Love Saves Lives

Thanks to the Fabulous Farber, my buddy Logan, and the good 'ol Texas Forest Service, Jon and I got a little get away at this super cute cabin.  TFS was celebrating the graduates from their most recent Leadership Program and they booked the 7F cabins in College Station.  7F probably hosts a crazy amount of weddings a year; it was pretty quaint.  The TFS had their reception there as well with dinner and few speakers. 

 

Not only was it great to get away, but we also walked away with a new inside joke.  Love Saves Lives was printed (always in italics) everywhere throughout the cabin and grounds.  Signs like, "Enjoy this complimentary basket of goodies.... and remember love saves lives!" cracked me up.  I even read the little binder talking about the history of the cabins to try and understand.  I read a two or three page history of men that liked to hunt and meet up at the original cabin after WWII and how this woman grew up and took over the cabins and turned it into a little B&B.  The story ended with a simple, "and that's why we say.... love saves lives!"  Okay people, I had just read the whole dang story and their was no mention of a life saved or why love helped.  But who doesn't love a new inside joke?  And that's why we now say, love saves lives!  

 

Jon giving a speech, I was way proud.  

A Daring Adventure

One of my favorite bloggers recently wrote, "We are calling our life a daring adventure right now because it sounds better than hot mess."

I heartily laughed and gave an amen. 

Mmmmkay.... where to start with filling you in on the hot mess...

Well, for starters I'm laying in bed eating those Cheetos cheese ball things waiting for Jon to come home from a little-out-of-towness. 

We've set up extra visits with our therapist to try and sort out some four and six-year-old adoption-related angst.  This, actually, I'm seeing as a positive.  We need more help and I'm happy to get it.

Jon and I went on a full-fledged trip out of town with nary a child.  Right in the middle of an extremely intense two week bout of parenting where we all about lost our fool minds.  The timing felt all wrong and I thought about cancelling and staying home one million times and cried my eyes out over the decision and the chaos.  It was all very dramatic and Kleenex filled. 

We haven't gotten one single phone call from our foster agency since Carsie-poo-poo right before Christmas.  This shocks me and tells me the Lord has got our back.  Ain't no way we could have parented another kid through this last spell.  Now the question begs, swear off fostering for awhile even when the calls start a'coming, or continue to trust in the Lord's providence that when we start receiving calls again our little family will be a little stronger than we were a month ago and be ready to jump into another beautiful mess?  (A daring adventure, remember?)

We are also in the process of picking out new hard wood floors.  Has anyone out there ever put hard wood in your house and experienced something kin to guilt over it?  We could support 5 Ethiopians for a year through Compassion with this money.  Or take our own two Ethiopians to Disney.  Or anything really. 

I don't think I'm alone in the hot mess.  Another fav blogger of mine posted this today: 30 days of connecting.  I think I'm going to try and jump on board with one or two of my monkeys.  Or maybe all three.  ;)

Some of Jon's New Looks

The Potato Head.

The Gimli.

Cutches

This post is also about two months late, but it deserves to be blogged about. 

 

Ollie is (well, was) full-on freaked out by crutches.  (Cutches, according to Ollie.)  Full-on.

I really cannot pin point how this all started, but interesting conversations began happening in the grocery store. 

 

Mama, oh no, oh no, don't go down there (down that aisle)!  

What? Why?

Just turn!  Turn the cart! Don't go!.... Oh okay, it's okay now.

What?

Maybe we can win.  Maybe we can win and be out first.

What?

 

This happened two or three times over the course of a couple months before I realized he was freaking out when he saw someone on crutches in the grocery store.  Not a wheelchair, not a motorized shopping cart, just a mini-panic attack upon seeing crutches. 

 

We started talking about it at home.

 

Hey, bud. Those are called crutches.  They actually help people when it's hard for them to walk because they hurt their foot or something.

I just don't like them.  I don't like seeing them.

Why?

They are just too scary. 

Do you know what they are used for?

No.

(Explanation follows highlighting the usefulness of crutches.)

I'm just too scared.  I don't want to see them.

What part is so scary? Are you scared of getting hurt?

No.  Cutches are scary.

What part?

Just when they do this... (Ollie gets up and imitates using crutches, complete with hopping on one foot and dragging the other foot behind him.  I die laughing at this point but try to hide it by coughing and biting my lip.)

Oh yeah?  That's the scary part?

Yeah.  It's just so scary when they do that. 

(More lip and cheek biting.  Also this is about when I start telling Jon about this new phobia.  More death by laughter ensues.)

 

I think maybe now that I have explained how helpful people find crutches, this will ease his fears.  Nope.  Every time we pull in to the Sam's or Wal-Mart parking lot he begins talking about how he just hopes we don't see anyone with crutches.  When we do see someone with crutches, he declares it a win if we don't have to walk out of the store at the same time as the injured.  "Good job, Mom!  You did it!  We beat the cutches!"

 

We talk about it more at home. 

