Pregnancy Announcement!

There are a million-bajillion ideas on Pinterest for how to announce your new pregnancy, and ours is nestled in there at about #7,006,4356 ....but to us, and to me, it's as special and new as the little gummy bear swimming around in his/her little "apartment" in my tummy.  We're 9 weeks along with our second babe, and wanted to share a picture that captured the spirit of our family. 

With so many bright, bubbly, giddy announcement ideas out there, I felt a little left out. I'm more of a moody, introverted soul. So is my husband and son. I don't mind rainy days and cool weather, and I even prefer moss and ferns to grass on most days. There are plenty of announcement ideas that capture the sunset-y, honeymoon glow of pregnancy, but there wasn't anything that really summed us up. I didn't know what I wanted exactly, I just knew it had to be a little moody. 

For me, the parenting journey has been steeped in contrasting hues. My first pregnancy was a story of beauty and pain, as I chose adoption for my first child. There was no fanfare, no baby shower, and most of the time I tried not to think about what was happening. 

I met my husband a few years later and discovered that the whole "soul mates" thing is real. I knew from the moment we locked eyes that I was going to marry him. We got married and after a couple of years, started down the path of parenthood. Aside from normal soon-to-be-parent anxieties, things were going pretty well. I did, on occasion, have flashbacks to the trauma of my first pregnancy, but overall it was a good experience until about halfway through. I was four-and-a-half months pregnant with my son when my youngest brother took his life. To say that the remainder of my pregnancy (and the beginning of motherhood) was traumatic is a massive understatement. 

This is why I needed a "moody" pregnancy announcement this time around. It hasn't been all sunshine and lollipops, but we have seen God's love and compassion through it all. And the beauty that he has brought from the ashes is far greater than any sing-songy nursery rhyme I could come up with. 

So there you have it - the inspiration for these rainy-day, cloudy, cool-weather photos to let the world know that hey, life is still good, still worth celebrating, and still beautiful in more ways than we can imagine. 

That face!!! Oh mah word.

I wish I was this photogenic...*sigh* :)

Can I just keep him this size forever? Pretty please?

It's kind of hard to see, but I'm holding a little sea pebble to show baby's size.
I don't know about you, but using food for scale is a little weird. People eat food :(
That's why I chose a rock. No one eats rocks.

Proud parents! I wish I'd have put my hair back in a ponytail for this one, but oh well. 

Another thing worth mentioning: We didn't hire a professional photographer for these pictures. I was using my Nikon, and I took the ones of our toddler, and my sis-in-law took the last two. I used free photo editor Pixlr to make a few adjustments, and voila! I can't even imagine how much a professional would have charged us. Anyway...I'm glad we packed the nice camera! I don't think my phone would have done the job as well :)

DIY Vertical Entryway Table

The Problem:  We have no space for a traditional entryway table, but need somewhere to set mail, keys, phones, spare change, and receipts-that-we're-never-going-to-use-so-why-don't-we-just-recycle-them?

The Solution:  A vertical entryway table. It has all the practical function and visual charm of a floor table, but it uses zero floor space. It's completely customizable, because you can easily make one yourself!

So that's what I did, and here's how I did it...(please excuse the crummy photography)

 First, I did lots of scheming and plotting. Then we took a family trip to The ReBuilding Center, one of our fave places to hang out, and I went on a mini shopping spree :)

 *drool*

I spent a lot of time sifting through dingy old hardware. I love it. I picked stuff out that I figured I could maybe use somehow, even if I didn't have an exact plan in mind. That's a dangerous shopping strategy, but I got two giant fistfulls of vintage hardware for $3, so it wasn't too risky.

 I don't know about you, but I could almost frame this pic and hang it on the wall. 

I want all of the old heaters. 

It has nothing to do with my post, except that I saw it at The ReBuilding Center.

You could make a pretty stellar kitchen island with two of these badboys. 

Okay, so we picked out two long boards to be our vertical beams, and a random slew of weathered and interesting planks for our horizontal ones.  We spent $8 on lumber.  You read that right.

So here we go.

First, take off your jacket and look super cute.

Next, measure and cut your boards to the height you prefer.

Miraculously, both our vertical boards were the exact height we wanted

and required no cutting. I don't even know how. My husband (the tall one)

nailed a few scrap boards in at the top and bottom as spacers, and for structural support

so I could work without worrying about if it was getting all wonky.

