It's a good start

You'd think after being married to someone for 11 years, you'd be able to go on autopilot once in awhile.

Eleven feels like such an accomplishment. It says, "we're not messing around!" It demands a pat on the back and a parade.

However, my wise father put things into perspective for me when he causally mentioned, "it's a good start."

He's totally right. Eleven years out of fifty or sixty is just the beginning. And yet, it's still an accomplishment.

At times I feel like we're standing next to each other, watching as the bullets of divorce or sickness or infertility or financial stress claim and injure the people we know.

It makes me want to cling tighter, look inward, and put up the defenses against whatever might try and tear us apart. Because, we're not anything special, we don't have secret insight into what makes a long term relationship work. All I can do is be sure I'm doing my part.

These eleven years of marriage have taught me that:
1. being kind and loving trumps all
2. listening is a highly underrated skill and so very important
3. laughter is the best medicine and nourishment for my marriage
4. there is no place for judgmental thoughts or feelings
5. daily sacrifices are necessary and while it's difficult, the benefits are life-giving

It's no surprise that things change in 11 years. There are three distinct grey hairs on Aleks' chin now. I've got more wrinkles around my eyes. We have less, yet also more patience for each other. The stakes are higher: kids, a house, a dog (a dog!), more pressure in our careers, but it's these things that keep up tethered to each other and motivating us to be better people and spouses.

I'm really happy that Aleks still likes me because I really like him. Heaven knows there are reasons he could have left long ago.

He's the yin to my yang. The air in my tires. The bacon in my twice baked potatoes. He makes my life infinitely better. I'm grateful to be on this journey together.

Happy anniversary darling.

Life is complicated

This afternoon Aleks and I are leaving for Chicago to celebrate our anniversary. On Saturday we'll have been married for eleven years.
Because I have THE BEST mother-in-law, we are leaving the kids at home.
Which also means, I've almost killed myself getting everything ready so that I can (hopefully) re-enter life on Sunday relatively pain free.

I'm desperate to get away. I've needed a kid free vacation for awhile and I might just lay in bed at the hotel for 2 1/2 days and watch TV.

And yet, I'm so sad about leaving the girls. I know they will be fine and have a wonderful time with Nana, and yet, I'm a mess.

Ruby is really the one I worry about. She is so sensitive and the one who feels differences in schedules and atmosphere the most. This morning she was awake at 5, wanting to sleep in our bed. I think I told her no, it's all a bleary haze. When I went into her room later this morning, I saw this.

I came downstairs and said "Ruby, what do we draw on with crayons?" and right as she was answering "paper" I saw the little lightbulb go off, she knew I knew she had drawn all over her walls.

Maia never did anything like this, but I think its because she just didn't think of it. It's hard for me to be mad. I'm actually tickled that she's being creative and expressing herself this way. It's just crayon, anyway, and I'm going to paint the whole house this year. (Don't tell Aleks)

Not an hour later I saw this thumbprint in some softened butter.

Ruby denied it at first, but after being assured she would not get in trouble, confessed.

Then I had masters swim this morning and Ruby just did not want to go to the kid's zone. I'm sure she's feeling a bit of anxiety about us leaving and it breaks my heart and frustrates me because there is stuff I need to get done and at the same time I know that I ask a lot of my kids and they are so good about being flexible and going with the flow.

So now, Aleks and I are at the airport, waiting for our delayed flight and thankfully, I'm already starting to feel the stress dissipate. I'm not going to lie, I did shed a few tears in the car.

Last night a good friend told me just what I needed to hear, "they will miss you and will be so excited to see you when you come back. AND you'll be an even better mama then because you spent some quality time with your hubby... everything involves sacrifice, even the good stuff!"

So, I'm banishing my guilt and an jumping all into this gift of a weekend I've been given.

See ya'll on the other side! (Also, I'm sure my IG account will be full of anniversary pics, so check in there if you're interested.)

Four

Today Ruby is four.

I think she's going to have a really good year. I've been seeing signs, promises of new growth from the soil we've been working for the past two years.

Big things like tantrums becoming a thing of the past.

Little things like trotting into her preschool class with hardly a glance back.

And even things like having a bounce house on the first cool weekend in awhile.

We rented a bounce house for Maia's birthday back in April, but it never came. After finally getting in touch with the owner, he profusely apologized and offered us a bounce house for 24 hours, free of charge.

We didn't plan a party for Ruby. Partly because she's the second child. Partly because she doesn't have any friends that weren't Maia's friends first. Partly because she just started school and is still getting to know her classmates. Partly because we're didn't get our act together soon enough.

We did however, invite one of her sweet friends from school and they had a blast bouncing and eating cupcakes.

We basically had the bounce house all weekend and didn't really see much of the girls. It was fantastic. They wore themselves out.

Ruby was very sad that "her bounce house" was gone this morning.

Yesterday we went to build-a-bear (her choice), since I have to work today, but this morning we went to breakfast and will eat cupcakes and open presents and hopefully she'll feel loved and special on her day.

Oh, my sweet Ruby.
Just as quick to hug and kiss and be cuddled and she is to voice her displeasure with you or her socks or Isabelle.
My passionate little bug.

An imagination like none other. A little actress.
"Mommy, take a picture where I'm saying 'uh uh!'"

My little clown. Maia is adamant that Ruby is the funny one in the family.
A creative thinker who will do really exciting things one day. If anyone can think outside a paradigm, it's this little peanut.

How empty and boring my life would be with Ruby Ann to challenge, entertain, and love me the way she does.

Happy Birthday my sweet girl. I am so glad you were born.

