Category: stories

September 6, 2009 mother's heart

You’re Mine

I promised Travis something the other night that I really can’t promise him. At least not honestly. I promised that Mama would never let anyone take him from me. Who knows exactly where these thoughts come from? Since I usually can’t trace my own thoughts with complete accuracy, those of my 4 year old are even more elusive. But, this train started with a discussion of how he and his favorite lamb had been separated while we were in our living room reading bedtime stories.
LDB: I don’t like it when my lamb is separated from me.
Mama: I understand. I don’t ever like it when you and Squiggle and Baby Girl are separated from me. I always want you with me.
LDB: Well, we would be separated if a policeman came and took me away. [puzzled about where that came from]
Mama: Sweetie, a policeman will never come and take you from Mommy. You belong with Mommy.
LDB: If someone took me away from you, would you tell them “no?”
Mama: Yes, sweetie. Mama would never let anyone take you from me.
LDB: Not even a mean man. [puzzled about that too]
Mama: No, darlin.’ Nobody is going to take you away from me.
LDB: Well, good. Because I want to be with you.
Mama: You will be, because you belong with Mommy.
LDB: Because I’m yours.
Mama: That’s right. You’re mine. God gave you–and Squiggle and Baby Girl–to Mommy and Daddy. Noone will take you away from me.
There it is. “Noone will take you away from me.” That’s the promise I can’t keep. I’m sometimes haunted by the fact that there is always the possibility that something or someone–some circumstance–could rob me of seeing and knowing and experiencing his blessedness.
I could write this post 6000 times and never feel I’ve actually said it. I can never adequately express just how much the existence of this one human being has changed my life forever. It’s Little Drummer Boy only by virtue of the fact that I was a half a miniscule more accustomed to being turned inside out with Bug and Baby Girl, since they don’t bear the burden of being first. It’s true. Having children rocked my world.
Listening to Little Drummer Boy, it’s amazing to me how even being so brief in this world, he can recognize and sense a place of belonging–and that he wants it. The concern of separation from that place somehow made it’s way into his thoughts from who knows where. And, I must acknowledge that it makes its way into mine more often that I care to admit. When I look into their eyes, I realize without a hint of doubt that all three of my gifts scare me to death. And, in seeing them, I realize the strength of the white-knuckle grip I’ve had on my soul since their birth–frozen in fear that I would have to see them suffer and thus witness my own heart shredded beyond repair.
There. I said it. Out loud (virtually, speaking).
Though I’m not one to give in to fear, in the unflenching grip of the last four years, I’ve also realized that sometimes God scares me to death too. His power is too great to comprehend, and his giving and taking is too complex to predict. I’ve always had a strong sense of confidence in God’s purpose and plans, an ability to believe and trust His actions. But, in the last years of watching the most precious beings I’ve known walk around before me, I have found myself shying away from Him. Afraid that He might take them from me, as if they were mine to lose. I’ve gently shielded my heart from Him, as if that were possible. In that doomed shielding, I’ve resisted the rest found in knowing Him more intimately each day, the joy of yielding to the insistence of His presence. And, though I know in my mind that His love is pure and wise and good, releasing my soul to His full molding has been difficult.
With my Baby Girl now a one-year-old and the prospect of Little Drummer Boy going to “big school” a year from now, the last few weeks have been emotional. I’m realizing more and more each day the brevity of that time when they are so dependent on me. And with the shift to their own independence comes an ever-increasing confrontation with things beyond my control, things outside the walls forming my comfort level. I’ve been slowly, but surely, allowing my spirit to catch up with all the changes, the joys, and yes, the fears of the last four years. Little by little, I’m letting go of the strangle hold I’ve had on my own ability to take an unencumbered deep breath, and relinquishing my spirit again to the wooing of my Creator.  And my children’s Creator.
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine.” (isaiah 43:1)
I’m learning again that those words, “you’re mine” are the solution, not the source of fear. Just as saying “you’re mine” to Little Drummer Boy carries with it the full weight of everything I have to give, everything I am willing to give up, everything I would move, everything I would hold fast in order to ensure his abundance; so it is with God.
In hearing the words “you’re Mine,” I can also hear “they’re Mine.” I am released to the blessed rest of His kind intention, the rest of His unfailing, unending and ever-active love.
In my fear I’ve come full circle, realizing that the only hope I have is to throw myself fully upon His love and mercy at each hour. And to throw myself fully into loving my gifts and experiencing them at every stage. To live each day, hour and moment without wishing I had.

