Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
December 10, 2013
October 14, 2013
June 30, 2013
The Turtle
Last Thursday, my husband went to New Mexico to work for a week. Before he left, he promised Danny a surprise upon his return. He didn't have anything in mind in particular, I believe. He just wanted to give our boy a reason to look forward to his return, instead of lamenting the fact that he was leaving.
On the drive south, he called me and said with boyish delight, "I found Danny's surprise!"
"You found his surprise??"
And then he told me about how he almost drove over a turtle, but instead he stopped and picked it up and rescued it and he's bringing it home.
"A turtle!?" I was picturing the turtle my grandmother's neighbor had in her backyard for years when I was a child. This turtle was a foot in diameter and ate all kinds of everything.
"Yes, a turtle!!"
"Um, might we want to discuss the incorporation of a new pet into our home first??" I asked, laughing internally at my husband, but unable to reflect the hilarity of the situation in my voice. I just sounded cranky.
"Okay, yeah, I guess."
After he explained that this box turtle was 3 inches in diameter, I was a little more open to the idea, but I still texted my mom: "I can't believe he's bringing home a turtle." Merely a couple of weeks ago I was giggling at her for having found a box turtle in her own backyard, naming it Ezra and sending me daily stories about it via text. Little did I know that at that moment, she was babysitting both turtles in the back yard of her New Mexico home.
Fast forward a week. Alejandro brings the box turtle home and presents Danny with his new pet. Danny was totally delighted and spent the next several hours asking his Papa approximately one million times if he would "lift up the roof of his house" so he could see his turtle again. They fed him rotten celery that evening.
Oh, maybe this won't be so bad. He'll just eat all the greens that go bad from our refrigerator instead of having to throw away what we didn't eat. Now, when I have to buy a whole bag of celery just for 2 stalks for a recipe, I won't feel so bad. Danny learns responsiblity for a creature and we minimize waste. Perfect!
The following day I just about jumped out of my skin, when I looked down to see this little turtle peering his little head over the top edge of the 18 inch tall box he'd been put into after having scaled the plastic-lined walls with his razor sharp claws. Ahem. Ok. Dull cute little turtle toes. But still.
Great. Just what I need... to accidentally step on a box turtle in the middle of the night and scream bloody murder.
And then came the crickets. Yes, crickets. Approximately 500 million of them alive in a bag for turtle food. At that, I put my proverbial foot down. A turtle I can handle. Live crickets, not so much. They were banished to the garage. But not before Danny brought the bag upstairs to the bedroom for me to see.
I almost gagged.
What sticker did Danny choose for his sticker chart last night? A cricket, of course.
Then later last night when all boys (1 big and 2 little) were sound asleep in their beds, I killed a moth with a 3 inch wing span. Say ew. I was pretty proud of myself for conquering this beast without waking any slumbering boys to take care of it for me. This morning, as we rolled out of bed I told my husband about it, proud of my feat.
"What!? Where is it? We have to feed it to the turtle! That's good protein! All bugs killed must now be saved for the turtle. We have to find moths and worms to feed to him!! Come on! We have to hurry up and go get it before a bird eats it!” And he bounds out of bed.
Oh good grief.
He and Danny are currently outside hunting worms to feed our little box turtle.
The level of boy grodiness in this household just spiked about 37 notches. This calls for tea and a pedicure.
On the drive south, he called me and said with boyish delight, "I found Danny's surprise!"
"You found his surprise??"
And then he told me about how he almost drove over a turtle, but instead he stopped and picked it up and rescued it and he's bringing it home.
"A turtle!?" I was picturing the turtle my grandmother's neighbor had in her backyard for years when I was a child. This turtle was a foot in diameter and ate all kinds of everything.
"Yes, a turtle!!"
"Um, might we want to discuss the incorporation of a new pet into our home first??" I asked, laughing internally at my husband, but unable to reflect the hilarity of the situation in my voice. I just sounded cranky.
"Okay, yeah, I guess."
After he explained that this box turtle was 3 inches in diameter, I was a little more open to the idea, but I still texted my mom: "I can't believe he's bringing home a turtle." Merely a couple of weeks ago I was giggling at her for having found a box turtle in her own backyard, naming it Ezra and sending me daily stories about it via text. Little did I know that at that moment, she was babysitting both turtles in the back yard of her New Mexico home.
Fast forward a week. Alejandro brings the box turtle home and presents Danny with his new pet. Danny was totally delighted and spent the next several hours asking his Papa approximately one million times if he would "lift up the roof of his house" so he could see his turtle again. They fed him rotten celery that evening.
Oh, maybe this won't be so bad. He'll just eat all the greens that go bad from our refrigerator instead of having to throw away what we didn't eat. Now, when I have to buy a whole bag of celery just for 2 stalks for a recipe, I won't feel so bad. Danny learns responsiblity for a creature and we minimize waste. Perfect!
