's skin is like medicine, like a food that nourishes, willing life, breathing love through the trailing finger pads of a mother tracing love on skin.

So when she was born, I would hold her to my chest, skin to skin, the warmth of our breaths mingling together in the middle, where we meet. And I would trace the pattern of her ears, like seashells downy soft, and I would palm her cheeks and kiss them pink, she with smiling eyes and pumpkin grin.

I have never stopped feeding her this love, and I still believe in its power. When she sleeps, I bend in the shadows of night and trace my love . . . her velvet hair, the sinews of her neck, her roundness of cheek and the breathing of her belly. She doesn't know I'm there, and yet I believe she does. She doesn't feel my touch, and yet I believe she does. She doesn't understand how deep my love goes, and yet I believe she does . . . when I touch magic into her skin.

Still here (in body, but maybe not in mind)

2011-04-09T13:17:00.000-07:00

So here's an unexciting update. We're still here, and our moving date is about to come and go with no moving vans showing up at our door. Not a single box has been packed, and yet tomorrow we're showing our condo to potential new renters. Oh, yeah. This has got to be one of the most in-between, awkward waiting periods I've ever experienced. And it's about to get weirder.

In about two hours, Piper and I will be dropping Jeremy off at the airport. Where's he going? Our new town! For two weeks! Without us! Uh huh. Our moving date was supposed to be Monday, but his company suddenly decided they needed him there, at work, bright and early Monday morning. We were given the option to move immediately (like, yesterday) or wait two weeks while he goes down there temporarily without us. We chose two weeks. Yesterday would've been nearly impossible, with Jeremy trying to turn in his final draft of his thesis. Plus, we wouldn't have been able to say goodbye to many of our friends.

So, anyway, nothing exciting to report, but that's the latest. I think our new moving date has been set for the week after Easter. Piper and I may not even be here for it! Imagine that. Jeremy will come back for the move, but Peanut and I might be off visiting family by then. The really weird part is that I have no idea when I'll see my husband again. Strange days, these are . . .

If I owe you an email, phone call, RSVP or any other form of communication, please forgive! I've also just started a new freelance job - I can hardly remember to brush my teeth in the morning. I even forgot Piper's best friend's birthday party last night (we did show up eventually, but only after they called to make sure we hadn't wrecked on the highway or something!). Bad mommy, bad mommy.

The beginning of goodbyes

2011-04-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

Oh, yes, it is officially time for our world to turn upside down. I knew this was coming; I just didn't realize how quickly it would happen. I also didn't realize we had a few surprises coming our way.

This past week was my last week in the office. I was truly savoring each day, wanting time to just stop so I could avoid saying goodbye. But Thursday morning, Piper woke up with a high fever. Turns out she has pink eye - just what she (and we) needed! Pink eye meant, of course, no daycare for Peanut, and Mommy or Daddy would need to stay home. I was worried this would mean I couldn't even say goodbye to my coworkers, but Jeremy took pity on me and let me finish out my last two days in the office.

Thursday night I cried all the way home from the office (and then some more once I got home), but Friday I felt ready to face the goodbyes. With a super busy schedule that day, I hardly had time to think about the significance of the day. I have a feeling the grieving process will settle in later on, but for now, I'm doing okay.

Piper, on the other hand, is having a rough time. Her pink eye is clearing up, but today she came down with a serious case of digestive issues (yeah, leaky diapers all day), plus she woke up from her nap throwing up everywhere. This resulted in many loads of laundry and three baths! Even Mommy needed to be hosed down at one point. Fun times . . .

Our moving date has been pushed back a little further than we anticipated, which is somewhat unsettling, but also gives us a little more breathing room. Still no progress on finding a home in our new town, but I think we'll start seriously looking again once we get down there. Temporary housing will have to do for a while. In the meantime, Piper and I plan on traveling to see family.

I'll leave you with some photos of our recent goodbyes.

My team. Love these guys!

One of my editors gave me these flowers as a goodbye gift. Totally brightened my week!

Piper and I enjoyed a long walk through our neighborhood this weekend,
hitting up some of our favorite playgrounds.