I promised Little Drummer Boy something the other night that I really can’t promise him. At least not honestly. I promised that Mama would never let anyone take him from me. Who knows exactly where these thoughts come from? Since I usually can’t trace my own thoughts with complete accuracy, those of my 4 year old are even more elusive. But, this train started with a discussion of how he and his favorite lamb had been separated while we were in our living room reading bedtime stories.

LDB: I don’t like it when my lamb is separated from me.

Mama: I understand. I don’t ever like it when you and Squiggle and Baby Girl are separated from me. I always want you with me.

LDB: Well, we would be separated if a policeman came and took me away. [puzzled about where that came from]

Mama: Sweetie, a policeman will never come and take you from Mommy. You belong with Mommy.

LDB: If someone took me away from you, would you tell them “no?”

Mama: Yes, sweetie. Mama would never let anyone take you from me.

LDB: Not even a mean man. [puzzled about that too]

Mama: No, darlin.’ Nobody is going to take you away from me.

LDB: Well, good. Because I want to be with you.

Mama: You will be, because you belong with Mommy.

LDB: Because I’m yours.

Mama: That’s right. You’re mine. God gave you–and Squiggle and Baby Girl–to Mommy and Daddy. Noone will take you away from me.

There it is. “Noone will take you away from me.” That’s the promise I can’t keep. I’m sometimes haunted by the fact that there is always the possibility that something or someone–some circumstance–could rob me of seeing and knowing and experiencing his blessedness.

I could write this post 6000 times and never feel I’ve actually said it. I can never adequately express just how much the existence of this one human being has changed my life forever. It’s Little Drummer Boy only by virtue of the fact that I was a half a miniscule more accustomed to being turned inside out with Bug and Baby Girl, since they don’t bear the burden of being first. It’s true. Having children rocked my world.

Listening to Little Drummer Boy, it’s amazing to me how even being so brief in this world, he can recognize and sense a place of belonging–and that he wants it. The concern of separation from that place somehow made it’s way into his thoughts from who knows where. And, I must acknowledge that it makes its way into mine more often that I care to admit. When I look into their eyes, I realize without a hint of doubt that all three of my gifts scare me to death. And, in seeing them, I realize the strength of the white-knuckle grip I’ve had on my soul since their birth–frozen in fear that I would have to see them suffer and thus witness my own heart shredded beyond repair.

There. I said it. Out loud (virtually, speaking).

Though I’m not one to give in to fear, in the unflenching grip of the last four years, I’ve also realized that sometimes God scares me to death too. His power is too great to comprehend, and his giving and taking is too complex to predict. I’ve always had a strong sense of confidence in God’s purpose and plans, an ability to believe and trust His actions. But, in the last years of watching the most precious beings I’ve known walk around before me, I have found myself shying away from Him. Afraid that He might take them from me, as if they were mine to lose. I’ve gently shielded my heart from Him, as if that were possible. In that doomed shielding, I’ve resisted the rest found in knowing Him more intimately each day, the joy of yielding to the insistence of His presence. And, though I know in my mind that His love is pure and wise and good, releasing my soul to His full molding has been difficult.

