Remembering This Moment: Housework

Remembering This Moment -- a weekly series.

To learn more, go here or here. 

To see more in the series, look under Memory Keeping.

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We bought this house a little over a year ago.

It isn't a lot of house.  It is in need of a lot of repair.

But it is our house.

It is our home.

We, and most especially Aaron, have worked so hard to get us here.  We are a single income family,  and we live in Southern California.  This house represents sacrifice.

I want to remember that.

I want our children to know that it isn't how big your house is, or how perfect it looks, but how much love you put into it and how much love there is inside of it.

I want them to remember this.

Aaron prepping the house for the last coat of stucco before it gets painted.

James and William peer out their bedroom window to watch Daddy at work.

I want to remember the ugly paint color.  The shutter "shadows".  The cracks.

The boys standing in the windows that have no screens.

I want to remember how it was when we were a young family, starting out and doing it ourselves.

I want to remember where we've been.  And who we are.  I want to laugh at how bad it all looked and how we let our kids hang out the windows in their underwear.

I want to remember my Dad coming up to help Aaron.  It was his idea in the first place, this restuccoing it all instead of patching.  He assured us we'd be happier.

I want to remember how he taught Aaron how to mix the stucco and how they came up with a system for putting on and smoothing the stucco that made them both happy.  I want to remember them, 2 of the best men I know, taking care of me in this way.

I want to remember my dear, sweet man taking a day off work so he could do more work.

Housework.

There is still so much left to do.

But we're getting it done.  One wall at a time.

What will you remember this week?

Love from,

Greta

Baby Blues

My sister in law is about to have a baby.  Our due dates were 10 days apart.  Here we are the day she told us all she, too, was pregnant with baby # 4!

Even though I had already guessed, we were all so excited.  It was going to be our 3rd time having babies together.  Each time a surprise -- we never knew the other was planning, or not planning, on being pregnant.  It has just been a happy treat to have our babies together again and again.

The first time was with James and Cora.  My first, her second.  Our due dates were a day apart.  One hot day in April, they were born about 19 hours apart in the same hospital.  A nurse popped her head into my room while Aaron, James and I slept to tell me my sister in law was down the hall and in labor.  I hobbled down to say hello and hobbled down a couple hours later to meet my new niece. ( I pushed for 2.5 hours.  it was amazing I could even hobble at all!)

We had so much fun together in the hospital.  It was like a big party.

Here are the 2 of them together.  Born less than a day apart and hanging out together already.

They are still best buds.

It happened again 4 years later when Mark and Jessica came over to tell us they were pregnant with their 3rd.  

"How far along are you?" Aaron asked.

"8 weeks,"Jessica said.

"Us too!" Aaron exclaimed.

We couldn't believe it had happened again.  And just as much of a surprise as the first time.  This time our due dates were 2 days apart.

The girls didn't stick to the schedule and were born a week apart.

Lilly and I got to be there when Lizzy was born.  Lilly was snuggled in the sling while I took pictures.  Here is their first picture together.  Lizzy was just an hour old.

Now they are 2 and still such good buddies.

So when Jessica told us she was pregnant with her 4th, I was so looking forward to these memories again.  2 new cousins to be so close in age and such good friends.

It felt like even more of a loss when I lost my baby.

I have been feeling much better these days.  Of course there are still moments of sadness--sometimes intense--but they are farther apart.  I can think about it less now.

But as my due date approaches, I find it weighing heavy on my heart again.  I just can't help thinking about what should have been and what will never be.

And just like always, I struggle with allowing myself these feelings of grief.

This past weekend I helped host a baby shower for Jessica.  It was a lot of fun and something I very much wanted to do.  I didn't think it would be that hard for me, and was kind of a way to prove to myself that I am doing just fine.

And I really was. 

But then a dear, caring friend send me an email to let me know she was thinking of me on that day.

That was all I needed to let the tears flow.

Of course that wasn't her intent, but it was like I was given permission to mourn still.  And I needed that. Even though it made the day harder.

