(not so) Wordless Wednesday... Today I'm 33.

Today I turn 33 and several people have asked me how I feel about it.  To be perfectly honest, I haven't given it too much thought.  I didn't realize 33 was such a big deal. But the more I think about it, I realize maybe 33 is a big deal.

Several years ago when Jarrett and I were going through fertility treatments, the doctors would always say, "It's great that you are so young, once you turn 33 you move into a new category where we consider you at a higher risk if you were to get pregnant."  Who knew.  I guess this is one of the many "new categories" of joining the mature women's club, I'll get to experience with each passing birthday.  And as I think back to what those doctors would say, I sit here now, at 33, and rejoice.  I"m 33 and my prayers have truly been answered.

They were just answered in a way completely different than how I pictured it and had it planned.  If at 23, someone told me in the next 10 years, you are going to have to help your husband through a life-threatening disease, suffer painful years of wanting to be a mom and not getting to be; followed by the rejoicing gift of adoption, not once, not twice but three times; I would have told them they were crazy.  The truth is, that all of those things are exactly that, the truth. 

People always talk about wanting to go back to when they were a certain age, maybe high school, maybe college, maybe their early 20's.  For me, I'd decline the offer each and every time.  Turning 33 really isn't bad, it isn't necessarily really that great either.  What I've come to realize is that age is just a number and life isn't about how many candles are on your cake.  Life is about the experiences that happen between one year's cake to the next. 

The truth is, I've been blessed with one heck of a life and I try to remind myself each and everyday to give thanks.  Yes, I still complain, I wish for things that really aren't that important and I dream about what life would be like if we had more space for our stuff, if we had the money to go on exotic vacations and if I wouldn't have to clean my own house.  I guess that's just human nature right? (Please reassure me it is.)  But when the sun sets each night and I lay my head on the pillow, I can't help but think, man am I lucky.  I really do have each and everything I EVER wanted and it's all right here, right now.

So as I celebrate turning 33, I'm so thankful. I'm thankful for a spouse who sacrifices so much to give me the flexibility and support in being the best mom and wife I can be.  I"m so thankful for the three little voices, that call my name 177 times a day (and that's not an exaggeration) and the dog that barks begging for food at each and every meal.  I'm thankful for the family that I've been blessed to be born from and married into and I'm thankful for such wonderful friends.   So many blessings and so much gratitude.

As my 33rd year of life begins, the best way to describe it is...

Grateful.  Blessed.  A life fulfilled.

Until next time,
angie

a bird feeder...

A few weeks ago Nana and Papa came over for the weekend.  One of the activities of the day was getting to take Michael to his building class at Home Depot.  It is something he's done for the last several months and he loves it.  Where Gabriel loves sports, Michael loves to create with his hands.  A builder at heart you could say.  And so "building class" as we affectionately call it, has become his thing.  This particular weekend Papa (another excellent master of building/fixing/you name it) went along.  Just an hour later back they came with their finished product.  Proud is the word I'd use to describe the masterpiece bird feeder that they had created.

After several minutes of begging and pleading, we decided the bird feeder would be a perfect addition to our almost dead tree in the front yard.  Upon Michael’s request Papa, Nana and him help tie the string around the feeder and then up into a tree.  As we put some bird seed in, we quickly returned to the house, where the boys eagerly watched for birds to swoop in.

Moment later, they said,  How come they’re not coming to eat?

Reassuringly we said, “Just wait, they will come.” 

And eye’s-glued to the feeder, they would return.

After sitting there for several more minutes they watched and watched, waiting for action.
Soon enough they decided to go pursue another activity but every so often Michael would return to the window to see if he had any takers.

As the days went by the birds soon learned where to find the food and now that we’ve replaced it many times, we need to make a trip back to the store.

That day was very special as Michael and Gabriel hung the bird feeder with their nana and papa.  I remember thinking as I watched it unfold, that this would be one of those events the boys would think about as adults.  It was special for them and so fun for me to see the pride in Michael’s face as his prize was hung for birds to enjoy. And it was also special because it was something they had done together.

Until next time,
angie

Hairy Toes

Today the kids and I made two, yes two trips to the grocery store and that's after an hour long journey to the store yesterday.  If only mom had a brain and could remember to pick up all the stuff on the list the first time. 

Anyway, before leaving on our second trip I told everyone to "go potty" and while I waited for the boys to get ready, I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  At which point I noticed yet another grey hair.  YIKES!!!!!  Sticking straight out of the right side of my head, I must have gasp or inhaled in a way to catch the boy's attention.  Michael asked, "Mom what's wrong?"  And so I decided to show him and Gabriel. Bending down to their level and turning my head to be just inches from their eyes, I pointed and said, "Look boys!"  To which they also gasped and Michael screeched, "MOM- you're growing grey hair now.  You're going to look like Grandma, probably tomorrow. "  Quickly I responded, "Let's hope I'm not all grey tomorrow."

