Simple Christmastime

Christmas with photos.

The making of the popcorn & cranberry strand (The Man's first time)...

A surprise gift from Grandma, an evening to the Nutcracker for Momma & Firstborn Daughter...

 BONUS photo with a ballerina!

LOViNTee Packages to be delivered....

Family Christmas at Mile Hi after a stellar performance we had cookies & cider while waiting to visit with Kris Kringle himself.

The Eldest Daughter explaining and directing...

The youngest absorbing the ambiance...

The dads hangin' around procuring refreshment for moms waiting in the line...and enjoying more than a few themselves....

Happy little friends....

Finally!  The chat with Mr. Kringle himself, and hand delivery of her Letter to Santa...

While little sister keeps a safe distance, content with a cheerful smile and a wave....

Pictures with every...

Single...

Character...

Some well deserved Christmastime snow, that has hung around for days & days with appropriately chilly winter weather...

 Christmas morning joy as Mr. Kringle delivered even late, hastily emailed, requests....

Oh, the anticipation, the enthusiasm!

Thanks to grandma, there is some play make-up for Miss Monkey to enjoy...

We are surrounded by blessings of family & friends, healthy, happy, holiday together---couldn't ask for more I think.  Going forward to the new calendar year the blessings have only just begun!

Mile Hi is awesome, truly a Center for Spiritual Living (more like a party than what my memory of Church is).  I just finished a class, The Bible, Metaphysics, & You.  I have a sentimental attachment to the book, but never really had an understanding of it, historically, contextually, personally, or otherwise.  Overall a great class, deepened my personal understanding around too many things to list here, and answered many questions I didn't realize I retained from my Baptist childhood experience.

Have to note how much I appreciate our spiritual community, when my Littles, concrete thinkers as they are, head to church, they aren't told bible stories or being indoctrinated.  They are allowed to play, do what comes naturally to children, develop a god of their understanding.  There are three main principles I know are taught:

1. what we plant, grows
2. what we send out, we get back
3. God is love

Simple as that.  Jesus, when asked what the greatest commandments were, he replied that the greatest were love god, and love one another.  Is there really anything more?  I think not.

Happy Christmas to All

Busy bodies cramming visits amidst holiday errands and common responsibilities.

A tree arrives. 

Soft needles, strong gorgeous scent, beating light heart, 

the growing familial collection of ornaments.

Family visiting, pleasant and playful.  Uncle and Auntie then exit graceful.

Hidden gifts, secreted away, finally reappear brightly wrapped.

Excitement excruciating for little girls, 

counting days down.

Warm Christmas kitchen, spiced nuts and gingerbread. Oh-so-delightful aromas fill my home.

Gifts abound, goodwill is great.

Above all

spending time, making memories with dear friends, enjoying each presence,

better than presents.

The Spirit of Christmas is alive and well here, as I wish it with you as well.

Love & Light this season, 

Ada

Hallmark Mama

Recently in a conversation with a friend whose children are fully into adult hood, we touched on the subject of "the mom I want to be".

I remember a childhood searching the racks of greeting cards for something suitable to send the absentee biological father.  I was never able to find anything to my liking because none of them would have been honest, and why send a card that lacks honesty?  It's an empty gesture, useless---when I receive one it borders on insultingly comic, and I feel somewhat saddened the sender and I aren't more connected.  Most cards describe idyllic scenes that I felt I never really had.  I find it impossible to send a card that lacks honesty, it's important to me that words, even in a store bought card, have some reality to back up the idyllic fluff.

So my friend mentions that she's happy to receive cards from her adult daughter and is fully accepting of them because she knows what the card says is true.

I want to be that mama.  When I get the Hallmark card in the mail and it's reminiscent of "sunny afternoons, kissed away hurts, and homebaked cookies", I want to know that it's more than accurate.

I want to be the Hallmark Mom.