I am learning that grief and loss are a process.  Healing takes time.  I struggle so much with the messages that fill my brain like, "I have so much to be grateful for", and "people have it much worse than you".  And while those things are true, so is this:

"There is a time for everything, 

and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance."

Ecclesiastes 3

There will be much laughter and dancing with joy when baby Abby is born.  I can't wait to hold her and meet another lovely little person.  I am such a sucker for newborn babies.  There is just nothing better.

But I won't deny my tears because they will be there too.

And that is OK.

Much love from,

Greta

Please go look at the baby shower over at Picnics.  it was lots of fun and I'd love for you to ooh and ahh over our garlands.We had so much fun making them for Jess and baby Abby.

Remembering This Moment: Little Sister Love

Remembering This Moment --a weekly series.

What will you remember this week?

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Today I want to remember how much Lilly loves her brothers.

I want to remember the way she hears them wake up after she does and immediately goes running back into the room calling, "Bubbas!" with absolute joy in her voice.

I want to remember the way she calls, "Boys!" when she is looking for them.

Or, on those rare occasions when she isn't with them, how she asks, "where are my boys?"

I want to remember how much she wants to help them and be a part of what they are doing: handing them markers when they are drawing, adding to their Lego creations and giving them their clothes when they are getting dressed.

"Here, Bubba," she says to them all day long.

It drives them crazy.

"LILLY!" they often cry in exasperation.  "I don't need it!"

I'm trying to teach them to let her help.  That they are her teachers, just as much as I am.

Sometimes I wonder if it is working.

And sometimes I think that it is.

Whatever they do, she must do also.

No tree is too tall for her to climb.  She can pee outside with the best of them.  She isn't afraid of playing tractors in the dirt or wrestling.  She points her fingers, makes pow pow noises and says, "I'm shooting."

She is most certainly a tomboy.

I kind of like it that way.

Of course they do things she doesn't like.  They make scary masks and chase her.  They won't let her color all over their drawings.  They get on the top bunk without the ladder and leave her stranded on the ground.

But she can climb up without the ladder now, so she showed them!

It's got to be hard to be the little sister, and I know she is always going to be struggling to keep up.  She will always be trying to prove herself.

But I hope that she will also always be loved and cared for by her 2 big brothers.

And that there will always be room for her on the skateboard.

How grateful I am for my little girl and the 2 big brothers God gave her to look up to, adore and to wrestle with.

Life is good. 

I hope you'll join in this series with me.  Stop and notice those sweet, fleeting moments that are happening everyday and capture them.

Send me your links.  I'd love to see them!

Hope you're enjoying the last days of summer.  We are deep in the throws of beach days and long hot afternoons.  It is leaving me tired, tired, tired every night.  I might not be around much for the next couple of weeks.  Just check back in now and then.

Love from,

Greta

Happy Birthday to My Sister (only 1 week late)

It was my big sister's birthday a week ago.  We were born 10 years and 1 week apart.  It has never seemed to matter that we are so far apart in age.  As far as I can remember, we have always been close.  In fact, the older we got, the closer we seemed in age.

And just last week, James asked if Auntie Kristen was my little sister.

She got the good genes.

This post, albeit a week late, is to celebrate my sister.  I love her more than I could ever say.  But I'll try to say it a little bit here.

It must have been a bit of a shock when I came along.  Before me, it was just Jay and Kristen.  And you know that 3 can be an awkward number.

But my big sister never made me feel like I was a nuisance.  Actually, I was always sorry for girls that didn't have a big sister because mine was so great.  

I'm certain I annoyed the heck out of her, as little sisters are apt to do.

One of the favorite family stories tells of the time we were all in the car, the red Volvo, driving home one of Jay's friends. I must have been pretty little, maybe 3, because I don't remember this at all.  Apparently I turned to Jay's friend and said, very sweetly, I'm sure, "my sister says you're ugly."  

Kristen was in the car.

And then, as my Mom tried to laugh it off and assure the boy that Kristen never said that, I continued in a loud, sing-song voice, "you're ugly, you're ugly, you're ugly, you're ugly."

Nice.

Real nice.

Little sisters are a total pain.

