It is still his

In 2012, when we found out that Duncan would share his birthday with our fourth-born, it was easier, emotionally, to push the significance of that to the back burner, and say, “we’ll just figure out what that looks like next year.”

Well, guess what?  It’s next year.

And, undoubtedly, I have been wrestling in my spirit.  May 19 is James’ birthday.  His FIRST birthday.  It’s a big deal.

But May 19 is Duncan’s birthday.  And has been for FOUR years.  This is a day that has been sacred to me and to my family.  So while I am indeed emotional that when I pick up James out of his crib on Sunday morning, he will have turned that magical corner from baby to toddler, I can’t help but feel that Sunday is still more about Duncan.

You see, I actively love and parent James EVERY DAY.  EVERY day is James’.  And Seth’s.  And Erin’s.  EVERY day I am actively their mommy.  Doing and being and working for them.  Acknowledging them.  So while their BIRTH DAY is a chance to pause and celebrate the day they came into this world, I don’t think the day itself is as significant for them as it is when it comes to Duncan.

May 19 is the ONE DAY a year that I feel an impossible desire to be actively aware of him.  To celebrate him.  To remember him.  It is his day.  It is HIS.  Not his alone, but his, predominantly.

At least this year.

Man.

This is hard.

I don’t know what May 19 will look like in the years to come when James is aware that it is his birthday.  I hope he is as easy-going as Seth and Erin; they don’t care if they are celebrated on their ACTUAL birth date.  As long as there is cake and balloons and presents at some point, they’re good.

But for now….

For this year….

For today….

I choose to make it about Duncan.

Do you see it?

We had portraits taken in March.  I hadn’t shared this picture yet because I had grand plans to have prints done in time for Mother’s Day.  (FAIL.  Oops.)  But, it’s time.  Because it is a perfect picture.

That is my quartet.  My three sons and my sweet girl.  This side of heaven, that photo is the closest I will ever get to having my children all gathered together.  I adore it.

My big boy, who breaks and mends my heart a dozen times a day.

My bean.  The girl I didn’t know what to do with, but who is my brightest joy.

My baby.  The caboose that healed the piece of me that thought the “baby brother” dream had died with Duncan.

And my precious, missed-every-day miracle, right there in the mix.  Those one-pound-1o-ounce footprints, right in the middle of the beauty that is my children.

I realize this post has been poorly drafted.  Execution hasn’t been my strong suit as of late.  But it is my heart.  May 19, 2013. It’s Duncan’s fourth birthday.  Today is about him.  About how he changed me.  My marriage.  My parenting.  How he made me a better person.  Wife.  Mommy.  Friend.  Today is about him and all that he was and all that I’d have wanted him to be.   He is so loved, and so missed, and if the only way I can shout that out is in this little corner of the blogosphere, than so be it.  This is me shouting…

************

Happy birthday, baby.

I miss you.

I wish you were here.  I wish I were making you a birthday cake and sticking a bow on a big boy bike and changing sheets on a bunk bed that was yours and yours alone.  I wish I had known on that night four years ago how much I’d miss you today.  I would have done some things differently.  I’m glad that I have the IDEA that I’ll have eternity to “make it up to you,” and even more glad that I know the TRUTH that it won’t matter, once we are finally together again.

I wish the swing set Gramp-e just bought had to be bigger, to accommodate 4 swings, not just 3.  I wish I were preoccupied with keeping you from climbing trees instead of picking one out to plant for you (here in Ohio).

I wish I’d told you just one more time that I’m sorry I wished you away.  I wish I’d planned better for our time with you.  I wish I’d taken off the onesie they put you in so that I could see your tiny feet.  I wish Wednesday morning had taken a little bit longer to come, so that goodbye didn’t have to be said so soon.

But….

Wishing won’t make it so, and that’s okay.

I know you are in the best place.  I know that while I may have failed you during those days in 2009, I think I’ve done a pretty bang-up job where you are concerned since then.  People know I’m your mommy.  I take every chance I get to speak your name and honor your place in our hearts and home.  I love you, Apple Jack, and so do others.

