Alderbrook Resort

For a fraction of the peak-season cost, we accompanied the Kalous family to Alderbrook Resort this last Monday. We stayed two nights - enjoyed the swimming pool, the wonderful two bedroom cottages, the ferry ride back and forth, the 'track' which made its way around in front of the circle of cottages, wonderful food (all leftovers from the Holidays - yep, we're cheap), Gingerbread houses, the hand puppets, pukes and 24 degrees celsius - a 'comfortable' temperature.

It was a wonderful time with our dear friends... 4 adults and 6 children in total. Once the kiddos were down - we enjoyed laughter, fantastic wines and bourbons, and intentional conversation about what Jesus is calling our families to.

Here's to our wonderful week together out on the canal:

...and a Happy New Year.

We spent this week doing our 'routine' of sorts... and in addition, preparing for the wonderful, long weekend ahead.

Here are some shots from today... the frost is present in the shade while the sun melts anything in its presence. The kids wandered around at the playground jacketless and excited to be free of the pressure of new toys and hors de oeuvres.

Our favorite toys so far... oh its hard to know. And this year there were more gifts than both Kyle and I would like for the years to come... a lot to dialogue about, for sure. WE bought the kids the originally talked about 'three gifts per child' but you forget about what other people want to buy for your kids.

The Picture Frame Decals were a hit... and still are. Will be for a LONG time. The Glow in the Dark Solar System was also a hit... and still is. Will be for a LONG time. As for Benjamin, we'll see... he's a little fickle.

We spent the weekend with Kyle's parents and brother, Erik. It was a wonderful time and we were able to get a decent shot of ourselves (including the kiddos) outside our house earlier today.

Jenny Haferbecker... oh the comfort of old jeans.

Oh the comfort of slipping on my old, worn out jeans. If you're wondering to yourself what I'm talking about, please take a deep breath and remember what it feels like to leap into the most comfortable, forgiveable outfit you've ever owned and go from there. Jenny is THAT for me. She and her husband, Dusty, have been a staple in my life for years and I don't imagine that on my death bed that will have changed.

I had the pleasure of spending this last Wednesday, December 23rd, with Jenny, Dusty, their son, Leo, and Dusty's immediate family, the Haferbeckers of Kent, WA. It was a wonderful day of remembering the raw talent that comes from this family... Judy has her loud, boisterous confidence with a hint of haughtiness all encased in a large billowy cloud of love and comfort; Dick has a quiet, witty sense about him that causes even the most shy of human beings to follow him around the house and allow their curiosity and desire to be unique to get the best of them - Dick makes you feel special... he smiles and winks at you as though you have a 'secret' that know one else knows; Joe was not present but his wife Kristen was there to share with us the bare bones of what his current travels entailed -- a trip to Qatar to sculpt a large piece of ice for the royal castle - shockingly enough, this surprises no one in close relation to the Haferbeckers. The CHOP doc, Dusty, married my delectable friend, Jenny, whose heart finds rest in serving those around her. She is hell bent on finding the facets of a community where no one has met a need; not for the prestige but because it is there that Jesus would have gone.

Jenny and Dusty; Leo; Dick and Judy; and the Haferbeckers and Johnsons -- you all hold a dear place in my hearts whether or not we've spent ample time together... so many memories and so many more to come.

Jenny... I love you.

Legendary Relationships.

Jenny... Philadelphia. Jamie... London. Rebecca... Charlotte. Jess... considered Bellingham. Rachel... she's a loose cannon - we never know what she might do next.

These girls are people that are so dear to my heart for so many unique reasons. Jenny I want to drink coffee with first thing in the morning for the rest of my life, eat breakfast with and just 'be around' all day whether or not we talk - (we sometimes do this over the phone from across the country.) We are so different but perfect together - much like Yin and Yang; Jamie knows everything about me from the first time I got drunk (my older brother let me do it but ONLY under his watchful eye at our house when I was 16... and Jamie was there too) to the awkward hormonal growth spurts leading up to meeting our husbands in college; Rebecca is my raunchy friend all the while she loves Jesus -- raunchy simply means that we're not scared to talk the dirty and get it dealt with... be it sex, excessive discharge or smelly armpits - oh and we happen to hold each other accountable to obedience to Christ; Jesseca would prefer to sip reheated coffee all day, lounge in her lazy boy, wear sweats and throw her hair on top of her head until the dinner bell rings - we get along because deep down that feeds my SOUL! We show up to each others' houses, kids in tow and ask to have a shower alone for the first time that week... once I hop out, she hops in and the other watches the swarm of six kids; Rachel has class and charm. She calls me to a higher level of productivity during my day all the while applauding my ability to just 'not care' in moments when she wishes she could 'not care' as much... she's clever, hospitable, funny and compassionate -- not to mention our kids are 'six peas in a pod' and would be quite happy if we were all quarantined together. For life.

God is calling each of these woman to Himself. But to watch them move, one by one, farther from me take its toll. Its crazy because I have each moment cemented in my mind... the driveway that is only 50 feet from me is the same driveway that I said 'goodbye' to Jenny and Leo last time they visited (and I stood watching until their taillights were gone from sight), I watched as Jamison (Jamie) smiled and in her cuteness turned around and waved her way down the driveway to her car (again, I stood watching until her taillights were gone from sight) and tonight I watched and held a child on each hip as I stared at the taillights over the top of my tears as Rebecca, Mark, Charli and Georgia headed for North Carolina. I've cried each time... I like to think that in those moments I'm praising God for the treasure I've found in each of them. I like to think that I'm not thinking of myself as much as I'm realizing the grace of God to give them to me... and not for a short time...