I do , however, remember tormenting her when she had boyfriends.  I loved to squirm right between them on the couch, or even sit on the boyfriend's laps. .  I would do gymnastics in the living room while they tried to talk.  I brought out my dolls and asked them to play house.  

I made a general nuisance of myself.

And I don't ever remember Kristen getting mad.

She is the most easy going person I know.

And way too nice.  

She should have booted me right out of there.

Instead, she took me shopping to the mall.

When she turned 18 she got her first car, a tan Toyota.  I thought it was so cool.

She'd drive me to Plaza Carmino Real and take me shopping with her tip money.  

I still remember some of the outfits she bought me.

They often involved acid wash jeans.

And I loved going shopping with her because she had style.

I was always going into her closet and trying on her clothes.  

I'd beg to wear her yellow and black check jacket that was, hello, miles too big for me.

She'd let me.  

We'd eat at Taco Bell and spilt a Nacho Bell Grande.

She'd take Ben and I to the movies at The Mission Theater.

She gave us allowance when my parents couldn't afford to.

Kristen is one of the most generous people I know.

She's always been that way.

She takes care of everyone else first, and herself last.

When I was in high school, she took sign language classes with me at Palomar.  I couldn't drive yet, so she took me.  We had a lot of fun together.

Occasionally we'd skip class and go to the dollar theater, or shop at Pic n Save.  One time we ran out of gas coming home from class, late at night on the dark, windy roads near Live Oak Park.

"Don't tell Dad," she said. "He'll never let me drive you anywhere again."

But that was the only time she ever said that to me.

She kept me out of trouble.

We walked our dogs together and when I met Aaron and was gaga over him, she listened patiently while I read her his letters and told her everything about him.

She was the perfect big sister.

I've always known Kristen loved me, but I never really knew how much until I was 9 months pregnant with my first born.  My ankles were swollen beyond recognition.  I wore sweats constantly.  I looked and felt like a beached whale.

My sister was 9 months pregnant when she was the maid of honor in my wedding.

It was hot.  She wore stockings.  And heels.  

She HATES people looking at her.

But she did it for me.

Now that is some serious sisterly love.
She is amazing.
When that baby was born, 3 weeks after my wedding, Kristen let me be in the room.
I have never seen her more beautiful or more happy than when she held Simon for the first time.
I am so grateful I was there to share that moment with her.
I will never forget it.


I have to admit there will be a part of my heart that will be sad if Lilly never gets a sister.  Oh yes, she loves her brothers, but there just isn't anything like a sister.
I thank God He gave me one.
She is one of the best parts of my life.
I love you sis!


Love from,
Greta

Remembering This Moment: Coon & Possum Huntin

Remembering This Moment--a weekly series.  Read more here and here.
What moment will you remember this week?
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What?  You can't tell what these 3 are up to?

They're huntin for coons and possums, of course!

See that bat hanging from the tree?  The red string trailing across the yard?

That's the trap.

But just in case the trap doesn't work, they've got their nets.

And they know how to use them.

Proper attire is important when you are huntin wild critters.

And just so you know, Lil is not demonstrating the proper net technique for either coon or possum catchin.

Someday my kids are going to be so mad about these pictures.
But I am going to love them forever.
I don't want to forget the days of simple, sweet childhood.
When they are are fully absorbed in games of make believe and don't give a hoot about what anyone else thinks.
It's bliss.
I am so in love with these weirdos.


Take some time and remember a moment this week.
If you want to be a part of this series, send me a link and I'll post it.  I'd love to see the moments that make up your days. 
Love from,
Greta

For Your Amusement: Yarn, Geodesic Domes and Underwear

I've written before about how much fun the boys have with yarn.

James, especially, seems to enjoy it.

You can't believe what that boy does with a bunch of yarn.

By the way, if you're new around here, you'll soon see that my kids pretty much live in their underwear.  And that's it.  Well, as long as there are no guests over.

We try to maintain some respectability.

But back to the yarn.

This time he tied it to the tree and some sticks until his creation took over most of the yard.

He was quite taken with the shapes he was making.  He called me out to look at them.  When I asked him if it was another web, he told me no.  He was trying to make a dome.  Like the ones on the playground.