I would give almost anything to go back and hold you for just one more moment.  But until Heaven reunites us, know you are forever in my heart….

I love you.  I love you. I love you.  I love you.

Mommy

Rock Star

I was standing in my kitchen earlier today, and this image flashed on my computer screen:



I had Pandora open on my browser, and as I stared at the picture, the familiar sounds of "na-na-na-nah-na-nah-na, I''m gonna start a fight!" met my ears.

Earlier this week, I read through some of Duncan's story, and one of the lines that most struck me was from the Labor & Delivery chapter:

I pushed – twice only – and the doctor announced, “he’s perfect.  He’s beautiful.”  And Jim wiped his eyes, and reached for the scissors, and cut the cord that had carried, and then failed, Duncan’s life.  We were no longer connected, my baby and me, and my head fell back on the pillows and my mind went blank.

And then, in that post, I went on to write that in the darkness, I heard a refrain:

So what, I'm still a rock star;  
I got my rock moves,  
And I don't need you.
 
And guess what?  
I'm havin’ more fun,  
And now that we’re done  
I'm gonna show you,

Tonight, I'm alright,  
I'm just fine…..  
I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.

I have heard this song countless times, both before the birth of my sweet son, and in the four years (FOUR YEARS!?) since, but as I read what I'd penned during the catharsis of his story-telling, I saw them in a completely new and breathtaking context.

I began to associate the line "...and I don't need you" in the chorus with what I'd written about Jim cutting the umbilical cord that night: "We were no longer connected, my baby and me."

And with that new association was one of the sweetest moments I've had since that night.  Up until this point, it had been hard not to focus on the I-failed-him/my-body-failed-to-sustain-him aspect of Duncan's death.  But now.  Oh!  The peace that flooded my heart with once again seeing and believing the truth that he doesn't need me any longer, for he is in a far better place than here on earth!  For even with all the love I have for him, I'd still be raising him in a broken and hurting world.  He would still be human, and would still sin, and would still need to come to the knowledge of a just God and the saving grace of His Son.

But my sweet boy has never known the truth of this world, only the wonder of heaven, and the words in this chorus took on a whole new life for me this week.  Can you hear him?  Can you hear him whispering to me that night, and on so many nights since?

Mommy, guess what?  
I'm havin’ more fun, (more fun that you can even imagine!)
And now that we’re done
(and it's okay that we're "done;" you did your job for every day you carried and loved me)  
I'm gonna show you,

Tonight, I'm alright, (better than alright, even!)
I'm just fine…..  

I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.  I'm just fine.
(Finer than you could ever dream for me.  I'm perfect now...!)

Oh, dear reader....you can't imagine the moment of revelation I had sitting in my living room Tuesday night.  Seriously.  I'm still in awe of the gift of this new "translation" of this song.  (Granted, I'm not stupid; the other 97% of this song does not in any way fit the context of my new interpretation!  But, still.  I can't undo the fact that this is the song he was birthed to, so...there you have it.)

Anyway.

I just felt that I should share this.  I know recent posts -- and most likely, in a few more to come -- there is predominantly sadness and missing.  Because, oh, OH, how I miss him.  I hear Seth talk about his baby brother (ie, James) and my throat aches with the unsaid words, "but he wasn't your first baby brother."  I can't not wonder who he would have been, what he would have looked like, who he would have taken after, what he would have loved to do.... I can't help but still feel that I have a family of 6, and he is the absent puzzle piece.

But.

He is alright.  More than alright.  He's just fine.

And I will be, too.

Feelings

This is how I'm feeling today:

 

Deflated. The sun is shining behind me, but I can't help but note the dark skies ahead.

It's coming home from a party to find a text from my mother that reads, "Grandpa in congestive heart failure.  In ICU.  Will keep you posted."

It's Duncan.  Today is the 14th.  The 14th was the last day that I know that I know that I know I felt him kick.  Tomorrow is the 15th, and the 15th marks the day that I KNEW.  I just knew.

