and he never knew

I made the simplest, hardest goal this morning: to do just one thing at a time.

I was determined not to do ‘the usual,’ a scenario in which I: monitor the kids’ breakfast, leave it on the table while i check my email, get distracted by the kettle whistling for my French press, consider grabbing something to eat but remember that packing lunch for the day’s outing is more urgent, and then get distracted from lunch packing by the sticky hands needing washed and the restless morning-energy quarrels needing moderation. And it goes on and on ’till we leave the house, which looks a bit like we were forced to evacuate immediately leaving toys on the floor, dishes in the sink and crumbs who-knows-where, coffee mugs half-full and beds unmade.

That was not to be the case today. Now i’ll say this: I love a clean house. I really do. But the main reason i aspire to pick up before walking out the door is to create a feeling of “oh, it’s good to be home” for Brian when he comes home. At first this idea almost felt like a joke. The idea of a home inhabited by three small people and their various possessions and messes of natural cause, a wife who has a penchant for organizing the home by use of the proven “piles” method (hey, there’s free counter space!); a home with forest green counter-tops which is painted the landlord’s choice of yellowish, grayish and mint greenish shades; the idea of this home being inviting and welcoming felt impossible. And it’s not really about the bad colors; it’s really about us and the mess associated with us.

Yet, i have resolved to improve my follow through in these matters, and thus, this morning did make sure to wash every last bottle and breakfast dish before hustling the crew out to the pool. Oh, won’t it be beautiful, i mused. Brian will come home, see the tidy house and the best of last night’s leftovers left for him, and remember how very awesome i am. He’ll probably be itching to show his appreciation by providing limitless back rubs and watching a chick flick. I mean, it’s not like i’ve never cleaned up the house before, but i’ll admit to a tendency to leave a trail of destruction, especially in getting the kids out the door in the morning. (Thus the goal for this morning).

And sure ‘nough, when i called him around lunch time, he was on the way to a lunch meeting. I had the reactive thought that the morning’s labor was in vain. And i remembered, somehow, just then, the missing link: integrity. Doing things right, and not just for recognition. The “servant heart” that seeks a reward is really just a diva in disguise.

week in words

I’ve tried to write witty and I’ve tried to write eloquent, but the long and the short of it is that my brain is a little fried.  So i’ve stopped trying to say it all, and decided just to say something.

As i was typing that, i mis-typed brain (oh, and just did it again!) as brian.  Which is nearly accurate, actually, since Brian was out sick for most of the week.  And by out sick, i mean that after getting sick just at the end of the workday Wednesday (just when we were allll looking very much forward to Daddy coming home for the day) he laid down on the couch and did not move (except to the other couch and then back again,) or speak (except for to request more Tylenol and perhaps a little something to eat “Cook it bland. I need bland,” he said,) for the better part of four days.

I felt much like a single mom to four kids.  Oh boy.  Today he’s finally feeling a good bit better, and we had a family picnic in the park followed by a little play time at the beach, which was therapeutic for all of us.

And speaking of boys, especially the two-and-a-half year-old variety, are just not the same when Daddy is out of bounds for four days.   Oliver, my little wild man, has been especially wild.  I think his intentions are pure, but he’s been trying to “teach” Asher to walk by picking him up (which is actually really funny, particularly since Asher thinks so too), and so eager to share his food with his little brother.  I think now that Ash is on the move, Oliver is just happy to be able to play with him more, which is adorable. But it can tend to drive me a bit crazy, “No, you can’t feed Asher your chips, he’s too little,”  and then “Oliver, please don’t carry Asher, he’s too big.”

Also this week I weaned Asher, who will be ten months old on Friday.  This is bittersweet, but I am happy with the decision, as is Asher:  the bottle is much easier to to move around with, and provides a quicker, fuller and steadier meal.  He’s crawling and pulling up all over, constantly smiling that killer smile with the crinkly eyes, and just added “Dada” to his vocabulary.  (Preceded by Mama and something similar to Hi!, and also “nah- nah” seems to mean “I’m hungry.”) And i’m so glad to have read this blog post around the same time, which i very much relate to.