But for the rest of my life.

I love each of you so much. You have no idea.

Really, you don't.

God be with you.

Confidence in my shamelessness.

Usually that confidence is accompanied by some snide remark about how it should be ok when I'm feeling chilled and nauseous all day to stay in my sweats, drive to school unshowered and in flip flops... but lets face it, that defensive reaction comes from my concern that there will be no way to appease the outside world so its best to succumb to a fake form of confidence and put up my dukes - ready for opposition and judgement.

But not today. Today God told me that He would bless me and that I was to sit still. Allow Him to work. And trust that He would bring everything together. I was quietly confident in my inability to accomplish anything; but more than that, I was obedient in not accomplishing what I thought necessary to accomplish. I walked around the house without turning the TV on since lately Kyle and I have felt strongly that our children's misbehavior and lack of ability to focus is another symptom of too much TV in their lives. And although I thought it would be easier to turn on the TV, I felt that that was actually a lie. The repercussions would be such that I'd be entertaining them and fighting for moments alone once the entertainment seized to entertain.

The kids took care of me... their words were (for the most part) kind to each other and loving in very mature ways. William spent 10 minutes this morning stroking my forehead while I laid in bed (in obedience to what Kyle asked him to do! too cute!)... Katie helped around the house without me asking... Ben was surprisingly less vocal about his disgust at not getting his way... yes, God is good. Friends cared. There's always Valet. And Kyle proves to be a doctor of sorts when the rubber meets the road.

Thank you Lord for today. Although I'm tired and sick I can still see your face in all of it.

Wanting the Wonderland.

Tonight I smiled.

I stared out the window as I sat in the back of my in laws' SUV. No, not in the middle back... in the way back. You know, the little seat that sits about 6-8 inches above the middle back seat and therefore drives your knees into your chest... I stared out the window with a mysterious smile on my face as we sped towards the town's Christmas festivities. The trees sped by us, the whur of the wheels was constant and low hum of WARM's music played to the right and to the left. Though I was in the presence of folk who don't usually indulge themselves in the 'magic of the season' I found myself 'defiantly?' enjoying the moments of being imaginative again and allowing my children the freedom to believe in something so fun and overly dramatized as SANTA CLAUS.

Katie was dressed in her Christmas best - a pair of black Mary Jane heels with white socks... a pair of jeans... a Costco Christmas dress with blue sparkles, velveted breast and long sleeves. She wore a satin white winter coat with Grandma Schei's scarf hanging proudly around her neck. William was lost in thought as he considered where the car was headed and what we were up to... I'm sure he thought of why we weren't already there and, if so important, why it wouldn't spontaneously appear without all 'the work'. He then began thinking of the sprinklers at the park last summer, Claire's birthday party cupcakes-on-a-stick, having to go pee, Mrs. Pawley's wonderful face and the dog that looked like Annie.

Ben was completely consumed by the 'minty thing' that he got to have at the start of the trip to town that everyone keeps telling him 'no' about... he WANTS HE WANTS HE WANTS. But due to his inability to execute the appropriate 'MORE' sign, it seems that no one is allowing him another. If only he could bring himself to stop rubbing his chest emphatically in a circular motion... (and people say that teaching children and dogs is SO different.)

We arrived and what I thought would be a 100 ft. Christmas tree turned out to be a gigantic version of Charlie Brown's classic Christmas tree. Hung from it were large what-looked-to-be-homemade Christmas ornaments and large 80s bulb lights. It brought a smile to my face and I melted into a puddle of Holiday magic in a moment... we watched as Santa arrived in a fire truck, people were shuttled up and down the street in a horse and sleigh, and kids sat atop Dad's shoulders as Santa and the elves lit the Christmas tree.

"SEVEN... SIX... FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE..." The top half of the tree lit. I clapped and smiled with such joy because it was REAL. Thank God it was REAL. Life isn't perfect. Life isn't always predictable. Life is just... well, beautiful. So, let yourself imagine Santa Claus can be here to light the town Christmas tree -- away from the hustle and bustle of the toy shop at the North Pole. Let yourself imagine that the coffee in your hand is the World's best hot chocolate and you're sipping through candy canes. Let yourself imagine that this year Santa will be leaving a gift for YOU and not just the kids.

Maybe this year (the bottom of the Christmas tree finally lights)... maybe this year you will care more about creating an imaginative land for your little one because you remember - if even for a moment - how wonderful it was to countdown the 25 days to Christmas... leave cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer...

Consider creating a 'chain' for the kiddos -- you have 2 days.

Life is good.

Man, I miss this... and I will miss them...

Tonight is a night that I intentionally hunker down to the computer because I have so many things to get done aside from writing about the things to get done...

But due to the above tots being my children (were their Mom and Dad to lose their lives - morbid, I know... please get over it), I couldn't help but process my thoughts out loud and well... blog. These two little girls are my responsibility in a way that is unique. I love them... and they're moving.

The other day Rebecca asked C, 'where is our new home?' And C replied, 'Charlotte, North Carolina!' as she looked at me with such pride on her face. She doesn't yet realize how far that 'new home' is...

