Mamazen

Sorry. Gonna be a minimal post tonight. I had the rare treat of dinner and a movie with my bestie. Best therapy around. Try it.

The watcher

Ruby has always enjoyed looking out the window at the world around her. She'd run to the window to watch the "BIG TRUCK!" (trash truck) every monday when she heard it coming. When friends come or go she waves to them and shouts "bye! see you!" The other morning, Ryan was leaving for work while I took a shower, and when I got out I saw this: 

She'd been crying "daddy go bike! Daddy all gone!" He didn't see her in the window, and she was devastated that he had left! (yes, she's pants-less. it was not how I left her)

This weekend we were in Seattle visiting family for t-day. Ruby thought the picture windows were da-bomb. 

 

Soon soon we're headed to Maui, and she'll be able to see the ocean from the window. What will she think of that?
 

 

On giving thanks

It's Thanksgiving. I know the cultural significance of this day, and don't pretend it isn't there, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about giving thanks for what I have. I've spent a lot of time this fall thinking about what is not, what is wrong, and what is never to be. That's not to say I don't spend time each day being amazed and grateful for what we have in front of us, but there has been a lot of grieving this season (year). 

We are in Issaquah, WA where one of my sisters lives for our (almost complete - missing one sister's fam) family thanksgiving. We're not having our actual big dinner till tomorrow when my oldest (21!) niece, Kelcie and her boyfriend arrive. Tomorrow will be the day we sit around a big table laden with delicious food and give thanks for each other's support, and presence in our lives, we'll toast one another with good wine and look forward to the next big holiday (hand made christmas!).

I am thankful for many things. Too many to write about. Too many to share. Too many that are so entrenched in the fibers of my heart that putting it into words could render my heart useless. Those things, those very tender things are mine, and mine alone to savor and be grateful for and to cherish till my last breath on this earth. 

I'm thankful we have food on the table every day, and that I don't have to worry about having enough money to buy groceries. I'm thankful for the house we live in and the jobs we have to afford our modest lifestyle. I'm thankful for rewarding work that makes me proud to do what I do and honored to serve the people I work with. I'm thankful for my creative outlet that give my hands something to do that renders some string into clothing. 

These are the things we're all thankful for, the simple, obvious things. But what about the others? the bigger things? the deeper things?  

I am thankful for my mother. She has always been my greatest champion, my staunchest believer, my cheerleader. She supports me no matter what. This is the mother I want to be.

I am thankful for my father. He has always had words of wisdom that held me up in hard times. He gives great hugs, and believes in me. He is the father I wish for Ryan to learn from.

I am thankful for my sisters. We've spent years antagonizing each other, and yet as adults have utmost respect for one another. They each live their lives in extra-ordinary ways, and are so full of love for their work and families. These are the aunts I want for my child. 

I'm thankful for my friends from childhood. Hearts intertwined with mine from our most impressionable moments. Even when we drifted, or had differing views, we still loved, respected and supported each other. The fact that many of us suffered the same miserable fate of infertility gives me pause, both in a moment of horror (what was IN the water we drank growing up?) and laughter (at least we can joke about it, eh?). These are the people who helped me become who I am and who will help me become who I am going to be. These are the kinds of friends I wish for my child. 

I'm thankful for my friends from adulthood. In some ways, these friends are the parts of my heart I have been looking for all of my life, and then upon meeting I recognized the missing puzzle piece. Friends who challenge me to think outside of the box, support my tired heart and my over burdened body, and hold me close even when they are far away. Many I haven't actually met in person but are a support and breath of fresh air none the less, and are more real on a computer screen or a telephone than some that live in my same town. These are the kind of friends I wish for my child.

I'm thankful for my husband. 14 years ago we met, and 13 years ago we were married, young and  crazy and in love. We hardly knew each other, yet we knew everything we needed to know. I never expected we'd be challenged the way we have, and still come out loving, respecting, trusting that we were on the right path together. He is my rock, my power, my reason. He supports my choices, honors my feelings, trusts my heart. He is proud, strong and fierce in his love for me. This is the kind of love I wish for my child. 

I am thankful for my child. She is a dream made real, a wish come true, perfection with brown eyes. She challenges me to dig deep for patience, and creativity and rewards me with nothing but joy. She reminds me that we are all perfect in our imperfections, even myself, and that she, like me, is amazingly lovable just. as. she. is. She causes me to laugh deep within my heart on a daily basis, and to take each day moment to moment because some of those moments are breathtaking. She reminds me that Holland is an amazing place to be, even if though not Italy. She is the reason for everything I do, every choice I make and everything that is right about my life. 

She is the reason I still believe, I still have hope, and I still make wishes. 

I am thankful for many things. What are YOU thankful for this year? 