With my Baby Girl now a one-year-old and the prospect of Little Drummer Boy going to “big school” a year from now, the last few weeks have been emotional. I’m realizing more and more each day the brevity of that time when they are so dependent on me. And with the shift to their own independence comes an ever-increasing confrontation with things beyond my control, things outside the walls forming my comfort level. I’ve been slowly, but surely, allowing my spirit to catch up with all the changes, the joys, and yes, the fears of the last four years. Little by little, I’m letting go of the strangle hold I’ve had on my own ability to take an unencumbered deep breath, and relinquishing my spirit again to the wooing of my Creator.  And my children’s Creator.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine.” (isaiah 43:1)

I’m learning again that those words, “you’re mine” are the solution, not the source of fear. Just as saying “you’re mine” to Little Drummer Boy carries with it the full weight of everything I have to give, everything I am willing to give up, everything I would move, everything I would hold fast in order to ensure his abundance; so it is with God. In hearing the words “you’re Mine,” I can also hear “they’re Mine.” I am released to the blessed rest of His kind intention, the rest of His unfailing, unending and ever-active love.

In my fear I’ve come full circle, realizing that the only hope I have is to throw myself fully upon His love and mercy at each hour. And to throw myself fully into loving my gifts and experiencing them at every stage. To live each day, hour and moment without wishing I had.

September 4, 2009 oh happy day!

Oh Happy Day 090409: Here’s to Being Small

Steps. Conversations. Babies (of all sizes). Opportunities. “Undaunted enthusiasm.” Getting unplugged. And, blue skies.
All of those showed up in my (almost) daily lists of 5 “thankful for” things this week. Oh happy day! They represent the birth of a friend’s child, my own baby turning one, my 2 1/2 year-old’s spontaneous dance moves, new and challenging work possibilities for Quiver and I, and September. As is so often the case, my gratitude this week has centered on the three gifts in my house that have so impacted our lives. With Baby Girl’s first birthday on Sunday, I spent the first of the week remembering her arrival a year ago and marveling at how quickly she’s grown.
—————————
It was just about at that point in my train of thoughts about the week that I got the call from daycare this afternoon. One quick trip through football weekend traffic, a walk-in visit to the doctor and five prescriptions later, we’re a statistic. Yes, Baby Girl was diagnosed with the flu, likely H1N1. What’s happy about that?
No, it’s not exactly how I envisioned spending the Labor Day holiday. It’s not what I hoped for Baby Girl’s first full week as a one-year-old. No, this isn’t the post I wrote in my mind–the one about the joy of unplugging Kermit, my trusty laptop, and heading to the farm for a 3-day weekend under the brilliant blue September sky, three gifts, an armload of books and a few dumptrucks in tow. That one’s still in there, just put on hold for a little while. I didn’t want to misplace my gratitude attitude in just the first week of the Oh Happy Day Project, so I was forced to ask myself: Just what am I thankful for now?
Summed up, I’m thankful I live in a small town. I may not have a Gap within a 50-mile radius, but here’s what I do have. I can get to my daughter in 10 minutes–at 4:15 on the Friday afternoon before the first home college football game of the season. I can walk into the doctor’s office at 4:30 and actually see her although they don’t accept walk-ins after 4pm. My doctor remembers seeing Baby Girl just this Monday, as well as the medicines for croup she put her on. She also remembers the names of my other children as she writes them a preventative prescription for Tamiflu. Life in a small town means the owner of the pharmacy takes time to speak with Quiver about our prescriptions, which they are able to fill before closing. And, I’m not really surprised that we can also get a call at home–at 8pm–from the same owner making sure we don’t have any other questions. (Can you say locally owned and operated?) Then, there’s the maroon-clad boys who come running in after enjoying a day of “tailgating parties” at preschool. In a small town, happenings at the university matter to almost everyone, even 4-year-olds.  Of course, the one-hour wait for Friday night pizza delivery is really only 30 minutes. And, The Great Muppet Caper is (almost) always available at the public library to supplement our pizza picnic. Here’s to being small!
—————————
Incidentally, good news… I’ve discovered that gratitude has a no cancellation policy. H1N1 may certainly have a wet blanket effect, but my daily “5 things” don’t lose their gratitude points because of it. As it turns out, I’m still quite thankful that Emily’s baby was born early and small, but strong. The Queen and I still had a great conversation about possible upcoming projects, proving synergy is alive and kicking. The Bug dance is still an undaunted show-stopper.  Quiver is still an incredibly good man. September still offers the promise of cooler weather and more brilliant skies. And though feverish, Baby Girl is still one and stepping out.
Oh Happy Day!

