Here's to a new year and a new me

Oh, internet. Words cannot begin to express my gratitude at your heartfelt empathy, sympathy, and love on my behalf. You are just plain good. When I think that the majoirty of you have never even met me in real life, your sweet words are that much more touching.

Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was not easy to put that post out there. It is hard for me to put my weaknesses on display - be they real or perceived. I have a hard time letting my guard down. But this blog has become such an important record of my life that I felt I could not let such a soul changing, monumental experience go unwritten about. And yet you embraced me anyway. And made me wish we could all sit around in my living room, large slices of coconut cake on our laps, and laugh and cry over it all in person. Please tell me there is a way to make that happen? Someday?

Anyway, when I saw this video on my real-life friend Katie's blog - I knew I had to share it here and make it my new motto for the year. I love it. Made me laugh and made me cry. My two favorite emotions rolled into one.

No more looking back. Only moving forward.

I'm gonna do the things that I wanna do...

Holy freakin' crap.

I just wrote out the biggest check of my life. Was it to buy a new car? Or a new house? What about plastic surgery to make me look as scary and wax-like as Joan Rivers?

Theoretically, this check might have covered all three, so big it was.

But unfortunately, it was to my federal government for a little thing we like to call the taxes.

It just stinks. And makes me ridiculously angry.

So I am not thinking about it. Not one bit.

Instead, I am looking over at my babies, happily reading with their damp hair, just out of the shower. I am smiling at the memory of Chase tearing open the brown box from Amazon this afternoon that held a new book - just for him. I am basking in the warm, sweet smell of pancakes, fresh off the griddle because, well, it just felt like a pancake kind of night.

I am looking forward to proofing a lovely newborn session tonight after the kids are in bed. I am remembering how fun it was to hold him during the shoot. I am relishing the tired, sore muscles that got destroyed by the trainer this morning because it means that I worked as hard as I could.

And it just feels so good to work this body of mine.

I am turning up the iTunes on my new favorite song, even though I am late to the party in loving it. As Hannah informed me the other day, "Everyone in second grade has been singing that song for-like-ever, Mom."

Well. Maybe I'll even eat some candy.

[But probably not with the pork and beans.]

another lesson in humility

My kids leave soggy, wet towels on the floor in their room after a shower.

My kids ignore me for hours, and choose the exact minute I pick up the phone to desperately need all of my attention.

My kids leave a trail of crumbs behind them everywhere they go.

My kids eat way too many pancakes, covered in way too much syrup.

My kids (especially that middle one) track mud obliviously through my just-mopped kitchen.

My kids climb trees and scrape their knees. And then proceed to use no less than 19 bandaids to make it all better.

My kids fight and tease each other.

My kids get their feelings hurt by other kids at school.

My kids somehow always find and consume my stash of the good (and expensive) protein bars.

My kids jump on the trampoline until they are breathless. Then they get up and do it again.

My kids ride bikes in the wintertime with red cheeks and knitted caps.

My kids sometimes make their beds.

My kids love to read.

My kids cannot fall asleep unless they hug and kiss me goodnight.

My kids run hard, play hard, and laugh hard.

My kids do a lot. Some of it gets on my nerves.

My kids have full bellies and rich lives.

Today I was reminded of this as I sat once again in the waiting room at Children's Hospital where McKay goes twice a year for his asthma check up. I sat next to a mama who held a toddler on her lap. The beautiful boy was bald, though not like a newborn - from chemo. She had bags under her eyes and wore her tremendous worry on her sleeve like a thousand-pound anvil. She smiled and thanked me when I handed her something she dropped. My heart ached for this scared little mama and her sick baby. I felt guilty, as I looked over at my robust, healthy boy - totally absorbed in his book and oblivious to the sorrows surrounding us.

Today, once again, my heart is full of gratitude for all the many things my kids can do.

And it aches terribly for the mamas whose kids cannot.

Then and now

Do any of you remember this?