The following day I just about jumped out of my skin, when I looked down to see this little turtle peering his little head over the top edge of the 18 inch tall box he'd been put into after having scaled the plastic-lined walls with his razor sharp claws. Ahem. Ok. Dull cute little turtle toes. But still.
Great. Just what I need... to accidentally step on a box turtle in the middle of the night and scream bloody murder.
And then came the crickets. Yes, crickets. Approximately 500 million of them alive in a bag for turtle food. At that, I put my proverbial foot down. A turtle I can handle. Live crickets, not so much. They were banished to the garage. But not before Danny brought the bag upstairs to the bedroom for me to see.
I almost gagged.
What sticker did Danny choose for his sticker chart last night? A cricket, of course.
Then later last night when all boys (1 big and 2 little) were sound asleep in their beds, I killed a moth with a 3 inch wing span. Say ew. I was pretty proud of myself for conquering this beast without waking any slumbering boys to take care of it for me. This morning, as we rolled out of bed I told my husband about it, proud of my feat.
"What!? Where is it? We have to feed it to the turtle! That's good protein! All bugs killed must now be saved for the turtle. We have to find moths and worms to feed to him!! Come on! We have to hurry up and go get it before a bird eats it!” And he bounds out of bed.
Oh good grief.
He and Danny are currently outside hunting worms to feed our little box turtle.
The level of boy grodiness in this household just spiked about 37 notches. This calls for tea and a pedicure.
May 18, 2013
Bedtime Wreckage
We just finished the bedtime routine with Danny. I'm emotional and tired (go figure) and Danny stroked my hair as I laid my head on his pillow in our traditional one minute of cuddling before we say goodnight.
Tears flowed.
Then I got up to go get lip balm for my boy's chapped lips after a day in the sun and when I returned to the bedroom, Alejandro had put Gianni on the bed next to Danny. Gianni stared at Danny's face and Danny propped himself up on one elbow and talked to his little brother like the little man he's growing into. I don't even remember what he said, but the two of them just hung out together, there on the bed, while Alejandro looked down at them. There my three boys were, talking and lovin' on one another, just being family. My family.
It completely wrecked me.
Tears flowed.
Then I got up to go get lip balm for my boy's chapped lips after a day in the sun and when I returned to the bedroom, Alejandro had put Gianni on the bed next to Danny. Gianni stared at Danny's face and Danny propped himself up on one elbow and talked to his little brother like the little man he's growing into. I don't even remember what he said, but the two of them just hung out together, there on the bed, while Alejandro looked down at them. There my three boys were, talking and lovin' on one another, just being family. My family.
It completely wrecked me.
April 2, 2013
33 Week Maternity Shoot
Several weeks ago, we had our family maternity shoot - something I've always wanted to do - with the most fabulous Taryn Avery. You can check out her photography website right here. It was a ton of fun! We started in her home studio.
I love the different colors of all of our hands in this shot.
Then we drove to a local Colorado Springs park and got some more photos there, where the sunset and the light were fantastic!
As time went on, we loosened up and got more comfortable in front of the camera.
And M&M bribes worked quite nicely. ;-)
This is my most favorite unplanned shot of the day!
We're almost ready for you, Baby Boy... and we love you bunches already!
March 10, 2013
The 3 a.m. Season
There are Springs, Summers, Winters, and Autumns, and the funky in-betweens when it can't decide if it's Summer or Fall, and then there are those others. Those seasons of life that seem to throw you completely off kilter and you suddenly find yourself in survival mode for much longer than you expected.
Seasons like right now.
I think I'll call this season the 3 a.m. season. Because I'm awake almost every morning at this hour, thanks to the needs that this second little boy is causing on my taxed and stretched and tired and (at the moment) heartburned-out body. I recently told some friends that maybe I should just schedule something for myself every morning at this hour, since it seems to be the only time I can currently count on being awake, alert, and uninterrupted.
One of them suggested prayer. They're absolutely fantastic like that.
These friends, they're called My Lovelies. I don't think I've mentioned them here before. We are a group of 15 that evolved out of a secret Facebook focus group originally intended to be editors and collaborators for this life-changing book. (Y'all should buy it. Because anytime you can change your life for $3.99 and 31 daily devotions, you should.)
Last Spring we were a group of twenty something online barely acquaintances who agreed to collaborate on a book together. Now we are a group of 15 and they are my best friends. My BEST FRIENDS. These girls will stop what they are doing to pray for another who is half a country away because of an anguished cry voiced on facebook over spilled milk or temper tantrums or ugly days or just plain ol' PMS. And we laugh (ok we LOL) until we cry and our cheeks hurt over things that make no sense to anyone else, like metal chickens and poop. And we intercede for each other and buy groceries and plane tickets for each other, because that's what good girlfriends do.