happyday090409

Steps. Conversations. Babies (of all sizes). Opportunities. “Undaunted enthusiasm.” Getting unplugged. And, blue skies.

All of those showed up in my (almost) daily lists of 5 “thankful for” things this week. Oh happy day! They represent the birth of a friend’s child, my own baby turning one, my 2 1/2 year-old’s spontaneous dance moves, new and challenging work possibilities for Quiver and I, and September. As is so often the case, my gratitude this week has centered on the three gifts in my house that have so impacted our lives. With Baby Girl’s first birthday on Sunday, I spent the first of the week remembering her arrival a year ago and marveling at how quickly she’s grown.

—————————

It was just about at that point in my train of thoughts about the week that I got the call from daycare this afternoon. One quick trip through football weekend traffic, a walk-in visit to the doctor and five prescriptions later, we’re a statistic. Yes, Baby Girl was diagnosed with the flu, likely H1N1. What’s happy about that?

No, it’s not exactly how I envisioned spending the Labor Day holiday. It’s not what I hoped for Baby Girl’s first full week as a one-year-old. No, this isn’t the post I wrote in my mind–the one about the joy of unplugging Kermit, my trusty laptop, and heading to the farm for a 3-day weekend under the brilliant blue September sky, three gifts, an armload of books and a few dumptrucks in tow. That one’s still in there, just put on hold for a little while. I didn’t want to misplace my gratitude attitude in just the first week of the Oh Happy Day Project, so I was forced to ask myself: Just what am I thankful for now?

Summed up, I’m thankful I live in a small town. I may not have a Gap within a 50-mile radius, but here’s what I do have. I can get to my daughter in 10 minutes–at 4:15 on the Friday afternoon before the first home college football game of the season. I can walk into the doctor’s office at 4:30 and actually see her although they don’t accept walk-ins after 4pm. My doctor remembers seeing Baby Girl just this Monday, as well as the medicines for croup she put her on. She also remembers the names of my other children as she writes them a preventative prescription for Tamiflu. Life in a small town means the owner of the pharmacy takes time to speak with Quiver about our prescriptions, which they are able to fill before closing. And, I’m not really surprised that we can also get a call at home–at 8pm–from the same owner making sure we don’t have any other questions. (Can you say locally owned and operated?) Then, there’s the maroon-clad boys who come running in after enjoying a day of “tailgating parties” at preschool. In a small town, happenings at the university matter to almost everyone, even 4-year-olds.  Of course, the one-hour wait for Friday night pizza delivery is really only 30 minutes. And, The Great Muppet Caper is (almost) always available at the public library to supplement our pizza picnic. Here’s to being small!

—————————

Incidentally, good news… I’ve discovered that gratitude has a no cancellation policy. H1N1 may certainly have a wet blanket effect, but my daily “5 things” don’t lose their gratitude points because of it. As it turns out, I’m still quite thankful that Emily’s baby was born early and small, but strong. The Queen and I still had a great conversation about possible upcoming projects, proving synergy is alive and kicking. The Bug dance is still an undaunted show-stopper.  September still offers the promise of cooler weather and more brilliant skies. And though feverish, Baby Girl is still one and stepping out.

Oh Happy Day!