I'm the queen of wonkifying things.

Measure twice, cut once. 

Or in this case, have hubby cut them.

Eventually I'll work up the courage to use his table saw.

Here's the top of the organizer, laid out on the kitchen floor.

I cut and arranged boards in the way that seemed most aesthetically pleasing to me,

and screwed a few into the middle of it before unscrewing the support boards.

After I had a few boards in the middle, I didn't need the support boards anymore,

so they went buh-bye and I put the rest of the boards on.

Here's the whole thing before I took out the support boards. I just laid out the boards to get a feel for where I wanted them, and started from the middle, working my way up. 

Pausing for a play break :)

He's actually really good with a hammer.

Hubby screws the Vertical Entryway Table (VET)

into the wall while I support it from the side and take pictures.

Thanks, Honey!!

Bam. 

Okay, it's actually pretty cool just as it is, and if we didn't need a place to set stuff, I would have just left it as-is. (also, I forgot to mention that I did a quick spray paint job on that large middle piece. I went with a green-to-white ombre fade. 

This electrical plate is getting a new lease on life as a small, inspirational plaque that we'll have next to our phone basket (which I'll explain later).

Here's the [almost] finished piece. 

I went out to my fave thrift store and found everything I needed.

This is the only new item we bought: letter-size wall pockets from Office Depot.

I covered them with old flannel (I used Mod Podge, but I'm sure a glue gun would work great), vintage ledger sheets, and an old map with place names like: Huckleberry Mountain, Whiskey Rock, Teepee Gulch, Packsaddle Mountain, Maiden Rock, Idlewilde Bay, Beaver Creek, North Snow Peak, Spruce Mountain, and Dixie Queen. 

Seriously, I just want to pack up and move there right now.

This is a vintage desktop organizer I found for a buck or two. Hubs can toss his keys, employee badge, loose change, etc. and not worry about the todd' getting into it.

At the very tippy top is this olden-timey stitchery thingy. 

I couldn't really think of a practical way to use that space, since it's so close to the ceiling,

so I opted to make it pretty instead.

Mmm-kay...this is my favorite part of the VET!
It features a phone basket, which we are committed to using (no, really) so that we're hands-free in the evenings. There's a little Northwest bouquet of twigs, moss, and lichens which I gathered from our yard, the street, and one of our neighbor's yards (with their permission) after a string of nasty windstorms.  Did I mention the illustrations? I totes stole that idea from Flower Patch Farmgirl. She ripped an illustration out of a kid's book and just put it up on the wall. I was all, "You can do that?" And apparently you can. 

Fun. Just so much fun to build this!

I think I'm going to try making a few smaller ones and selling them.

These are coat hooks for our toddler's jackets. 

They also double as a mini sensory board, since all of the parts move in one way or another.

There you have it.  A vertical entryway table that packs a lot of punch!  There's something for everyone, and it's pretty easy on the eyes (my poor photography notwithstanding). 

The World In Between

Holy Spirit,

You've set heavy loads on our backs. Loads that make the burdens of this life feel light - those burdens which before seemed heavy to us. We are soaked through like wood with a dark stain which permeates our everything. We are unchangeably changed, and we cannot return. 

Though I miss the family I knew before, I see you more clearly in them now. I see heaven and eternity in them in a way I never did before. We are more whole and more broken than we were before. The wells of our conscience have plunged deeper toward the great Aquifer, and the river of life that flows out of sight beneath our feet. 

Though we bear the wounds of the devil's wolves, we are now elevated above their lair. We won't stumble into their den because you have scooped us all onto your broad shoulders. You walk high above the wolves, and they scatter at the sound of your footfall. 

Your stride sweeps us through cool meadows, over raging rivers, and up pine-laden hills, heavy with the scent of morning. We are held fast by your great gentle hands as you wade through the ocean; as you sing with the morning stars. You have mercifully kept us, cradled us, and brought us into a country we'd never known before - a country deeper and wider than we'd seen. We had prayed and hoped to be here with you...

We wanted the depth of your thundering voice to surge through us and rattle our bones. Now it has. You are unsearchable, unknowable, and beyond our understanding. We plummeted through fire and sharp rocks to get there, but you've brought us into your country - wise and old, wild and free. 

