Family Photos.

Family pictures 2013. Behind the scenes: My hair is dirty and I'm worried about it and Joey is mad we are downtown in public and Noah is being a pain. Don't we all look happy though? Except Noah. Three year olds don't lie, unless it's a story about dragons or something cool. 

Isn't he a cute pain?

 

Behind the scenes: Joey is an amazing dad.

 

 

 

Love.

 

 

 

Handsome Devil.Watch out Second Grade.

Rain.

It's raining, darkening the grey rocks in the backyard to a deep, shiny, slate color; the grass and plants from their normal, dry yellow green to bright, jungle green. The colors pop against the backdrop of a white sky, covered in clouds.  It's so rare here to get rain that when it happens the day feels special.
Except if you want to go to Tahoe, or if you are at Tahoe, dressed for the beach.
We left after church because it was supposed to be "like 103 degrees" but as we wound up the mountain, we kept driving deeper and deeper into the dark grey clouds. Thunder rumbled. We kept driving, watching the temperature on the dashboard drop a degree with each winding turn. One of those times where you just keep thinking, "He parted the Red Sea for gosh sakes! He can take the clouds away."
Except He didn't. Instead He brought lightening, so we were banned from the water, which caused two simultaneous wails of despair to erupt from the depths of my boys' bellies. I also wailed in despair, only mine was silent because as an adult letting that stuff out, especially in front of the kids, looks bad.
 We decided to stay anyway and bbq'd with my parents and grammie. It rained a little, and then would stop, and then start again. One large gush of wind on the beach caused Joey to cover Noah with his body to protect him from the sharp sand pelting his face, while Ethan ran like a mad man to find cover, in the bathrooms.
Joey and I got to play catch, something we haven't done since I think Ethan was six months old and would sleep in the stroller while we played. It's amazing how long it takes to get some of those things back. The boys ran around chasing squirrels.
On the way home Joey and I got lost in conversation about the future, something that I love to do with him but find it hard in the lives we live: we either are getting things done and prepared for whatever is coming next or staring at our phones to zone out from it all. I find long, winding roads are good for this sort of thing: letting our minds get lost together, the flow of the conversation ebbing back in forth in a natural, effortless way.
We talked about how badly we we want to get out of Stead. How painful the fallout of the decision to buy out here has been-from what we can see now. Eleven years was impossible to imagine when we signed our life away. We thought maybe two, tops. And yet here we are, still, and I just turned thirty!
It's OK. It's one of the many ways I've learned to be an adult. To stay when I want to run away. To keep going when I want to quit. To know it's OK if it doesn't make sense; someday-maybe in this life, maybe not- I'll see it all clearly.
In the meantime I try to remember right now it's not so much about understanding why He doesn't take the clouds away and more about trusting His love for me, always. Sun or rain, ...he makes the clouds his chariot and rides on the wings of the wind.
Sure, we didn't get sunshine and beach and water, but we got the smell of new rain hitting pine trees in the mountains, the feeling of light rain misting our bodies, the back and forth smack of a baseball in my glove, and a long, effortless conversation with my husband that left me feeling closer to him than I've felt in a long while.
I take a deep breath and remember.

On Turning Thirty: An Excuse to Do Things.