It's Seth.  It's his recent obsession with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and his new "I'm gonna kill you with [insert whatever weapon du jour]" vocabulary.  It's the age, I guess.  But it's so dang hard.

It's James.  And the final days of his babyhood slipping away..... ***sob***  It's that only 4 of the 12 families that RSVPed "yes" to his birthday party actually came, and, yep, here come my insecurities of "I, and now we, don't matter."  Blergh.

It's Tiffany, and her ankle, and my inability to fix it.  It's also watching her meet people and make new friends...and it's unavoidable that there be some who have lacking social skills, and inadvertently confuse her and upset me.

It's a recent break-in around the corner in our subdivision, and the feelings of helplessness that stirs up.  And the reminder that sometimes it is just stuff.  And sometimes, it is SO MUCH MORE.

It's the stupid scale, and numbers that are going the wrong direction despite healthy choices and only minor cheats (with leftover gluten and dairy free smash cake, no less!).

It's May.  And yes, while May means birthday celebrations and Mother's Day and Memorial Day ushering in summer....for me, it's MAY and the connotation is too great to even voice.

I want to come back and do justice to Erin and her third birthday, and of course James' and his wonderful celebration and just his first, amazing year, in general.  Yet....I'm in my quiet place, and I think, like each year, it just needs to run its course and play out how it will play out.

My parallel life is in Durango, CO

So, y'all.

Mandie.



I've talked about, praised, and linked to her before.  Because she is all sorts of funny and honest and awesome and there are few women more special to me on this across-the-miles-together mommy journey I'm on than she.

She wrote something today, and it is pretty close to verbatim to what I could write about Seth.  I alluded to it yesterday (with the whole "why I want to look him in a tower" reference).

So....since I'm out of original material today, getting all cake-frosted and having giant punch balloons pop in my face and all, I'm just sending you over to her.

Read. Appreciate.  Pray for her.  (And me.  And every other pre-school momma you know with a firstborn son who, OMG, is a hot mess 9 times out of 10 these days.)

And then go back and read some of her archives. Because, seriously, y'all:  FUNNNNNY.