But God will be with her.

Rebecca and I met at a church in Bellingham. She was the Exec Assistant and I had nothing on her. I was merely a girl grasping for any opportunity to make money and, in the process, glean some wisdom from those who had gone before me. I was attracted to Rebecca's detailed (not to mentioned ORGANIZED) personality immediately. She, 'J', 'N' and 'E' were a force to be reckoned with... and I was lucky enough to be accepted into the 'fold' per se.

Mark and I see 'eye to eye' because we are introverts... Rebecca and Kyle see 'eye to eye' because they are NOT. We have lived together (yes, all 4 of us - NO kids! Imagine!)... and it was one of the most comfortable times of our lives - at least for Kyle and I. We love them and adore their friendship.

We will forever be dear friends.

Patience in REFINEment.

Everything in me is being exposed. All my sin.

Three months ago one of my dearest friends called me out on my lack of intention in our friendship. She was humble in the email and founded in her remarks. What she didn't realize at the time was that the Spirit had placed her there at that moment, writing an e-mail to a woman who had become lackadaisical in those friendships closest to her. Not just the one at hand, but she was unveiling truths that only the Spirit had access to.

The woman she was speaking to was me. I had to see it or there would be a cemetery's worth of dead friendships to visit with nothing more than tears and flowers to show.

I read her words, and though they mentioned 'resentment towards' me, I felt nothing other than love. Her words were honest and fair; her judgment was accurate and her heart was pure. It brought me to a place of repentance.

I was being REFINEd. And this was only the beginning.

Recently I was in a difficult place with someone dearest to my heart - and to say this, I mean I would take a bullet for her; I would run in front of a speeding train just to be sure she was safe; it would take nothing more than a look of 'need' for me to drop everything and run to her aide. I love her and think of her often... in the midst of a difficult decision, I hurt her tremendously but I did it for nothing more than God to have His Way with her. I laid down my desires to be sure that His desires were fulfilled - He brought me to a place, once again, where I had to seek Him first.

I was being REFINEd. And this wasn't the end.

Most recently I received a call from someone who has played a leading role in my life over the last few months. The phone call was the culmination of many uneasy conversations in the recent weeks and by the end of the call I wasn't sure which way was up and which way was down - I was 'this close' to spitting in order to figure it out. I was being told there would be no further communication between the two of us for reasons that are extremely personal and painful to broach on such a public forum. My character was being mocked and my integrity was being taken into question. I cannot remember the last time this amount of spiritual whip lashing occurred aside from when I almost buried my closest friendship. Yet this time, I felt like my maturity and integrity were intact but God was wanting to refine me.

Again, being REFINEd.

James 1:2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds...

Wisteria Lane.

(deep breath)

So I've taken on the oh-so-highly-regarded title this year of Room Mom for my daughter's preK class. In taking some needed time off from promoting my photography business I decided to immerse myself in things that I don't often get to dapple in... hence, the new challenge.

I'm never good at jumping into things like this for the purpose of staying 'out of the limelight'. I want to arrive at the preschool with none other than my favorite PINK sweats from Victoria Secret, my flip-flops (yes, even in the snow), my Nike fleece zip up and my hair tussled about due to lack of showering. I APPRECIATE relaxation in a form unlike any other 30+ year old Mill Creek Mom out there. It is not unlike them to arrive in there itsy bitsy jeans, heals, tailored tops and hair done up like a hair product model... it makes me puke a little in my mouth. I then hop out of the car, lick my palm and slick down the frizz while looking at my reflection in the drivers' window, grab the baby in pajamas and no socks, walk to the double doors, close my eyes and reach for the handle and remember 'I'm not here for them... I'm here for the kids... I'm not here for them... I'm here for the kids...' As I open the doors I'm surrounded by supermodel Moms fresh from the gym or the aforementioned Herbal Essence models. They laugh and giggle while picking up little Janie. Janie is dressed to the hilt in Gymboree striped leggings, a corduroy skirt, french cuff shirt and hair in pigtails... she carries her bag like its a Gucci purse and smiles. Her teeth even sparkle - I mean it, the little 'star' that if caught just right blinds you? You know what I'm talking about.

I look above the crowd of suburbialets and find my hoodlum. Dressed to the hilt in pink ballet leggings with dirt on the knees, OshKosh skirt a size too small but sufficient none-the-less, layers of clean-but-stained shirts, old tennies and hair we forgot to comb. She drags her bookbag on the ground as she approaches me and looks me up and down as if to say, 'I thought you said you'd shower today...' Not that she could care less but her 'awareness' is rather mature compared to Miss Janie who's now sucking her binkie as she hops in her booster out in the parking lot.

****

Fast forward to Room Mom Krista.

Today I arrived at school in my '7s'... my Ann Taylor LOFT shirt and my heels. I wore a long, wool cream colored jacket just perfect for Fall and my hair was down and blowing in the Fall wind. I felt rather svelte and 'with it'. Dress for success as they say. Today we were having a Parent's get together at one of the parent's home and it would consist of talking face to face, sipping coffee, munching on pastries and giggling about things not unlike what you may see on Desperate Housewives. I wanted to 'fit the bill' if not for any other reason than to not be 'noticeable'. The week old sweats and spongy teeth might conjure up more concern than I cared to address and so I... did it.