All About My Man

We met in 2003 at a coffee shop. I was playing "wing (wo)man" for a friend and her Match.com date. You know, she needed an "out" in case he was creepy. There was this guy sitting at the bar with really nice arms n' shoulders, baseball cap pulled down too low to see his eyes. He drank coffee and smoked Camels. I bummed a smoke off of him, he'll say I did something untoward to get his attention—I didn't. 'Cause I had seen him move to the place I was sitting, and we smiled at each other as I was driving away, there was some deliberation at a stop light. I went back. After talking about patience, I told every silly joke I know and he knew them all. We ate Pho and saw a movie, then in very cliché fashion stayed up all night talking.

He pursued me to a degree that made me more nervous than his mere presence.

Instead of moving to Kaua'I as I had planned, I ran off to Costa Rica with him. We drove through Mexico, Matamoros to Tapachula, then took a TicaBus to San Jose. Ask us about it sometime, we'll tell you all about it. I wouldn't trade a second.

We assessed immediately where we stood spiritually, and serendipitous coincidence we agree in that realm. Since we're both raised in Texas there's already an understanding for right and wrong, Honor and Truth, manners and social protocol.

He wanted me to sit next to him in the booths we frequented, instead of across. He ordered my food for me, and he'll send it back for me if he sees I am dissatisfied.

Someone once asked me what made me decide to have kids…"He just smells so good." Originally he was the first to bring up the subject of babies, I was reluctant. I came around though.

I met my match. The man that can argue with me. He can be silly and intelligent. He makes me laugh and generally knows how to de-fuse a rampaging Ada.

No matter how mad I get, or how mad he gets, we both know we love each other. We both know also that we are inextricably linked now—if there was no going back before, there is certainly no end now.

Like an Uber Man, he's masculine enough to handle being at an all mommy birthday party.

He's goofy, tho' one mightn't know it to look at him. I've seen him do cheers.

He's a parrot, an uncanny ability to repeat almost verbatim information he finds fascinating or pertinent to modern situations.

He's physically imposing, a wonderful specimen of man.

He can fix things. Nothing sexier than seeing him with his "bags" on doing carpentry work, whether it's building stretchers for his paintings or a fence. He hates plumbing, but he'll do it when he has to. It's especially nice watching a Papa build a birdhouse with his daughter.

He's a label-whore…no really, ask him about fashion, he'll tell you himself. Well, maybe he will.

He officially became a daddy on 4 May 2006, I knew he'd make a good one too. Every time I saw small children around him, they were oddly transfixed by him.

His daddy-ness was apparent the first time Little Girl smiled at him. Watching her run to him in excitement with his simple arrival home…I relish that my daughters have a really great Papa.

We've known each other long enough now to have heard a lot of our stories twice.

The Man is a self-professed "delicate flower" and not one person at first blush would guess it's true.

He doesn't mind my pregnant-head, my nursing nods, or my mom brain…how my stories sometimes don't connect or make sense. He doesn't mind my cookie fails, or my pie- soup.

We keep making new stories together. We play off each other in social settings, making a fairly decent impromptu comedy team.

He has done his level best to keep us afloat under financial duress. He works hard enabling me to stay home full time being my best Mama-ness. At the same time he understands when I need time for myself.

He is the father of my children, I do love him so.

Happy Father's Day, Gary, I love you!

"The world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles…only by a spiritual journey…by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home."

---Wendell Berry

While in California, participating in a party game some sort, I was gifted a frame that said, "Bloom where you are planted." A mentor recently used the same phrase during our phone conversation. I believe we have bloomed here in Colorado. We have a community of friends and acquaintances here. Real people with mature relationships for the first time in my adult life. So, my intention is that we should stay here and tough it out. I will not sit in a state of paralyzed fear, letting things slip because I'm too worried about how much there is to do, how it'll get done, or what will happen next. Starting over from scratch here or anywhere else will feel the same. The feeling of self-will that would propel us away from here is familiar. It's difficult to distinguish between "heart felt" Ego and the true heart's desire. Because Ego is tricky it will resort to anything in order to remain in control (rather the illusion of control, no?), and to keep up the tension of drama it survives on. Moving is very stressful, very dramatic, and doesn't necessarily solve anything. There are people here willing and ready to help us, opening their homes enabling us to stay together while my husband works on a contract job he's recently connected. Texas is postponed, allowing for more connections to be made.