Mommy takes seesawing very seriously.

I just love her little gap-toothed grin.

Piper's a big fan of this pond near our house. It almost always has ducks.

She thought the fountain was an angel! I don't know where she learned what an angel is,
but it was rather sweet. And she has a point, don't you think?

I love this little bridge. So many memories here.

The problem with being a toddler fashionista

2011-03-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

Dearest child, we have a problem. No, the problem is not that you are suddenly convinced THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE if you are not allowed to pick out your own clothing. Based upon my own track record as a belligerent three-year-old fashionista, I suspected this day was coming. As painful as it may be, I'm prepared to concede to a regular display of mismatched, oddball, toddler wardrobe combinations. (My mom's voice comes floating out of nowhere, something about "choose your battles" - but, wait, was that a triumphant "Ha, ha! Payback time!" I heard as well? Hmmm, weird.)

But here's where the problem lies. It's the whole "I DO IT! NOOOOOOO, I DO IT!" part. You know, the part where it takes you 10 minutes to fit one chubby-chubby into one pant leg (not to mention the fact that you selected a pair of far-too-small capri pants totally inappropriate for a chilly Canadian winter day). And then the real problems started when you could not figure out how to put your other foot in the other pant leg, and so you managed to squeeze both chubby-chubbies into ONE hole, all the while struggling to stand up and hop around the room in your yellow/pink/orange cherry-printed, one-pant-legged getup.

Of course, I probably shouldn't have laughed so hard at the sight of your perplexed face and your one empty pant leg flopping in the wind. Instead of running to grab the camera (whose battery chose to die at that exact moment, of course), I probably should have tried to help you. In fact, I did, eventually, only to be met by the wrath of a (literally) hopping-mad two year old having a serious wardrobe malfunction.

Although you finally managed to extract both legs from that single pant-leg hole, and even managed to eventually wrangle both legs into their own respective holes, still, when you stood up and (gasp!) actually asked me to help you pull your pants up over your diapered bum, problems persisted. Those crazy-printed, too-short capris? They were on backwards . . . meaning, the elasticized back was riding up your chest and the "front" of your pants was hanging so low down your backside, you would've been the envy of every shlumpy teenage boy in North America.

Refusing to don a shirt was the least of our problems as you waddled uncomfortably around the house, next pointing insistently at your little baggie full of ponytail elastics. When I asked if you wanted a ponytail today, you nodded emphatically and grunted at those slippery little elastics.

"Okay, what color?" I asked. See, I'm cool. You can have the control on this.

"Bue! Pink! Lellow!" Interesting choice, but okay, whatever you want, darlin' . . .

As I began to gather your little wisps of blond fluff into some semblance of a ponytail, you said the dreaded words: "I DO IT!"

And this is when I began to splutter like the truly frazzled mom-of-a-toddler that I am. "But you can't! There's no way! Just . . . argh!"

Because, seriously, it's a good day when I (the 32-year-old woman with decades' worth of experience convincing slippery ponytail holders to hold together bunches of ultra-fine Blanchard girl hair) manage to assemble a ponytail on your head. The fact that YOU now think you're ready to accomplish this feat of dexterity - well, I think THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE after all.

And because I know this child so well, here's my prediction: Today I will leave this house in the company of a sticker-bedecked, backwards-panted child with crazy hair and a pair of hot pink rain boots worn on the wrong feet. Because THAT'S THE WAY THIS FASHIONISTA ROLLS.

Meh.

2011-03-24T23:27:00.000-07:00

So. Here we are, back in Vancouver, still house-less. It's a long story, but it seems that home-buying for this family just wasn't meant to be - at least, not yet. And, yeah, I'm kind of discouraged about it. I'm sure we'll find something eventually, but I was really hoping we would have a place to move into shortly after the big relocation. It seems that another lesson in patience is forthcoming. Poop.

For now, I'm wrapping up things at work and even exploring some surprising, new opportunities in the great big world of freelance writing/editing. Talk about an adventure! Apparently I will soon be an LLC. Or something. Actually, I am excited about this and hope to continue growing my professional experience from home . . . er . . . I guess from our temporary housing rental. Whatever.