I 'Wisteria'ed myself.

Though the time was lovely, I couldn't help but consider the 'woman from a different country' walking in and surveying our crowd. She would quizzically look at us as though we were unaware of life outside Mill Creek and scoff at our stupidity. She would likely turn on her new digital camera and begin recording our interactions as one would a pack of lioness' on the Savannah. It would be taken back to their educational system as a means of teaching the children about God's faithfulness and His provision - see what you DON'T have to wade through? God is good. Now go fetch me a pail of water, boil it, cool it and we'll have it for drinking tomorrow.

I don't mean to short change our time together today - it was surprisingly 'not surface-level' conversation. We talked about what 'church' is and the idea of 'faith'... it was headed in a different direction than I had originally assumed it would! Casual... outside the box... witty comments and valid responses. And what did I want to do?

I wanted my PINK sweats and a hot cup of jo'. I wanted to curl my legs under me on the couch and begin asking these women about what its 'really' like out there... how do we do this and be blameless before Jesus? How do we... on and on and on.

My dream is that on Friday we'll all show up not having showered since this morning. We'll be anticipating the next get together and offer to bring Ho-Hos, instant coffee or the like...

(cricket. cricket. cricket) In other words, never gonna happen. God forbid. Its Mill Creek.

Survival of the Fittest.

When I write this I think to myself, 'what IF my kid was nabbed by some freakish human wanting to abuse them and murder them?!'... then I have to ask myself, 'am I considered 'fit' to be a parent?'

I'd like to raise 'fit' children and in doing so I need to understand how the responsibilities and capabilities should mature with age. I hope I can be wise enough to figure out what's appropriate at what age. I need to find a good book on that.

I'm quite certain Katie shouldn't have driven her drunk mother home last night... now where's that book...

Post overdue.

It was promised that I would write about the experience of letting Katie walk to the mailbox herself. She has since gone to the mailbox twice -- she takes quite awhile getting ready as though its her first school dance. She walks around as though in a matter of moments she's been given the authority to detonate a nuclear missile and the responsibility sends small waves of anxiety... hope... urgency... apprehension... timidness... confidence... weariness... all of which manifest themselves in one of many ways - flinging her hair back over her shoulder, rubbing her forehead, pacing, snacking without concern for weight gain, talking jibberish, talking to herself, talking to the Lord. Good graciousness.

She chooses the appropriate shoes. She opens the front door and then with masked-concern asks William one. more. time if he would like to go with her. William responds with 'no' as he stares into the abyss of the internet game he's playing - he will change his mind only moments before she steps foot onto the sidewalk at the end of the driveway... he will then scream with fear and surprise that 'he actually does want to go' at which I raise my eyebrows and motion him to hurry up, get his pickin' shoes on and 'RUN! SHE'S LEAVING YOU! RUN!' That's a joke - I would hate to clean up his poop-filled pants.

He tears out of the front door and I walk slowly down the long drive as they make the 100 yard trek to the mailbox at the front of the neighborhood. I see them the entire time against my 'better judgment'... I think it would be far better for them were I to let them go at it alone.

Just yesterday a friend ours was over with her 3 year old. Katie asked if she, William and Regan could go to the park and have a picnic by themselves. To this I looked at my friend, Jess, and shrugged my shoulders as if asking for her thoughts. She looked at me, 'really? truly? where is this said park?' (paraphrased) I explained the situation, 'down the drive, down the sidewalk, around the houses, through a trail, across some grass... lay down a blanket. Eat. Play. Come home.' It helped that the FINAL stretch brought them right back to eating their picnic on the adjacent lot to our house -- she stretched herself and her comfort zone and agreed. The kids, 5, 3 and 3 years old took off on their adventure. Lunches packed (no I will not go into the detail of the drama and thought that goes into THIS outing), layers of clothes in case of 'weather change', water bottles and toys. They ate their lunch in the sunshine feeling like Queens and Kings of another land eating on the plains of their heritage and basking in the glow of charmed lives. We Moms peaked on them every so often to make sure the bad men had not 'found out' and run off with them... or to make sure that the nearby marsh hadn't drown them with its temptations of frogs and ducks... nope, they were more child-like than ever with imaginations that stretched farther than the world they found themselves in.

Its refreshing and scary. Its nurtured in us that this is unsafe parenting yet I can't help but think we've fallen into foolishness and naivety when I think of the loss of imagination in our children and the reality of how little control we have in our lives. One moment I'm asking my child to 'not go beyond the second pear tree' in our driveway so that she will be 'safe' and the next moment we're speeding down the freeway and find ourselves tangled in metal and gasoline due to no fault of our own. Each of us finds our own 'comfort zone' when it comes to giving our kids responsibility -- I just hope its founded on wisdom as opposed to fear. Its seems we're getting better and better at not thinking for ourselves... and this is one symptom of that, I'm afraid.

Lexapro - my lifeline.

I'm depressed.

Its always been an issue but it wasn't until my daughter was born that I owned it and dealt with it. Maybe because when the doctor asked if I'd consider hurting her I responded with a somewhat drunk-meets-hyperactive 'yes! do you? I mean I know she's not yours but when you think about her do you think about hurting her? not that you've ever met her but do you ever wonder why polar bear cubs don't make it through the first year of life? No Doc! You're wrong! They don't starve - the mother eats them! Yeah... Yeah... so that's how I'm feeling! You?! Do you ever feel that way?!'

