Weekend Snapshots

We had a lovely weekend. Here's a quick recap:

Friday

After a day at work which, for me, included a team potluck and a division-wide ice cream social (productivity was at an all-time high...), Josh, the girls, and I took Rita to Olive Garden for dinner. It was a resounding success for a couple of reasons.

One, the last time we ate there as a family, Elaina was about five weeks old. Teeny, teeny. I hadn't even gone back to work yet. While we were waiting to order, Mario gave her a bottle, which apparently gave her the worst gas pain of her entire little life. She proceeded to let loose with a scream that drew the attention of the entire restaurant and did. not. stop. I retreated with her to the bathroom, where she continued to scream so loudly that Josh and his family could hear her through the wall. And, it was December, which meant I couldn't even walk outside with her. I eventually hid in the handicap bathroom, where she finally calmed down enough to nurse herself into a milk coma. Needless to say, the experience was traumatic enough that we haven't been back.

She did much better this time.

Perfect little angel

And so did her sister.

Saturday

After relaxing in the morning and making our run to Kroger, we headed over for a playdate/mower pick up at the Urbancs. (The engine in our rider seized up last weekend. Marty's in the process of helping Josh fix it, but in the meantime, he offered to give us a mower he'd found on a curb and repaired. Josh and I don't have too many friends, which is something I'd like to change, but seriously--we pick good ones. Marty and Roseanne are good, good people, and good friends.) The girls hadn't had a chance to play with Steven and Emily awhile, and they had a blast.

Elaina and Steven

We came home, had lunch, and then Josh kicked me out the door for some shopping. I really only had three objectives: find a birthday present for Brycelynn, get some new jammies for Elaina, and get myself a Starbucks (order from the hubs). 

Though the shopping trip itself wasn't a total success, I met all my objectives and managed to stop and get a treat for Josh, too.

I pulled this out for Elaina because it was a size 4 and snickered. That ship sailed about two and a half years ago...

A treat for me...

...and a treat for him

When I got home, he was just finishing up my Mother's Day present--two new blue hydrangeas in our acid box, so they'll actually be blue. He charcoal grilled dinner, and I made black raspberry lemonade.  After dinner, he let me try out the new mower--exercise and helping our yard not look completely trashy: win-win! We treated the girls to a fun surprise at bathtime:

When the girls went to bed, I had some with more blackberry lemonade with a little tequilla, and had a really fun text conversation with a friend, so the evening wrapped up a pretty darn good day.

yuuummmm....

Sunday

I wish I could report that the girls let me sleep in on Mother's Day, but that wouldn't be true to Ellie form :) Josh gave up and got up with her at 6:30; Elaina and I lasted another 20 minutes. Josh made an amazing breakfast of eggs, sausage, toast, and hashbrowns, and after our food settled, he headed out to finish the mowing while the girls and I watched the Winnie the Pooh movie. 

Elaina decided Piglet needed to watch, too...

We got ready for church, and Josh was kind enough to take some pictures of me with my girls before the service.

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After church we came home, had lunch, and went outside, at which point I realized the lovely Illinois humidity was in full force. Perfect time to get the pool out for the first time :)

We spent a couple hours playing/watering/checking the garden for the 500th time, and then it was time to head over Mario and Rita's for dinner.

All in all, a pretty great weekend.

Throwback Thursday Stories {4}: Mother's Day Edition

I am participating in the Throwback Thursday Stories with  The Mom Creative.

These pictures were taken on Mother's Day, 2011. Elaina was 18 months old, and I was seven months pregnant with Elysia. We had just planted our jonathan and fuji apple trees, and Elaina had taken her first ride on the lawn mower in Daddy's lap. It was a warm, overcast day, and my heart was full.

But behind those smiles, genuine as they were, I was fighting mounting anxiety when I considered that a brand new baby girl would be joining our family in two months: that my baby would no longer be "the" baby, that we would have two children under 2, that I was somehow harming my daughter by making her grow up a little faster, and what if Elaina felt abandoned or neglected, and how would life change?

There are so many things I wish I could tell the me who wrapped herself in anxiety those last few months of pregnancy.