Having a conversation about me growing grey hair must have sparked an interest for Gabriel because on our short, less than a mile trip to the store, Gabriel made a stunning revelation also.  "MOM- I HAVE HAIR ON MY TOES!"  Looking in the rear view mirror to make sure I was hearing what I thought I heard correctly, I asked, "What Gabriel?"  As I saw both boys bent perfectly in half and Michael lying diagonally across the backseat, trying their best to examine Gabriel's toes. Again he said, "MOM- I HAVE DARK HAIR ON MY TOES!  MOM- I"M ALMOST AN ADULT!"Now laughing out loud, and still looking in the mirror while trying to focus on getting to the store, I see Michael full-on stare right at Gabriel in honest  admiration that in deed his brother was almost an adult.  Finally arriving at the store and pulling into the parking space, Gabriel jumped out of his seat and was all the way in the front, shoes off, sticking his hairy toes in my face before I could even unbuckle.  "Look mom, my toes have hair on them and without a choice not to look, I glanced over, observed his foot and supported his new "development." 

Trying my best to get things moving and to change the subject, I said, "Okay let's go." and off the crew and I went with Gabriel and Michael following behind continuing the topic of discussion. Gabriel said, "Michael, I'm so excited to have hair on my toes, that means I'm almost going to be a dad."  Michael supporting him and obviously desperate to discover hair on his toes said, "Gabriel, I'm going to start growing hair all over my body.  Then I'll be even more like a dad."

The boys crack me up with their understandings of what it means to be an adult and even more specifically, a dad.  Someday I'll remind them of this conversation.... but today, I'll just smile and laugh about it.

Until next time,
angie

Smile!

Flastback moment: 

I've shared the story before, but I'll tell it again.  Isabelle smiled even when she was in the hospital. One of the nurses there told me that when newborn babies smile, it is because they can still hear their guardian angels talking to them.  I loved the story and have thought of it often when she similes.   Before leaving the hospital, that nurse, together with the others gave Isabelle this.  It hangs in her room and I read it frequently

And I believe Isabelle had at least one guardian angel with her from the moment she was brought into this world.  She is a miracle baby and the fact that we get to be her parents, continues to amaze me.  God has truly blessed us. 

And although I'm sure people think I'm crazy, I do believe that nurse was right.  Isabelle was smiling as she heard her guardian angel.  Even in the first few weeks of being at home, she'd smile many many times throughout the day and even at night during our midnight and three o'clock feedings, she'd drink and then smile at me.  I guess her angel must have had a lot to say.
Here's just one example of her smiles... I have many many pictures of her smirk, but this one at 6 days old, is one of my favorites...

Until next time,
Angie

VPM, no, MPV, no, MVP, yes! that’s it!

This past spring Gabriel has been participating in baseball. Being from the mid-west and still rookies at the whole kids-in-sports mind-frame, we had no idea how big of a deal spring baseball is here in the desert. Seriously, baseball here starts as early as a kid can stand on his/her own two fall and not fall over from lack of balance. Needless to say, Gabriel has been playing baseball since some of our first days together. He loves it. He loves all sports.

 He’s lucky in that he has a natural talent where his hands seems to do exactly what they are supposed to, where his reaction is fast enough to catch balls he shouldn’t be catching at his age, and that he can hit the ball “all the way to the fence” as he likes to tell me. We are very proud of him. It’s fun to watch him play because he’s like a Golden Retriever chasing a ball. Seriously, that is how one of his first coaches described him. Where ever the ball is, that’s where Gabriel wants to be. And although he’s gotten so much better at staying in his position, he’s always the first one on the field, back in the dugout and ready to bat at the changing of the innings. He lives for sports, for baseball. When he’s not at practice, which seems to be almost every other night, he’s in our tiny back yard pitching balls at the back fence, practicing his bunting skills (again because there is no room to practice actual hitting) or he’s asking to go to the grass so he can really let them rip.

It has also been a gift for Jarrett who can relive his childhood dreams of playing the All-American sport. Jarrett has been able to be the coach or assistant coach to almost all the teams Gabriel has been on, and secretly he’s confided in me that many of the dad’s ask him what he did to make Gabriel so good. It’s funny, because in reality we can’t take the credit. Yes, Jarrett does go practice with him and try’s to support his love as much as time allows, but the real secret to the question the dads are asking is… we haven’t done anything. It’s one of his natural gifts.

 It’s wonderful to see his passion sparked and how he’s so interested in learning all that he can. When baseball is on TV he’s glued to it, reporting over the announcer to us about what each player did, the statistics of each team and about what he would have done, if he was on the team. Again, if only he could remember his school reading books, like he can sport statistics.