As the doctor looks at me, he casually grabs the baby from my shaking arms and hands her to the CPS agent recently called to the scene... I'm whisked away from the life I knew just moments before and I'm being pumped full of fluids and meds.

At least that's how those moments felt right before I answered the question, 'do you ever think of hurting her?' The doctor looked so casual as though this would be a question at any child's 2 week appointment.

I paused. I carefully thought through my answer. He wouldn't ask if he didn't have some sort of resolve for the answer I'm about to give. 'Yes. I think about hurting her. Or just not feeding her. Both and.'

He looks down at his prescription paper pad and clicks his pen, legs crossed at the ankle and knee he begins scribbling. He rips the paper off its stub and hands me hope that life will be different from now on.

With Katie, I lived on samples due to my insurance not paying for the brand my doc recommended. I was on them for 3 months and went off cold-turkey with little to no side effects. With William my OB/GYN put me on them at 36 weeks of pregnancy -- she mentioned that she would much rather have a baby go through 'withdrawals' than a Mother who's suicidal. AMEN! I was on them for 6 months - another round of samples due to insurance. With Benjamin I went with what I knew -- I've been on the anti-depressants since I was 36 weeks pregnant with Ben. I'm 18 months past the birth and have discovered through trial and error that my ability to function without the Lexapro is less than desirable. I take the lowest dose possible and find that the 'edge' of irritation and anger is ever so wonderfully 'curbed'. I'm able to not care about the sticky floors although I'm kind of perturbed that I have to mop - again; I let the kids paint although I'm kind of impatient with my youngest painting himself and his clothes... I find that I'm not 'happy-go-lucky', I'm simply a high-functioning depressed individual. Although the 'depressed' that I feel while on Lexapro is comparable to the regular wear and tear of raising a child...

It feels good to be normal.

Orphan Bennie.

I've decided to give my youngest son away. If there is anyone out there looking to care for orphaned children, I've got an even better opportunity for you. How about premeditated orphaning - that way I can hand over all my medical records, pictures, keepsakes, not to mention diapers and wipes, his favorite shirts, the things he likes to sleep with, notes on his daily routine. Anything to make the transition seem less inconvenient for those about to claim him.

Please understand, I couldn't realistically include every detail of our every day in the notes -- (clear throat) his ability to squeal loud enough to alarm the goat farm next door, his tendency to play in unflushed toilets, his determination to kick and twist at the mere mention of a diaper change, his desire for sitting in planters and creating shovels from Mom's nice spoons, his ability to ingest anything and everything without turning blue or having his stomach pumped, his instinctual ability to climb atop anything above floor level and jump and pound and break and laugh and cackle and scream and dance and..., his desire for anything that isn't 'kid friendly' and his even greater desire to withstand all forms of corporal punishment in order to have it.

Benjamin goes from happy to pissed in moments; he goes from slow to fast before I even realize he's been unstrapped; from full to hungry within moments of someone else getting served; he colors on everything and chews on everything; he blows in his nose into his hands as hard as he can and laughs; he angers his brother in what looks to be innocence but due to the thoughtfulness I've come to know better; he cooks atop my gas stove top without me realizing whats happening; he unearths things such as dead mosquito-eaters, rusty scissors, broken glass and poopy diapers... he opens doors and opens boxes and opens bags and... and... DUMPS THEM OUT!

You may think that I would be better at 'teaching' him. I would too. I don't blame you... I used to judge people with a child such as this. Although, those people chuckled and couldn't resist the 'charm' of their child. That's where we differ.

Bennie FOR SALE. Comes with papers, diapers and clothes. Please bring me a bottle of good wine in exchange.

My apologies...

I've been busy... and haven't been writing. I will be back on my horse soon... this is what I've been up to.

Don't know no other way.

A girl friend of mine asked me this evening in an email, 'soooo... are you the type to have pics all over your home?'

I was on my drive home and as I approached an intersection I had to force myself to look at the stoplight, calculate whether it was red or green and then act accordingly. Thankfully it was green because I'm not so sure I would have had time to stop... I had been so absorbed in something that I hadn't been so absorbed in for so long.

Am I who I 'envision' myself to be... or am I like the family I grew up in? Am I desiring to be different than the family I grew up in or am I ok with what's been instilled in me?

I was speeding at nearly 40mph in a 35mph zone -- and if you understood the type of watch they have on this stretch of road you would know that that is quite daring. Yet my mind began drafting an email back to this girl friend of mine. I was careful in my imaginary wording, thoughtful in my approach and before I had reached the following stop light 16 blocks down I had... well, I had nothing.

I'd like to say, 'why no! ok, yes! As long as the images are beautiful pictures and are framed in black frames with white matting and... and... and...' But the honest truth is that we are living in a rental so I haven't decorated much of anything because it takes me 12 months to decide what I want a 'space' to look like... and it takes even longer for the empty, CLEAN walls to motivate me to do something different. YET, I grew up in a family that slapped something on the wall because it had sentimental value although it wasn't stylish... and now I don't know that that's so bad. I grew up in a family where my Mom got scoffed at by her Interior Designer of-a-sister because she and my Dad always had the refrigerator overstocked with candid shots of everyone we know and every trip we've been on... there are still images on there from 10 years ago! I used to laugh and think, 'oh no. Not me. I want style and clean lines...' And then I thought, 'ok, I want pics all over the place because I LOVE the faces of those people who are in my family... LOVE THEM and just seeing their smile brings so much happiness in moments when I need it.' Ideally, if I could, I would buy hundreds of IKEA Ribba frames and put images that I like ALL OVER MY HOUSE.