 

He begins telling me he is afraid at bedtime. 

 

Mama, don't leave.  I'm just so scared!

Oh man, that's no fun.  It's no fun to feel scared.  What are you scared of?

Cutches.  What if someone with cutches comes into my room?

 

Trust me when I say that we did all the right parent things and stayed with him until sleep on the scariest nights, but we were also truly cracking up about the crutches crisis.  I'd had him imitate the scary one foot hop and one foot drag to Jon, just so he had a better mental picture during the death laughs. 

 

He begins telling me he is afraid every night at bedtime. 

I decided that we are going to face these fears.  The next day while Seth and Jon are out of the house, I tell him that we are going watch some people use crutches on the computer (youtube).  He is intrigued, but immediately very nervous.  I tell him that I'm going to get the computer and that we can watch some people together.  He thinks about that, and literally begins screaming.  (You guys, I am laughing so hard right now remembering this!!)  He is screaming his head off, runs in his room and slams the door.  I go get the computer and go get him.  He is screaming so loud and has shoved himself in the gap between his bed and wall, head first.  I have to drag him out of there and hold him in my lap.  I turn on a pt/ot type video of a girl learning to use crutches and have to forcibly remove his hands from covering his eyes.  He is still screaming. 

 

We watch this video. 

 

Once the people on the video start talking, he quiets down, eager to hear.  He intently watches the video.  I ask a few gentle questions during and after the video.

Did it look like she was scared?

No!

Was she going to cry?

No! 

What did her face look like?

Happy!

Why do you think she looked happy?

She liked cutches!

 

We watch a few more similar videos and I remember I have clothes in the washing machine.  I tell Ollie I am going to go put some laundry in the dryer.  He responds by yelling, "No!!!  Don't leave me alone with cutches!!!"  I chuckle again and he comes with me to switch the laundry and then spends close to an hour and a half watching crutches videos.  He concludes that no one cries while using crutches and more people have a smiling face than not. 

 

We watch these videos again and again when he asks over the next few days and weeks.  I can now leave the room when crutches are on.  Progress!  He begins telling me things like, "I don't think I'm gonna be afraid if we see crutches, but I just don't know" when we are in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  More progress!  We do in fact see crutches again, and he handles it like a champ.  He starts telling me that even if we see crutches, that isn't scary to him.  The ultimate challenge happened when we were at the Goodwill Pound Store recently and they had a whole trash barrel full of crutches.  He wanted to walk over and gawk, but didn't break out in a cold sweat.   

 

The cherry on top for me is now that he is over his fear, when his friends come over he asks them if they want to watch cutches on the computer.  It is super hard to explain (and yet again comical) "why doesn't Eefin want to watch cutches?" 

 

To each their own, kid.  To each their own.  And you are truly one of a kind.  

Decade

Jon and I have been married a whole decade.  Plus a couple extra months. 

 

I'd describe our marriage relationship as the best friendy-type, where the sweet spot is spending lots and lots of time together and talking at length about minutiae.

 

2014 was a good year because it was fun to celebrate a milestone, but it has been our hardest year of marriage by a long shot.  It would be really easy to blame miscommunications and a general sense of lasting disconnectedness on life and it's busyness.  Mostly it was our fault though, for lying in bed before sleep and checking one million things on our phones instead of talking about the day.  We've been blessed by a strong, joyful marriage, so I guess we never really learned to prioritize our relationship above the general background noise of HGTV, ESPN, fantasy football, Downton, and the like that fill our free time.  With a busy life, active kids, and free-time that seems to shrink every year, I'd guess that's a lesson we can thank the Lord for.  And pray for more growth and grace in execution.  

 

You may not have know this (but you probably suspected it), but the word I'd use to describe Jon's career is flourishing.  I'm way proud of him for his hard work, both with the Texas Forest Service and our city.  However, (this is terrible to admit, especially as someone who is in a talk-about-everything marriage) often when he comes home and talks about his day, I have no idea what he is talking about.  Zero.  I'd say weekly he comes home and tells me about someone with TFS, Parks and Rec, some outside non-profit agency, or school has approached him to be on their board/panel/review team.  The acronyms, people!  The acronyms!  I'm glad I've sat down to write this post, because it has sparked an idea.  Maybe if when he comes home and I set down the crying kid I'm holding and ignore the cage fighting for five minutes, I could write down all these agencies.  Basically, I feel terrible when I have no idea what he is talking about and want to feel more connected to him and what he does for 8+ hours a day.  Does that make sense?  Also, LEP and SARA have wrapped up and he will have waaaay less travel next year, and that can't hurt for the home team.  (See what I mean about those acronyms??)  Anyone else have any ideas on this front? 

 

I guess what we've been reminded of is that any relationship takes work, switching from auto pilot to being an active participant is better in the long run, and that DC Talk and Mumford and Sons have already summed it up well.  Love is a verb and love the one you hold, let that be the goal.  Oh yeah, I also recently heard in a sermon to consider yourself as the most selfish and biggest problem in any relationship or something along those lines.  Easier said than done, but food for thought. 