Here are a few pictures from our trip. At least I won't have to worry about keeping my sense of humor in this town.

Hanging next to our table at a local restaurant.

Totally getting Jeremy one of these for his new pick-up.
(he studies GOLD deposits - har, har!)

So we were at this shopping center in a nearby(ish) town and spotted this amazing canyon
from the mall parking lot! Couldn't believe the juxtaposition.

Hunting for home

2011-03-20T22:23:00.000-07:00

Right now we're on a house-hunting trip in our new city. We (supposedly) move down here in a few weeks, so the pressure is definitely on. I can't remember how many houses we looked at yesterday, but it was enough to start blending all together into one big lump. In fact, many of the houses here have a similar layout, so it's really hard to remember which was which (I did take our camera, but I forgot to keep taking photos).

In this town, there are pretty much two options for neighborhoods: IN town or on the outskirts of town. Originally we wanted to live within the city limits, because although this town is small, it does have some stuff. Jeremy's office is in town, there's the Starbucks (VERY IMPORTANT!), the super Wal-Mart (yeah, yeah, I know) and uh, what else . . . ? Oh, yeah - the library! And a park! And about 50 casinos! Oh, wait, casinos are bad.

Anyway, the majority of homes we looked at yesterday were in town. And they weren't exactly as affordable as we had originally hoped for. They were somewhat small, and most of them needed a lot of work. Being first-time homeowners with absolutely no experience with "fixing up" things, we realized we might be in a little bit over our heads. And apparently our very wise realtor picked up on this. Somewhere in the midst of our search, she told us a story about another couple who'd moved down from "the big city" (I think she was actually talking about Canada) and they had sworn up and down that they would not, by any means, consider living on the outskirts of town. During the proceeding year of unsuccessful house-hunting, they continued to persist, refusing to even look at any homes outside the city. But one day, Jesse (our realtor) said to them, "Let's just see!" and she took them to the outlying suburb (if you can even call it a suburb), and what'd'y'know? They immediately bought a house there and lived happily ever after (or so I imagine).

Before this story had even ended, I was sold. Twenty minutes later we were heading out of town, driving over the crest of a hill, when. . . oh my . . . one of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen! You wouldn't believe the homes out there, all nestled beneath the shadow of a jaw-dropping line of white-capped mountains. And you know that old saying about how you get so much more house for your money by moving to the suburbs? Apparently it's true, even in a tiny town like this - although, this area isn't really "suburb," it's more like a valley of wild sagebrush, sandy dirt, juniper trees, grazing horses and the occasional house here and there. But in its own way, it's beautiful.

So tomorrow our realtor is going to show us five more houses out in that area, and we're really hoping we can find something we love. In the meantime, we're still weighing the pros and cons of living "on the outskirts." Although it's a bit of a stressful time for us, it's been quite an adventure! I'm excited to see what lies ahead.

The stars come twinkling

2011-03-16T23:08:00.000-07:00

She sings, this child. It used to just be me. Each night, it was always the same - milk and books and prayer, and then Mommy and Daddy sang our song. And when it was my turn to put her down, we would rock in the dark and I would sing to her. Great Is Thy Faithfulness. Amazing Grace. As The Deer. Because there's a reason why they're the classics.

But then, one night, I reached back into childhood, to the profound simplicity . . . Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. And, suddenly, there was an echo.

Twinkle, twinkle little star,

((star))

How I wonder what you are,

((are))

Up above the world so high,

(('igh))

Like a diamond in the sky,

((sky))

Twinkle, twinkle little star,

((star))

How I wonder what you are,

((are))

And now we sing together of twinkling stars, of A's and B's and C's, and of the Jesus who loves us, this we know.

Japan

2011-03-14T22:53:00.000-07:00

It's hard to comprehend, to truly believe that, despite all the photos and videos and headline after breaking headline, that the world is falling apart - just there, across the sea. That families have been severed, some completely swallowed by the pain, the grief, even the earth itself.

