Accomplishments List

School starts next week. I have mixed feelings, mostly because I dread the thought of homework and getting tasks assigned by other people done within their time frame as much as my children might if they weren't SO EXCITED about learning and seeing their friends again. 

So, to calm myself, I've made a list of things I accomplished this summer:

1. Enjoyed three glasses of wine a week. Minimum. 
2. Spent time with family and friends doing random enjoyable things, usually involving food.
3. Got one speeding ticket. (I'm telling you--that stretch of highway between Raton & Las Vegas, NM is just BEGGING me to pin it.)
4. Family bike outings. I think we managed three.
5. Completed one course towards my Masters.
6. Started a lung cancer screening program at the hospital where I work. (With the help of many, many, many other people.) And managed, somehow, to not work more than 50 hours a week.
7. GARDEN
8. Managed to get through summer, because of Camp Grandma, Camp Cousins and Camp Bike Shop, only needing to put my children in a sub-par summer day program for three weeks out of the summer.
9. Managed to not forget anyone's birthday. So far. 
10. Went to the Sand Dunes . . . once.

( . . . sigh . . .)

So, here's a half-hearted toast to summers' end, and to high expectations for next summer.

My Name Is Lisa, and I Have a Problem.

There are two items I need to check off of my Bucket List, one immediately: 

1) Last night, I had a precious 40 minutes of free time, and I chose to stop at a nearby shoe store, which shall remain almost anonymous, Famous for its Footwear clearance rack. 

I found a much needed pair of comfy, sleek, dressy loafers to replace the ones that I threw in the trash at the checkout counter in at least three pieces. I also found a pair of shiny, apple-red, perfect height, classic pumps. In my size. On clearance. Buy-one-get-one-half-off clearance. 

Upon arriving home, I realized I have no fewer than three pairs of shiny, apple-red, perfect height, various pumps. In my size. Purchased on clearance. 

Apparently, I have an addiction. Cue Mission Impossible: Navy. I consulted Kate, who responded with something highly encouraging like, "That is a perfect metaphor for what a confident, empowered woman you are." Which made me feel wonderful and really would be a desirable metaphor if I could actually walk in shiny, apple-red, perfect height, classic pumps without looking like I'm trying not to fall over. 

The second item is much, much, much more serious.

MUCH. 

2) I would not describe my upbringing as "conservative", rather "aware". We were often encouraged to view another perspective, and consider how our appearance, actions or words might be taken in untended ways. However, the community we lived in could be described as "conservative". As in, smoking, drinking and dancing were really excellent ways to cozy up to the devil himself. 

But. 

I've always wanted to dance. Even though I run in to the wall if I turn around too fast, and I fell down the stairs last year and ended up with a rod and six screws in my hand, and my oldest, as a toddler, cried every time I tried to have a little rhythm. I've always wanted to know how it feels to know enough to let the music move me. 

So. I bought five sessions of dance lessons. And not ballroom, tap or even contemporary dance lessons. Hip-Hop dance lessons. 

Perhaps they'll cover walking in red pumps in the first class. 

Spoiler Alert

I am getting a new brother!

Well, technically, brother-in-law, but who is counting hyphens? My baby sister is engaged, and Clay took engagement photos. 

And, because I'm the big sister, and I have a blog, and I can, you get a sneak preview here.

After sorting through 468 frames (I am not kidding), these are my top five:

Happy Happy Happy.

Congrats Andrea & Dietrich!

Dear Kate

You know those newspaper columns people can write their questions in to and get the Wisdom of the Ages to answer? I have precious few people I turn to when I am really vulnerable and need real, honest, down-to-earth, genuine, equally vulnerable advice. Let's say one of these people's name is Kate.

I have one blessed week off before my next masters level course begins.

What shall I do with ALL THIS FREE TIME? Besides laundry. I'm NOT (foot-stamping, stiff-elbowed, squinty-eyed, pout-face NOT) doing extra laundry. 

Never mind that I continue to hold a full-time job, have three small children who are suddenly not within the confines of the school-year routine, a self-employed rockstar spouse who cooks and cleans and knows when to bring me a glass of wine (I must have a subconscious eye-twitch or something), and am fitting in a masters degree between potty-training and power point. 

Seriously. Like standing at the top of the mountain you just schlepped a picnic basket to the top of, I turn around and look at my life and can't help but think:

WTF.

HOW can I possibly retain my sanity and creativity and peace in the midst of all this? 

I don't know, and I'm pretty sure I'm not doing a spectacular job of it. 

Just to spite myself, I just turned in my final paper with one typo. One word mis-spelled, just to remind myself that it's ok to not be perfect. 

But I digress. 

Dear Kate, 

I have a dichotomous relationship with summer. I love summer. I love being outside and hearing the ice-cream truck, and the smell of dirt and rain and cut grass. I love little feet and knees that have a green hue and sand between my toes. 

But I hate. HATE. having to figure out where the kids are going to be. I just signed the boys up for two weeks of YMCA day camp (the cheapest thing around) and it is going to cost over $400 for two weeks. In addition to the $358 for Gracie to be in full-time day care. That ends up being approximately $1516 a month in order for me to work full-time. I could freaking buy a CAR at the end of EVERY SUMMER for that!!! 