I once used geographic solutions regularly, albeit in a smallish area. I felt that once a lease was up, I was burnt in that area and really needed to leave. Or it wasn't perfect there, so I had to look for that perfection elsewhere. Moving around a lot doesn't allow friendships to develop to a mature level, and I know now that's what I was really avoiding. Once in a place where people began to know me rather well (or as well as I would allow) I felt pressure to get out while I still could, because I was utterly convinced that my friends wouldn't and couldn't accept me with my faults as well as my assets. I had to leave in order to preserve some legendary perfection that doesn't exist.

It's comical in a sad sort of way.

Here, we have all the things we could ask for, and yet the prosperity seems to have eluded us for the time being. Forcing me to ask: Which is more important, community & quality of life? Or money?

Broken fairy wings at the foot of the bed. Purple filmy things purchased at the thrift store more than one Halloween ago. There they sit at my feet a kind of symbol of our crash. What will this total disruption of our lives mean to my Little Girl?

There are some days, like this weekend, that pass as if we weren't going anywhere. A beautiful, pleasant spring day at the park with good friends and good food, lots of laughter and conversation. Then there are the days like today where our strategizing seems to stall. The tentative plan wavers when I talk about how disappointed I am that Denver hasn't worked out in every aspect. My Man does not want to hurt me, or cause me sadness. He's been graced with some work which will aid in our endeavors to cash out here and start over elsewhere. There's some part of me that wants him to get so much work that we can stay—hope beyond hope?

I can be sad about this situation and still move forward. I choose not to drag the disappointment with me through the next stage. Heck, I can even catalyze some cheer around it if I can muster an energetic "Yes" to trust in god-the-universe's plan—even though I don't like The Plan all the time, I think I can still enjoy the process. After all, I use the phrase, "Always an adventure" I need to mean it.

As for my daughters, I know The New One most likely won't recall a thing about it. I feel for her though 'cause she's really been thrust into a family that, though we are loving and stable spiritually, we are under a considerable stress lately. But then there are worse situations for babies to be born into. Miss Monkey will have to give up a lot of her things, and The Man and I have discussed how to communicate this in the healthiest manner so as not to traumatize her. Repetition of "you are loved", and "you are safe", the obvious evidence that we are all giving up something in this process, she is not being singled out. Add the wonderful distraction of staying with The Grandparents for a length of time with some creatures—especially the horses—and lots of room to play outside learning new things...we think she'll be okay.

Baby E has been fussy the past couple of days, quite possibly due to new places we've been out and about, or it could be the 4^th Trimester fussies (realizing in their infant way that they won't be going back IN), or maybe it's just that we're stressed and so therefore so is she. As a friend reminds me, babies don't have the choice to de-stress orally with food or the like, a pacifier is a reasonable solution to help. I spent the effort yesterday to find a pacifier for her, a Zoe B natural rubber binkie. As an infant Miss F didn't take to the pacifiers that much, she tended to spit them out rather quickly and eventually she found her thumb. Currently we attempt a "letting go" of the thumb (not the blankie) but with the baby's arrival and the upheaval about to happen it's not exactly a priority. So, Baby E has her posh paci on a leash and first time out she gave it what for, it's worked like a charm so far. It became obvious that she needed a suckle because 2 nights in a row in her fussies she took to my pinkie finger as a substitute to the breast. How grateful I am that my nipples can get a break now, and the spit-up might be mitigated somewhat as she won't be brimming over with mama-milk. Now that the Zoe B has had its first test run, I'll be smart and pick up another to have in reserve.

Mama Day

A sweet n’ simple Mother’s Day; I got breakfast, I got lunch, I didn’t have to cook or clean all day. My Lovin’ Husband even did the spring chore of getting the swamp cooler ready to go…just in time for it to snow this week. That’s Colorado in May!