I find I cannot even look, though I've tried to force myself to see - out of respect, out of duty, out of a desire to share in their suffering - but then I see the tear-stained face of a woman, and I wonder if she's searching for her baby . . . and I have to stop and turn away, because the pain is too much, too close, and I don't want to even glimpse the narrowest shadow of that darkness.

I don't know how to share in their pain, and I don't know how to pray. But I will try.

The functioning of feet

2011-03-09T21:18:00.000-08:00

Piper has this new, rather sweet, but also rather inconvenient, habit. She wants to be carried. All the time, everywhere. Going to the kitchen, Mama? Carry me! Walking 10 feet from the swing to the slide? Carry me! And have you seen this child? She's a big girl! Well, she's actually kind of deceptively small-looking, but I promise, she's a chunky monkey.

So the other day I pulled into our parking spot after a long day of work and a commute that felt even longer, and it was fairly quiet in the car because I had plugged in an only slightly loved Curious George DVD ("George? GEORGE? GEORGE! GEORGGGGGE!!!"). I mournfully looked over at the pile of bags sitting next to me on the passenger seat. I knew there were more bags on the floor, next to Piper and even in the trunk. And the thought I dreaded most? Dragging those bags along that winding, lengthy walk from our parking spot through the garage, the lobby, up the stairs and down a long hallway to our door.

I looked back at that transfixed, angelic little face and told myself, This time. Maybe this time she'll want to walk (as if, if I just THINK it really hard, it will come true). So I optimistically started unbuckling, bundling up and gathering everything that needed to come inside.

"Okay, Piper, let's go."

She eyed me suspiciously, dangling her baby doll precariously close to the filthy hubcap of the car next to us.

"Ooh, Peanut, look at all these bags Mama has to carry. Wow, that's a lot, isn't it?"

She sniffed at me and turned in the direction of the garage exit. And then she started walking . . . on her own two feet!

Yes! YES! YESSSS! She's going to do it! With great relief, I hoisted up my bags and we started the long, slow shuffle towards home (yes, if I ever write a book, that will probably be the title).

But then this huge SUV came swerving around the corner, heading straight for us. So I did what moms do - I dropped everything and grabbed my little girl. The SUV drove off, and all was well, except . . . now she was in my arms. And that whole walking-on-her-own-two-feet thing - it was all over.

I stooped to put her down (making sure no more maniac monster cars were headed our way), gathered my load of this-n-that bags and began to grope ever so desperately for any remnant of optimism that might still be lingering in my over-stretched mommy brain.

"Come on, Piper. Yay! Here we go!" Stupid, annoying, chirpy mommy voice.

"Waaaaahhhhhhh!" She wailed, planting her feet. "Carry!"

"No, no, sweet girl. This is what big girls do. Big girls walk! See, watch Mommy."

Backfire! She suddenly thinks I'm taking off without her, leaving her to the mercy of jumbo SUVs and dirty hubcaps. So, in protest, she drops her doll on the (disgusting concrete) floor and sits down, crying. And lo and behold, a neighbor guy comes sauntering up and now I realize that our sad little party is blocking the doorway to the exit.

"I'm so sorry, just a second," I said to him (patient, smiling man that he was) and I began to hoist my indignant child's wriggling body to her feet.

"No, no, no. Carrryyyyy!"

"Piper Elizabeth," (that'll show her), "Get up. NOW."

We're now in full stand-off mode. And with a witness! The poor man just stood there holding the door for us while I practically begged him to go on ahead of us (gah! - where are all the ungentlemanly men when you really need them?).

But then I had an idea. Like any well-trained ~~soldier~~ parent knows, change tactics.

"Piper, I have a job for you. It's very important."

No eye contact yet, but the whining stopped.

"Oh, yes, it's only something big girls can do," I said, not really knowing if the whole big-girls ploy would work on her yet. "Can you help Mama by carrying this special bag?"