That was my babies in August of 2006. Here are some tidbits about our lives during that time:

• We lived less than a mile from the beach in sunny, perfect, warm San Diego
  
• The Husband did not ever get on a plane, and frequently came home for lunch
• McKay and Chase were both in elementary school, and Hannah had just started preschool
• We were both renting and owning a home at the same time (it wasn't pretty)
• I had a blog that a few people liked to read
  
• Hannah's best friend was Sleeping Beauty (and she was sure to remind us of that daily)
  
• I had very little time to myself
• I made lots of cookie dough
  
• I drank lots of diet coke
• The Husband hated his job and was professionally very miserable
  
• My kids went to bed at six o'clock every night
  
• Chase spent every waking minute hunting lizards
• I pushed Hannah in the stroller daily on our walk to pick the boys up from school
  

Here they are, three years later in August of 2009:

And here are some ways our life has changed in the past three years:

• We no longer live less than a mile from the beach
  
• My three kids are in school all day long
• The Husband is very happy now at his job
  
• We are thankfully owning just one home
  
• McKay is in his first year of middle school, and Chase and Hannah are both in elementary school
  
• Hannah's best friend is no longer Sleeping Beauty
• Chase spends every waking minute hunting frogs
  
• I am now a small business owner
• The Husband is once again a frequent flier and is never home for lunch (or breakfast, or dinner, come to think of it)
  
• My kids still go to bed some days at six o'clock
  
• I still make way too much cookie dough
• I still drink lots of diet coke
• I have a blog, and a few people like to read it
  
• I no longer own or operate a stroller
• And I have oodles of time to myself

While I'd probably sell my soul to live a mile from the beach again, I wouldn't trade where we are for the world.

Life is good. And it just keeps getting better.

Fare thee well, 2009

I am breaking radio silence here at Casa de Stie. (I know. Try to contain yourselves.)

We have had a lovely holiday break, and plan on making the most of the few days we have left. It has been just a fantastic week - lots of movies, books, games, naps, and food. The Husband has been TOTALLY off the grid. We have only ventured out of the house for movies, absolutely necessary grocery store runs, and church. It's been positively heaven. I could stand this life all year long.

Of course, my house would be a wreck.

But it'd be nice to live like this a little more often.

Today I have been pouring over my photo archives -- reminiscing and laughing, cringing and critiquing. And what I decided was this: 2009 was very kind to us. So much so that I find myself on my knees in gratitude and sheer wonder at our good fortune. We've had our challenges, as every family does, but we successfully wound our way through another year -- learning, laughing, crying, and loving.

Here, to ring in the new year, are the highlights from our family. In photo form.

Happy new year, indeed.

Lord help me, I love them something fierce

Today there was a shift in the universe. Did you feel it?

It happened about 6:30 tonight. I was driving home after taking one child to tae kwan do, and had carpool duty for the little ballerina and her friends at the same time. Both boys were in the car, begging to be let out as soon as we were within running distance of our neighborhood.

Apparently the soundtrack from Glee, combined with the high-pitched chatter of three little girls, was causing their heads to explode off their bodies.

I gave in today, as I was just too tired to fight them on it.

After dropping off the noisy ballerinas, I headed home, fervently wracking my brain for a dinner plan that did not include the words "Subway" or "Mc" anything. Unfortunately, the brain wracking was not netting me any brilliant ideas.

Tired, with feet hurting, I opened the door to the house and was met by a light, sweet scent. I set my purse and keys by the door and walked through the mudroom towards the kitchen. And then I stopped, a lump caught in my throat.

There were my boys. Cooking dinner. All by themselves.

This was a real first. And my mind could not help but flash back to a time when I'd walk in the door and frequently find my boys doing this instead:

They were an energetic pair, these two, that is for sure. Sometimes so bent on their loud and wild play that a wake of broken things was often left behind them. They destroyed a historic landmark and nearly caused me death by embarrassment in the process. Not to mention became walking birth control advertisements for more than a few younger siblings.

But here today, these once-terrors grew up just little a bit, right before my eyes. As I watched McKay confidently flipping the pancakes, and Chase at the stove scrambling some eggs, I got a little teary eyed. I thought back to those hard nights where it was all I could do to not fall down in a puddle of tears before bedtime rolled around. Days spent wrestling them in store checkout lines and then fearfully chasing after them in crowded parking lots. Wondering if they'd be this way forever.

Wondering how I would survive if they were.

But tonight they looked older to me than they ever have before. Chatting pleasantly with each other, they worked together doing such a grown up task. Taking it upon themselves to do something they knew would make my life just a little bit easier. It was a brief window into the men they are becoming. Men who have good hearts. Hearts at home in their sweet, pure souls. I stood there in the shadows, soaking it all in. A tear spilled out, and I caught it before it trickled down my cheek and betrayed my sudden rush of emotions.

Then all at once, Hannah brushed by me, threw off her coat and scrambled up to the bar.

"Yay! Pancakes!"

Yay pancakes, indeed.