I got to spend over an hour outside pulling up dandelions—for some reason had been bothering me. I’ve a need to complete the backyard and get to the front. A couple of dandelions in the yard, no biggie, but when they really start to take over it’s just too much, and we’re on the verge of having a solid dandelion yard. It’s really difficult to keep a small child from picking & blowing every single dandy-head she finds. This year, she’s older, it’s easier for her to remember instructions, and it’s easier for her to help. While I uprooted the plants, Miss Monkey gathered them up in her wagon and put them in a pile at the garbage cans. This lasted a good while until she got somewhat bored and went on to other things. I’m grateful at this point for something, anything to keep a little active requiring no special trip and no special clothing.

After some relatively consistent contracting on Saturday, Sunday was rather quiet save a couple intense episodes in the evening. As of today we are +1 from 40 wk due date. I had called to cancel the Monday induction, but apparently the young doctor (by her admission) ignored my request. So the hospital calls the house this morning wondering where I am. I apologized, spoke to the charge nurse, and made a point to call the doc’s office when they opened. This afternoon they requested I come in for a non-stress test and a little peek-a-boo with baby in order to ascertain what was happening…if anything. Hooray for contractions! I’ve a poor habit of questioning my instincts, though I’m sure I’ve been having contractions since last week off and on, especially Saturday, it was really nice to see it on the paper printout. I was only supposed to be in the monitoring room for ~20 minutes, but as my main doc was busy (and quite possibly annoyed with me) I got to sit and relax with the monitors for almost 1.5 hours, clicking away whenever baby moved—which was a LOT. Almost immediately upon the nurse leaving me in the comfy chair, baby got hiccups for a solid 20 minutes. What’s more uncomfortable than just being full of baby? Add to big baby, hiccups + kicking + contraction + full bladder…really not comfortable. All passes in time, and I came home to a lovely crocked-chicken supper. Good news is big news, soon, especially as I'm having labor signs I'm less anxious about an induction boost.

Thanks to my Mom for bringing me into the world so that I could then go on my own big adventure. Happy Mama's Day.

You're Golden

Not just any birthday, but the Golden Birthday. Miss Monkey will be 4 on the 4th of May, one week from today, 2:54pm HST. And if you wanna be cute, I'll be 33 on the 3rd, tho' I'm not sure it really counts as it's not technically the same number---but it sounds good, and I like it. I'm considering the entire week auspicious. The year Little Girl was born I was in labor on my birthday, and the situation seems to have repeated to a certain degree. A huge shadow looms over next week, in the shape of what Monkey calls "a great big Easter Egg belly!" I wager that if we had made plans around this entire 2 week period, I'd most certainly be in labor already. As it is I'm seriously uncomfortable today, the ankles have swollen, I can barely bend down without feeling my sternum crunch bumping into someone, waking up to change positions in the night feels as if I had a hard workout, hips & knees are so sore.

I remember my Golden birthday, I got a pony, and a bird, and a magnetic maze bug game that transfixed me for what seemed the entire afternoon. There was a fairly large party to my recollection, since we lived in the country not too many small friends of mine, 'cause there just weren't many out thataway. The pony's name was Little Man, he was a Shetland, supposedly an ex-circus pony according to my mom. The bird's name was Freddy, a blue parakeet, she liked to sit on one's head during dinner. Though I grew up thinking there was never enough money, it seemed like we always had plenty of animals around, horses included, on the two acre lot I grew up. Apparently the familial estate has only just thinned the creature population to one cat, a few chickens, and maybe the last two young hobbyist horses.

So, for my firstborn's birthday we've tentatively scheduled an afternoon play date. Presence of friends paramount to presents, keeping it simple. She'll get cake and balloons, and thoughtfully exciting gifts from family. I've certainly notified every-mom that I'll call them if the little playground date doesn't happen for (really) obvious reasons. Looking forward to it all, I can't wait to see what happens next!