I would attempt to hang them straight but I couldn't guarantee it because the minute I got started I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd have neutral earth tones all over the house with white trim and black with white matting RIBBA frames from IKEA. It is likely that the images displayed would be my own images because I'm rather particular...

Yet, as I speak I have a small gallery of images gracing the side of my refrigerator facing the toaster and counter top (stainless steel on the front isn't magnetic.) The faces of my children from two Christmases ago still bring me joy and I can't seem to take the photo down... the image of my daughter and I at her preschool Mother's Day celebration in '08 still tugs at my heartstrings and the picture of my youngest hanging over the top of his exersaucer still captures his spirit!

What do I do?! I've got a Mother in law who wars against nik-nakky things in her house (including pictures without frames) and a Father who couldn't find anything more satisfying for his soul apart from Jesus Christ as pictures of his family...

I'm somewhere in the middle... trying to create my own 'style'. When we buy a house, I'm going to save up a thousand dollars and buy all the RIBBA frames I can buy. I will hang them carefully around the home so as to simulate organization and style... but in my heart I will be a Berges. Wading in the waters of family and candid images... hopefully the lighting will be appropriate and the paper used will be professional... but I make no promises.

This is an ode to you, my 'chat' friend. Warmest wishes tonight as you snooze with your window open...

Again and again.

My family. The one I began building in 2000 when I married Kyle, is something that I didn't earn. I didn't do anything to deserve this. And don't try to tell me that I deserve this because of good decisions I made or because I'm a good person... no, the minute we start thinking that we deserve something we begin feeling a superiority to that 'something' and in response we tend to treat that something as though it has less value than ourselves. Don't we?

Kyle and I in our marriage have gone to hell and back. We have watched as others have gone to hell and decided to call it quits... it breaks my heart and it makes me mad. In the moment when we begin chalking up what we deserve we begin losing focus on Jesus Christ and His grace in our lives. What's hardest for me is that those who haven't claimed Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Saviour don't have that Truth to hold onto.

I am so sick tonight and this is simply a rant after hearing of yet another someone who decided that the confines and structure of marriage just 'isn't for them' and they want to separate. If only they understood for just a second that the world doesn't revolve around them... that life isn't about being 'happy'... that married life IS different than being single - nobody's trying to hide that... I want to call the person up, give them what for and make them feel as lowly as possible... than I remember.

I am a selfish, no good human who does not deserve - for even a second - the love and grace of Jesus Christ. I have not the right to call someone up and ridicule them for their sin when they can't even comprehend their own depravity (they don't have a relationship with Christ)... wow, it makes me thankful for the love and grace of my husband. He loves me in spite of my weaknesses... he thinks I am beautiful and can't stop touching me when he's with me! I get so angry with him and yet can't imagine it any other way...

All this to say, thank you Lord for your grace in my marriage. Thank you that this last year has been yet another year of falling deeper in love with my spouse and thank you for the three gorgeous children that you have given to us. We have not done anything to deserve this...

Praise be to You.

WARNING: Small Group at the Scheis.

This evening I began to prepare what I thought would be a rather timely meal for our Small Group from church. I began at roughly 5:00pm or so and leisurely measured all my ingredients in 1/3 and 2/3 portions since I had a large sauce pan and a small sauce pan -- no EXTRA LARGE saucepan. I should really grow up. One of these days BOTH families are going to come here for Thanksgiving and I'm going to spend $1000 just preparing my home for the invasion. Tonight I was serving Chicken Curry with Sweet Potatoes from my favorite food site, Epicurious.com.

I began to 'sweat it' a little when the timeliness was seeming a little less than timely as everyone arrived and I was yet to throw ingredients in that I knew would take quite awhile to cook. Sweet Potatoes. Chicken Thighs. I harrumphed and settled into a steady rhythm of not talking to anyone and rapidly preparing the ingredients and setting in the sink all the used dishes. I imagine I looked not unlike the hunch-back of Notre Dame moving around my kitchen, carrying bowls of ingredients and talking to myself without a moment's notice of who was in the room. What is usually a 6:00pm meal (sometimes 6:15) turned out to be a 6:45pm meal... the kids were running around as though they had a shot of insulin mixed with impatience. They seemed ok but to a parent who knows what the regular bad behavior is you KNOW that diving bombing small babies from the arms of the couch is not just child's play - they were starving, slowly rotting perhaps. And it manifested itself in stupidity. Yes... even for an 18 month old. He couldn't help but run full bore into the back couch cushion at which point he would be paralyzed in the air for a moment, his head would hit and his body would continue to bend up and over itself in what looked to be a sure cause for paralysis. He would have surely broken his back had his diaper not been packed full of pee (upwards of 6 hours), it weighed him down as though he had a brick hanging around his waist.

Praise goes to the Mom whose thinking ahead.