Surely, there is a better way. 

Yours,

HonestlyJustJealousThatICan'tBeHomePlayingInTheDirtAllSummerIsThisReallyWorthIt

Mother's Day

It is not infrequently that I am asked a variation of the question, "How do you do all of that?"

Work . . .

School . . .

Family . . . 

House Maintenance . . .

Manage Finances . . . 

Vacation . . .

Blog . . .

Watch 'Top Gear' (the BBC version, of course) . . .

Maintain Friendships . . .

Maintain Marriage (I am very fortunate that Clay makes this easy and more joyful than it is for many) . . . 

Read . . . a lot . . .

Laundry . . . laundry . . . laundry . . . laundry . . . laundry . . . and toilets . . . 

Pray . . . 

The list is long. 

And the question makes me question my chaotic schedule and motives every. single. time. 

What am I chasing? For whom am I working? Why am I so busy? Does it matter? What matters? Who matters? 

I am reminded daily of the frailty of life. I am reminded moment to moment of time passing. I know, to my core, that MOST of what we pursue and do and are in this life, if we follow the culture and ways around us, DOES NOT COUNT. 

So WHY am I so driven?

Ultimately, I believe to my core that the final purpose of my life is to establish a lasting relationship with my children and those around me that is nothing more than an extension of God's love for us. And, while I am just about as far from perfect as one can get, I am aware of the implications of that in every move. 

It has the potential to be excruciatingly intimidating. To the point of crawling in a hole with a sour attitude and extra bottle of Jack, just in case. 

But. 

Just when I think it is simply NOT POSSIBLE, I hear things like this:

"Mom, wouldn't it be cool if we could breathe under water through our ears?"

"Mom, is God the same color as a rainbow?"

"Mom. Did you know that 'gangnam' backwards spells 'man-boob?!?'

"Mom, you are the best mom. Except when you are sort of tired."

"Mom, can we go to Target? It's my favorite."

"Mom, when you were little, were you in black & white?"

"Mom, can you have a sleepover with me?"

"Mommy, my honey, dis, you like purple? Awwww, you so sweet, Mommy!"

"We're not playing church, Mom. We're playing 'Grandpa Talking.'" 

"I can tell this is a church song. I can feel it in my circle." 

"Mom, did you know that Seth is in the Bible? My cousin! In the Bible!"

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart, strongness, and parts." 

"It's ok, Mom, even Jesus had a bad day once when he was crucified."

(Sigh.)

So. I don't do it all. I do. And pray--more than anything--that my kids know God because I share my busy life and imperfect self with them. If I can raise my children to be wise, discerning, spiritual people who can easily live without me--but don't want to--I will consider my life successful. 

Happy, Happy Mother's Day. 

Easter Overdues

So, these pictures took a lot more than three days to resurrect out of their digital SD card tomb. But that makes them all the sweeter. 

The weekend before Easter, we drove to the little hamlet of Hesston, KS to blend our souls with cousins. For five glorious days and nights, we busied ourselves with coffee, routine, unstructured idle parenting. And enjoyed a live-in bartender and Euker tournaments every night.

 (Before we left, my wise and not-so-tactful mother reminded me that "after three days, company starts to smell like dead fish.")

This is a caption waiting to happen.  The longer you look, the funnier it gets. 

Their was an easter egg treasure hunt, complete with easter baskets. 

This might be one of the Courtney Loves. Or maybe Lulu . . .  Liam was trying to see where the eggs come out. 

I believe this is prior to the Great Dye Spill of 2013

Dance, Evelyn Rain, till you wash the world clean with your powerful soul. 

We drove to the happ'nin' city of Hutchinson. In case you are wondering, the Cosmosphere is as good as--if not better than--the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. In addition to just as many awe-inspiring displays, there was a whole section on female astronauts and only a few items off-limits to touching and climbing on. With six (count them--six) little people in tow, touchable displays were incredible. It was also a bonus that one didn't actually have to walk through the gift shop in order to exit the building.

Posing in front of Apollo 13. Houston, we actually don't have a problem--everyone is smiling. 

The Endeavor. Really! We could even TOUCH it!!! 

The last night, Tyler & Eva spend at least two hours in the sub-freezing garage building a robot out of scraps. There was a welcoming ceremony and commencement exercises complete with sparklers left over from last July. 

Testing the world's first-ever "Cookie-Bot". 

And I was assured we never once smelled like fish. 

Well With My Soul

There are a few places I've been that I return to knowing my soul will find 

HOME.

Home in the timeless sense, that connectedness with the spirits around me who have come before and will come after and BE part of the landscape.

The first time I went to Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve I was 3. I remember it. Even then, I felt like the sand. Shifting, moving, restless permanence. It's a paradox of the soul.

How thankful I am to be able to take my kids there with me, and let them thrive in the expanse with absolutely no agenda except the one they decide. 

When we left, Gracie said, "Bye Sand Dunes! We had really fun!"

Even she knows they are alive.