Of course.

He has eccentric artist written all over him.

Watch out girls!

At some point I am going to have to stop posting pictures like this of the kids.
But I am going to keep at it for as long as I can because they make me laugh.
A lot.
And who doesn't need a laugh on a Monday morning?
Hoping you find something that makes you happy this fine Monday.
Love from,
Greta

You Know It's Going to Be a Bad Day When....

Your 2 year old daughter wakes you up yelling, "I'm Donald Duck!  I'm Donald Duck!"

Over and over again.

And she is still sound asleep.

This is after you've already been woken by your husband's alarm clock and the neighbor's motorcycle.

Then your daughter, who is now awake, begins jumping up and down and yelling, "I want toast!  I want toast!' 

You don't even remember how she got into your bed.

And you and your husband keep saying, "OK, we'll get you some", but neither one of you is opening your eyes or getting out of bed.

You rush out of the house with a sink and counter full of dirty dishes. a couch full of clean but unfolded laundry and beds unmade.

Coming home to that won't be pleasant.

You sit in the dentist chair for 2.5  hours and have to use your relaxation techniques from labor and decide childbirth is far more enjoyable than dental work.

Upon arriving home, the children argue over which balloon they will get--the balloons the dentist gave to you and which you are sharing with them.

And you find yourself saying, "these are my balloons and I will pop them all and throw them in the trash if you don't stop fighting right now!"

And you think, "what am I saying to these people?  Have I lost my mind?"

The day goes on and you talk in this voice that is calm but is actually the voice of a woman on the verge of insanity.  

Calm, controlled, but one step away from turning into crazy yelling.

And you are quite certain that the neighbors are going to call CPS on you because the amount of screaming being done by 2 of the little darlings makes you want to call CPS so someone will just take the children away.

But then, cue the angel chorus, you look out the front door to see your husband arriving home early, well on time actually, for the first time in months.
And you raise your hands in the air in praise to the Lord and shout, " you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now!"


And he doesn't care that the rice is burned.  He is just happy that you made him hummus.  And he makes the kids sandwiches for dinner and says, "go take a shower, honey."  
And he lets you escape for a couple hours and when you get home you sit in the kitchen and laugh about the day.
"All 3 kids were weeping at bedtime over different things," he tells you, "and then William dropped Baby Tiger in the toilet, after they all peed in there."


You laugh and laugh together because really, none of it is that bad.  
At least not after bedtime.


Thank goodness we get to start over every morning!
Love from,
Greta

Remembering This Moment: Ballet

I wrote a while back about memory keeping and really making an effort to remember a moment.  Not an event or a special occasion, but just a moment in our day.  It might be a moment that happens day after day, like toast at breakfast.

Or something that I stumble upon and want to remember always.

I am going to try to post one "Remembering This Moment" post a week.

Because time is flying.  

I look at pictures from 2 months ago and it seems like a lifetime ago.

These little people are my life's work.  

I want to celebrate these moments I have with them before the moments are gone.

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Lilly loves ballet.  She has been given numerous tutus and every day she puts one on and asks to do ballet.  I turn on some music for me and she begins.

I want to remember her sturdy brown body.

Her blond, blond hair.

How she often wears a tutu and no top.

How she is utterly unembarrassed and utterly free.

She is wholly engrossed in her own world of ballet.

She is very serious about it.

She really feels the music.  When we listen to Mr. Roboto, Johnny Cash or The Beach Boys, she engages in a completely different kind of dancing.  For ballet she likes slow music and her posture and countenance change instantly. 

And her brothers run from the room howling, "no ballet!"  

Obviously her brothers won't do ballet with her, so she loves it when I do.  Or better yet, a girl friend who will wear a tutu too and spin with her.

When she is done, she takes a bow.  A very deep and long and heartfelt bow.  

I want to remember this moment when she is all grown up and maybe has a girl of her own and my view of the past has gotten blurry from passing time.

I will remember her right now, because it was only a moment ago she was this girl and soon she will be another sort of girl all together.

I hope you find a moment to remember today.
Much love from,
Greta