August 30, 2009 mother's heart, poetry

S is for Soft

Soft is the smooth touch
of my baby girl’s cheek
against mine, her skin
aglow in unfettered smiles
barely touched by the world.
the brush of eyelashes hovering
over a cloudless blue.
Soft is her sweet breath
against my nose, deepening
my inhale. in and out,
the gentle fluttering
of one thousand hopes and dreams
between her heart
and mine.
Soft is the whisper
of her sleepy fingers
against my shoulder,
the plump and eager toes
too worn with the day.
the patter of steps and moments
as they fly away.

maggie1

Soft is the smooth touch
of my baby girl’s cheek
against mine, her skin
aglow in unfettered smiles
barely touched by the world.
the brush of eyelashes hovering
over a cloudless blue.

Soft is her sweet breath
against my nose, deepening
my inhale. in and out,
the gentle fluttering
of one thousand hopes and dreams
between her heart
and mine.

Soft is the whisper
of her sleepy fingers
against my shoulder,
the plump and eager toes
too worn with the day.
the patter of steps and moments
as they tiptoe away.

Happy 1st Birthday, Baby Girl! Your softness has forever melted my heart.

August 28, 2009 oh happy day!

The Oh Happy Day Project

Thank God it’s Friday! I’m sitting at the computer watching Bug’s version of Dancing with the Stars as the theme song from Winnie the Pooh plays on his movie. Despite a very itchy infection and a yucky tummy from antibiotics, he is undeterred. My Squiggle Bug is a perpetual visual aid for “Thank God it’s Friday!”
TGIF! We’ve all heard it. Most of us have said it. No matter what we’re doing, there’s something about ending the work week (or school week) and the prospect of a weekend that gets our juices flowing. Friday motivates us to get the last details of the week resolved. Friday fills us with the anticipation of free moments, fun activities and a shift from the weekday schedule. Friday lifts our spirits simply by being Friday.
I’ve always thought that it’s not really a good idea to invoke the name of the God of the universe unless you mean it. (Actually, God tells us it’s not a good idea. But, that’s another post.) So, today I’m thinking quite literally about “Thank God it’s Friday.” I’ve learned time and again about the role gratitude plays in attitudes through my own life lessons–mostly from bad attitudes prompted by a complaining spirit. Last year’s 12 Days of Thanksgiving at EyeJunkie really chrystalized that concept for me in so many ways. Just when I’m unhappily ensconced in my own “justified” complaints about circumstances or people or life in general, it never fails. Some news story, or friend’s story, or precious request from my gifts, or some other real life reality interrupts, and I recognize again how truly blessed I am.
“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 thessalonians 5:16-18)
Well, there it is. For all the times I’ve wondered, “what is God’s will for my life?”, this one offers a clue. I’ve often read those versus with frustration. Look at all the extremes in there–always, without ceasing, everything. Ouch! It looks like that’s going to take a bit of commitment. It looks like I may have to rejoice in some not-so-fun situations. It looks like I may need to give thanks for some things I didn’t really want. It looks like I may actually have to let God out of His 911 emergency service vehicle every once in a while. Hmmm.
It seems to me that God gives us a recipe for happy days in these verses. And by happy, I mean joyful contentment and satisfaction, not the fleeting sugary feel we get during the first few minutes of chewing Bubblicious. If there’s anything I’ve learned from raising toddlers, it is that the Happiness Hotel has a revolving door… the devastation of not getting to play with the exact truck you wanted, followed by the utter bliss of realizing the helicopter is just as fun… the sorrow of not being able to ride with Daddy to the grocery store, followed by the sheer joy found in helping Mommy with the dishwasher. (I’d personally like to bottle that one so I can unleash it again in ten years when I know there will be no parallel happiness universe in which the dishwasher will be fun.) That ever-shifting concept of happiness is surely a normal part of learning about the world as a child, but what an incredibly unfullfilling grown-up lifestyle to endure!
That’s not God’s version of happiness. With the “always,” “without ceasing” and “in everything,” He gives us a glimpse of how constant real happiness can be. The happiness power comes in using those three ideas in tandem–persistently. Giving thanks provides us with something to rejoice about. Rejoicing reminds us of more in which to be grateful. Praying offers us Someone to thank for the joy we’ve seen. And, it gives us a way to get our worries and concerns out of the equation. If I can make those three actions constants in my life, my attitudes and perspectives will have all the checks and balances they need for me to be who and where God wants.
The thing that really convicts me in these verses is the intention that’s required–the deliberateness. I can’t accidentally “rejoice always.” Not with everything this life and the people in it have to offer. I can’t just haphazardly give thanks, or my gratitude will be confined to one Thursday in November. To pray without ceasing? It won’t just happen with a husband, three children, a job, a house and 6000 other things vying for my mental space. Paying attention rears it’s ugly head. Again.
I recently read a blog post where a woman described her habit of being grateful. She made a commitment to herself to stop and write down 5 things she was thankful for at the end of each day. She would not let herself go to bed at night until that task was completed. So each of her days ended with a tangible joy list.
I like that. Hence, the Oh Happy Day Project begins today. It’s my own little “Thank God it’s Friday” experiment reporting on the weekly EyeJunkie gratitude attitude documentation. I’m incorporating the “5 things” idea into my daily routine, and I hope to expound on the best in five-star Montgomery Happiness Hotel occupancy each Fridays. Oh Happy Day!
I’ll keep you posted.