We've suffered great loss, and still suffer in this life, but you've made us honorary members of your kingdom while we're still on earth. With one foot in eternity, we walk this familiar road. And though our paths on earth have not changed, they've been swallowed up by eternity, and they look more hollow to us. More transparent. They are a curtain which we can't pull back yet - each street and tree and house is a veil. Everything around us is different, and we are changed as well. 

You've brought redemption and mercy to our doorsteps in the midst of our mourning, and your song of freedom to the rim of our ears. The sights and smells of your great banquet fill our world-weary eyes, giving us joy for tomorrow. You've given us a taste of your glory in the center of our hurricane, a peaceful table to recline at while the world trembles and convulses with labor pains. 

We have been broken and freed from desire for this world, fitted with garlands of precious jewels, measured for our priestly robes, bathed in the ruby-red blood of your Son...

...and asked only to receive. 

Receive Christ, receive mercy, receive strength, receive boldness, receive joy. And in the midst of this gray and foggy world, to shine like a bonfire at night, like precious gold under a white hot sun, and to flavor this world with the unheard-of delicacies of your table.

In Which How to Live is Forgotten and Remembered Again

It finally rained last night, and this morning, and I'm sure the grass and flowers and trees are rejoicing. I even felt my own heart drinking up the rain on behalf of the plants that weren't fully quenched yet. It's strange, but I was thirsty for rain too, and didn't realize how thirsty I was until it rained.

When I stepped outside the house this morning on the way to Tabor Space, I was greeted by the wonderful aromas of wood fire smoke and fresh rain. The whole neighborhood smelled like a campground on a wet summer morning. Birds were calling out their good mornings, and the firs seemed cleaner and greener. 

I got thinking about it: how the rain falls when it's told, the grass grows, and continues to grow after it's cut.

Flowers keep coming back year after year and not giving up. The trees don't seem worried or stressed out. They keep adding new growth every spring. The birds keep waking up at 4:45 every morning, and the squirrels are still making plans for winter. I suppose I could take a hint from all of this. I know I need to keep growing as well, and reaching and producing. A lot of the time I feel dormant, or wish I was dormant, just sleeping the world away. In some ways, I've gone into hiding and put my mind out of this world. I don't want to be here...I want to be in God's country. I'ts just not the right time yet. 

I get a little lost in my wishful thinking. I forget how to live. I've experienced so much death that I've forgotten how to live. I find myself envying people who are oblivious to the horrors I've experienced, just as I was once oblivious to the horrors that others have seen. They've got it so good - they literally have no idea how good they've got it. I used to have that beautiful innocence too, and I miss it so badly. I was touched by the pain in this world - the pain of other people - but it was never my own loss. I didn't know what suicide did to those it left behind. Now that I know, I can't un-know it. I can't un-see the horrors I've witnessed. How can I go on as before? Well, I can't. Horror changes a person. (True horror, that is...not the Hollywood stuff that can be switched off with a button - as gruesome and evil as it is).

We, as people, weren't meant to process the unfathomable terrors that are possible in this world, which take place daily. That's why we have words like: unfathomable, unbelievable, incredulous, unimaginable, incomprehensible, unknowable, inconceivable, unheard of, unthinkable, and indescribable. There are a lot of things and experiences in this life that fall outside our ability to reason and understand. We can't do it. We try for our whole lives to understand, and we spend billions of dollars on research, study, medicine, therapies, awareness, and programs, but we're not able to stop it. Each new generation births horrors all its own, and no human hand will ever be able to put a stop to all madness, all confusion, all evil, all disease...all death.

Yet God keeps calling us forward into the next season, the next morning, the next dry spell, and the next rainfall. We are called forward into life despite our inability to meet the challenges which await us. We are forever beckoned forward into night after night, day after day, breath after breath, death after death, and Life after life. 

God has not made us masters of the rapids, but he calls us into the river anyway. He hasn't swallowed up our death, but he has swallowed up Death. We are not masters of our circumstances, but we are called to walk forward anyway, and to walk with courage. What we are given is the ability to humble ourselves, to grow, to trust, to choose God's path, and to choose love.

I've been having some difficulty in choosing life, but life keeps happening to me anyway. My eyes open in the morning. I feel hunger for breakfast. I want coffee. I want to kiss my baby and my husband. I breathe, I talk, I blink, I move around. Mostly though, I observe life around me; that pull forward (because that's what life really is - a pull forward), and I mimic what I see. I get out of bed, I take my pill, I make old person noises, I stretch and flop around in the blankets for a while. I cuddle my husband and 14-month-old. I sigh.