Random mid-May word vomit

• May 9: one year ago today, I had my maternity pictures taken, and was blissfully unaware of the drama that was going to unfold the next day, and in the days to follow.  I can honestly say, it was the last day that things were "normal" for me, and I'm feeling a little melancholic at that revelation.
• Seth's independence and fearlessness is going to get him kidnapped and/or killed.  It is a legitimate fear of mine in recent days.  He has taken to wandering off in stores, leaving the house with no preamble, riding his bike across streets and down through the subdivision.  Please, don't judge.  We are working on finding a solution that doesn't involve locking him in a tower room.  Lord knows, he'd just find a way to dig out/repel down/mentally transport from it, anyway.
• I'm second guessing our decision to have my tubes tied during my c-section last spring.  With James' fast-approaching birthday, I'm painfully aware that my days as a mother to an infant are numbered.  And it's not even that I adore the newborn baby stage; it just feels uncomfortable that I'm going back to a world of tampons and heating pads instead of pregnancy tests and prenatals.
• Tiffany sprained her ankle -- and I use the term "sprain" loosely, as we are still waiting on X-ray findings -- and I'm completely preoccupied with her discomfort.  I want to just make it better, and I can't, and it is a new place to be in for me.  I'm not her mom, so I don't want to hover and belittle and make her feel anything less than able to handle it herself, but man.... even moreso than when Erin had her surgery or when James has had to endure testing, etc., this is a "boo boo" that doesn't have an easy fix or a known end date.
• Jim and I are ships passing in the night, if that.  I have vague recollections of kisses goodnight and goodbye, but mostly, we are exchanging texts and emails regarding all the various details of the balls we have in the air right now.  I'm not sure what we can do in this particular season to reconnect and/or stay connected, but it, too, is weighing on my heart.
• I'm feeling very restless when it comes to all things Duncan related this year.  I don't know what to do/what I want to do to honor his birthday/homegoing.  I know I don't want to ignore it, but I don't know how to approach it, either.  I hate so very much not being near his tree.  So much so that I'm seriously thinking maybe we need to discuss burying his urn and getting a marker....?  I don't know.  I'm really sad that I don't have a "place" to go here in Ohio that feels like "his."
• Random projects and "wants" around our house have me feeling impatient.  I want to fence the backyard, power sand and repaint the front bench, update the chest in the kitchen, make a Lego table to Seth, do something with the builder grade mirror we removed from the upstairs bath, hang the magazine holder in the master bathroom, get our office clutter under control.
• I'm disappointed that I'm taking the time to blog tonight, but not "write," because I'm at that "I don't know where to start" point, and so I'm just throwing words on the screen in an attempt to clear my head.
• Speaking of clearheadedness.....I haven't had it in a while.  So fuzzy.  Everything has been so fuzzy now for a few months, and I don't know if it is just sleep deprivation, the diet change, or what.
• I had dreams about killer tornadoes, unmanned garage sales, and premature births last night.  Have no clue where those came from, and don't have the mental reserves to spend to figure it out.   Actually, just typing that out gives me some insight, and not in a good way.  The mind is an amazing thing, but man, sometimes, it's just too powerful for my liking.
• I learned the definition of the word altruistic this week.
• I felt like a complete yuppie (yuppy?) when I designed and ordered "mommy cards" earlier today, but (a) Tiffany said they're cute, so there's that, and (b) I'm quickly entering a realm of existence when, apparently, these type of things are necessary.  Oy.
• I owe a friend some editorial input on her professional bio.  I need to do it.  I want to do it.  But, man, I just want to sleep.  Or watch the 5 DVR'ed episodes of Glee that are waiting downstairs.
• I've been thrilled to learn that the Giant Eagle generic brand of Cap'n Crunch is gluten free.
• I baked three batches of brownies for James' birthday party today, and have washed my hands countless times, and now they feel all dry and yucky.  Anybody have a recommendation for a good hand cream?

Okay....I don't know that I feel any better, but at least some of what it floating around in my head can now be floating around in yours, too.  Generous, aren't I?

Golden

Three.

It's a magical number today.

My third-born turns three years old on the third of May.  It is her golden birthday.  And my mind boggles that the day has come.  Weren't we just floating away into the Cumberland River?  And here we are....

I realize I should be captioning these photos, but, man, what I see as her mother -- her mommy -- looking at each of these is hard to put into words.

It's so much more than "Erin loves her chocolate milk."

And, "Erin is all about rainbows these days."

It's more than "I wear you's pink stipstick."  It's time in the morning, even when the morning hasn't made time, to spend a minute in the bathroom with my girl, whittling away at the Mary Kay tube of Fancy Nancy, and watch her try to blot her lips "just like mommy."  It's pausing to realize that she is truly my mini-me, watching and mimicking my every move.

It's more than "Erin is an artist at heart."  It is that you are passionate about what you love.  Color and pattern and beauty, and you see it in so many things, and you create it where it doesn't naturally exist. ;)

 

Oh, Erin, two was a tough year, little miss.  We gave you a baby brother for your second birthday, made you start preschool, moved you to a big girl bed, potty trained you, stuck you in the hospital for a week...

And you were a rockstar.  A dramatic, angelic, often (literally) snotty, adorable 21 pound handful.

You are an amazing sister, daughter, friend.  Your favorite people in the world are your family, plus Mr. Doug ad Tiff'y. You are still shy around most people, but I love that innocence.  You amaze me, sweetheart.  You are everything and nothing that I imagined, and I am so lucky to be the one who is your momma.  I won't always be your favorite, or your best friend, but I'll always be your biggest fan.  You are the brightest star in my sky.  I love you.

DietBet

Have y'all heard of DietBet?

It is super user-friendly site, and a fun way to challenge yourself and friends to drop a few pounds.

