Delightful Detour

Tonight was not a typical slice of life writing for me. Greyden announced at dinner that he wanted to create a book, a chapter book, with pictures and words. While I stapled computer paper together, he began pulling out coloring supplies from our marker drawer. After a few minutes of drawing, Zakariah joined in by adding colorful sketches of red and blue birds. Once Grey was satisfied with his pictures he hopped up on my lap and began to narrate tales of horrible Harry, ladies and birds. That’s the beauty of four, the ideas flow naturally, no care for word choice or repetitive sentence starters – imagination is the only requirement for a successful story. I transitioned from the story of poor Harry to transcribing a detailed description of Zak’s newly coveted game, “Angry Birds”. Cutting and pasting ideas to create one cohesive paragraph explaining the object of this exciting new game. Not the writing night I had envisioned, soooo much better than anything I had planned for myself. It’s nights like this that cause me to inhale long deep breaths of contentment. So divine!

A Taste of Days to Come

Early this morning, before the sun lifted its rays across the horizon, I caught my first real whiff of it. I’m sure you inhaled and understood too. Spring – it sent it’s fragrance through the air and lingered in my mind all day long. As I made my quick little trip to work, a red excavator effortlessly scooped fresh clean dirt from the side of the road. The bag of potting soil I spotted in a third grade classroom reminded me that soon there will be pots to fill with life and vibrancy. Sunshine kissed my cheeks as I navigated the neighborhood over the lunch hour. A woman, wearing pink gardening gloves, raked and trimmed her flowerbed to unveil the tiny yellow flowers peaking from the ground. Our park across the street from our home overflowed with activity; children climbing trees, mothers chatting as they walked the path, and young ones swinging and sliding with glee. Today renewed and invigorated my vision for the beauty of life; it caused my soul to stir with dreams of days to come.

Six Tired = One Exhausted Lady

Tired.

I stayed up too dang late

reading blogs

writing a blog

Tired.

Ate French dip

for dinner

Thanks to a friend

Tired.

Folded laundry

Left it spread across the floor

Maybe it will magically disappear

Tired.

Overly concerned

That yesterday

Was the best writing I have to offer

Tired.

Would rather

Be enjoying ice cream

Than writing for my blog

Tired.

Good night.

More Than China Patterns and Gravy Boats

My mate and I, we’ve been married for fifteen years. For some that seems like a blink of an eye, but for the ones living it – it’s long (can’t hardly remember life without him). During the early years of our marriage, many of my friends were getting married too. I attended lots of wedding and bridal showers in preparation for the big day. It was so exciting to see the gifts being uncovered from the silvery wrapping paper and oversized bows. Bridal showers were a time to celebrate and reminisce about my wedding event too. Each gift was a realization of the dream becoming a reality.

But as time went by we transitioned from bridal to baby. The dream shifted from marriage to family. And with it, the fine art of buying baby gifts – one ducky baggie holder, it is the perfect size for your diaper bag & you always have something to put those “diapers-on-the-go” in. Second, a plastic picture book – you can slide pictures in of important people in your precious one’s life. These can be found at Target near the teething toys. Then, depending on boy or girl you find the cutest outfit possible. If I’m being practical I purchase something in the 9 – 12 months, but if I see an “I’ll eat you up, you look so cute in this!” girl outfit, I get it in the birth to 3 month size. Then to top off the gift, I search for the perfect board book. It just wouldn’t be right for the teacher to give a gift that did not include a book.

Today I went to a bridal shower. It’s probably been about ten years since I’ve been to one. Prior to the party, I set out to find a gift. I went up and down the kitchen aisles, admiring platters, pitchers and interesting kitchen gadgets. Since it had been so long since I had done this, I decided that I would purchase things that I would really enjoy having in my own well-worn kitchen. Once I settled on a few brightly colored items, I headed to the wrapping and card section. I picked out a gift bag covered in brightly covered circles and a simple card of congratulations.

It wasn’t until after I was headed home that I remembered that there was a difference between a bridal and wedding shower. Was I going to a bridal or wedding one? Was my gift appropriate? Would I be the oddball who gave cutting knives instead of frilly underwear? Should I go back? Oh, the stress of it all! After much deliberation, and counsel, I decided to go with my original purchase.

As I settled into the couch to watch the bride open gifts, I smiled as her eyes sparkled with glee as she unwrapped the china she and her young beau had selected for their soon-to-be home. The day was filled with delight at the prospect of starting a life together. However, instead of dreaming about my own young marriage, I reflected. Our marriage has taken us beyond the idealism of our youth, and into the wisdom of our years. Years filled with amazing moments of beauty and pain. Tears of joy and tears of angst. Years of learning each other, and loving each other – sometimes, in spite of what we learn. Times of being near and times of distance. Years of shaping and molding ourselves – individually and as a couple. Times of birth and times of grieving. I am so grateful that after fifteen years of marriage I have a mate who loves me, and whom I love.