I think it's in these observations that I'll be able to remember how to live. After all, the forward pull is still there. What else do I really need?

The Most Unexpected Reward of Parenting

Toddler Milestone #23: breaking a glass bottle in the grocery store. 
#iknewthisdaywascoming #myfault

Today, this happened: Broken glass at the grocery store. I flushed pink with embarrassment but kept my cool. Later, as I got my 13-month-old out to the van I relaxed my composure a bit. When he started digging for my phone, I got upset. I whisked it out of his hands and tossed it onto the seat with a very stern "NO." This isn't a new battle, but there are moments when I'm tired of reminding him that my phone isn't a teething toy. 

He looked at me intently, studying my face. I got him buckled into his car seat and we went home, and then it hit me. I was struck by a beautiful revelation, and for me it became the most unexpected reward of parenting so far:

He doesn't cringe when we're angry.

I love, love, love his hugs and kisses and smiles, and the way he curls into me when he's settling down for a nap. I love that he reaches for me, calls me "Mama", and pulls me along by my finger. But the most rewarding thing so far has been the separation he feels between himself and our anger. Our foreheads get squished up, we huff out angry air, we speak in heavy tones and tell him, "No, don't hit me." or "No, don't play in the trash can. Play with this instead." and "Don't scratch me." 

Sometimes he cries with frustration because we set him down (if he won't stop hitting) but he never seems afraid of us. I keep expecting him to cringe, wince, flinch, blink, and try to squirm or run away. Instead, he looks into our frustrated faces without fear. His body is relaxed, his face is calm, and he doesn't associate our emotions with physical harm to himself. This may be something that you take for granted, but it's a total surprise to me. 

I received my first spanking when I was three months old, because I was crying as my diaper was being changed. My dad thought that was a pretty silly thing for an infant to do, and I imagine that he was upset that I wouldn't stop crying "for no reason". I quickly learned that when Dad was angry with me, it meant physical harm to myself. My husband and I were both raised with "anger spankings", and both of us were afraid that we would perpetuate this unhealthy discipline style onto our own kids in the future. Our little guy is now beginning his toddler years (Months? Years?) and has never been hit. We both realize that there are probably healthy and constructive ways to parent with spankings (depending on the temperament of the child and the situation at hand), but it's not an approach we want to take if at all possible.

Our toddler is sometimes headstrong, willful, defiant, and stubborn, but hey that's kids for you, right? And there's a plus side to toddlers' tendency to repeat an action a thousand million times: If they quit so easily, then would they ever learn to talk? Their willful persistence helps them grow in so many areas of their lives, because if they fall, they'll get back up. If they fail, they'll try again. If they get hurt, they'll bounce back. They aren't crushed by failure. So yes, of course there will be times when that gift ruffles our feathers, but we're not going to try and beat it out of him. We're learning persistence, patience, and "stubbornness" too - the good kind. 

Perhaps he's too young to be afraid of us, but perhaps not. He understands cause and effect. He moves his fingers out of the way when shutting doors and drawers. He stays away from the edge of the bed because he has fallen off, and it hurt. He knows that when these things happen, he feels pain.

The gift of his confidence in us is a beautiful thing. The fact that he can ponder our anger and learn to deal with his own (without threat of reprisal) is no small miracle to me. I fully expected him to shrink back or cower today when I got angry, but he didn't. And I'm so glad he didn't. I don't want him to cower before anyone's anger, or to be manipulated by the emotions of others. I don't want him to be controlled by anger (ours, his, or anyone's). 

I guess the reason I'm going through the effort to blog about this (during precious, precious toddler nap time) is because I'm so excited about it. I'm excited that I'm not repeating the mistakes of the past - I'm not bound to recycle bad habits. I can raise an emotionally healthy and strong boy and I don't have be out of control when I'm frustrated or angry. Most importantly, I'm not bound to take it out on him. I thank God for that, because I didn't think it was possible.

Have You Been Hurt by the Church?

If you've been been hurt by the church, you have something in common with nearly every Christian on the planet. If you've left the church because you were hurt there, you've got something in common with me (and probably a whole lot of other Christians, too). My husband and I are currently taking a break that has lasted a year, so far.

During our time away from church, we've had lots of discussions about whether we should go back, look for a different church, or not go to church anymore at all. Each of us has family members that no longer attend church because of past hurts, which is a senseless tragedy all on its own, and doesn't sit well with us. We don't want to quit on God's people, but how can we risk being hurt again? 