Slowly she looked up at me with those round blue eyes. As she grabbed her dollie and pulled herself to her feet, I handed her the smallest bag I had, hoping that it wasn't too heavy or awkward for her to carry. And you know what? It worked! She wrapped her little arms ever so reverently around that bag, mission accepted and her little face the picture of determination.

And so we plodded after our gentlemanly neighbor, two women walking on their own two feet . . . that is, until we bumped into a different neighbor that Piper's afraid of (because he carries a walker - I know, the nerve!) while simultaneously passing the door behind which a pack of snarling wolves apparently live. Let's just say, shrieking and clawing her way up my leg became her new mission.

On the bright side, I now have a new trick to pull from my clever-mommy bag: "Piper, here is your next big-girl mission." Totally going to wear this one OUT.

Love like bread

2011-03-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

She is eating bread, munching and sucking on yeasty softness, her cheeks all doughy and sweet like fresh-baked rolls. She nibbles and sucks, never pulling the bread from her mouth, just holding on, double-fisted, with fingers curling round crumbling brown crust. I listen to the sound of toddler teeth and smacking petal lips and I want to nibble her pillowy cheeks with mama-love and smiles. She is the picture of fairness, of delicate skin and clear blue eyes, and I love her from her baby-shampooed head to her still-so-tiny toes. She is blessing and beauty, and when she rests her head against my shoulder, I kiss her hair and feel the curling of a hand around my arm. I could not love her more than in this moment, and if I were to try, my heart would pop and rise like yeast, bursting forth with wafts of fragrant love.

Sea-to-Sky adventures

2011-03-02T09:23:00.000-08:00

With our impending move looming ever closer, we're starting to realize how little time we have left in this beautiful city of ours. And before that time slips away completely, we want to soak up this place as much as possible.

The day after Jeremy's grandfather passed away, we were in serious need of some downtime as a family. Jeremy's been moving at a breakneck speed with his thesis lately - trying to finish up his final draft before we move down south - which means early mornings to catch the bus for school, late evenings coming home and staying up late (sometimes 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.) working on that massive paper. Needless to say, he needed a break. And we all needed some time together.

If you ever visit Vancouver, you simply can't miss the drive up to Whistler (or even just as far as Squamish) known as the Sea to Sky Highway. AH-MAZING. Seriously, one of the most beautiful settings you'll ever see. I'll never forget our first time visiting Vancouver and taking this drive. I remember thinking I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

This will not do it justice at all, but here's a tiny glimpse.

There was no snow that day near our home, so Piper was in for a fun surprise when we reached those higher altitudes.

Our favorite lookout point.

The icy "hike" up to Shannon Falls

The waterfall was half frozen but stunning as always

As a special treat for Daddy, we finally visited the Britannia Mine Museum. My geologist/mineral exploration hubby has always wanted to stop and visit. I was perhaps less than excited about a mine museum, but it ended up being pretty fun.

Piper thought our hard hats were super cool. Because they were.

Jeremy always tells me about the massive trucks used in mines.
I discovered he wasn't exaggerating.

Piper sums up our fantastic (um, nap-free) day:

Hark! An announcement

2011-02-28T08:09:00.000-08:00

I've been itching to write this post for a while now, because we have some big news. About a month from now, we're moving back to the States! Yep, back to the motherland! I won't specify exactly where we're going - for privacy reasons, since this is an open blog - but let's just say it involves the wild, wild west. Yes, we're talking tumbleweed, wild horses, rodeos and real-life cowboys - really. It also involves . . . (deep breath) . . . small-town life. Very small-town life.

And, oh, how this move is tugging at my heart. On the one hand, I'm so excited to be moving on to the next stage of our lives - Jeremy blessed with a fantastic job, buying our first home, settling into a slower pace of life and hopefully spending more time together as a family - but I'm also dreading the goodbyes. We've made so many wonderful friends here in Canada, we have a great church, I love my workplace and Vancouver is simply a stunning place to live - full of life and beauty and endless adventures. It's going to be so hard to leave.