Back to the meal... it was the best yellow curry I have ever had. Second only to a Thai restaurant whose chefs are... well, Thai perhaps. No joke. See the link above for the recipe... I did 'half' the chili flakes and it packed some heat. Enough heat for the pregnant lady at the table and possibly too much for the kids had I not given them last night's leftovers. Hee-hee.

Our Wednesday nights are usually an evening of relaxation and harmony at the Kalous home with Rachel skating from one corner of the kitchen to the next, a smile on her face, glass of wine in hand and tongs in the other; children frolicking in the playroom and/or downstairs in the expansive living room (complete with space) while the adults sip libations and chuckle to themselves about the latest football game and/or our pregnant small group member's most recent 'discomforts'. Tonight was filled with everyone meandering around the kitchen island looking at me as they might a handicapped individual. She's managing. Do I ask if I can help? I'll just eat the appetizers until she asks. Ok, I'll ask. 'Krista, can I help you?' She's not responding but instead seems to be increasingly irritated with each word I speak to her. Maybe she has it under control. I'll just go manage the children and speak hope into their evening that dinner is coming soon.

We sat at the table sometime after 6:45 this evening and began what was a rather hurried pleasant meal. The curry was worth waiting for although the seating was a combination of broken Ikea seats that have been thrice times painted, garage sale seats that have been painted to match, an ottoman from the living room which sat Kyle about one and half heads below anyone else and an office chair.

I smiled throughout the meal and wiped my sweaty brow. I made only two trips to 'Dad's office' to discipline my children ('spank' for those who haven't read the Right books on parenting.) I seemed to pull it off and even offered to host again next Wednesday... although it seems only five will be able to make it.

At least we'll have enough chairs.

I judge people.

And I really shouldn't. Its my 'go to reaction' though when someone's different than me and I've spent so much time thinking about and wrestling with who I want to be. I truly get to a point where I'm rather positive that the way I do it is 'right' - like the Right way, you know. I read the book "Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child" and there's no better book. Your child will sleep if you do EXACTLY what the book says. Its the Right thing to do. I read "Shepherding a Childs Heart" and there's no better parenting book. Do what it says, its the Right thing to do. Simply read 'Parenting with Love and Logic', there's no need to go to the classes offered. Just read what the book says and apply it. Its the Right way to do it. Potty train the '3 Day Pottytraining' way and don't veer from the program. Its the best way to do it - so of course its Right. You base your entire daily routine around 'dodging' the inevitable, its just not Right. Be wise, but don't be irrational.

Tupperware parties. They're not Right. But in a desire to shed my Mom responsibilities and hang out with my eyes half open eating hoers De oeuvres, sipping something (preferably alcoholic but didn't expect such AWESOMENESS), oohing-and-aahing over plastic, over-priced storage containers was something that sounded doable - considering my OCD organizational personality.

Keeping my standards low and my hopes high.

Arrived. Casually perused the premises for signs of wine glasses. I saw the tall, thin foggy plastic Tupperware pitcher with what looked to be 'iron ons' of oranges and lemons on the side. I saw coffee being prepared by the host.

Damn. And double damn.

I made my way back and forth to the kitchen eating a doughnut here, a piece of fruit there... I smiled and nodded but when the Tupperware bowl came around with tiny Tupperware bowls inside of it, each with a 'surprise message' inside, that's when I decided to put my foot down. One of those surprise messages was 'host a party' which I would NEVER do because I'm just not into that kind of thing. So I smiled sweetly and passed on playing.

As the evening drew to a close and I began sifting through the catalog, I thought to myself, 'hmmm... I could really use that.' By the time I was turning the last handful of pages of the catalog I was sitting up, legs splayed out in front of me on the host's living room floor with the catalog open, pen in hand and my order form filling up. I had 'played the game' and drew "10 percent off any one regular priced item" and although I didn't HAVE to host a party, I, in what seemed to be a 'buzz induced excitement' opted to host a party at my house.

I bought the towels that Rachel has because the ones from Williams-Sonoma can't even compete. I bought the Fridge Vent Set thingamabob because it will save me money on produce. I bought the Freezer Set and the Herb Freezer Set because... well, it looks nicer in my freezer. It comes with labels.

$184 later AND offered to host a party at my house in hopes that YOU will buy stuff and I'll get 'free Tupperware money' to reorganize my entire pantry. I won't display any of their 'to the table' pieces because I would hate to, not only white-trash-up my table, but be judged by someone.

I'm a closet Tupperware-ist. And I know the perfect invitee - my dear Kristen Schwark. I can't wait!

Have you seen their 'Quick Chef'?? It'll make your heart race.

Beating the Odds.

My children beat the odds today. They came home from the park alive. Yes, Kyle and I allowed them to walk to the park alone. A walk to the park in our neighborhood includes walking down our long, steep (oh dear!) driveway, along the sidewalk (God forbid!), through a construction zone (nails! broken glass! beer bottles! wires!), through a blackberry patch, along a marsh, across about 40 yards of grass... arriving at the park. Granted, the trek there takes them in a complete circle so they arrive at the park which is located just on the other side of our front fence BUT none the less, I'm branching out. About 10 minutes later, Kyle walked over and enjoyed a picnic in the grass with his BIG KIDS.

After braving the ice cream truck and allowing Ben to play with (eat!) playdough at his own risk, I began thinking about the statistics of kidnapping in more detail.