Here's a bit of my story...

I've been an active part of the church community all my life, participating with my time, money, and various gifts and services.

A little over a year ago, I lost my youngest brother to suicide. That same evening, I sent a text to all of my Christian friends asking for prayer. These are the people we went to church with, had coffee with, spent time getting to know, and served alongside. Some of them never even replied. To this day, I haven't heard a peep about it. Others gave an immediate reply of support, but in the days and weeks that followed, quickly forgot about the devastation that had wreaked havoc on my family and my life. They wanted to "hang out" again, do fun stuff, and go back to normal. For me, that wasn't possible. It became increasingly difficult to go to church, since we were greeted by huge smiles, "How are you?"s and the like. At church, I was not allowed to be broken, ripped open, desperate, forsaken by God, or even mildly sad (let alone depressed). The pastor that met with us (God bless his soul!) rambled nervously through the visit, and it was painfully obvious that he was in over his head and at a loss. He had lots of words, but he didn't know how to walk with us through our valley. So we left.

(Side note: I could write a whole blogsworth on the acts of love and compassion shown to us by a handful of awesome friends and relatives, but for the sake of brevity I'm paring it down.)

Now, over a year later, we're talking about going to church again. Partly because a gracious and generous act of love from a friend opened the door for forgiveness. She apologized - not having personally done anything to hurt us - for the shortcomings of our church and its leadership. Prior to that, I'd been having a hard time forgiving and letting go of my bitterness. Afterwards, the idea of reconciliation seemed a lot sweeter. She didn't have to stick her neck out like that, or even acknowledge it; she didn't have to say anything at all. But she did, and it helped.

So after all of that, here are my thoughts on Christians leaving the church because they've been hurt:

When we leave the church because we've been hurt, we have a couple of options...

1) We can use the time to heal, be restored, rest, forgive, and then return to church (or find a new one).

2) We can hold onto our hurts, nurse our wounds, feed our bitterness, and refuse to put ourselves at risk of being hurt again by opening ourselves up to relationships within the church.  

When we leave the church permanently (Christmas and Easter don't count, by the way), we end up hurting the body of Christ WAY more than they ever hurt us. How? Well, we've amputated ourselves off of the Body, which leaves the rest of Christ's people with a serious handicap. For example: One thing I love to do is help people in practical ways. Since we left the church, we haven't been contributing our gifts to the other members of the body. We've done service related things outside of the church, but even non-Christians do that. 

The other way it hurts the church when we leave is that there are other Christians going through hard times, tragedies, and loss, and they are also looking for people in the church who can relate, empathize, and simply walk through the valley with them. But guess what? They're not there; they left the church. The people (you and I) who could be of the most help (because we understand deep suffering) have left the church because we were let down in our hour of need. 

So if all the the hurting people leave the church because no one there can help them, then the next wave of hurting people are going to find a church body that is missing the very people it needs most.

To put it another way: Let's say my husband and I never go back to church because the body of Christ wasn't there for us. A year later, someone else from our old church experiences a suicide in their family, and reach out to the church for help. Now there's no one there for them, who can relate with their pain, or who can show love in a relevant way and be a lifeline. That person then leaves the church, too. The cycle repeats itself, with more and more hurting people leaving the church. 

So, we're going back. Not sure where, yet, but that's irrelevant. There are hurting people in the church who need us. If we leave the church because we were failed by others, then we in turn fail those who come after us, who need us. It's selfish and destructive to stay away from the church because of past hurts, and we don't want that on our score card come Judgment Day. 

Each one of us is desperately needed in the church, regardless of past failures and hurts. We have no excuse to hack ourselves off of the body. There is no substitute for your presence at church; your story, your love, your voice, your prayers, your compassion, your help, your worship. No one can take your place!

I'll close with this passage from Corinthians:

Certainly the body isn’t one part but many. If the foot says, “I’m not part of the body because I’m not a hand,” does that mean it’s not part of the body?  If the ear says, “I’m not part of the body because I’m not an eye,” does that mean it’s not part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, what would happen to the hearing? And if the whole body were an ear, what would happen to the sense of smell? But as it is, God has placed each one of the parts in the body just like he wanted.  If all were one and the same body part, what would happen to the body? But as it is, there are many parts but one body. So the eye can’t say to the hand, “I don’t need you,” or in turn, the head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.” Instead, the parts of the body that people think are the weakest are the most necessary. The parts of the body that we think are less honorable are the ones we honor the most. The private parts of our body that aren’t presentable are the ones that are given the most dignity. The parts of our body that are presentable don’t need this. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the part with less honor so that there won’t be division in the body and so the parts might have mutual concern for each other. If one part suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part gets the glory, all the parts celebrate with it. You are the body of Christ and parts of each other.