I'm running into my thirties, literally as well as figuratively. Figuratively, well, I'm just excited to be out of the chaos of adjustments in my twenties. Adjusting to marriage, to mommy-hood, to no jobs and new jobs, dogs and no dogs and home ownership and all that stuff that costs way more money and is way harder than you can ever imagine. My twenties felt like my head was constantly spinning and when it would start to slow down, just a bit, the only thing that came to mind was: WTF?
Literally, I've decided that turning thirty is an excuse to do things, so I'm running everyday of June, or just about. I actually started at the end of May and then was ill all weekend, blowing up from both ends, so I had to put my little goal on the back burner, but I'm ready to hit the road at zero dark thirty tomorrow morning. Running makes me feel bad ass, and why not do something that makes you feel bad ass?
I also thought I would add "and drink only H2O" to my little goal as well, but that quickly got thrown out the window  as I survived on Sierra Mist and saltines all weekend. I'm sure I dropped five pounds. Screw paleo, if you want to lose some serious weight, it's all about Sierra Mist and Saltines! It's the miracle diet in just three days!
Anyway, I'm feeling back to my normal self now, I'm not continuously exploding from one end or the other, and I'm ready for this 30's thing. It can only go up from here, right?
I always feel like I have to do this huge catch up on here every time I write now because I write so infrequently. So catch up:
Ethan is awesome. For his school project today he drew a picture of himself as an old man and then wrote: When I am 100 years old I will have glasses because I love to read at night before bed. I will also have a hearing aid because I will be hard of hearing.
He blows my mind. I know every mom thinks this, but Ethan could really rule the world one day, or at least some big company. He's bright and independent and creative. Of course, he's also a major pain in the ass because of these things...constantly asking questions and wanting to invent this or build that or try this. And I must just seem like such a drag, constantly telling him, "No...no...no...NO..." but really I think he's a genius. I hope he realises that.
Noah is a stubborn sweetheart. He recently has been trying to get into music, and I say trying because I don't know if it's just his age or if he's one of those people who just can't hear it right, but he tries. He gets Ethan's ear phones on with the ipod and then tries to sing along to Jason Aldean or Maroon5. It's hide-your-laughter-cus-it's-so-dang-cute-but-you-don't-want-to-hurt-his-feelings stuff.  He's also incredibly sensitive (hmmm, wonder where he gets that?) and does not like to be watched, noted, or spoken about. Poor baby. All over Mama's blog.
I love him dearly and cherish the times I get to take a nap with him.
More and more and more I appreciate and am so proud of Joey. His new assignment is as a forensic investigator (my little sister pointed out how hot that is) and I love having him on my schedule. After nine and a half years, you gotta hand it to a man who has to listen to his wife fill the toilet in so many different ways all night long. The next morning I texted him, "Did you hear me last night?" and he responded, "Every time." Yet he sticks around.
The one thing I'm missing in my life right now is girls. I miss my friends, my sisters. So that's another thing I want to work on in my thirties, making time for girls. Deana, Daelynn, Angel, Erin, Heather, Jen, Jamie, my mom, my grammie. I miss my girls. It's so easy to take those relationships for granted, but to not have them sucks the air right out of my life.

What we do now.

The boys and I went for a run tonight, the fourth consecutive starting last Friday. It seems a little obsessive, a little crazy, but after work I just get the itch to go. The air is sweet, the sky big and full of changing colors, inviting me to chase after it, run into it.
Such a different feeling than the dark, cold days in February when the sky is a deep navy by the time we get home and the day seems over. All we do is get ready for bed it seems.
I realised on my run today that in the summer I don't run to burn calories. I don't run to train. I don't run so I can eat whatever I want (OK that's a lie.  I do run to eat whatever I want), but really I run because it feels good. I run because it's fun to run. And even though the hills, especially pushing Noah in his stroller, KILL me, that feeling of pushing into them, conquering them, is addictive in the best possible way.
It's been a treat-that's such an understatement. It's been heaven-to have Joey around in the evenings to do this kind of stuff with me. It's so so so different doing the parenting thing solo in the  evenings vs. having my partner with me. It doesn't hurt my partner has a booming voice when needed and seems to just naturally demand, and get, respect from the little dudes.
Ethan is doing baseball. He's so proud of himself. I love his confidence! I want it. I told him the other night that he has such a natural ability to argue his case, that he would make a good lawyer. I told him it was one of the talents God gave him.
"Mom, what are talents?"
"They are gifts and strengths God has given you."
"Well, I do have incredible strength."
He kills me!
Noah and Ethan are both doing their swim lessons. It's fun to watch Noah on the side of the pool, waiting for his turn, his little chicken wing arms bouncing around, blue goggles on. The other morning he crawled into bed with me, took my sleepy face in his hands, and said, "You're da sweedest mama." Where he gets this stuff I will never know;  I just know I want to soak it up, write it down, do I don't forget.

Holding On.

It's been a long while. The longer I go without writing, the more unfamiliar it seems to me, like a friend who was once a daily confidant but who moved away and I never get to talk with anymore.
So many things in my life have taken off, things I have always wanted have materialized, and instead of being in a constant state of working towards something, I am actually living day to day in the results of the previous ten years of striving.  Of wallowing through thick mud. Of feeling like their was no light, no end, but having faith it would work out somehow, at some time...
It's not to say the mud is gone; I think I have just learned to walk through it better. And I have experienced it's clearing, places in life where the pit ends and you can run...for a while anyway. Then you hit another pit, but knowing there's an ebb and flow to life, pits and non-pits, makes it easier get through those hard times. Even when they last for years.
My husband turns 30 on Sunday and we got some really good news yesterday. Suprising news.
You almost forget what it feels like to receive good news like this. Like all the muck in your head clears and OMG, the skies are blue! The air is sweet! The mountains beautiful!
And then that overwhelming feeling of "being chosen, blessed by love"....like being plucked from the middle of the pit for nothing you've done but just because of love. The resulting emotion is a deep thankfulness and gratitude, knowing there is nothing we could do to ever re-pay that kind of love...a love that is always watching out, constantly working, constantly comforting, constantly holding. A love that says, Hold on. Just hold on. You haven't seen the fallout of all of this yet....

One of Those Feelings.