I'm nervous about many aspects of this move, including the fact that my chances of finding a job in my career field (editing/writing) are slim in this little town we're moving to, but one thing I do know - God can do anything, and I know He has a plan for me. Looking back, He orchestrated an amazing career opportunity for me here in Canada before we even moved, and I know He'll be watching out for me in the days to come (even if that doesn't translate into a career outside the home). For now, the plan is that I'll stay home full-time with Piper, but I may also continue doing some contract work for my organization. And, of course, I'll be spending time adjusting to small-town life (eep! scary for this big-city girl).

There are many more things I could write about regarding this move, but I'll leave it here for now. I mostly just wanted to share the news. The next month is going to fly by, but I'm excited. Let the next adventure begin!

A few pics of our new landscape (taken during a trip we took a few weeks ago while checking out the town):

Love rains down

2011-02-24T23:14:00.000-08:00

Today we gathered, this family, and stood beneath the canopy of an overcast sky, gentle California hills our backdrop to this day of remembering. This was not my family, not really, but also it was - one of the beauties of marriage, that his becomes mine, that family grows. And this was not my grandfather, not even someone I knew very well. But I knew the stories, and I knew the kindness of his eyes. And today I saw the love. It rained down the faces of his children, his wife, his grandchildren, brother, pastor and friends. I heard it in their words, felt it in their silence, saw it etched upon the face of my husband. I even heard it in their laughter - sweet spots of sadness released in smile - and we remembered that he was not a man of sadness, like this day. He was a man of joy, of faith and generosity, of sparkling eyes and mischief. We remembered him today, and this family circled together, tight.

In the silence

2011-02-20T23:25:00.000-08:00

Late yesterday afternoon, I received a phone call from my mother-in-law, who was trying to reach my husband. He hadn't been answering his phone, and she needed to relay some news to him. Her father - Jeremy's grandfather - passed away suddenly yesterday. And all I could say to her, this woman who loved her father so clearly, so deeply, was, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And over and over I said it, because what more can we say to someone we love who has lost someone they love so dearly?

And as I hung up the phone, assuring her I would pass on the news to her soft-hearted son, I felt choked with sadness and an overwhelming sense of having no words (me, the one with too many words). I knew Jeremy was in his office at the university, and I dialed him immediately, expecting the phone to go to voicemail. I decided to simply leave a message asking him to come home soon. Because I didn't want to tell him this news over the phone.

But he answered the phone. And, still, I had no words. I could tell by his voice that he hadn't heard the news yet (perhaps a voicemail left by his mother? or maybe they had reached him after all?), and I wanted to blurt it out, because he deserved to know, but even more: I wanted to protect him from the pain.

It has only been a month since the death of his other grandfather - my father-in-law's father - and the pain is still too fresh. How could this be happening now? Another beloved man, the sturdy roots of these two families, now gone. In heaven, yes, but still it is too much for those of us left behind, the ones whose love does not stop just because their beloved is gone.

"Can you come home soon?" I said, carefully controlled.

And he asked if I was okay, if Piper was having a bad day, and when I said, No, no, we're fine - evasive and squirming - he asked what I wanted to do for dinner, because maybe we could all go out to eat as a family; we haven't done that in a while; it would be good for us. He, thinking of us. I told him we would talk about it later and he promised to come home soon. The wait was too long and yet too short to come up with just-the-right-words, because there weren't any. Nothing could make it okay. It was too much, too cruel, and the blow would be harsh.

And it turns out I didn't need the words, because when he walked in the door, the look on his face, I knew immediately that he knew. His parents had reached him and now there was only the pain.

We spent the evening not as a family of three dining out on the town but as a family of three tumbled and jumbled all together in one bed, in a room that was dark and filled with no words, except the small voice of a little girl bending over her daddy's face, with all the sweetness in the world, "Dada, you okay . . . ?"

"Dada, you okay . . . ? Dada, you okay . . . ?"

And finally I shushed her and said, "Dada's okay. He's just sad." And she hugged him round his neck and kissed his cheek, and we lingered in silence, in the bed we share, and breathed in, and breathed out.

* * *

Praying that, someday, we can pray as Job, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised" (Job 1:21).

