Together (five minute friday)

Here is my post for Five minute friday from Lisa Jo Baker's blog. I recommend these prompts to anyone stuck in a rut or if you just want to remember your life.

Together

I had a feeling of ultimate togetherness this morning.  I went to get my 18 month old, William out of bed.  He was happily jumping and babbling in his bed, so eager for the opportunity of a new day.  I pulled him out and smelled his new head, though not the same smell as brand new baby, he still has the smell of a new soul.  A toddler about ready to become a little boy.  The smell of heaven and sweaty head and just that sweet baby smell.  I laid him down to change his diaper and hugged him and as I hugged him, I just couldn’t stop hugging him.  We pressed our cheeks together, left cheek on left cheek.  He began sucking his thumb and making his happy sound, “mmm, mmm, mmm”.  The one he makes when his whole world is perfect.  I found myself tearing up because the sweetness of baby is one that is so fleeting and so short.  It is that smell, that soft baby skin, that happy gurgling and babbling and the clumsy walking. That is what makes my world a happy one.  His only interests are playing trains with me, sitting with me, running, laughing and eating applesauce.  For that moment, our warm cheeks pressed together and we were alone and still, it was the ultimate feeling of togetherness and I hope I never forget it.

Fall (five minute post)

Fall

I haven’t experienced many “real” Falls in my life. I have seen Fall leaves, but I have never lived in Fall.  I have discovered that I need Fall in my life.  There Is nothing like looking out the window to see a downpour of golden leaves, whirling towards the ground.  I can almost hear the sound of chimes as they gently move.  It is something everyone should see in their lives.  

I love knowing that we get a reprieve before the bleak winter.  Fall is a gift to us from an all knowing and all loving God.  One who knows that the stale white of Winter can certainly get old.  So before the Winter, He puts on a show for us.  A colorful show of purples, red, golds, yellows, browns.  When you rake and see the mish mash of colors in a giant pile, just begging to be jumped into, you know that there is nothing more perfect than this time.  Coming across a bright red tree, stretching so tall and wide that you when you take a picture of your 4 year old in front of it, she looks so tiny.  Then you hear her say in the back of the car, “Gold, yellow. Gold, yellow.” and you know she is naming the trees she sees.  Then you take a picture of the river with Fall trees in the background but no camera can perfectly picture the amazement that you feel.  And that is why I hope I will always have Fall in my life.

Listen (five minute post)

I have learned a lot about listening over the years. Not hearing, but listening.  They are two completely different things.  

Blake and I went on our first date on January 30, 2002.  We went to an Italian restaurant, Johnny Carinos, and talked until they closed.  Meaning, they turned the lights on and said they were closed.  We were so busy talking that we didn’t notice that we were the last ones there.  I wrote in my journal that night something like, “He really was interested in what I had to say. He really listened to me.”  And that is when I knew he was my perfect match.  

Over the years, he has continued to listen to me.  Sometimes better than others.  But on the important things, he has listened.  Like knowing, when I am about to lose my mind and needing a break.  Knowing that my secret dream is to open a bakery in a little nook of a small town and offer hot chocolate and treats and a calm atmosphere.  Knowing that I love writing and literature and my favorite poet is William Wordsworth.  Knowing that cala lilies are my favorite flower.  Knowing that I want to live in Ireland and experience that green, lush country. Knowing that our family is my number one priority.

He listens and hears and cares about what I have to think.  

Laundry (five minute friday)

Laundry

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

A baby sock, yellow with stripes

Why is this in here? This is size three months.

I don’t have any three month olds in the house anymore.

I take a smell of it.  It is so small, it is so sweet.

That baby smell remains.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

Spencer’s favorite gray jacket.  

It is faded and getting too small. But don’t tell him that.

He would wear it faded, dirty and shrunk.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task I come across

Hailey’s jeans, the ones she wrote on in 2nd grade.

And I told her we weren’t getting rid of them and she said:

“That’s ok, I write on them when I wear them still.”

