Last Fourth of July

This has been a tough weekend for me.  Last 4th of July (and the ones before that), we spend the weekend on my mom and dad's boat.  Swimming.  Jet-skiing.  That isn't happening this fourth of July. 

So....I've been keeping busy - the farmer's market, trips to the pool with Ness, gardening.  Stuff like that. 

I don't mean to be all "gloom and doom" - I do know that eventually, things will get easier for Rich to do.  Maybe someday he will get a spare set of legs that he can get wet.  Maybe someday he will feel confident in a crowd.  I'm sure these things will happen.  It's just until then.....

8 Years and Counting

The best day of our 8 years

This week marks 8 years of marriage.  8 solid years.  When I think back to 1:30 pm on June 14^th, 2003, I thought I loved him.  And I did.  I didn’t understand comments like, “Your love will grow over the years.”  How could I possibly love him more? 

But they were right.  My love for him has grown over the years.  We have certainly gone through our peaks and valleys, like any marriage.  But those peaks and valleys are ours.  They are what has defined us. 

Another piece of marriage advice people gave us was, “Marriage is work.”  What?  Work?  How could loving someone so entirely perfect be work?  But then we had our first married fight.  The realization that there was no “breaking up” if this wasn’t resolved was……interesting.  Ah-ha, this is what they meant by work. 

Eight years ago, our biggest worry was getting back from the bars in time to let the dog out.  Since then we have dealt with his job and the travel, my mom’s cancer, infertility, my depression, the deaths of grandparents, pre-term labor,  two heart attacks, the formation of a charter school, building two houses – can you say stress? a Master’s degree, and  a life-changing, near-death accident (not necessarily in that order…).   While some of these things aren’t all bad (the job stuff, the houses), they definitely brought about certain challenged we needed to overcome. 

I don’t think we are alone in our laundry list of crap.  I think each marriage has an itemized list of things that can either tear you apart, or refine your love. 

As I look at Annessa, I pray that she finds what I have found: A man who knows what God’s plan is for a marriage.  A man that makes her laugh.  A man that is worth the work. And a man that she will love more and more with each crappy situation that is bound to poke its way into their perfect life.

Everything

Everything in our lives revolves around That Day. Looking back at the time he was in the hospital, I knew that our lives would be different, but I never could have imagined to what extent.  How do you predict the unknown? Should you even waste your time straining to see into the future when God only knows what's in store for you?

I think about the little things that have changed - the landscaping rock instead of the more earthy, more maintenance-heavy mulch that Rich prefers.     Or that fact that me, an avid high-heel-wearer (I even got a high-heel Christmas ornament from my fifth graders one year), have not worn a pair since the accident.  It's hard to haul things in heels.   Which, by the way, means that my pants are hemmed shorter to accommodate my new footwear (thank God ballet flats are en vogue!).  Sometimes it's not even the big things that get to you - it's all the little things.

And yet, life is good.  I'm sitting in our screened-in porch, listening to the birds sing.  Rich and Annessa are snoring softly in the bedroom and I am about to get a cup of coffee.  I find myself waiting.  Waiting for everything to be normal.  Waiting to create new memories so that it doesn't hurt so much to look back at the old ones.  Take new pictures. Celebrate holidays. Get through all the seasons. 

The beautiful part is we have each other.  That is so much better than the other alternative.  We get to make new memories.  We get to take new pictures.  We get to celebrate holidays and watch the seasons pass. 

And that is everything I need.

The Little Things About You That I Love

There are so many things I love about you.  Everyday you do or say something, or I discover something new about you that I adore.  So, here's what I am loving about you at the moment:

* Our dance parties - we grab wooden spoons from the kitchen and prance around the house like nobody's business to our favorite songs: "Hey Soul Sista," "Stuck Like Glue," and "Lover Lover (you don't treat me no good no more!)."  Sometimes I even catch you singing the words (as best as you can) under your breath in your room or in the car. If anyone ever saw us they would think we've lost our minds!

*The way you say "mible" for pimple and "snunk" for skunk. I don't have the heart to correct you and daddy and I make you say it all the time - "Annessa, what's that on your face?" "It's a MIBLE!  I already told you - stop asking me that!"

*The time I overheard you looking out our bedroom window, thanking God for the flowers in our woods and asking Him for some more. So sweet. 

*You HAVE to make silly faces with daddy as we pull out of the garage in the morning otherwise it's a BBBAAADDDD ride to Tammy's or school.

*You are so friendly - you always say goodbye to all of your friends.

*You ask an OBNOXIOUS amount of questions lately, but secretly, I like it because: #1, it means you're learning, and #2, you still think moms have all the answers. Why?  Why?  Why? - the "whys" never stop until I say, "Because that's just the way God made it."

*The "balls" you have - you ask Paige's mom for a snack all the time!  As if we don't feed you....