happyday082809

Thank God it’s Friday! I’m sitting at the computer watching Bug’s version of Dancing with the Stars as the theme song from Winnie the Pooh plays on his movie. Despite a very itchy infection and a yucky tummy from antibiotics, he is undeterred. My Squiggle Bug is a perpetual visual aid for “Thank God it’s Friday!”

TGIF! We’ve all heard it. Most of us have said it. No matter what we’re doing, there’s something about ending the work week (or school week) and the prospect of a weekend that gets our juices flowing. Friday motivates us to get the last details of the week resolved. Friday fills us with the anticipation of free moments, fun activities and a shift from the weekday schedule. Friday lifts our spirits simply by being Friday.

I’ve always thought that it’s not really a good idea to invoke the name of the God of the universe unless you mean it. (Actually, God tells us it’s not a good idea. But, that’s another post.) So, today I’m thinking quite literally about “Thank God it’s Friday.” I’ve learned time and again about the role gratitude plays in attitudes through my own life lessons–mostly from bad attitudes prompted by a complaining spirit. Last year’s 12 Days of Thanksgiving at EyeJunkie really chrystalized that concept for me in so many ways. Just when I’m unhappily ensconced in my own “justified” complaints about circumstances or people or life in general, it never fails. Some news story, or friend’s story, or precious request from my gifts, or some other real life reality interrupts, and I recognize again how truly blessed I am.

“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 thessalonians 5:16-18)

Well, there it is. For all the times I’ve wondered, “what is God’s will for my life?”, this one offers a clue. I’ve often read those versus with frustration. Look at all the extremes in there–always, without ceasing, everything. Ouch! It looks like that’s going to take a bit of commitment. It looks like I may have to rejoice in some not-so-fun situations. It looks like I may need to give thanks for some things I didn’t really want. It looks like I may actually have to let God out of His 911 emergency service vehicle every once in a while. Hmmm.

It seems to me that God gives us a recipe for happy days in these verses. And by happy, I mean joyful contentment and satisfaction, not the fleeting sugary feel we get during the first few minutes of chewing Bubblicious. If there’s anything I’ve learned from raising toddlers, it is that the Happiness Hotel has a revolving door… the devastation of not getting to play with the exact truck you wanted, followed by the utter bliss of realizing the helicopter is just as fun… the sorrow of not being able to ride with Daddy to the grocery store, followed by the sheer joy found in helping Mommy with the dishwasher. (I’d personally like to bottle that one so I can unleash it again in ten years when I know there will be no parallel happiness universe in which the dishwasher will be fun.) That ever-shifting concept of happiness is surely a normal part of learning about the world as a child, but what an incredibly unfullfilling grown-up lifestyle to endure!