Grace in small things 53/365

1. A fabulous new hair cut and color that make you feel and look NOT 38. 
2. Coffee, hot and delicious after a rough nights sleep. 
3. Happy, easy drop offs (see above about bad sleep).
4. Left over night (again, see above bad nights sleep situation).
5. This kid: 

I can't tell you how very much I love this child, this walking piece of grace, this daily reminder that dreams do come true. 

Grace in small things 52/365

I think I've started more than one of these this year, saying that it's hard to find things to be grateful for, that it's hard to find the grace in the mundane... but I'm here again saying that it's hard, in my life right now to find that grace. It's so easy to see the negative, to point out the ugly, the painful, the heartbreaking.  I joined GIST because I wanted to find the grace in every day to get through the difficult things that may lay ahead of us this year... and sure enough, it was a shit of a year. I didn't keep my my end of the bargain, finding the grace in the mundane, waging the battle against embitterment. Truth be told, I'm pretty bitter. 

I started 2009 with the fervent wish I'd end it with a new baby in my arms. Now, we're near the end, and not only am I not nursing a newborn, I'm not pregnant, and realized this week that due to the state of the economy, we don't have access to funds to even consider trying again. I know these may not seem like big complaints to some, but when conceiving a child isn't easy, it's expensive. The thing is, I'm only 38, but all of a sudden, on top of male factor infertility issues, we also have secondary female factor... aka, my ovaries are giving up the ghost. So we have a small window of time to have a biological child, before we talk about the next set of options. This is, believe it or not, a really difficult thing to let go of, something we won't be letting go of without a lot of therapy. 

So here we are, heading into the winter holidays. Empty arms, empty womb, empty bank account. Time to find the grace in the small things.

1. An extra hour of sleep in the morning, even if it only came because a certain 3 year old was up for 2 hours in the middle of the night. There is something lovely about waking up at 8 am instead of 6:30.
2. Coffee and There's  a wocket in my pocket by the heat vent in the kitchen. Not a bad way to start the day.
3. A fabulous new hair cut and color. A splash of maroon can brighten any crabby old lady!
4. Pizza and a movie with my two favorite humans.
5. Kissing my sweet girl good night, and holding her hand as she drifts back to sleep after an bad dream. 

Women Who Cook

I've mentioned before that I'm a woman who cooks. When my dear friend Lyn's mother was dying, I can't tell you how many baked zitis I made, filled with cheese and love trying to fill the cracks forming in our hearts as she slipped further and further away. When Celeste's water broke at 1 am when she was only 28 weeks  pregnant and she ended up in the hospital for a month, I baked muffins, made spaghetti and delivered food to her daily to keep those babies growing on something other than bad hospital food. 

When the shit hits the fan, this mama hits the kitchen. I'm not a gourmet cook, I don't make fancy food that you can't pronounce. I like simple healthy comfort foods that fill the belly, feed the mind and nourish the soul. I love to make soups, and lasagnas and fresh baked bread. I love knowing that someone with an aching back, a weepy heart or a challenged soul will have one less thing to think about. 

Amazingly, I am lucky enough to live in a community of women who cook. Babies are born, and meal trains are started. A family is struck with the flu and our community rallies to keep them fed. Someone's little boy needs brain surgery and before they are home from the hospital the freezer is stocked and the kitchen is cleaned. This is a community to love and be loved in. 

Sometimes I am lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such love and cooking. This morning a beautiful, kind, and loving friend (who endured her own painful and grief filled summer) delivered this:

beautiful, delicious, delectable nectarine galette. Nectarines are my most favorite fruit, and this, is quite a treat. With this beautiful baked plate of love was a poem, and perfectly describes why I am a Woman Who Cooks. 

Women Who Cook

Anita Skeen

When, this incredible thing, the principal of the junior high,

surprised by a blast from an M-1A rifle, slumps

a few feet from his office door, or the woman

out jogging in the Saturday morning snow, jubilant

as confetti, gets beaten and raped, or the son

does not recover from the ache in his side, we are left,

hands fumbling in pockets for more

than just words.

The doorbell rings. A woman appears, offering
an aluminum pan wrapped in foil. I wanted to make something
chocolate, she says, but there isn't anything chocolate 
I can make really well. A later hour, another ring:
She made you these rolls, he says, extending the sack 
like a drowned cat. Still later, a glass dish
held out like a crystal ball: We had this extra ham,
she says. We thought you could use it now.

I remember February's worst blizzard since 1912
when my grandmother, who made cornbread when Stevie's mother
did not return from the trip and the blackberry cobbler
when Earle stayed down in the mine, chose
to die. A four wheel drive took the body
and brought beans. Friends plowed through snow
with potato salad and stew. Wherever I turned,
I was handed a dish. My hands steamed for days.