1 Corinthians 12:14-27 (CEB)

images sourced from Open Photo (a free photo site) and edited by me with PXLR

Eleven Simple Ways to Rekindle the Flame After Baby Arrives

The hardest thing about becoming a first-time parent is that it's so sudden. There's no easing into it; no gradual transition with plenty of time to adjust emotionally, no leisurely breaks, weekends, or holidays. While it's true that I was a parent the whole nine months leading up to birth, the baby was quiet and tucked away safely. No interruptions. None. Like, getting a phone call was the most I had been interrupted up to that point.

The end of that phase is so very sudden, no matter how well-prepared you are. And the reason that no one can quite find the words to fully describe it is because there's nothing else on the planet that you can really compare it to. This experience is completely unique, and each story of a couple becoming a family is completely unique to the individuals involved. No one can go through it for you. This is your adventure.

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost,
to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” 
― Eleanor Roosevelt

Thankfully, there's this precious gift from God called 'shock', which acts as a buffer between you and your brand new reality. It slows down your perception of time, speeds up your ability to respond, and quickens all of your senses. You become Wonder Woman overnight. Truly. Hospitals should start issuing capes to new parents before sending them home with their baby.

Don't freak out, here are
 Ten Reasons Why Having a Baby is AWESOME

Also, there's this silly rumor going around that if you choose to raise kids, you can wave goodbye to your happy and fulfilling marriage. At least until the kids leave for college. But I read a while back that your relationship with your spouse won't wait until the kids turn 18. You have to continue to nurture it and help it grow. Today.

Hugging. Kissing. Talking.....today.

Like every pregnant newbie, I knew that our lives were about to change dramatically with the arrival of baby Jed, but I didn't know how, exactly. People had such vague things to say like, "Put your marriage first" (okay, how?), or cynical responses like, "Oh, just you wait! Kids are such a handful!" As much as this advice bugged me, My biggest concern was what would become of my marriage. My hubby and I were two peas in a pod, with a rich reserve of inside jokes, silly traditions, and wonderfully comforting routines. What would become of us? 

If you can relate, I think you'll find this comforting: Just as you two created a whole new world together when you met, you have the ability to create yet another world once your baby joins the party. 

I really wish I would've heard or read some actual [practial] examples of how this works with a baby, because I was freaking out that bad. So for all the people out there like me, who need that extra reassurance that it's all going to be okay, I've created a little list of the ways that me and the hubs have been able to show love to each other on a tight (and sometimes bleary eyed) schedule.

One example: A "date" now consists of going to the gym on a Saturday and leaving Jed with the nice girl at the built-in daycare center. We hop between the pool, the hot tub, sauna, and steam room for an hour or two, and leave relaxed and giggly. Yes! We did it! We did something non-infant together!

We're a little quirky, so our list is too. And of course it's going to morph as Jed grows up (and he's only 8 months old now). What I hope to prove to you is that  romance can exist during the first year after you bring home your bundle of joy. And there are lots of resources online for connecting after baby arrives.

And it's not impossible.

Side note: It's okay to grieve and mourn the loss of how things were before the baby arrived. In fact, It's a good idea. Acknowledge it, mourn it, and start over.

Okay, here we go!

1) The Sticky Note

"Dear Ryan,

When you get inside, please get comfy, cool clothes on and hop in bed for a while. I'll be happy to make you a sammich as soon as I can! :)

So much love,

Shosh"

The reason that this made Ryan feel loved, respected, and appreciated is that when he got home from a long day at work, he was met at the door with a note saying (in essence), hey, I know you're probably tired and stressed out. I notice you, and I'm not expecting you to be emotionally "on" as soon as you walk in the house. Take some time for yourself to unwind, regroup, and know that you are loved. I can't be there for you right away, but I still want to take care of you. In the mean time, just relax and get comfy.