*The way you crawl in next to me every night.  Did you know I crawled in Mummie and Papa's bed in the early morning hours the day Dad and I got married?


I love you so much that sometimes it's hard to tell where I end and you begin.  It's true what they say - having a child is like watching your heart walk around on the street (do people say that, or  did I just make that up? I'm pretty sure that's what people say....).

Life's Toughest Job:

Does a social hierarchy exist in preschoolers? After today, I'm thinking "yes." Annessa was in a funk tonight - mad about a girl at the sitter's who hit her with a toy school bus. "I don't like her. She's not my best friend," she explained.

"Really..." I said, curious to see what she would add.

"She really hurt my feelings. Mama, I will never hit you with my toys."

"Oh, good - and you shouldn't hit anyone else either - you might hurt their feelings too," I said, fully aware of the fact that there have been times when these roles were reversed, and it was my child committing the assault.

Anyway - the conversation went on and on. I realized that this "friendship" (I suppose that's what you call it) was really bothering her. She told me that sometimes she plays by herself and that sometimes she like to play by herself, but sometimes she feels sad when no one wants to play with her.

"Shoot" I thought, trying to search my brain for information on preschool friendships. Searching....Searching......Nada. Damn. Now what?

So, we rocked and rocked and I found myself longing for the "simpler" days when she was tiny. But then I quickly realized that toy assaults will be the least of my worries in 5 years.

I put her to bed (three times I might add...But that's another post), and did what any intelligent, 21st century mom does when they have an issue. I googled it. "What to tell your three year old about friendship problems" - I realize this is probably not the best key word search, but hey - it's been a long day....

I found out that research confirms what I have just now come to realize - the social hierarchy for girls starts at age 3 to 4! "You're not coming to my birthday party" or "Don't play with so-and-so." - stuff like that. There are Mean Girls in preschool for crying out loud! I couldn't help but wonder - is my daughter one of them? It probably depends on the day.

I realize that I can't shelter her from the Mean Girl mud-slinging. I can only teach her ways to cope, teach her to believe in herself, and let her know that she can always find rest at home.

I also realized that I can't stop her from slinging the mud either. But I can teach her compassion and respect.

Man - being a parent is a big job. It is so much more that providing food, shelter and the latest Barbie DVD. We parents are literally creating the next generation of people. Will they be better than we were? Can we help them see the good in people? Will we teach them well? I hope so.

Special Nights

It’s funny how special nights are different for everyone. The term “Special Night” in our house was coined by Rich. A special night is not a night of romance and wine – rather a night quite the opposite. It’s a night when Annessa can sleep in our bed. So every day now, we hear – “Daddy, is tonight a Special Night?” Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t.

The funny thing is – every night is becoming a Special Night around 3 am when I hear little bare feet padding along on the now-familiar path from her room to ours. “Mama. Mama. Mama. MAMA.” Her whisper gets louder each time she says my name. “Mama- moooovvvve over.”

So I scoot closer to Rich, the dog moves to the other side of the bed (because he wouldn’t dare sleep next to the unpredictable, ever-moving, sleeping Annessa), and Annessa crawls in with her blankie and her trusty teddy bear Katie.

I used to be a hard-ass about co-sleeping. Never, never, never will I share my bed – in the beginning, it was, what if I roll over on her? Then, as she grew and I realized how much she “roots around” (as my dad would say), and how much I needed my sleep, I renewed my commitment to the “everyone has a bed – you belong in yours” philosophy.

But, now, when I am smack dab in the middle of the two people I love most (and the dog), I realize that I have never slept better in my life.

Body Sprays, Hospitals, and Xeroform

Have you ever noticed that smells fill so much more than our nostrils? Yesterday I was rummaging around in my bathroom drawer and I came across some leftover body spray I used last summer. I sprayed a puff into the air and took a deep breath. After coughing from the fumes, my mind drifted back to the apartment we lived in while our house was being built.

I remembered lazy days at the pool (okay – I wish they were lazy, but I quickly remembered that I was entertaining an-almost-three-year-old, so lazy isn’t exactly the word for it…).

I remembered peaceful nights sipping wine. Wait, no I don’t. We were building a house and living out of boxes in a confined space!

I remembered summer days of no worries. Wait. We were going through fertility treatments. Worry is the only thing we did.

So, I can’t help but wonder – do our minds block out the bad stuff so at first glance (or wiff), we only remember the good? Is this a personality trait some of us are blessed with or is it a subconscious choice we make? Either way, I’m glad I remember the good and the bad comes back only if I let it.

So that brings me to present day. Will the smell of a hospital bring about pictures of Rich tied down in a bed, or will it remind me of the outpouring of love I felt during my lowest time? Will the scent of Xeroform pads remind me of late night dressing changes or Dr. Annessa assisting me? I have a feeling it might be a little of both. And that’s okay.