That’s not God’s version of happiness. With the “always,” “without ceasing” and “in everything,” He gives us a glimpse of how constant real happiness can be. The happiness power comes in using those three ideas in tandem–persistently. Giving thanks provides us with something to rejoice about. Rejoicing reminds us of more in which to be grateful. Praying offers us Someone to thank for the joy we’ve seen. And, it gives us a way to get our worries and concerns out of the equation. If I can make those three actions constants in my life, my attitudes and perspectives will have all the checks and balances they need for me to be who and where God wants.

The thing that really convicts me in these verses is the intention that’s required–the deliberateness. I can’t accidentally “rejoice always.” Not with everything this life and the people in it have to offer. I can’t just haphazardly give thanks, or my gratitude will be confined to one Thursday in November. To pray without ceasing? It won’t just happen with a husband, three children, a job, a house and 6000 other things vying for my mental space. Paying attention rears it’s ugly head. Again.

I recently read a blog post where a woman described her habit of being grateful. She made a commitment to herself to stop and write down 5 things she was thankful for at the end of each day. She would not let herself go to bed at night until that task was completed. So each of her days ended with a tangible joy list.

I like that. Hence, the Oh Happy Day Project begins today. It’s my own little “Thank God it’s Friday” experiment reporting on the weekly EyeJunkie gratitude attitude documentation. I’m incorporating the “5 things” idea into my daily routine, and I hope to expound on the best in five-star Montgomery Happiness Hotel occupancy each Fridays. Oh Happy Day!

I’ll keep you posted.

[My compliments to the Muppets for their unmistakeable visual of the Happiness Hotel where you can drive a cab through the front door and opt to skip out without paying!]

August 23, 2009 mother's heart

The One About Hot Dogs

This past week was a busy one, made more complicated internally by changes to Quiver’s work situation and changes in our familiar routines. Over the weekend I had been feeling rather overwhelmed and generally behind in so many of the life plots (and attitudes) I need to be cultivating. It seems an odd time to be writing about hot dogs, but here we are.
Sometimes just a little change of plans, tossed with a pinch of spur-of-the-moment can create a much-needed shift in perspective. At some point during the middle of the afternoon (probably about the time I was reading and making mental notes for tomorrow’s final Geek episode of MeMyBook&Eye) I decided to ditch the leftover dinner plans and opt for more of a celebration mindset.
Celebration hasn’t really been at the forefront of our thoughts this week. We’ve been dealing with the emotional and physical ramifications of Quiver shutting down a business and beginning a new job. We’ve been busy with extra responsibilities beyond the normal routine. We’ve been challenged by some of the boy’s growing pains. We’ve been playing catch-up after new strides (quite literally) in Baby Girl’s growing independence. We’ve been cooking and cleaning and bathing and writing and laundering. We’ve been impatient with one another, with ourselves and with circumstances.
So, I decided an impromptu party was in order to lift our spirits and right our vision.
I realize that the word “party” conjurs up lots of different images. To adequately understand our version of a “party,” I’d better explain that we have family parties for just about anything. Usually the standard criteria for a party at the Montgomery house is a pretty sparse list: 1) something to laugh or jump up and down about; 2) something edible; 3) some form of decoration, be it new placemats, party paper plates, construction paper cut-outs hanging from the “chandelier”, table cloths, candlelight, etc. That about covers it.
Yes, I decided that tonight was an excellent time for our third “grill party” of the month–no time like the present. The plans made for extra excitement because we decided to have it in the BACK YARD where we could eat the whole meal OUTSIDE. Big fun. With catsup on top. The trappings of this party? Here’s the abridged version:
8 hot dogs + buns
1/4 bag charcoal + requisite lighter fluid
1 bag Cheetos
Sundry condiments
1 highly portable Pack-n-Play
1 blue checked tablecloth
2 $1 styrofoam airplanes
2 funky plastic things that spin and light up when you push the button
1 happy beagle
5 large marshmallows
1 coat hanger
1 bag mint chocolate cookies (in lieu of graham crackers and Hershey bars)
1 yellow lightning bug
4 “Lighting McQueen” party plates
Napkins (enough)
Giggles (uncounted)
2 tricycles
1 pink pair of pants (size 9mo)
2 porch lights
1 quick trip to the bathroom
4 people I love (so much I can’t stand it)
Somewhere in between squirting mustard, fending off puppy paws, responding to the 637th “Mommy, watch this” and strategically planning my last bite to include part hot dog AND part bun–somewhere in there–I recognized again how much I have to be thankful for, how good I really have it.
Hot dogs with a side of renewed perspective. Who knew?

