Every year I pull together, usually at the last-minute, our family Christmas Cards. This year, I’m ahead of the game. They’re already done. And while it’s a little early to be sharing these with you…I wanted you to have a glimpse of just how great they turned out. Between the awesome photography of my friend Catherine at Bosley Creative and the fun cards at Shutterfly.com I could not be happier.

Stationery card
View the entire collection of cards.

They’re so cute!!
This post is not sponsored by anyone, just me sharing my opinion on how great these turned out.

Happy Holidays!

I’m Not Old Enough for This

February 7, 2012

I spent a lot of time this weekend, thinking back to the time when you were born. It started Thursday night, when I remembered that my water broke during Seinfeld…and I remained in denial (a sort of caged-tiger-pacing-with-anxiety denial, but denial all the same) until after ER was over. I clearly remember leaving the house with your dad, backing out of the driveway thinking…this is the last time we’ll ever be a family of two. There wasn’t a more anticipated baby in Fort Morgan, CO, dare I say…EVER. On the day you were born, as soon as I was able (stupid C-section drugs) I couldn’t put you down. All I could do was hold you, marvel over you, and kiss your little nicked up head. I looked at you, sang to you, and began to imagine our future together. By midnight, I was keeping your father awake (or at least pretending to be) worried about where you’d go to college and how we’d be able to afford it.

You see, since you were but minutes old, I’ve been worrying about you.  I’m your Mom and it’s my job. But, it IS warranted…let me explain.

By the time you were 15 months old, you’d already had two sets of stitches, over 10 total. By the time you were 3, you’d broken two bones  and given yourself 3rd degree burns. For most of your toddlerhood/ younger years, you were a walking time bomb and I was a ball of nerves.

But as hard as you played, you loved the people around you. The relationships you’ve created throughout your relatively short life are inspiring. It started with Brenda. She was your very first BFF. When she’d walk into the room, your face would just light up. Then you met Olivia and something tells me that you and she could be friends until you’re both old, married and your kids meet…at the swimming pool.  I suspect you’ll have much the same relationship with Joel. But it’s the relationships with the adults in your life that is truly amazing. Your ability to sit down and have grown up conversations, even at the age of 5, has always been remarkable. People love you when they meet you. There’s something absolutely captivating about you.

But, you are also a bit of a rule breaker, too. When it was just us, you’d frequently ask me what the consequences of a situation were before deciding whether or not you were going to follow my rules. Once you were in preschool/daycare, we had to work to define why the rules of the 2 and 3 year old rooms applied to you.  You were working on how to create policy with your classmates, however, they were mostly working on how to be potty-trained and put together puzzles.  Once you started school, that’s where the fun began.  It’s been a constant thing in our lives to work with the teachers to figure out how to motivate you to do what everyone else does…because, you son, have no interest in being like everyone else.

Despite the stress and hardship that brings for your teachers and I, it’s also one of my favorite qualities about you. For a few years, you only wore t-shirts that were a little sarcastic or a lot cynical. Then you changed your style to only wear Hawaiian shirts. Now it seems you’ve found a relatively nice balance of the two.  You love music, but almost none of the stuff most kids are listening to. In Kindergarten, your favorite radio program was John Tesch. You found him on the radio in your room that you’d figured out how to use and set to play quietly as you fell asleep.  You were constantly quoting him.  It was a weird, but in a REALLY. FUNNY. WAY.  And today, you quite literally, march to the beat of a different drummer. For years, you’ve been pounding on every hard surface, and some not so hard surfaces, CONSTANTLY. So this year, we bought you drums. You have a natural music ability of which I am in awe.

As you were approaching the teen years, we’ve already had conversations where I try to explain to you that my job is to get you through the next ten years or so alive. As a worrier, that is my largest concern.  Yes, I want you to go through life, successful, smart and loved…but those things come naturally to you. The staying alive part is what scares me. Part of being twice exceptional, both gifted and somewhat ADD, is your greatest sense is not that of the common variety. You are led by curiosity. “I wonder what happens if I do this….” It’s far too frequently led to hospital visits, broken trinkets, and even a GSW on a passing automobile. So, as you enter your teen years…let’s remember we’re in this together.

Happy Birthday, Bear.  I love every bit of you, always have.


Merry Christmas 2011

December 20, 2011

Our holidays are guaranteed to be filled with love and laughter. We hope the same for you and yours.

The year before double digits.

November 18, 2011

You have a style and a flair about you that is undeniable.

You are a dreamer.

You’re charming to sit and pass time with.

Your smile lights up the room and is highly contagious.

You’ve weathered this most recent storm with grace…and love.

The empathy you’ve embraced this year,  towards your brother especially, warms my heart.

You are witty and engaging. I can’t even imagine the places some of your ideas come from, but it must be wondrous.

Your heart is light, your ideas are silly, and your attitude is infectious.

Happy Birthday, little girl. We all love you…always.


September 15, 2011

This is my promise to you guys.

There are a lot of storms out there in the world.

But in our home, you will find peace.

You will find solace.

When the waters get stormy

and things don’t make sense, we’ll row together

to get to a place where the water is placid.





Mike and I will shelter you from the rain.

We will fight the dragons together.

The moat around our castle will be nothing  but a lazy river,

where you can safely imagine your future,

develop your dreams and build your

character to make all things good happen for you.