I know that marriage is more than gravy boats and cutting boards, but sometimes those things are fun, so tonight we pulled out our “fancy” wine glasses and pretty plates in celebration of our not-so-young love.

The "Perfectly" Imperfect Routine

“Today, I will strive to go with the flow.

I will strive for harmony with my own needs and the needs of others.”

 – Melody Beattie

Our little family has a Saturday morning routine. The boys get up early and play Legos in their room. Their battles and creations usually wake us up. We lay in bed. I begin creating a mental list for the day – I need to clean the house (top to bottom) while my perfectly content children play, grocery shop, take a shower, have lunch with a friend, go for a walk, shop for some new clothes, paint the bedroom, make a new plan for losing ten pounds in ten days, write, read, finish some unfinished schoolwork – and take a nap. All while feeling no motherly guilt for doing everything I want to do, and ignoring my sons’ needs. Fortunately for my mate, he typically works on this day.

By the time I actually get out of bed my internal organs are tight and my heart is tense. Now, I know that my expectations are completely unrealistic and unattainable. So, I begin the process of taking myself back off the ledge, hoping to do this without any family member losing a limb in the process. I take deep breathes and head to the kitchen. The children have made several demands of, “I’m hungry!” To which I reply, “How could you ask me a polite question?” I pour cereal (with and without milk), make toast, get drinks. I sit with them and make attempts to engage in their young conversation, trying my best to ignore the kitchen that looks like it’s been untouched for days. Once their needs are met I send them off to watch morning cartoons.

Now for me. I pull out the small frying pan. As the oil heats in the pan I open up the raisin English muffin and slide it into the toaster. The crack of the egg causes me to breathe just a bit slower. After adding a bit of salt and pepper to the pan, I turn to my beverage selection. Since I’m trying to be better about making healthy choices I grab my red mug and fill it with warm tea. However, I can feel the tension in my fingertips, so after a couple sips I decide it’s not quite enough. It doesn’t take me long to find my tall sturdy tumbler and fill it with cold bubbly diet coke. The mixture of fizzing soda and a sizzling egg cause a slight smile to cross my lips. I’ll try again tomorrow to make a healthy choice.

Today, I accidentally dropped my ear buds for my iPod into my tea, overcooked my egg, made another one, and dropped my iPod on the floor (twice). But, whatever – the routine must go on.

Once my breakfast dance is done, I settle myself at the end of our table. I’ve collected my stack of books and journals that I like to read during this time. Books that remind me of who I am and what I believe, journals that are filled with quotes and Saturday morning thoughts, and blank pages waiting for me to share my latest joys and sorrows. I pop in my headphones and begin listening to my choice Pandora radio station.

It is this routine that transitions me from a work week, past unrealistic expectations, to a weekend that is filled with (hopefully) realistic plans. Time to love on family, return the home to some semblance of normal, relax and care for self – and breathe. Long, deep, cleansing breathes.

Not a perfect routine, but a routine non-the-less.

Day Two - Not lookin so good

It’s day two of the write for the month of March challenge. It’s 9:50pm. I’m already in a panic about being able to dedicate time to writing each and every day for thirty more days.

Today I chose to have breakfast with a friend - instead of write.

I chose to take a much needed nap - instead of write.

I went for a brief walk - instead of write.

I ate pizza and played 80’s Taboo with friends - instead of write.

Now it’s 9:52pm and all I can think about is getting into my nice cozy bed – instead of write. This is not looking promising, if on my second day I’m already in a slump. You would think with writing being a passion and all, I’d be excited about my month. That was yesterday – today I’m tired and old. Too old to be sitting at my computer writing about my life at 9:55pm.

Yippee for me. I did it. I wrote on day two of my writing challenge. Not exactly what I had envisioned when I started on this writing adventure – yesterday. Here’s hoping that day three brings a renewed sense of excitement and vision for writing, and a bit more stamina.

10:00pm

Good night!

Simple Understanding

My blog is titled Beauty in the Ordinary because I love those sweet moments when I allow myself to slow down and catch a glimpse of something that might otherwise go unnoticed. And then there are days like today - a day spent living deep in my head, zipping from event to event, all the while working to fix the contents of my worries. It went something like this:

I pick up the conversation I started with myself

before falling asleep the night before

How could I fix this problem?

What could I do differently?

Greet my mate with a quick kiss

I pull him into my dialogue

the same one I dragged him into last night

What do you think?

Am I missing something?

Jump into the details of the day

Engage in conversation – only partially

my thoughts can’t quite part with my concerns

Is that true?

Who can I talk to?

Sometimes children have an uncanning way

of reminding you that life is filled with more than worry

“Dad, I know how to make a baby.

You marry somebody –

And then you pray.”

Now, that simple understanding of life truly is beauty in the ordinary.

His words did not magically fix my head or day; but, for a brief moment life paused and my soul (and car) were filled with laughter.