Come to think of it, maybe I should have written that instead  ^o^

It's like one of those "Hey Girl" pictures, but in reverse :)




2) The Mini Road Trip

Babies don't sleep the way adults do. They just don't. (Here's why that's okay and you don't need to read tons of sleep training books). For a few short weeks I had to occasionally take Jed for a drive in the middle of the night just to get him back to sleep. Not a particularly fond memory, but that's life, eh?

Now, we drive him around on purpose. We go on Sunday drives out in the country when we know he's going to be ready for a nap. We also make sure to get ice cream at a drive-thru joint somewhere along the way. Rain or shine, good moods or bad, we've really come to love this time and look forward to it. It's quiet, we can focus on each other, talk through things in greater detail than we're able to during the week, and enjoy a total change of scenery. At home, Jed only naps for half-an-hour at a time. On the road, we've gotten between one to three hours of "us" time. Can't put a price tag on that.

3) Romancing the Stone

Even when all I can muster for dinner is a bowl of cereal, a candle goes a long way to soothe our frayed nerves, quiet the noise of the world outside, and infuse warmth and intimacy into a pair of ragged souls. 

"I'm not really a candle guy, but I feel special that you lit candles for dinner." Ryan told me the first time I tried it (about a week ago). That's all it took, and we've had candles at dinner every since.

4) A Touch of Class

This is something I was doing before Jed joined us, and it's one of few traditions that crossed over easily into parenthood. When I'm able to send lunch to work with Ryan, I try to remember to stick a little plastic sword somewhere in his food (leaving it visible, of course, so he doesn't swallow it). I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds risky. But he's a guy, and he loves it. Surprise! There's a weapon in my yogurt!

Bonus: I hope you never have to bust your man out of the clinker, but this is a skill that could come in handy if you do.



5) Speaking of Food...

Lately I've taken to making large batches of soups and stews and such, then freezing the leftovers. You're probably already doing this. It took me a while (okay, years) to catch on to the brilliance and simplicity of this method. Not only does it mean that I can take it easy (you know, easy for a mom) several nights of the week, it also means there will be plenty for Ryan to take to work the next morning (and more things to stick swords into!). Chili with lean ground turkey, split pea soup with ham...two of my favorites right now. I'm still trying to come up with some others for variety's sake.

6) Pajama Party!

Along the lines of #1, this is nice because it requires only that Ryan work on unwinding after a crazy day. And it doesn't really require anything fancy from me, which is nice. It's surprising how much easier it is to relax when you're in PJ's. My theory is that something clicks in your brain when you switch from "work clothes" to "play clothes". It's a psychological thing and it's wonderful.

Recently, Ryan came home from a stressful day at work and found that Jed and I were both wearing our PJ's. "This is a 'Pajamas Only' zone." I informed him, and told him that he'd find his PJ's layed out on the bed. I thought he would turn the lights on, see the PJ's I had folded into the shape of a heart (above) and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Instead, he didn't turn the lights on, but grabbed them and got changed in the dark. Oh well. It's a good idea in theory :)

7) Space Out with Your Face Out!

Occasionally I've got the energy to pay Ryan a lunchtime visit, so we get lunch together somewhere or have a picnic in a park (when it's nice out). On those days, Ryan usually reads a chapter or two out of a book we're reading together (which is awesome even when Jed is fussy and I have to walk around bouncing him while Ryan reads loudly to be heard over Jed's fussing).

On rainy days, we still go to the park; we just sit in the van to eat lunch, then maybe walk around a bit. Next time I see him, I'll present him with the gift of sudoku - a game he plays to relax and unwind. It's something he can keep at the office and do whenever he wants - a mini stress buster for the un-amazing days. And he won't be expecting it, which is even better :)



8) Again, Food

This is so easy, I can't even find the words. Pancake mix. Frozen berries. Bake it. Breakfast cake for a week.

I sort of "discovered" this on my own recently, so I don't have a recipe. And it comes out a little different each time since I don't measure anything. I add water, milk, and eggs to Krusteaz Pancake Mix, pour it into a buttered 9x13" glass dish, pour frozen berries over the top, and bake it at about 350 for oh, I don't know. Maybe 30 minutes? Maybe more? I check on it every 10-15 minutes just to see how it's doing, then take it out when it's golden brown around the edges and an inserted wooden toothpick comes out clean.

So even though I don't have breakfast with Ryan in the morning anymore (he watches Jed before work so I can get another slice of sleep), he has a homemade cakey, berry-jammed reminder of my love for him.