This past week was a busy one, made more complicated internally by changes to Quiver’s work situation and changes in our familiar routines. Over the weekend I had been feeling rather overwhelmed and generally behind in so many of the life plots (and attitudes) I need to be cultivating. It seems an odd time to be writing about hot dogs, but here we are.

Sometimes just a little change of plans, tossed with a pinch of spur-of-the-moment can create a much-needed shift in perspective. At some point during the middle of the afternoon (probably about the time I was reading and making mental notes for tomorrow’s final Geek episode of MeMyBook&Eye) I decided to ditch the leftover dinner plans and opt for more of a celebration mindset.

Celebration hasn’t really been at the forefront of our thoughts this week. We’ve been dealing with the emotional and physical ramifications of Quiver shutting down a business and beginning a new job. We’ve been busy with extra responsibilities beyond the normal routine. We’ve been challenged by some of the boy’s growing pains. We’ve been playing catch-up after new strides (quite literally) in Baby Girl’s growing independence. We’ve been cooking and cleaning and bathing and writing and laundering. We’ve been impatient with one another, with ourselves and with circumstances.

So, I decided an impromptu party was in order to lift our spirits and right our vision.

I realize that the word “party” conjurs up lots of different images. To adequately understand our version of a “party,” I’d better explain that we have family parties for just about anything. Usually the standard criteria for a party at the Montgomery house is a pretty sparse list: 1) something to laugh or jump up and down about; 2) something edible; 3) some form of decoration, be it new placemats, party paper plates, construction paper cut-outs hanging from the “chandelier”, table cloths, candlelight, etc. That about covers it.

Yes, I decided that tonight was an excellent time for our third “grill party” of the month–no time like the present. The plans made for extra excitement because we decided to have it in the BACK YARD where we could eat the whole meal OUTSIDE. Big fun. With catsup on top. The trappings of this party? Here’s the abridged version:

8 hot dogs + buns
1/4 bag charcoal + requisite lighter fluid
1 bag Cheetos
Sundry condiments
1 highly portable Pack-n-Play
1 blue checked tablecloth
2 $1 styrofoam airplanes
2 funky plastic things that spin and light up when you push the button
1 happy beagle
5 large marshmallows
1 coat hanger
1 bag mint chocolate cookies (in lieu of graham crackers and Hershey bars)
1 yellow lightning bug
4 “Lighting McQueen” party plates
Napkins (enough)
Giggles (uncounted)
2 tricycles
1 pink pair of pants (size 9mo)
2 porch lights
1 quick trip to the bathroom
The first “touch of Fall in the air” night this year
4 people I love (so much I can’t stand it)

Somewhere in between squirting mustard, fending off puppy paws, responding to the 637th “Mommy, watch this” and strategically planning my last bite to include part hot dog AND part bun–somewhere in there–I recognized again how much I have to be thankful for, how good I really have it.

Hot dogs with a side of renewed perspective. Who knew?