Essentially, you have a set amount of time to lose a certain percentage of your body weight.  You have a set amount of money that you put into a "pot," and at the end of the "game," all those who meet their goal split the pot.  I recently participated in a challenge to drop 4% in 4 weeks, with a $10 pay-in, and today was our final weigh-in.   As of right now, 3 of the 12 participants (myself included in the 3!) have met our goal, so as it stands right now, I'm getting $40 back instead of my $10.  Yippee!!!

More significantly, though, is that I am finally -- FINALLY! -- out of my Phase II of my original (and failed, sigh) 30 x 30 plan.  That is HUGE.  I'm finally at pre-Duncan weight, and that is so physically and emotionally significant I can hardly explain.

Anyways....I just had to share!

It looks like we are going to be starting another DietBet game next Friday, so if you want in on the fun, just leave me a comment, and I'll get you hooked up!

Erinism

"Mommy, you knows who my fav'ite?

Scoob-Dooby."

I die.

Show and Tell: Dinosaur Week

Seth has a themed show and tell this week, and they have been talking about dinosaurs.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to take his Rex, or show off a pair of his dinosaur socks.

Here is my solution:

And I'm officially the coolest mom ever.  Go, me.

BLTN: Our journey with James

Well, here is the post that is going to necessitate a whole new label over there in the "looking for something" cloud.

-FREE.  (And to clarify, the dash is intentional.  I'll explain in a minute.)

If you scroll back through posts since James' birth -- well, let me rephrase that.  If I had been better about posting regular pictures since James' birth, you'd notice a couple things: that he constantly had scratches all over this face and scalp, or, that we constantly kept his hands covered with baby socks.

What was being passed off as eczema just didn't sit well with me.

And then, the week after Christmas, when James was seven months old, he developed a peri-rectal fissure, and thus began the run around between multiple pediatricians, pediatric gastroenterologists, and allergists.  MRSA, Celiac disease, Crone's disease -- all these and more were tossed out as possible issues our little man was facing.  Blood work, stool samples, ER trips due to abscess ruptures that filled his tiny diapers with blood....  This is what made up our January and February.

And in the midst of it all, the only this we know thus far is that James is moderately (3, on a scale of 1-5) allergic to gluten [but he doesn't have Celiac -- whoohoo!!!], dairy, and peanut.

Boo.  Hiss.

James is still having a lot of digestive and growth issues, so table food is slow going, therefore, he is still at least 80% breastfed.  Which means that, for now, I'm also gluten-, dairy-, and peanut-free.

It bears repeating: BOO.  HISS.

These past three months have been hard.  Frustrating.  Time consuming.  Pizza, chocolate, and ice cream-deprived.

But we are seeing improvement with James in several areas, so we feel we are on the right track.  I'm not loving the approach the doctors are taking, but I have been blessed to have a handful of girlfriends (both local and in the compute -- Hi, Hillary!) who are right there with me in the allergy trenches and who have been amazingly compassionate and supportive as we try to figure this all out.

So, yes, my recipe posts may very well be taking on a gluten and/or dairy free spin, but that's okay.  I'm happy to share the recipes and sites I've found that make this lifestyle a little bit easier.

And, I'm sure it goes without saying.

He is totally worth every sacrifice.

Necessity is a mother, that's for sure

You've heard the adage, right?  "Necessity is the mother of invention"?

Indeed.

All of our little ones have used the crib railing as a teether at one point in time.  Seth, minimally.  Erin, like a deranged beaver.  Seriously.  And James....well, he left his first mark this week.

So.

Why I didn't think of this before hand, I don't know, but I'm feeling pretty proud of myself:

They're repurposed crib sheet savers!  I loved having these in both the crib and pack 'n plays when the kiddos were newborn, but once they were mobile, the usefulness of these kind of tanked.  But, duh!  How perfect is this?!  They are quilted, easy (for me) to get on and off to wash (when they get all drool-y), and don't look too out of place, like some other rail protectors I've seen.

Anyway, I know this is hardly riveting blog fodder, but I'm thrilled that I found a way to reuse something, and not spend any more money on briefly-used baby paraphernalia.  (Especially since I think we are going to need to drop $90+ for some baby gates to block the staircase.  Boo.)