I wonder if the likelihood of kidnapping varies with each pool of people:

Ice Cream Truck: 42% chance
Park Ranger: 8% chance
Childrens Pastor: 28% chance
Medical Professional: 12% chance
Boy Babysitter: 14% chance
Girl Babysitter: 4% chance
Teacher: 21% chance
Cable Guy: high

"Mom can I go get an ice cream cone from the ice cream truck?"
"Uh... can you see the truck coming?" I yell from the kitchen.
"Yes!"
"Is it an old mail-carrier jeep or an Astrovan?"
"Astrovan."
"Not today honey, we have ice cream in the freezer."

In consideration of the kidnapper reading this post, I won't disclose which day my 5 year old daughter will brave the long trek to the mailbox alone... but it will be this week. And before you give me any advice, please remember that instilling 'Stranger Danger' in your child is not unlike trying to create a shield for getting struck by lightning.

Link

Penn & Teller's 'Stranger Danger' Episode: watch preview here.

Penn & Teller

Last night Kyle called me out to the living room and away from the office to indulge myself in a little 'Bullshit' with Penn & Teller. I've witnessed their comedy routines but had no idea there was a TV series out there. If you are unable to get past the rough language and sarcastic offensiveness of these two than this is not a show for you... quite the contrary, its perfect for Kyle and myself. NOT because we enjoy the aforementioned unchristianlike behavior any more than the rest of you but because their perspective on 'Stranger Danger' is much more palatable, not to mention scientifically founded, than listening to mothers and the media around me talk on a daily basis.

Lenore Skenazy writes for the New York Sun and published an article last year on allowing her 9-year old to ride the subway home from downtown Bloomingdales - alone. It was intriguing listening to this woman speak and what a fantastic article to read (you should when you have 5 minutes to yourself.)

My daughter, Katie, who is 5 years old this coming Saturday has asked multiple times if she could walk down to the mailbox by herself to retrieve our daily bulk of bills and advertising materials. I have wanted so badly to send her on her way yet have been deeply influenced by the faces of other Moms who appear out of thin air speaking to me in ghost-like voices telling me that that would be ludicrous and someone will see this beautiful little girl, kidnap her and rape her. They'll find her body sometime in the next few days... wouldn't you HATE to have known that had she not been allowed to roam she'd be home safe in bed tonight?!

Unfortunately, against my better judgment, I've less-than-confidently told her, 'maybe another time honey' as she walks away with a sulk -- oh wait, that wasn't a sulk it was the manifestation of a caged animal who never discovers how to do anything on its own. Hopefully one of these days I'll release her into the wild with more than a sign saying 'Eat Me. I'm Meaty.'

I'm going to make a change. And yes, I'll write about it.

This week, Katie will walk down the block to the mailbox on her own. The mailbox is on the busy corner of 32nd Dr and 100th St... being a very busy intersection, there's multiple things to concern myself with. Yet Kyle and I have been intentional about training our children to think for themselves - walking behind cars in driveways, walking close to busy streets, being aware of what's going on all around you... I think she'll come through this first 'test' with flying colors!

We let Katie ride without a booster seat when the van is packed full of kids... we've turned our children FORWARD FACING in their car seats at the young age of 9 months... our 18 month old sits at the bar now in our kitchen on a backless stool... I leave them unattended in the bathtub quite often (do you KNOW how many things you can accomplish while the kids play 'Ariel' in the master bath?!)... we've never put up gates or covered our outlets (I guess the shock can't kill them - but its enough to deter them from ever doing it again - AMEN to 'survival of the fittest' mentality!!)... our 18 month old plays with scissors - sometimes inappropriately...

Why then have I allowed myself to be influenced so heavily by such Bull**** as Stranger Danger and how evil our world is?!

Why don't we as parents take it upon ourselves to instead train our children on the basic functions of being independent? Teach them that there are people out there that are mean but that its unlikely they'll ever meet one. Teach them the 'red flags', teach them to be aware of cars, teach them to stop and think as opposed to always thinking for them out of a desire to make it easier on ourselves as parents? We run around with a fear mentality and following the show yesterday evening I'm more aware now that the majority of controlling parents are actually the child-abusers. The detriment on these children is showing up later in life... and the likelihood is a lot higher - 3/3 of my 3 children will be unable to function as opposed to the 1 in a million chance that they will be kidnapped when out from under my watchful (and irrational) eye.

Enough of the Bull****. Lets start thinking for ourselves and maybe we can train our children to do that same.

Topics galore.

From the moment I pull the covers back in the morning my mind is smiling to itself and trying to make a file folder of all the 'moments' that would be candidates for blogposts. As I'm upside down drying my long, blonde curly hair to perfection watching as my stomach hangs not unlike that of a cat whose been completely shaved - swaying a little back and forth not matching the rest of my rather lean body, I laugh at not only my stomach (that I've only anxiety about when I think of Kyle dieing and myself being back in the dating scene) but also at my 18 month old who has been sitting in the bath for the last 45 minutes because I wanted to take a long, thorough shower - what I mean by that is I shaved my legs and armpits. He's probably sitting in 80 degree pee water by now, sucking on the washcloth and toys... and I'm laughing about how ripe the moment is with possibilities for my new blog.

These are only a couple of the moments that make me smile with anticipation.

My life is full of this stuff as I'm sure yours is too... here will be a place to read, laugh, cry a little and realize that you are not alone in these moments.

I'm excited to get started!