Time Out

July 7, 2011

Every spring/summer my son plays baseball. He loves it. Is he the best on his team, not even close, but he plays with heart. He’s out there because he wants to be out there. He’s been with the same team for years. We lose a few players every year. Some move on to the select leagues, some quit out of not really loving the game…but essentially they’ve become a tight crew. They have a pattern. They aren’t really in it the first few innings usually, by the third, they’ve hit their rhythm…and if the whole they’ve dug for themselves isn’t too deep, they win. They win as a team.

Baseball season is a true commitment, even for me. Practices, games, driving here and there. Laundry three times a week to be sure his uniform is always clean. It’s a commitment for Bear. When other kids are going to the pool during they day, he stays home on game days so that he’s not too tired to play. When you get to the field, you have to be up. You have to be ready. The heat can’t hold you back. Rain can’t hold you back. You have to have desire. He does…every day. Every year, I wonder, will he not want to play this year. Is this the year he grows tired of the commitment, of the rigor, of the effort…and every year, he’s eager and excited to sign up.

This year was no different. He played hard. He improved.

I was proud of him.

I was proud of the team.

I was proud of the coaches.

Until last night.

The head coach was out. The team was playing for third place against a select team. They’d beat this team before and could do it again. They were up 8 to 3 at the top of the 4th inning. My son rode the bench. By the middle of the 5th inning, he came over to the end of the dugout and asked the crowd if he was “the worst baseball player ever” and broke into tears. This still breaks my heart. This team is a pay to play team. They are not select. It’s about teaching young men to learn and love baseball. Sometimes winning happens, sometimes it doesn’t. But the back-up coaches didn’t get that last night. They failed to play about 4 or 5 of the boys fairly, because they’re not the STAR players. They took a time out and removed a player from right field when a left-handed batter came up. They broke the spirit of the boys that had gotten them to the semi-finals. Even the good players, saw what was happening and weren’t happy about it. They went too far for the win.

I know some people wished all season long that the head coach had done more reprimanding or held more practices, to make the boys EVEN BETTER. But this coach understood that his job was to keep the boys improving, interested and enjoying the game. He taught them that they win as a team and they lose as a team. These other coaches forgot that. These other coaches, in a few thoughtless actions and words, crushed the dreams of impressionable boys on the verge of becoming men. Through their actions, they taught the boys that you can sacrifice anything as long as you want to win enough. That’s not why my son plays baseball. He plays for the uniform. He plays for his team. He plays for the love of the game. I love seeing him in his uniform. I love watching the boys learn over the course of the season how to play like a team.

Go Royals!

Much like the trash man, I’m one day late in my posting cycle…Hope your fourth was as fabulous as ours.  We were reminded this weekend how great our friends are, how wonderful our neighborhood is, and what a loving family we have. Thanks to my 2 and 4 (if only for one more day) year old nieces this song was in our head all weekend.

Katy Perry – Firework

A rebirth of sorts

May 25, 2011

I’m BAAAAACK!  It’s been a crazy 2011, what with wedding planning and such.  But the wedding is over and there’s so much to say about these kids of mine.  I miss writing here.  I miss sharing it with the kids.  I hope they miss coming here and reading this.  So here’s the plan.  I’ll be diligently meeting at least a few good posts frequently.

1. Music Monday – A quick post (and maybe a youtube video) of one of the kids or our family’s favorite songs.  Music is very important in this house. Why  not keep these memories together, too.

2. Wordless Wednesday- I need more pictures of my kiddos.  I just don’t take them often enough. So now, I will have a reason to get creative and build repetition.

3. Think Back Thursday- They’re 8 and 12 now.  The stories of yesterday are many.  It’s important to capture those, as well.


I love these kids and I love this space. I hope they’ll love having it back.

Boys are different than girls, as a blanket statement, it’s just true. Bear is an adventurer. He will invariably find the only puddle left in the street after a rainstorm,  the lone glob of mud beconing to be squished beneath his immaculate church shoes and of course the rock, pebble or dirt clod begging to be thrown into whatever nearby target he can find, sometimes his sister. And while both Bug and Bear were gifted with BB guns a short while back, only Bear is out there setting up plastic army men, forgotten happy meal toys or other misfit toys as targets day after day.  It never gets old. Being as it’s so soon after Christmas, the echoes of a Christmas Story are still bouncing around  in my head. And Bear, like Ralphie, loves his carbine-action, 200-shot, range model air rifle. 
So was I surprised to get a call last night that started began with “My friend and I were outside shooting our bb gun and even though I had been told not to go exploring, we did.”? Not really. From here, the story took a long and winding, detailed path to the eventual “and he was shooting a target down by the creek, when he shot clear through the target and we heard a PING sound.  Since we didn’t know what happened but we knew it wasn’t good we ran and hid.” Again, the story meandered about until…”She found us, and she was a teacher at my elementary school.” Followed shortly by, “he’d hit her car, Mom, but only the bumper”.
All the while, I’m listening, jaw hanging open at the audacity of my child to do this and also amused at the way  that only he can take a story and make it longer than the actual incident. I’m conflicted by the emotion of downright ANGER than my son could be so thoughtless and beguiled by his consistency of just being so PREDICTABLY a boy.
When finally, he gets to the very point in which he called. “Dad says we are no where near finished being punished, but he thinks that when I am at your house, I should be responsible for emptying the dishwasher and picking up dog poop for awhile.
Ah, yes.  THE COLD HARD REALITY.  While boys will always be boys…there will always be consequences. And the consequences are, quite often, a real bitch.