And yesterday Tom and Martha B were married, which was beautiful and sweet and so much fun.   I was thrilled to be there for it all, and thinking of how i’ve known both of them since they were teenagers, seen the progression of the relationship from the start, and then seeing them all grown up and dressed up and radiant I felt almost maternal,  a little nostalgic and very proud.

Martha and i met her freshman year, and our small group met from then ’till they all graduated a little over a year ago.  It was sweet to see most of our small group together in one place again, to catch up and laugh and to dance together, and to be reminded how beautiful it has been to watch those girls grow into beautiful and firmly rooted women of God, and a great group of friends.

Stella was the flower girl, a role she fully embraced.  She walked down that aisle with such poise and ran right to “My friend Tom,”  as she says, for a hug before assuming her post next to the maid of honor.  And there she stood, quietly and perfectly poised, till just moments before the ceremony finished, she bolted back down the aisle toward me, saying in a stage whisper, “Mom!  I gotta go potty!”    Both Martha and Tom have known Stella since before she was born and now there she was, dressed most beautifully in her sweet flower girl dress and saying “Yep!  Oh, thank you!” when folks told her she looked beautiful, dancing (oh so much like her daddy!) like crazy on the dance floor, and everyone commenting how grown-up she is.  And again, there i was, maternal, nostalgic and proud;  amazed that my baby girl is not really a baby at all, and so happy with the girl she’s growing to be.

Independence

Yes, it’s July 4th.  I woke up this morning- at 7:45- to the sound of a helicopter about to buzz the roof.  Emerging from the deepest level of incoherence i remembered we are on the 8th floor in mid-town ATL, which is larger by far than the downtown we are accustomed to, and that there’s a giant road race going on right outside the bedroom window.  So the helicopters, the sirens, the loud cheers and the Eagles cover band at 8 a.m. are all totally normal for that. So much for sleeping in.

We’ve road-tripped this week, and had such a great time.  Just now I was reading a devotional at PortCityChurch.org that referenced this week’s sermon.  I must have missed that, i thought, since we’ve been gone, but then realized that was just six days ago.  Last Sunday we were in church, Monday morning we left for youth camp, where we spent an incredible 48ish hours with Brian giving 4 great talks within that timeframe.   This was our first youth camp experience.

I was amazed at the memories that surfaced– how in middle school, the first time away, it was borderline terrifying with all the wacky leaders, the thrill of eating Froot Loops every morning and staying up way to late giggling, only to be completely freaked out by the counselor jarring us all out of those miserable bunk beds with a megaphone at some uncomfortably early hour.  Then the high-schoolers know the drill, and are all nonchalant about grabbing a latte from that gas-station-style cappuccino maker in the dining hall before heading up to the morning session.  From what I could tell from my post on our cabin’s front-porch swing, and talking to folks, it looks like camp, or in some way getting out of everyday life together, is really still one of the best ways to really get people connected.  Awesome.

From there we went to Charlotte, spent a relaxing night with my family and slept in real (non-camp) beds.  Thursday morning we drove on down to Atlanta to take part in Olivia and Tommy’s wedding festivities, which culminated with their beautiful wedding last night.  Afterward we sat in the living room here in Uncle Bob’s condo, overlooking the skyline and enjoying being independent of our dependents.  There were times over the past few weeks when, as the kids took turns not sleeping when they were supposed to, or as discipline duties began to take their toll on all of us, Brian and i looked at each other and said “Atlanta.”  The knowledge of an upcoming getaway reminded us how nice it is to have this luxury– a few days away from our “usual,” a few days of sleeping straight through the night in a ridiculously comfy bed and waking up to a room flooded with beautiful light where we can sit and read and write and be still– this is good.

Definitely feels like we’ve fit about two weeks into the past six days.  That’s summer at it’s finest, i think.