 And so with the rising triple digit temperatures, the spring season of baseball is winding down. In fact just this past weekend, Gabriel’s team finished up their season and after their last game, their coaches talked individually about each of the players and highlights from all of their games (and yes there were a lot of them). Unfortunately Michael, Isabelle and I had gone home already because the game was already hours past bedtime, and Isabelle had had enough (insert: seriously meltdown moment to be described later) so I didn’t get to hear what the coach had said.

 At home though, when Gabriel and Dad arrived, I could tell Gabriel was excited to share the news because in typical excitement fashion behavior… I heard the van door… SLAM, then the door from the garage… SLAM, racing footsteps then the laundry room door… SLAM and within seconds, he was at my waist, trying his best to spit the words out. Breathing heavily from racing he said, “MOM- GUESS WHAT?!?!?!” in a high pitched, screeching tone. Trying to sound just as excited, I asked back, “WHAT Gabriel!?!?!?” “MOM- I was selected at the team VPM!!!! Can you believe it?” Now looking for Jarrett to come into the kitchen for back up, and desperately racking my brain for the meaning of the baseball term VPM. Thankfully, he quickly realized what he had spit out, came out incorrectly he said, “Not VMP Mom, I mean MPV” and it was then that I realized he meant to say MVP! “Oh I said, Gabriel you were selected to be the “MVP?” at which point we both spit out the acronym at the same time. “Mom”, he said, “They selected me to be the Most Valuable Player.” We celebrated with high fives, hugs and phone calls to grandparents to share the exciting news.

 While Gabriel repeated the three letters in the correct order time and time again, I soon realized I was going to be hearing this word frequently in the next few days. While we told him it was okay to tell his family and to be very proud of himself, we didn’t’ want him to sound like he was bragging or arrogant to the other players and his friends. He responded with his typical I’m-7-and-know-everything attitude, “I know mom, baseball is a team sport.” We celebrated again.

 And so all weekend, anytime there was something he wanted to do, something to buy or something special treat, I’d hear him ask, “Mom- can I play my video game since I’m the MVP. Mom-can I eat that whole bag of candy, remember I am the MVP. I get to go stay up late, because I’m the MVP, right?” Unfortunately he quickly learned, the benefits of being the MVP, don’t reach too far outside of the field.

 But super proud we are, and we can’t wait to see him continue to follow in his passion, for it truly is something he loves. He’s already talking about fall ball, while mom and dad try to figure out the schedule and how to make it work. I guess that’s just one of the other many qualities of being a parent. The rewards of watching your child thrive in something that is their passion, is so enjoyable, you’d do almost anything to help them continue to live in that moment. It doesn’t matter that you bake in the sun while it’s 105 degrees , or that you’ve been asked by the opposite teams spectators to keep your littlest child quiet or that your other child (who cares less about sports) has ant bites all up and down his legs from digging in the dirt (to pass the time away from yet another baseball game). Its about sacrifices and rewards and as a family you celebrate them all together.

 Way to go MVP, we are so proud of you.  We love you Gabriel. ….your biggest fan club (Mom, Dad, Michael and Isabelle)

Until next time,

angie

Wordless Wednesday.... Schools Out For Summer!

 No description necessary....

Until next time,
angie

Just stewing...

If I were able to pick one quality about myself that I could change, it would be my nerves.  I've mentioned it before but some nights it seems they get the best of me.  Tonight would be one of those nights.

With the devastating updates NBC sends my phone every 20 minutes about the terrible destruction that Oklahoma has gone through, I can't help but feel a heavy heart for what they are experiencing.  The stories of the school children drowning in the basement of their school, while other children survived thanks to their teacher throwing herself over them in a bathroom stall.  What horror and sadness those few minutes must have been.  And while my heart aches for them, I can't help but think of just how lucky I am to get to tuck in my three little ones.  Sadly many parents tonight, will not get to do the same.

And that's where my nerves get the best of me.  I worry.  What about?  That's hard to put my finger on.  I worry for those families still searching for their loved ones.  I worry for the heartache and sadness that will come in the future days.  I feel worry for all that the state must be experiencing.

Like being punched in the stomach, that's how I feel.  The funny thing is, when I get into one of these moods, I don't even have to vocalize it, Jarrett knows how I'm feeling.  And while some (ahem my husband) might say it is silly, for the life of me I can't change it.    Reassuring he says, "It isn't worth worrying about, all you can do is say some prayers for them." and then we try to move on.

So stew I do.  That's what my grandma use to call it.  As a child, when my grandpa would get all "excited" about politics, my grandma would calmly remind him, "Ray, stop stewing about it."  I can still hear her say it.  Stewing. 

So while I stew about the sadness that makes up the news tonight and I feel sad for all those who have suffered such loss.  In the middle of it, I smile, because in a round about way, these feelings remind me of a woman I loved and miss so very much.  And if she could be here tonight, she'd tell me to stop stewing, to say a prayer, and to go kiss those little dolls that are just a few steps away.

So Grandma, that's just what I'm going to do.

Until next time,
angie