Do you ever get that feeling, walking through your house, say from the laundry room back to the kitchen, that omygosh this is all mine? this house, that couch, the music streaming from Pandora, this evening, those two boys in the bathtub...this is all mine! My life. That I am almost thirty and those wrinkles in my face, especially that one that hangs out around my mole like a crescent moon, aren't going away and that THIS IS IT. This is my life. 
I am blessed to be where I am in life. With a husband who turned out, even though I said yes when I didn't know up from down or if my favorite color was green or orange. He did more than turn out, once I figured out he didn't exist to make me happy. That so many of my frustrations in our marriage was due to my shit sin, not his. This morning, again, one of those feelings that just springs up on me: He is mine. Every sexy hot piece of him, all his ways, his authority, his determination, his sense.
I feel blessed to be where I am in life, almost thirty, and to be able to say, I want nothing more. I know I've worked hard, I've tried to be as honest as I can with myself so that I can work through things in me that are broken so that they don't have to be the determining factor in how my life roles out, in what opportunities I'm given and how I handle the day to day things life brings my way. 
It felt good tonight to have that thought spring up and let it sink in: it's all mine. What a gift.

Teaching Experiences.

Oh I could use a little sunshine today. It's rainy, which was fine at five o'clock this morning as I listened, half asleep, to my better half getting ready for work. The falling rain outside was comforting, the perfect sound to drift in and out of sleep to.
But now, at four PM, I'm feeling gloomy. It's not just today- it's the season in general. March. We are at the end of winter, those cold, crazy days, but can't yet see the light of summer when I will feel the sun, that giant source of life, warming my entire body, awakening every pore on my skin.
Thinking of the sun's warmth reminds me of those long days in July or August at the Millpond, sitting in low chairs, eating jerky and drinking a cold beer, watching the boys splash and play in the water, talking for hours with Joey as the sun makes her way across the blue sky. Pure delight.
Besides the weather, life is...big. So much bigger than I had ever anticipated. I'm starting to notice connections in all the different areas in my life: the home part, the work part, the exercise part, the church part...more and more I am getting opportunities to use my passion to inspire and encourage others along the way. Not to offer solutions (who has those?), but to, as Nouwen says, "articulate in words and actions the human condition in which we participate and who encourage us to face the realities of life...to [have] the courage to enter so deeply into human suffering and speak from there."
I have a passion for people.
In teaching exercise I have a passion to see people do more than they ever thought they could, and to find joy along the way as they use their bodies for what they were intended: to move! My heart is that my students would stop competing, with others and with themselves, and start enjoying the movement, the breath, the sweat. The results will follow, but they are not the point.
In church, my passion is to break down walls. Let people know it's okay to be themselves and not have to put on their church faces when they walk through the doors. That honesty is the foundation to knowing God, and letting God know you. That it's intimacy, being with God, that transforms us. Our lives flow from Him, taking our 'trying to be good' from being a noisy gong to a real, deep, love for ourselves, the way God loves us, and in turn for those around us.
At work, having compassion for our patients and the staff that is trying so hard to navigate in this changing world of health care to take care of them. It's a slow process, a process that takes a long term perspective, one that sees "interruptions" as the real work, as opportunities to recognize a defect and take the steps in order to eliminate it to bring more and more value to our patients.
And at home. Fostering my passion for people "out there" to the little people sitting at my dining room table, the two little men God has gifted to me. Taking time to be with them, get to know them, listen to them, even if it's about Star Wars this guy and Legos that. Sundays especially, while Noah is napping, telling Ethan, "I want to be with you. Let's play."
We built a lego jeep today. He's so damn smart.
Reminds me of a funny story.
So yesterday we were on our way to the park and Ethan says to me, "I don't think I should be going to the after school program."
"Why?"
"Because there are bad words written in the tunnel outside where we play."
"Oh really? What bad words?"
"Fuck."
"Oh..." and then Noah repeats it, really slowly, like he's trying to get a good grasp on how to say it properly.
I'm freaking out of course.
"Okokokokokokokok, stop, stop, stop....."
"But mom, what does it mean?"
Oh would somebody just crash into the car right now or something, an earthquake...anything would be great...
"Well..."
Noah says it again.
"Noah, hunny, we don't say that word. It's not nice. It's not polite. It's very very bad."
"But, mom, what does it mean?"
"Well, um...." Is that a trash can I could crash into?
"It said like fuck off, or of, or something...."
"Yes! Yes! so it means get away."
"Oh, Okay."
Big, deep sigh of relief from mama. And then we had a similar conversation about shit. And as we pulled into the parking garage to meet our dear friends and their little ones at the park, I prayed fervently that my boys would completely forget about this lovely conversation, especially Noah, lest he pass along his new found knowledge with his friends and then their parents would get to have the lovely experience I just had.