Have you had any "Aha!" moments lately that you want to share?

Happy Birthday Week

Tiff's birthday is this Thursday, and since she got seriously gypped last year (when she turned 21) since she was at basic training, I wanted to make sure she really felt the love this year, so we started celebrating her birthday Monday, to make the fun last all week!

I made her a yummy chicken dinner (more on that later -- I roasted my first chicken!), and picked up a Graham Central Station ice cream pie from Handel's.  Simple, yes, but it got this smile, so I think it was a success!

The face of disspointment

This is how I feel when I set goals for myself that I know aren't realistic (like blogging, in depth, every day):

 

Tomorrow is a new day.

James' throne of lies

When I went to pick James up out of his high chair after dinner tonight (dinner, which, by the way, was, for James, leftover Easter corned beef, and cheddar flavored almond crackers), I had to laugh.

"Seriously, dude," I said to his smiling face, "you smell like beef and cheese."

I'm living a life of movie lines, I tell you.

And if you don't know what I'm talking about, click here.

Happy Easter 2013

Since I talked about a Christmas tradition yesterday, I thought it only fitting that I address an Easter tradition today.

The kids get exposed to enough commercialized Easter Bunny rigamarole at school, etc., so we don't really play that up at home.  The Easter Bunny doesn't come to visit, or leave baskets, or eggs.  I mean, we DO a hunt for candy-filled eggs, but we don't tell the kiddos that the Easter Bunny left them.  (Granted, we don't tell them that WE hide them, either, so I'm not sure where they think the eggs come from....but I digress.)

Easter Eve, March 2013

We decided to just put out the eggs in our yard Saturday night when Jim's parents and my dad were over for dinner, and it worked out better that way anyways, because the weather wasn't too promising on Sunday.

Erin just got new Crocs; they are still a little big.  Which posed a problem as I considered how the egg-finding might not end up too balanced -- if she were tripping her way through the yard.  So, at the last minute, before we let the kiddos out of the house, I explained that Seth was only to put blue and orange eggs in his bucket; Erin was only to pick up pink and green.  All yellow and purple eggs were for James (ie, Daddy, lol), and were to be left in the grass.

And it worked BRILLIANTLY!

If Erin would come across a Seth-egg, she'd yell excitedly for him; and visa versa!  And then, when their buckets were full to overflowing, they went back around the house, and Seth picked up the yellow eggs and Erin retrieved the purple.  Seriously, this is how we are hunting eggs from here on out!  EQUALITY FOR ALL! lol

Anyways....

I have more pictures of the actual hunting, but.....I've been nursing a migraine all day, and the effort of editing and posting any more pictures than the one gratuitous clip (that I can't even take credit for -- Tiff took it!) that I pulled off of Facebook seems a little daunting.  So.  Simple cuteness will have to suffice for now!

BLTN: Traditions

Have we talked about traditions before?

I can’t really think of any hard-core traditions from my childhood, and I can honestly say that I’m okay with that.

That said, though, it leaves me puzzled as to why I want so badly to create traditions/memories for own children, especially when it comes to annual events.

One new tradition we started this year was the super-trendy Elf on a Shelf.  I know, I know.  But c’mon.  We don’t use it to prompt good behavior, and the kids think discovering the overnight antics of our elf, Linus, is such fun.  So, yeah.  We are officially an elf family.

Click here to see a recap of most of Linus’ shenanigans from the holiday season, 2012.

A promise re: BLTN

This isn’t an April Fool’s joke, I promise.

This is me, saying it out loud in the hope that it’ll keep me accountable.

It is simply unacceptable that this blog – this family record – has been so neglected.  I can’t hardly fathom the topics that haven’t been documented in the last year-plus.  So.  I’m rectifying it, this month.

Every day in April, all 30 days, starting today, I’m going to post about something that has been overlooked.

Have I told you about flying to LA to film a parenting documentary?  And that I did that in October of 2011?  Nope.