I've only met about half of them face to face. But that's about to change. Next month - in just four and a half short weeks - they are almost all gathering at my house for a girls' weekend. I've lovingly told my boys they must leave the premises for this group of girls I've never met, so that we can have 4 glorious days of kid-free girl time to do whatever. we. want. After the Are You Crazy!? conversation, Alejandro graciously agreed with that look that I know is only because he knows how much this means to me.
This will be the very first girls' weekend I've ever gotten to be a part of - much less host. (Well, unless you count Mary Kay conferences, which are a big ol' party and so much fun, but not the same as girls gathering at a house for four days to just be together.) We've been planning it for a year and now we are all just trying to keep ourselves inside our own skin in anticipation and excitement. Well, at least, I am.
Everyone needs to go get themselves a set of their own Lovelies to do life with.
Life. Seasons. Survival mode. That's right. That's what I was orginally writing about, wasn't I.... right.
These Lovelies, and my dear, blessed, long-suffering husband are going to be SO glad when this 3 a.m. season of survival I'm in is over. I mean, we're all enjoying it for what it is. Don't get me wrong. There are the kicks, and the million trips to the bathroom and the constant eating. Constant. Eating. ...wait, I meant to go off on a list of the wonders of pregnancy right then. Sorry about that. Anyway, we are enjoying this season for what it is, but we will also be glad - so very glad - when it's over and it feels a little less like survival. And my husband and my Lovelies and everyone else around me can welcome the sane, logical, emotionally balanced Renee back into their life once again.
In the meantime, I'll do my best to cherish the anticipation. The reorganization of a house. The reorganization of a life. The sweet one-on-one moments with my little boy who acts entirely too much like a little man sometimes. Like tonight at our family Starbucks date way past his bedtime. Every time he just holds that little Starbucks kids' hot chocolate and takes a sip while giving me a grown-up look, I could just squeeze him and go right back to when he was a newborn babe, patiently waiting for me to figure out how to mother him. Oh, my sweet boy.
I'll cherish the moments when I suck in my breath and close my eyes and breathe deep and wait, while my body finishes another practice contraction. And that look in my husband's eye as he waits, knowing without a word what's going on. "Contracting?" he says, just to acknowledge what I'm going through. "Mmm," I respond. And just behind the expression of concern and sympathy, is a light glowy expression because his wife and unborn son are just getting ready for what's to come in the next 8 weeks, give or take a few days.
I'll cherish the cute wardrobe thas has been put together by loving loaning friends and Target sales, full of stretchy pants and huge waist-lines and the blessed break from sucking in my mid-section for 9 months.
I'll cherish the anticipation of a baby boy, so close to my heart, and yet still unknown, who will change and shape my faith and my motherhood and my character and my person and my life in a whole new yet unknown way.
I'll even cherish the quiet uninterrupted moments at 3 a.m., when I can read my favorite writers and be uninterruptedly inspired. Even if they are born out of heartburn and the gazillionth trip to the bathroom.
See, Renee? There IS a lot to enjoy right now. So just ride it out. Take each day of these next 8 weeks one at a time. Breathe slower. Or at least harder and longer. And enjoy this 3 a.m. season. It will only happen to you quite this way just once.
Seasons like right now.
I think I'll call this season the 3 a.m. season. Because I'm awake almost every morning at this hour, thanks to the needs that this second little boy is causing on my taxed and stretched and tired and (at the moment) heartburned-out body. I recently told some friends that maybe I should just schedule something for myself every morning at this hour, since it seems to be the only time I can currently count on being awake, alert, and uninterrupted.
One of them suggested prayer. They're absolutely fantastic like that.
These friends, they're called My Lovelies. I don't think I've mentioned them here before. We are a group of 15 that evolved out of a secret Facebook focus group originally intended to be editors and collaborators for this life-changing book. (Y'all should buy it. Because anytime you can change your life for $3.99 and 31 daily devotions, you should.)
Last Spring we were a group of twenty something online barely acquaintances who agreed to collaborate on a book together. Now we are a group of 15 and they are my best friends. My BEST FRIENDS. These girls will stop what they are doing to pray for another who is half a country away because of an anguished cry voiced on facebook over spilled milk or temper tantrums or ugly days or just plain ol' PMS. And we laugh (ok we LOL) until we cry and our cheeks hurt over things that make no sense to anyone else, like metal chickens and poop. And we intercede for each other and buy groceries and plane tickets for each other, because that's what good girlfriends do.