9) Speaking of Breakfast...

I love it when the coffee is prepped and ready to go, and all I have to do is press the button. So I gave this gift to Ryan for the mornings when he's up with Jed. It's a nice treat to wake up to, and while I'm not there in person to sip a mug with him during the week, the message of love filters through just fine. Also, we've switched to Truvia instead of sugar, and it's so great. I still use heavy whipping cream instead of half-n-half though. My friend Kendra got me hooked on that and I don't ever want to quit.

10) Noted

The next time you're out at the store picking up Butt Paste and Gas Relief Drops (for the baby, of course), consider browsing the "Just Because" section of Hallmark cards. Lord knows I don't have the mental  or emotional capacity most days to write out a thought-provoking and romantic card, but the good folks at Hallmark do. I found a nice card that said what I felt, wrote a few extra things in it, signed it with love, and mailed it to Ryan's workplace (the last place he expects such things). 

Overexertion: 0

Heart-touched husband: 1



11) The Path Less Traveled 

This is just a silly little thing, but Ryan noticed it and really appreciated the gesture. I swept a path from the house to the shop, since he has been going back and forth quite a bit when working on home improvements. It's sort of akin to rolling out the red carpet, but cheaper and more practical. Just a small thing. But the idea is that we try to find little things we can do for each other to let the other one know they're still thought of, wanted, admired, respected, and loved. 

Numbers 9 and 3 are the only ones I do every day at this point...the others are more infrequent. There are people out there whose babies sleep through the night, and they're able to go on dates in the evening, and they don't mind hiking in the rain, and they have family nearby that are available to babysit, and blah, blah, blah omg zzzzz. That's not us right now.

But it's okay! We're still in love!  We're doing this together!

Some additional ways that Ryan shows me love are:

• Making sure I have an ample supply of chocolate at all times.
• Sending texts throughout the day to see how I'm doing and say 'I love you'.
• Watching Jed so I can take a shower.
• Helping out with dishes, laundry, and making the bed.
• Asking how my heart is doing, and sharing his heart with me.
• Praying with me several times a day.
• Neck, shoulder, and back rubs. 
• We go on errands together whenever possible, to squeeze out a few extra moments of "us" time.

So yeah, you can do it too. You'll find ways, and you'll surprise yourself, and it will be amazing. Promise.

Purplandia: The Dramatic Sequel

Perhaps one of the best-kept secrets around Portland is that, in a great and momentous effort to be different from the rest of the country (nay, universe), we have accidentally squeezed ourselves into a new sort of mold. A weirdness mold, if you will. You hear the name Portland and you immediately associate it with weirdness. You have been conditioned to believe that Portlanders are all special feathers (I was actually called this once, at Last Thursday) and sparkly, unique snowflakes. Well, that part is true. We have a reputation to uphold, and so we sometimes get a little carried away in trying to "out-weird each other" (a term my husband came up with). The silly thing is, as humans we all tend to behave like sheep sometimes. Even Portlanders. Strange, tattooed, tall bike riding, kombucha drinking, home brewing, hipster sheep. So, in celebration of our sameness, here are thirty-two *additional purple houses that prove this point: Though we are all different, yet we are the same.

*My previous purple house post can be viewed here.

No matter how much overgrown foliage you have out front, I am still going to find your purple house.

Missed a spot, you guys.

Upon arriving in Portland, new residents are given a chicken, a Subaru or Prius, a "Coexist" bumper sticker, a weeping Japanese maple, and a bucket of purple paint.

I'm still waiting for mine...I guess they're on back order?

Confession: I really do want a Subaru and a chicken.

...and a weeping Japanese maple. Sorry, Lara (I hope we can still be friends!).

Technically not a purple house, but I'm willing to make an exception.

I can spot 'em anywhere now. My husband says I have really good "purple eye".

Can you find the whale in this photo?

Brand new construction of a purple house. Delightful! What whimsy!

Ah yes, the Tibetan prayer flag. A Portland staple on many porch overhangs.

The door was purple too. Then they scraped it off, I guess?

What I don't get is the red trim on a few of these houses. At least these folks had the decency to paint their bench a complimentary color.

Six of these houses have red trim (seven, if you count #7), and I think I spotted six weeping Japanese maples.

In conclusion, the next time you see someone you think is weird, you can take great comfort in knowing there are probably at least 32 other people exactly like him/her.