Asking that you join with me in prayer for my husband and his family. Faith to believe, endurance to move forward and strength to praise when sorrows like sea billows roll.

The fries that bind . . . (My corniest title yet! Couldn't resist)

2011-02-18T21:44:00.000-08:00

So my husband came home tonight to report that he was slowly tortured on his bus ride home. Apparently there was this girl sitting across from him . . . eating french fries. And I listened to his sad story with deep compassion in my heart, because this was cruel in many ways:

1. Fries are for sure one of Jeremy's all-time favorite foods in the world.

2. They were McDonald's fries (we all understand the significance of this delineation, I'm sure).

3. Since he tends to come home pretty late (dinner-less), he was probably quite hungry.

4. The tempting smell of those fries lingered cruelly in his nostrils the whole trip. "Julie, it took her 40 minutes to eat those fries! FORTY MINUTES! One by one by one . . ." (his face all screwed up in pain).

5. About five months ago, Jeremy got on a health kick and decided to cut way down on fried foods - most painful of all: french fries. Since then, he's lost about 18 pounds. This is somewhat perplexing to me for many reasons. For one, he was already a rather slender guy (though he would totally argue with me on that), and those pounds practically melted off him (no increased exercise necessary - don't you kind of hate him?). But, most alarmingly, the fact that he has lost 18 pounds means that he is dangerously close to WEIGHING AS MUCH AS HIS WIFE. Not cool, Mr. Husband-Man. The only time we are ever allowed to weigh the same is when I'm pregnant. And if you even think about weighing less than me . . . well, let's just say, I cook your meals, and you never know what might "accidentally" slip in there.

So anyway, as much as point #5 was simply me complaining about the unfairness of how easily this man can lose weight (okay, there was also one threat), I AM glad that he's taking care of himself and staying healthy. Also, I was truly empathetic listening to his sad torture tale - so much so that I gave up my original plans for dinner tonight and agreed to a very elegant meal of . . . guess what. Yup. MickyD's (fries and all). And it wasn't even an act of revenge.

Big Fry and Little Fry

Silhouette

2011-02-16T23:13:00.000-08:00

About a year ago, we were walking around downtown in my husband's hometown when we came across an artist's shop that creates custom silhouettes. I was immediately enamored and began plotting how to have one done of Piper someday. We didn't have time to arrange it during that trip, and eventually I forgot about it.

But this week, a special package arrived in the mail for our peanut girl. It was from her Mimi and Papa (Jeremy's parents), and inside was a special gift for her - a honkin' huge book filled with about a million of her latest favorite thing - stickers! And wrapped carefully inside was another gift. Something even better than one of those portraits from that artist's shop in South Carolina. It was a silhouette created by Mimi herself. And it's simply - breathtakingly - beautiful . . .

(Pardon the smudge marks on the glass. Piper was admiring her portrait a little too closely.)

Isn't the resemblance amazing? Here's the real deal:

Our sincere thanks to Mimi (and Papa). We will treasure the silhouette forever, and Piper will treasure her stickers for as long as they last . . . which is probably only another 24 hours considering we spent the last three days straight covering every surface in our house with stickers. :-)

Thank you, and we love you.

The love bug and other date-night adventures

2011-02-14T11:20:00.000-08:00

Today is Valentine's Day. Yes, it is. And just in time for the "big day," Jeremy and I had the opportunity for a special treat - a real date. As in, "Oh my gosh, an evening out alone without the child. Do we even remember how to do this?"

This is such a rare thing for us that when I saw the sign at Piper's daycare announcing a Parents' Night Out, it only took me, hmmmmm, two seconds to scribble down our names on that sign-up sheet. $25 for four hours of childcare? HOLY COW, YES!

So Saturday night, we dropped Piper off - she looking quite confused to be dropped off at daycare at nighttime - and headed off into the romantic lights of Langley (those of you who've ever been to Langley can stop guffawing now).