I wish I could tell her that, despite her biggest fears, Elaina would not only be fine, she would, in fact, thrive with her little sister. That Elaina would hug on Elysia and call her "baby" and torment her and share with her. I wish I could tell her what a good big sister Elaina is, like on the night when we finally discovered that Ellie was afraid of the dark, how Elaina gave up her nightlight, and her lovey, and finally, her own bed, without once being prompted to do so, just to make her sister happy. I wish I could tell her that every night, Elaina asks if she gets to hold Ellie's hand when we put her to bed. I wish I could tell her that their relationship wouldn't be perfect, and there would be hard moments, but their bond as sisters is a beautiful thing.

I wish I could tell her that instead of competing with one another, these girls will complete one another. That Elaina will show Ellie how to be sensitive, how to be compassionate, how to give up when it's the right thing to do, even when you don't want to. That Ellie will show Elaina how to stand her ground, how to speak with confidence, how to be utterly fearless (no matter how much it terrifies her parents).

I wish I could tell her that that little baby she was carrying, the one she loved so much but whom she felt she didn't love enough because she worried about how everything would change, was basically the Mary Poppins baby, and things only changed for the better. And that, minus the stressful trial of getting her to accept a bottle, that baby would remain practically perfect in every way (until she hit about 20 months old...).

I wish I could tell her to keep walking the day she started to get some consistent contractions, when she rested instead because it was a little scary. That that day might be her only chance at natural childbirth, and that she'll always wonder how things might have turned out if she hadn't given up.

I wish I could tell her to enjoy the feeling of that little baby rolling around in her tummy, because it may be the last time. It is the most incredible, indescribable feeling, even at the end when all the stretching and moving hurts, too. If only the me in that picture had known it might be my last time, I think she could have, and would have, more fully appreciated all of it: the pain and heartburn and bumping and tummy-jumping hiccups. {Right now, we are asked a lot if we're going to have a third child. In some ways, I hate that question because I try very hard not to take our success with fertility for granted, and even though Ellie was conceived a whole lot faster than we were expecting, we were never promised a healthy pregnancy, or pregnancy at all, and the expectation that it would automatically work again bothers me. And I hate it because right now, I just don't know the answer. I want to have another. Josh doesn't. And so, for right now, we've decided to give it more time, and to not discuss it--not to open any doors, but not to close them, either.} 

I wish I could tell her to, for pete's sake, put down the ice cream spoon.

I wish I could tell her that she feeling of her daughters' hands in her own will never cease to make her heart skip a beat, if only for a moment, and wonder at the fact that they are hers.

I wish I could tell her not to close her eyes, because all the cliches are true--she blinked, and now they are 4 1/2 and nearly 3, and she will look at her house, littered with My Little Ponies and Mercer Mayer books, and "Let It Go" ringing in her ears, and will she wonder where the baby blankets and pacifiers and quiet lullabies have gone.

I wish I could tell her it's okay. And it's going to be okay. The trials, even the trials of now--the battles over hair brushing and who gets which cup--are temporary. But the rewards--the arms wrapped tight around her neck for a kiss, the 600th request for a push on the swing, the smiles, the dandelion bouquets, the sound of their laughter painting the house in sunshine--those rewards are so great they have no measure.

Throwback Thursday Stories {3}: A trip to the Titanic

I am participating in Throwback Thursday stories with The Mom Creative. 

me and Rachel at the Titanic exhibit, June 2009

For days, the news had been promoting a traveling tour of artifacts taken from the Titanic. The sinking of the Titanic had been a point of historical interest for me since grade school--I remember ordering books from the Scholastic catalog about the disaster, watching specials on PBS about the discovery of the wreckage--and Titanic was the first movie I saw in the theater.

When I heard the exhibit was coming to town, I told Josh we haaaaaad to go. And because he loves me, he agreed.

So on a Friday evening, we drove over to Grand Prairie to have dinner and see the exhibit. The line to get into the glorified bus/trailer was ridiculously long, so we opted to eat dinner first and then get in line. It seemed the fool-proof plan, until, after enjoying our dinner and then standing in line for probably 20 minutes, we were turned away two people from the entrance because it would take us too long to get through the exhibit before it closed for the night. (Why they even allowed us in line, knowing our wait would be fruitless, is still a mystery to me.)

Aggravated but undeterred, we decided to come back the next day. Rachel was coming for a visit and decided she'd like to see it, too, so our plans were set. She arrived in the morning, and we hung out and had lunch, and then headed over to Old Navy to do a little shopping and to get in line.