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

Brooke’s many pairs of underwear(s)

Because she changes them five times a day or more.

She changes them every time she goes potty.

But I am ok without because underwear(s) are a small piece of laundry.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

William’s blue rag quilt that my mom made him

Before we moved to Iowa and knowing she wouldn’t meet him till he was much older.

I smell it and it has the smell of new baby, fresh, soft, real.

And I wish my kids would stay these sizes.

Rhythm (five minute prompt)

Rhythm

I was young when I read in a book that “rhythm” is the only word that has no “real” vowels. I thought that was amazing.  I have always loved words.  I have favorite words.  I love “luscious”, “wonderful”, “spectacular”, “smooshy” and many others. I do not enjoy the word “moist”. It has always grossed me out and my husband thinks that is hilarious.  I love that words put together in the right order make the most beautiful music.  That I can cry over words.  That I can become angry over words.  That I can feel excited over words.  Words can make a nation rise or fall.  Words determine how we feel about ourselves and our lives.  Words can make a person have confidence or tear them down. The power of the word is long lasting and never ending.  No matter if we have fancy clothes or houses or cars, words are the things that last forever.  I will always remember the words to the song my Grandma sang “Jack was a lonely cowboy.”  I remember my husband’s words and my kids praises. I remember any praise from my mom and mother in law.  Sadly, I remember negative words as well.  Sometimes those negative words are helpful and sometimes they are not.  But words said cannot be taken back.  Words create and break relationships.  Words are the foundation to families.  And words shared over dinner, bedtime, bathtime, playtime, while walking, while working, while hugging will be the words that shape us.  And hopefully those words will also shape future generations and they will understand the power of words.

In Between (5 minute post)

In Between

I have had issues recently with my life.  I have got stuck in the “humdrum” tasks. You know how it goes. Suddenly, you are just bored by things!  Which is not a good thing to be when you have four kids and lots to do.  And suddenly I am on a kick to get the house cleaned to pass the time because my 4 year old is driving me nutso and my 18 month old is so clingy.  And cleaning up is the only thing I can control and manage.  Because those two little ones are so wonderfully needy.  And that is their job.  And to teach me patience and empathy, but it can get so routine somedays.

My point is that in between laundry, wiping noses, making food, reading books, cleaning, hugging, blocks and puzzles, life happens.  In between the day to day “boring” tasks I need to do, life is happening.  It is in between the laundry load and the little conversation I overhear about toy cars.  It’s doing the dishes and looking down to see William banging with spoons and knowing that someday he won’t want to do that.  It’s bath time and the splashing explosion and the sudsy faces and hair and a “Santa face” on accident.  It’s the snuggling in bed and it becomes a family affair in a twin bed, where everyone is squished.  

I just don’t want to spend too much time on “tasks” that I miss the very important “in between” moments.  The ones that matter the most.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beauty depends on what you think is beautiful.

Beauty, to me, is a wrinkle.  Or many wrinkles.  I remember looking at the hands of my grandmas and noticing the wrinkles and the stretchy, worn, smooth skin and admiring them.  Because you can truly tell a person by their hands.  You can tell if they are a gardener, a nail biter, a carpenter, or a helper.  You can tell if a manicure is a weekly occurrence.

Beauty is a wrinkle next to your eye.  When you smile, it crinkles and your eyes twinkle.  Your forehead has thought lines and you have smile lines alongside your mouth.  Wrinkles tell a story, your story.  If you smiled, if you laughed, if you had the time of your life while you had your life to live.  I celebrate wrinkles. I celebrate that you can keep your wrinkles and who cares if people know you age.  Who cares if they know you didn’t have time to put anti-wrinkle cream on your face.  If you look your age when you are 81, like my friend Jo Ott does, then you are blessed.  She looks as though she has lived a life of glory and kindness and happiness.  You can tell that she was beautiful as a young woman and that she is beautiful now, because of the life she led.  And the wrinkles tell that story.