Almost four

In January of 2013 Ruby was 2 and Maia was almost 3. We went to visit my parents in Arizona and while Aleks had to get back to snowy Wichita, I was able to stay and enjoy the beautiful weather. We had just spent 2 weeks in Oregon for Christmas and Ruby was ready to be home.

I distinctly remember that afternoon. Ruby desperately needed a nap (I did too) and her sleep deprivation seemed to give her superhuman strength.

She and I battled for close to 2 hours. Why I chose to let it go on that long, I can only write off as exhaustion fueled logic.

In the end, she won. Never took a nap. Broke my spirit. Made me question my capabilities as a parent.

That day I called Aleks and told him that we should look into a vasectomy.

Almost every night for the next two years, bedtime with Ruby has involved tantrums and/or manipulative shenanigans that caused me to dread that time after dinner.

We tried everything we could think of. Incentives, timeouts, threats, yelling, tenderness, locking doors, persuading, routines, begging, ignoring, taking away of privileges. I hate to admit it, but we even swatted her butt a few times, of which I feel completely hypocritical about. Actually, that entire list makes me feel sick.

Nothing seemed to impact my ferociously stubborn child. It was almost as if it was habit for her.

Bedtime=tantrum.

We could not figure out how to break that cycle.

Two years people.

I think the only thing that kept up sane was that we started this whole process relatively early in the evening so we always had time to decompress by ourselves after she finally passed out.

I can't put an exact date on it, but Ruby has not thrown one tantrum at bedtime in the past week and a half.

She's come close, but we've been able to head her off with ease.

Next week Ruby will be 4. She started preschool last month. We got a puppy. Lots of changes and yet everything else has stayed the same.

It's like a switch got flipped.

I'm hesitant to even mention it, but I'm not terribly superstitious and the past two years have taught me that I don't really have that much control over the situation.

My biggest prayer is that she comes out of this season with minimal scaring that fades quickly. Actually I hope that for all of us.

So cheers to a new season. To maturity and growth and cooperation.

September

Today I ripped off August from our calendar to reveal September's page.

This next season is swallowing us up into it's current of reading charts and colored shapes and meetings and paperwork and repertoire lists.

It's wonderful, it really is. Not just the sweet freshness of my girls' new school experiences, but also my return to work and the excitement of the college atmosphere.

I often stop to think how fortunate I am to work with college age students. Of course it's not all roses but the goose pimples that occur in my studio are addicting.

There's more to say. Thoughts are developing roots which will hopefully become something of worth that I can share.

But for now, I'll leave you with Ruby, who was couponing during breakfast the other morning, while waiting for her coffee.

Happy Labor Day.

Preschool

About 45 minutes before we left for Ruby's first day of school, she tripped and skinned her knee on the pavement.

You would have thought her leg was cut to bone, the way she carried on.

(see bandaid on the left knee)

"Ruby, are you nervous about going to school today?"
"No! I'm not nervous!"

Only Baia would comfort her and she cuddled with Maia's pink bunny all the way to school.

Thankfully her leg wasn't TOO badly hurt, so she could walk into school herself.

You'd think it would be easier with the second one.

Nope.

Kelle says what I wish I had found the words to say "You're still going to leave feeling like you left your own beating heart in a cooler in a classroom, asking someone else to make it thrive for seven hours."

Thankfully I only have to let go for 3 hours at a time. Baby steps for this mama.

I definitely was crying down the hallway as Maia and I walked to the car.

At pickup I got the biggest hug (honestly, she always gives the best hugs anyway) and we were right back where we left off. Complaining about a hurt knee and cuddling Baia.

Girlfriend was tired.

First days need to be celebrated. For the courage to try new things. For putting our best face on, even though we're a little nervous inside and our knees are skinned.

Frozen yogurt for all!
Also, why does this week have to be the hottest week of the summer?!

My strong-willed, affectionate, dramatic girl has taken a huge first step today and I couldn't be more proud of her. This child especially has been strongly connected to her mama. The gradual separation is often painful, but we're both ready.

Kindergarten

The first day has come and gone.
We are all exhausted and handling it in different ways.

It's funny how the effects of change sneak up and you don't notice it until you're suddenly trying not to cry in your muscle pump class when the instructor runs in late because it was her daughter's first day of kindergarten as well.

This week we all start school. Maia will be in afternoon kindergarten five days a week. Ruby will be in afternoon preschool three days a week.

But today was really Maia's day.

My smart, sassy firstborn had her first day of kindergarten.
And she was ready.

The teachers were all "just drop your child off in the car line and someone will be there to meet them" and I'm all "my little girl is only going to have a first day of kindergarten once so I'm walking her in" while quivering inside because this 33 year old firstborn doesn't like to break the rules.

Maia embraced this day with enthusiasm. She couldn't hug me goodbye fast enough.
"Can I take of picture of you and Mrs. Hays?"
"No!" (I swear she rolled her eyes too)

What I'm realizing is, the older they get, the less time they spend with me. More and more outside influences impact their minds.

Do they know how wonderful they are? Will they choose to be loving and kind?

It's not that I'm sad my girls are growing up. I'm quite excited about that actually. I'm just scared of what I don't know. That maybe whatever happens at school will change her beyond recognition.

Then I pick her up and she's all smiles and I'm fighting back tears again because she's exactly the same (and alive) and if she can be open to new experiences, than maybe I can too.

How is she so brave?

We're almost to the car and then I hear in a tiny voice "Mommy I really need to go potty." And just like that I'm back on solid ground. This I know how to handle.

Tomorrow she takes the bus to school.
Wednesday Ruby starts.

Hold me.

Or send wine.