Once again, the line was ridiculously long. Josh opted out and went home, where he enjoyed his afternoon playing video games and (I think) mowing the lawn. And Rachel and I waited. And waited. And cursed our decisions to wear jeans in early June. And observed the idiosyncrasies of public human behavior and discussed whether or not we should just call the whole thing off. And decided to stick it out, and waited. Rachel was getting ready to leave for Kenya in a couple of weeks, and I was about 3 months pregnant with Elaina, and there was plenty of people watching and work drama to discuss, so despite the fact that it was hot and the line was slow, we had a good time talking.

In the distance, we saw a blown up picture of the grand staircase where, as a reward for our patience, we would have our picture taken. It was sort of the pinnacle of the mountain--if we could make it to the staircase, our. wait would finally be over.

If only.

After waiting for probably two hours or more, we made it to the staircase. Jack Dawson wasn't waiting for us, but we smiled all the same and were given the names of a passenger on the ship, whose fate would be revealed at the end of our tour...and then found out we had to wind through another maze of ropes before we could finally get on the truck/bus/display. 

At this point, we wanted to quit, but the end was so close, and it would surely be worth it, right?

If only.

A half hour later, we were inside. Unlike the outside, where we'd worked up a healthy sweat standing on sunny pavement for a few hours, the inside was freezing cold. The family behind us was enthusiastic, which I can appreciate, but they didn't really respect the personal space bubble--which I didn't. And to top it off, both of us didn't make it off the ship (no surprise, since they were 3rd class passengers).

This isn't to suggest that some of the artifacts weren't interesting. They were. I remember being particularly fascinated by the hair clips and brushes enclosed in their glass cases, thinking about the woman who had used these products and wondering if she'd survived. But even better, Rachel made me laugh during this whole time--she has a way of putting into words what I'm thinking when I might be more prone to seethe quietly or roll my eyes--and always with perfect comedic timing. 

We left the tour tired, hot, and a little unsatisfied with the experience. But our time together was really what made it worthwhile, anyway. And in the end, I'm glad we stayed in line, if for no other reason than a few uninterrupted hours with my best friend.

Busyness and Blooms

This weekend was one of those glorious stretches of days where the weather is so lovely you are all but forced to spend as much time outside as possible, and in exchange for your time, you are rewarded with sun-kissed skin, the smell of fresh air that clings to your clothes, and the exhilarating exhaustion that comes when you are finally able to break out of the chrysalis of winter and stretch muscles and breathe deep in ways that haven't been possible for months.

In other words, just about perfect.

It started around 7:30 a.m. on Friday morning, when Josh and I started working on the playset we picked up from Wal-Mart last weekend. I referred to this as our very own marriage seminar, titled That Which Does Not Make You Want to Kill Each Other Only Makes You Stronger. This was the manual:

We worked pretty steadily and with surprisingly few arguments, and only hit a couple snafus. Nothing a quick trip to True Value or me actually grabbing the right bolts couldn't fix. Josh didn't even hit his self-imposed swearing limit--a success indeed.

Finishing up for Friday

The best part, of course, was seeing the girls' expressions when they got home. They knew we were going to put up the playset at some point, but they had no idea that some point was Friday. And they were so excited. (I stupidly met the girls at the car instead of waiting for them in the backyard, and as such missed getting a picture of Elaina's expression when she saw it for the first time. Ellie was dawdling with the dandelions in the front yard, so thankfully, at least I got hers.) It was well, well worth the money, time, and sunburnt shoulders I got from our work.

On Saturday, we spent a good amount of time at Picket Fence picking out the rest of our vegetables and a few pretties for the yard, visiting the fish pond, and hanging all over Miss Stephanie and her husband, Mr. Scott (I'm looking at you, Elaina and Ellie...). We stopped by Josh's folks' for a visit, ran through the drive-thru at McDonalds (parents of the year here), and then spent the rest of the afternoon outside. Josh and I finished putting the roof and picnic table on the playset, and then Josh spread out mulch while I attacked the dandelion/weed issue in our flowerbeds. 

First snack at the new picnic table

Finished product

Elaina and Ellie were happy to keep me company while I did this, especially after I found an earthworm in the soil. From that point on, Elaina and I had the following conversation roughly every 3 minutes:

E: Mama, did you find any more worms?
M: No sweetie, not yet. But as soon as I do, I'll yell for you to come see it, okay?
E: Okay. But don't forget. If you find another worm, I need to see it.
M: Okay, I will.
.....
E: Mama, did you find any more worms? Did you forget to tell me?