Some of us women still bake, she says, when we don't know
what else to do. I take the butterscotch pie, meringue
frothy and deep as that February snow, and turn toward the kitchen,
thinking of women who turn on their stoves, take town their bowls. 
I lift this gift, this tangible sorrow, to the shelf.
Right now, in this town, a woman beats eggs, each stroke
a blow against something out there, something
only a neighbor away. 

There is grace in the small things of life. (51/365)

1. A kiss placed perfectly where it hurts, or where you wish love to grow.
2. Nectarine galette delivered with words of heartbreaking wisdom and truth 
3. Forging friendships from the strangest of connections, including random blogs
4. Butter filled crust 
5. Patience, faith and hope. (not necessarily in that order) 

Grace in small things 50/365

Some weekends are busy busy busy, others lazy lazy lazy. This one was a combination, busy for some moments lazy for others. The kind of weekend where you didn't really do anything exciting, but got a lot done. We've become the kind of people who rarely do anything social.  Hearing about other people's weekend dates, picnics, parties make me wonder if I'm missing anything... but then I realize that for our family, right now this is what we need. I'm sure someday we'll hire a sitter and go out again, or start planning events with families we know, but it's not this summer. Someday we'll host bbqs again, or fun, lavish (haha) dinner parties with games afterward, but it's not this summer. This summer is for sleeping in, for household projects and family focus, for quiet mornings and noisy afternoons. 

1. Cool mornings filled with snuggles and long 3 year old kisses  
2. 3 types of olives 
3. Blessings and baby pictures 
4. Turkey noodle soup and cupycakes. 
5. Bedroom doors long awaited finally installed! 

 

Yesterday

Yesterday I had a birthday. I'm 38. Thirty Eight. It's not very old, yet it sure sounds old when you realize i'm trying to get pregnant right before my 20th high school reunion. It feels old when your 3 year old wakes up at 5 am raring to go after you barely crashed at midnight. It feels old when you're running a business and a family and a household while injecting synthetic hormones into your belly in the hopes of being granted one. more. baby. But 38 really isn't that old. Tell my ovaries that, Ok? 

Yesterday was a long day of tired mama, tired and cranky toddler and counting the minutes till bedtime. Still we manage to eek out several moments of pure grace.

1. Kisses under the blankets while wild laughter fills the room
2. Spending the morning at her new preschool and settling a little bit more. 
3. Facebook birthday wishes every 10 minutes from friends near and far, new and old. 
4. An afternoon of t-ball and wading pools and eating tomatoes off the vine  
5. A long hot birthday bath with a glass of wine whilst my husband made the birthday dinner of honey mustard pork chops and roasted root vegetables. 
6. Finishing the day with Cupycakes, while the sweet girl slumbers. She'll get her cupycake for breakfast  

GIST 49/365 

long time no grace

It's been a cruel, cruel summer. Well, not completely, but it's been a rough one. Not that I haven't had a lot to be grateful for, but many days I'm hard pressed to see them. However, it's been a week of incredibly graceful moments, and I need to shake off this funk and revive this blog. 

1. Seeing your child in a new light, and feeling your heart sing because of it.
2. Tricycles and t-ball 
3. Bowl after bowl of delicious spaghetti
4. Campfires and toasted marshmallows  
5. Feeling hopeful, so welcome after feeling hopeless for so long.  

Grace in small things 47/365

My daughter is going to be three in 2 days. Just typing the phrase 'my daughter' is still sometimes shocking to me, so the fact that she is going to be THREE is blowing my mind. wow. I'm going to be the mother of a three year old girl. preschooler. crazy crazy shit, I tell you. In my mind she's still just this tiny little peanut who wakes up every 2 hours to nurse all night long... and oh how I miss that tiny little nursling. 

Anyway, I digress... Ruby is going to be three in just a couple of days, and we have family in town, so time is short for blogging and me time. However, moments of grace are huge. 

1. Having grandma in town, so that when little person wakes up at 6:45 after being awake from 4-5:30... mama gets to snooze till 8:30. yay.
2. Having a zoo pass. Nothing better than a perfect (almost) summer day wasting 2 hours watching birds, bears and sea lions.  
3. Ice water.  
4. A bff that lives 4 blocks away. Close enough for an impromptu stop over for scones after dinner when you need a cry, a hug or a laugh. Or a scone. 
5. Loving my work. This week I was honored enough to treat a mama who had a stillbirth 2 weeks ago. It was one of the most incredibly tender and painful moments of my career, placing my hands on this mamas belly, and feeling the exquisite peace of what had transpired. What is even more amazing, is that this mama is pumping milk to donate. Talk about a moment of grace in something SO not small. She lost her baby. Her baby died. And yet, she still has the capacity to be so gracious and generous. I can only hope and pray that I would have that kind of heart if I were ever to be in her shoes, although I hope and pray that I never am.