I've only met about half of them face to face. But that's about to change. Next month - in just four and a half short weeks - they are almost all gathering at my house for a girls' weekend. I've lovingly told my boys they must leave the premises for this group of girls I've never met, so that we can have 4 glorious days of kid-free girl time to do whatever. we. want. After the Are You Crazy!? conversation, Alejandro graciously agreed with that look that I know is only because he knows how much this means to me.
This will be the very first girls' weekend I've ever gotten to be a part of - much less host. (Well, unless you count Mary Kay conferences, which are a big ol' party and so much fun, but not the same as girls gathering at a house for four days to just be together.) We've been planning it for a year and now we are all just trying to keep ourselves inside our own skin in anticipation and excitement. Well, at least, I am.
Everyone needs to go get themselves a set of their own Lovelies to do life with.
Life. Seasons. Survival mode. That's right. That's what I was orginally writing about, wasn't I.... right.
These Lovelies, and my dear, blessed, long-suffering husband are going to be SO glad when this 3 a.m. season of survival I'm in is over. I mean, we're all enjoying it for what it is. Don't get me wrong. There are the kicks, and the million trips to the bathroom and the constant eating. Constant. Eating. ...wait, I meant to go off on a list of the wonders of pregnancy right then. Sorry about that. Anyway, we are enjoying this season for what it is, but we will also be glad - so very glad - when it's over and it feels a little less like survival. And my husband and my Lovelies and everyone else around me can welcome the sane, logical, emotionally balanced Renee back into their life once again.
In the meantime, I'll do my best to cherish the anticipation. The reorganization of a house. The reorganization of a life. The sweet one-on-one moments with my little boy who acts entirely too much like a little man sometimes. Like tonight at our family Starbucks date way past his bedtime. Every time he just holds that little Starbucks kids' hot chocolate and takes a sip while giving me a grown-up look, I could just squeeze him and go right back to when he was a newborn babe, patiently waiting for me to figure out how to mother him. Oh, my sweet boy.
I'll cherish the moments when I suck in my breath and close my eyes and breathe deep and wait, while my body finishes another practice contraction. And that look in my husband's eye as he waits, knowing without a word what's going on. "Contracting?" he says, just to acknowledge what I'm going through. "Mmm," I respond. And just behind the expression of concern and sympathy, is a light glowy expression because his wife and unborn son are just getting ready for what's to come in the next 8 weeks, give or take a few days.
I'll cherish the cute wardrobe thas has been put together by loving loaning friends and Target sales, full of stretchy pants and huge waist-lines and the blessed break from sucking in my mid-section for 9 months.
I'll cherish the anticipation of a baby boy, so close to my heart, and yet still unknown, who will change and shape my faith and my motherhood and my character and my person and my life in a whole new yet unknown way.
I'll even cherish the quiet uninterrupted moments at 3 a.m., when I can read my favorite writers and be uninterruptedly inspired. Even if they are born out of heartburn and the gazillionth trip to the bathroom.
See, Renee? There IS a lot to enjoy right now. So just ride it out. Take each day of these next 8 weeks one at a time. Breathe slower. Or at least harder and longer. And enjoy this 3 a.m. season. It will only happen to you quite this way just once.
February 10, 2013
Danny's First Train Ride
Each and every time we've driven down the freeway on the way to Jazzercise for the past 6 weeks, Danny looks for the "red train" (the San Diego Trolley) and announces to me when he's found it. And given his total fascination with trains in general, and the fact that he's never actually ridden one, Grandpa Shaun had a brilliant idea. He suggested we all hop on the trolley for a morning and ride it until we felt like getting off to have lunch, and then ride it home.
I'm not sure who's more excited in this picture - Grammy or Danny.
We walked up to the trolley station and in pulled the Red Train.
Much to the delight of my little boy.
But first, the tickets had to be purchased and handed out.
Soon enough, another one rounded the corner.
And safely gripping Grandpa's hand, we all climbed aboard.
Ready to go?! "Ding ding!" went the train.
"Here we go!!" said Danny.
The fantastic thing about the Red Train is how often it stops and goes again.
That is, of course, the most exciting part for a three year old.
That and watching the tracks zoom past you as you fly down the track.
Oh, and imagining that Thomas and Percy are connected to the car behind you.
There were San Diego sights. I enjoyed seeing many of San Diego's familiar places
from a completely different angle. It was my first ride on the trolley too.
Our kiddo loved every bit of it.
Except getting off. He wasn't quite as excited about that part,
but he cooperated when we explained that next was lunch.
My husband's funky expression is because he's squinting in
the sun, but I just love this candid shot of the two of them.
Lunch was at Phil's Barbeque.
We added babyback ribs to the list of firsts for the day, and Danny
cleaned off every small shred of meat from that bone. He loved it.
And then back to the trolley we went.
Down the tracks and home for a well-deserved nap taken by all.
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