We had such a nice time that we forgot to get dinner ready and didn't go inside until 5:20--a glorious five hours after venturing out to finish the playset.

Yesterday, the weather was a little sketchier, and by the time we got home from church, it was raining. So we ate lunch at put on a movie, and halfway through Lilo and Stitch we decided it was dry enough to head outside. Elaina was thrilled; she'd been asking to go outside since she woke up. The girls played and Josh and I finished planting our garden: green beans, honey dew, patty pan and spaghetti squash, bell peppers, hot peppers, cucumbers, and lots o' tomatoes. Then Josh planted some sweet corn and his new crab apple tree, and we noticed our cherry blossoms finally have blooms.

Elaina and the jonathan tree, which was about her size when we planted it

And today, before the storms blew through, we played outside again and saw more things coming to life.

Cherry blossom

Grow radishes, grow!

Baby broccoli

Teeny tiny apple blossoms

Strawberries

I don't know if it's because the winter was so endless and brutal this year, or because our gardens are more organized, or because we finally have something more substantial than a baby slide for the girls to play in in the back yard, but I don't know if I've ever loved spring more.

Throwback Thursday Stories {2}: From Russia with Love

Me in front of St. Basil's Cathedral, Moscow, Russia, May 2002

On Tuesday, after a long run and a cool shower, I rummaged around in my drawer for something comfy, and I grabbed an old t-shirt from college. It is faded, stained here and there, and, as I discovered to my surprise on Tuesday, unraveling into its first hole. And yet despite its ragged appearance, I can't make myself part with it. On the front is a picture of the globe, with the words Missions In Action 2002, and on the back, under Team Russia, is my name.

It was my first time on an airplane, my first trip to a foreign country. We left on a Friday afternoons, and two planes and two days later, we had arrived, been to a church service, been served lunch, and took a quick walk near the Kremlin before catching the train that would take us to Ulyanovsk. I remember finding it odd that when we had arrived in Moscow, snow that looked like dippin' dots had fallen on us while we watched the changing of the guard at the Kremlin. But I didn't know it would snow in May. There was so little of Russia before I went.

I didn't know you had to pay to use the bathroom in the Moscow airport.

I didn't know we'd be identified as Americans by our loud voices and uninhibited laughter in public.

I didn't know that dark, frightening hallways opened up into flats filled with warmth and love and tea and biscuits and MTV, which our hosts put on for us so we would feel more at home.

I didn't know that halfway across the world, I would find another mama, another sister, and another granny to call my own.

I didn't know the smell of diesel would become so familiar that catching a whiff of it at home would make me nostalgic for the trams we used to get around the city.

I didn't know that our Russian friends would have little concept of baseball, but would absolutely whip us at volleyball and finger darts.

I didn't know that a songs accompanied by a single guitar and sermons given in a completely unfamiliar language would speak more to my heart than so many I had heard from the piano and pulpit at home.

I didn't know that, hidden behind the quiet, downcast eyes of the people we saw in the street, on the subway, were hearts that offered love, openness, sacrifice, and abundant hope.

I didn't even know enough to buy an English-to-Russian dictionary, which would have come in so helpful the morning that I tried to explain to Natasha's granny that breakfast had upset my stomach a bit (an unexpected consequence from discovering what I thought was marmalade was, in fact, caviar), and not given me diarrhea as she suspected.

I didn't know that, when we left Ulyanovsk, part of my heart would stay behind, that the people we had known for just over a week were so beautiful that they left indelible marks on my life.

A little over a week after we arrived, we were back in Moscow. The sun was warm, bright--no traces of the snow that had seemed so odd for May when we first arrived. We had left Ulyanovsk on an evening train, after hugs and laughs and lumps in our throats. We stretched out on the train and ate sandwiches of hard bread, cheese, and meat. Later, the constant click-click, click-click of the train on the tracks lulled us to sleep. When we woke, we were a few hours from Moscow, and when we arrived, we spent two days seeing the sites. We spent a lot of time on Red Square, where today's picture was taken.

I suppose you could say that the t-shirt I found on Tuesday is nothing more than a Been There, Done That, Got the T-shirt momento. But for me, it's more of an exchange--a t-shirt for a part of my heart. And that's why, ragged though it is, it will always have a place in my dresser drawer.