Did I tell you about my first trip back to Toledo Hospital after Duncan’s birth?  (It wasn’t to deliver James; it was before that, and it was traumatic.)

Have I told you about Christmas?  The outcome of Erin’s surgery? The health issues with James?  Our home renovations?  That Tiffany has come to live in Ohio?  Seth’s birthday?  James’ nursery?

Big fat HECK, NO, to all of the above.

And I’m gonna fix that.  Starting now…..

Click here to read about Seth’s 5th birthday celebration.

Staying satisfied in the missing

So, the first day of spring was last week.

And everybody has been whining about the absence of sun and warm temperatures, and how the Easter Bunny will need Rudolph’s help to deliver eggs, and how spring chicks need parkas and all that.

And I get it.

But I have to say, that my spring thoughts have bypassed the flowers and the temperatures, and have gone straight to a place that I’m finding unexpected.  I can appreciate the sun, and opening a few windows, but more than those…..I’m longing for my Tennessee home.

I can’t seem to get this photo out of my head:

I know it may seems innocuous.  But to me, it captures the essence of peace and tranquility and utter belonging I felt the entire time we lived in our White House home.  Maybe it is because we’ve recently put that home on the market, and I know our ownership of a place where we were so happy is coming to an end….

There were aspects to our time in Tennessee that were hard.  Unexpected.  Disappointing, even.  But our HOME was an amazing place of refuge and fellowship and safety.  I can’t tell you  the number of times I stood at this very kitchen window and thought, “I love this place.  I LOVE this place.”

And I am missing it so….

The mushrooms that sprouted up in the front plant beds after too much rain

The sidewalk, with just enough slope to send little cars speeding into the neighbors’ yards

The view from the central window, where curious eyes could observe and learn in secret

The spot at the bottom of the stairs that was perfect for playing catch

The kitchen cabinets

The way that sunlight seemed to always pour in through the back doors

 

Our tree out front, that was always – and I mean ALWAYS – the last to lose its leaves

I miss the little dinette table, and having little friends over for chicken nuggets and grapes

 

The banister, and the unmistakable sound of little feet coming to find me in the morning

The view from the back bedroom windows

 

Jamie, and her precious family being right up the street.
I miss being able to see her garage door open and shut from my front porch.

I’m thankful today for my spacious playroom, don’t get me wrong.
But I also miss having my whole word contained to one room….I do.

I miss the way this room felt….I miss the anticipation of waiting for our baby girl….

 

Oh, how I miss my front porch.
My black door, and the beautiful lights we pick out to replace the dated brass fixtures.

The woods behind our house.  I so wanted to let Seth explore here as he grew…

I miss having Las Maracas only a few minutes away.  Even more, I miss having any number of families we could call at a moments notice, and say, “Hey, Mexican tonight?”

 

I miss this view so much my heart aches.

I even miss “Not Ralph” aka Bella.

I miss the creek.  I miss watching Seth enjoy this little slice of heaven in our own backyard.

 

Our tree, and Duncan’s windchime

Our deck, and the landscaping Jim worked so hard to perfect

The red half-bath, where potty training woes were vanquished

My roses, so lovingly tended around Duncan’s stone

Neighbors that my children adored…even if engine revving woke them from naps too soon

Mature trees that shed their leaves for autumn fun

Oh, 116.  I miss you.

I really, truly thought White House would be our forever home.  And more often than I like to admit, I’m still very sad that it isn’t going to be.

Let me again state, I’m so thankful for our current home.  The comfortable, large space that gives the kids room to sprawl, and even allows for us to be hospitable in exceptional ways.  We have good neighbors in a great school system.  We are back to the same ZIP code as much of our family – and that, right there, the family thing, you can’t put a price on.

But if I’m being honest, I’m restless.  I miss my Tennessee home fiercely.  I’m still peeling back the layers of why that is, and what I REALLY miss the most (I’m smart enough to realize that it’s probably not bricks and maple trees and Sherwin Williams paint).

But there you have it….