Anyway, life is back to normal but I still wanted to blog about marriage in the ninth year.   

 

Note to readers: Do not waste a precious date night by sorting a huge tub of legos from Goodwill that you plan on giving to your eldest Christmas morning.  You will quickly see the error of your ways and regret a wasted night.  Your six-year old would have had more fun sorting the legos on Christmas, anyway. 

 

An anniversary present of a yard-cart-wagon filled with ten or 31 years of awesomeness, depending on how you look at it. 

 

A quick note on that wagon.  I had a friend order it for me on Amazon.  I am a fool and expected it to come in a huge crate that I would open and it would roll on out.  It did come in a big box, with 50 different pieces and an Allen wrench.  My friend Jennifer and I spent hours one night learning how to use her socket set and slowly and painstakingly began putting it together.  We never did use the enclosed Allen wrench.  I lied to Jon about what we were doing in order to put that wagon together before our anniversary.  It felt very ironic. 

 

Then I had to haul the dang thing home and hide it.  This about killed me because Jennifer's socket set sizes didn't go very big, so we were unable to put the wheels on.  I knew Jon had more sizes at home, so I figured it would have to be finished at home. 

 

I hid it in our guest room right after Joe and Pearl left under a huge pile of sheets, blankets, and pillows stripped from the bed.  Jon never found it, but would come out of the guest room and say, "Did you smell something weird in the guest room?  There is definitely a weird smell in there."  It was the new tire rubber smell.  It made me nervous every time.  I really can't believe he never found it, and have since teased him about his pitching-in-to-help skills when you see a huge mountain of dirty laundry and blankets and it doesn't cross you mind to wash the sheets, make the bed, and clean up a little.

 

And he got me a shiny new tenth anniversary ring.  So pretty!  And so easy to hide!!  

Sunday Slumpies

Bah-humbug. 

Ah, the phenomenon of Sunday Slumpies.  I used to get these real bad as a working member of society; an insane grumpiness that came late Sunday afternoon/early Sunday evening focusing on the dread of another weekend wrapping up.  After deciding to stay home full time, I thought Sunday Slumpies would be forever forgotten.  Nope.  I still get them (although not as severe,) thinking about the weekend being over and Jon going back to work. 

Jon, on the other hand, doesn't even have the decency to try not to act excited.

My dad was always a big co-conspirator in Sunday Slumpies, a like-minded soul who knew and felt the outrageous bummer of a Sunday evening.  Plus, one time I heard some of my favorite radio personalities talking about it, although they didn't use my terminology.  Surely my dad, myself, and one person on the radio can't be the only ones.  Can you relate?  Do you get the Sunday Slumpies?

They also hit right at the beginning of a new year.  All the time off and fun of spending time together of the holiday season has come to a close.  Plus it's cold!  Christmas is over, what's all this lingering cold?  (Scoff if you'd like, but rest assured, as a Texan I do feel guilt typing those sentences.) 

Two or three times this past week I've been places (the grocery store and walking Seth into school) where I have overheard people talking about how grateful they are that January is here and how much they generally dislike the holidays.  That makes me so sad!  And so happy that I can't relate!

We had a dandy December over in these parts.  Momo and Mimi were here for most of it, and we lived it up Motsinger/Sethre style.  Which is to say we ate lots, took lots of naps, clearance shopped, and played a fair amount of games.  We made lots of jokes about them wearing out their welcome and a saying of my grandpa Donald's was brought up.  "You know what they say about fish and company? They both stink after three days." We had to modify it from three days to three weeks and then to four. 

Carson was also here half the time M&M were, so going from a house of seven to a house of two during the days for me and Ollie has been majorly anti-climatic for one four-year old.  He starts everyday by saying in the most whiney voice possible, "Mama what are we going to do today?  What will we do all day?"  I guess I'll know when he has detoxed from having extra people around when one of my answers for daily plans doesn't provoke a crying fit of "but that won't be fun!!"

And while we are one the subject of Ollie, here's a few other things that have made me chuckle lately.  Ollie is one of those mythical children who has never fought naps, always been a good sleeper, and always told us when he was ready for a nap.  Well, for the whole month of December he never snuck away for a nap, always wanting to be ready and alert for any extra fun or activity of a full house.  Approximately three hours after Momo and Mimi left, I found him in his bed sacked out for a two hour nap.  

One night while I was tucking him in he asked me when Seth was going back to school.  I laughed and asked if he was getting tired of playing with Seth.  His answer, "No!  I just can't wait to wear that Captain America costume when he's at school!"

Be gone slumpies, we've got lots to look forward to in 2015! There's gonna be lots of travel in spring and summer, even a grown-up only get-a-way in a weekend or two.   
So on we truck. 

This hat and his owner have left the building. 

The good times are definitely over.