Now, if you think about it, four hours is not a lot of time to fit in very much romance. And, to be honest, we weren't feeling all that creative. You know what sounded the best to us? Dinner and a movie. I know, I know, that's as boring as peanut butter and jelly. But I like peanut butter and jelly! And as normal/unexciting an evening as that may sound to some (most?) people, it sounded SO WONDERFULLY NORMAL to us that we agreed on it immediately.

We had planned out the evening to make sure we could fit both a nice dinner and a movie in - which meant, "We have a schedule, people! Let's move it." But, you know how sometimes you make plans and everything happens without a hitch? This was not one of those times.

We were late dropping Piper off at daycare, and getting her situated inside took a little while. To make up for time, Jeremy dropped me off at the restaurant while he ran to the theatre to buy our tickets. I was still optimistic at this point, but when I walked into the restaurant, there was quite a crowd. Twenty-five-minute wait - which isn't so bad, but when I noticed that a couple who'd been seated for about 10 minutes still hadn't even seen a server, I gave up. When Jeremy got to the restaurant, we left and headed for a nearby fast-food place (yeah, I know, can you handle the excitement?). Actually, it wasn't all that bad; it felt almost luxurious to be sitting at a restaurant without having to entertain/distract/shush/strap down/force-feed an energetic toddler.

Dinner over, we headed to the theatre, which, as expected, was absolutely packed. Thankfully we found two seats together and settled in. The movie was fine, and it was really nice to feel like we were a real couple out on a real date, but about halfway through the movie, my stomach started . . . doing things . . . terrible things. By the end of the movie, I was feverish and, though still in denial, knew deep down that this night was not going to end very well for me.

About halfway through the looooong drive home - Piper wide, WIDE awake three hours after her bedtime - I yelped at Jeremy to "Pull over NOW" and spent the next five minutes throwing up in some parking lot bushes. (My apologies to the landscapers of this particular shrubbery - but may I just say that you have done a fantastic job? I spent a good five minutes examining your work up close. I apologize for the gift I left there; at least it was organic.)

And this is why Jeremy and I have decided to start praying for a babysitter to magically show up on our doorstep - credentials in hand, Mary Poppins-ish demeanor and all (seriously, we decided to specifically pray for a regular babysitter). Because I think we deserve a do-over, no?

The smithing of words

2011-02-12T09:31:00.000-08:00

Something changed the other day. It was when I took Piper to the beach. We were sitting on a stretch of empty sand, next to the pier where only a fisherman stood swinging his nets out again and again. The only sounds were the lapping of gentle waves and the haunting screech of seagulls.

I was sitting on our towel, rainboots dug deep into wet sand, lost in thought and the beauty of our city. Piper was trundling around with her plastic spatula, flipping sand into the air and pat-pat-patting down clumps of sand.

Suddenly she stopped and looked up.

"Look, Mama, there are people!"

Five words strung together . . . perfectly. And I suddenly knew my baby was gone.

Of course she's still babbling her usual (adorable) nonsense, but here and there, an entire sentence pops out, surprising me every time.

"Mama, I love cheese."

"Mama, it's your turn."

"Do you want to try, Dada?"

"Rosie, where are you?"

And when she wants something, she's a pretty smart cookie. Here's how that conversation goes down.

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Mama, do you want poppies?" ("Poppies" is what she calls popcorn.)

"No, I don't want poppies."

"MAMA. Do you want poppieeeeeeeeeees?!" Pitiful little face.

"No. Do you want poppies, Piper?"

"Mmmm . . . okay!" And she gives me a look that says, Oh, alright. If you insist. The smart little stinker.

This valley

2011-02-11T08:54:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there are valleys. And we pedal our way - pedal and push, pedal and push - dipping low, straining hard until we come to a place of resistance so monumental we cannot push anymore. And so we tip and we fall down hard, dust in our mouth. And we are quieted before God in our humbling.

But there are rivers in the desert ---

He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land . . .

Drops of promise ---

. . . You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.

And the parching begins to quell ---

He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters . . .

Doused in rivers of promise ---

The Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.

And you pray for faith to believe ---

. . . my cup overflows.

Then you climb from the dust. And you move forward ---

Surely Your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life . . .

Wind at your back.