I Like to Leave the Planning to Someone Else

So, we have been back in Dallas for two weeks, and in our new home for that long.  Before I left Florida I spent a couple of nights (with the two kids who were not in New York) at Wendy's house.  (That's my sister-in-law.)  I had spent a lot of time there over the previous three weeks, with the kids playing.  We had talked a lot about cleaning up the post-Christmas mess, and we actually did a little bit of that (I broke down a ton of boxes...it was good practice for the ocean of boxes that was going to be headed my way) and I helped clean up packaging and stocking stuffers that had been strewn all about as though a tropical storm had surged through the lower level of her house.  During those final days, though, she made a proposal.  A challenge, of sorts.  She had a plan.

Her proposition?  That we pretend like we're grown-ups for one month.  (A whole month, not just the rest of January.)

We never spent a solid amount of time hammering out the details.  What exactly would that look like?  Getting up when our kids got up (or, goodness gracious, before?!)...being prepared for and actually cooking meals (I don't think either one of us cooked a single meal the entire time we were in Florida; Mike's mom cooked.  She actually likes it.)...going to bed at a decent hour?  All of these things were probably floating around in both of our heads, but we were also busy drinking sweet tea and cleaning up her daughter's bedroom.  The decisions we had to make regarding so much doll and horse paraphernalia, so many ribbons and bags, you will never know. 

When we parted ways at the airport it was with an unspoken understanding that we would, indeed, give this grown-up thing a shot.  Since I've been home we've talked a few times and

FAIL. 

Hopefully she will not think that is a totally unjust assessment.  It is mostly of my end of the deal.  We have shared some laughs regarding our efforts, or lack thereof.  Or at least regarding the unsuccessfulness of our efforts.  The pinnacle of achievement here was the day we all slept through alarms, Christian woke me up at 8:37 (his school starts at 8:30), and by the time Mike got him, along with Michaela, out the door and to school (Michaela was going to do some work in Mike's office), Christian's school day was over.  It was an early-release Wednesday. 

So, I took the kids bowling.  We went looking for a strike that was not only acceptable but desirable, unlike the giant one that we had managed to acquire that morning.

Speaking of strikes...can I go on one from this grown-up gig?  Oh, I have to actually be a grown-up before I can go on strike?  Ah.  I guess that does make sense.

I've never been one for logic and rational thinking, though.

Today I feel like I took a small step towards being a grown-up.  I got up and got Christian to school.  (Mike actually woke Christian up.  He is much better at that than I am.  With me, it's all Armageddon-like, so I'll leave that job to the dad.) (I was not in a good mood anyway, since I had to put my contacts in as soon as my feet hit the floor.  Both pairs of glasses that I have are broken.) (Ridiculous, I know.)  Getting out the door and driving did not make me feel GREAT!, but I have to admit that by the time I was headed back home (I also had to get gas), it was closing in on 9am and it's just hard to feel sorry for someone that they are up by that hour.  Even when it's myself.  (Sort of.)

I can't say that the rest of the day went perfectly splendidly wonderfully, and was amazingly fulfilling.  (That would be something, wouldn't it?!) 

But it was a start.  Alas, the secret is out...the key to getting me going in the morning is for me to take Christian to school.  Don't tell!  I'll never get out of doing it now.

A Letter

Dear C and D,

You probably know that we have moved; since our new house is significantly smaller than the one we just left we are making a concerted effort to clear some things out and pass some things along that we no longer need.  We have donated what we could to the Crowders' yard sale.  When they came to pick up a lot of those things, we were listing what we wanted to get rid of, items which we no longer need, and our Pack 'n' Play came up.  Ashley lit up and said she was so glad that we had one to donate because you had just been in touch with her and had wondered if anyone had given them a Pack 'n' Play yet.  She offered to take it for us since they were going to see you tomorrow.  I went inside (everyone was in our garage or driveway) in order to dust it off and put it in its carrying bag.  As I took out the handful of random things that were in it, and removed the mattress, and turned it on its side in order to clean it up a bit, I began to cry.

This was Michaela's bed shortly after we came home from the hospital with her ten years ago.  She slept in the bassinett when she was very tiny and then in the regular part when she was bigger.  Christian slept in this Pack 'n' Play on many trips throughout the first two years of his life.  This Pack 'n' Play was Eliana's bed until a few months ago.  She is our last baby, and now our time for needing things like cribs and Pack 'n' Plays has passed.  Our baby is three and a half years old now, and she has her very own twin bed. 

There is a part of me that mourns this giving over of something that is seemingly not a big deal.  Of course, there are the moments that I remember, the moments that actually happened and are firmly implanted in my memory, images of little sleeping faces, toes peeping out from bottoms sticking up in the air, knees tucked till they touch the chin.  Images of stuffed animals lining the Pack 'n' Play like a small army protecting the one who is sleeping there.  Eliana once fell asleep with a book on top of her chest...the title was Prayer for a Child, and I will never forget thinking,"She is literally covered in prayer." 

Then there are the moments that will never be.  You both know loss as I do.  And you know of losses that I have never experienced.  I think of those little fingers and toes, the toothless grins, the soft hair and cheeks, that will not be, in our home.  But then I think of the sweet little life for whom you are preparing a home, for whom you have been preparing your heart, and I smile through my tears.  I think of all of the love that your baby is going to know, and the beautiful real-life portrait of what God has done for us that you are painting for your baby, and my heart finds peace in knowing that our family gets to be a small part of that.  

I pray God's blessing on this sleeping space.  I pray his blessing on your lives as you carry out his calling for you.  I pray that he will give you all you need as parents, from Pack 'n' Plays to wisdom in potty training (don't call me about that...I am no good at it!).  I hope this little playyard/bed gets a lot of great use in your home.  I didn't know how much was tied up in it for me until I began to take it apart.  That's how it is sometimes, isn't it?

Much love to you both, and may God's grace be abundant in your lives as you wait for your new arrival and then transition into being a new family.

Christina 

Another House to Home

Well.

We returned to Dallas one week ago.  We drove up to our new house at 11:30pm (which is 12:30am in Florida).  Since Eliana had slept the second leg of our trip, by the time we got inside she was wired.  Christian was too, and I don't have an excuse for him other than he's Christian (he said he slept on the plane, but he was in the row in front of me and I have no eyewitnesses regarding that, so...who knows).  The kids were excited to see their dad, and to see what he had managed to get in here, to check out their new rooms, and to make sure they could run a full loop through the downstairs. 

The following day we jumped right into a regular week...Christian and Eliana had school on Monday, Michaela began her schoolwork on Tuesday, they had Bible Study on Wednesday, Christian went to karate, and I cried a lot.

See?  Totally regular!

It is going to take a while to get used to our new life.  The commute is just one part of it.  Mike made three round trips last Monday in order to get Christian to school, take Eliana midday, and then pick the two of them up after school.  He made the best use of his time by also picking up things from the old house to bring here each trip.  I spent that day unpacking kitchen things and getting them put away.  The rest of the week is a bit of a blur. 

We drove in circles a lot. 

Last night was the first night that I walked through this house and felt like I could imagine it as our home one day.  Just the thought that it would happen made me happy, even though the reality is still that I am not 100% ecstatic to be here.  I miss the big openness of the other house.  I miss walking down the long hallway that runs through the middle it.  I miss the old house, warm wood smell that is just like it smelled when I went up the stairs in my grandma's house. 

I had a lot of hopes for that other house.  When we first moved there, I imagined it would be a fresh start, with a place for everything and everything in its place.  There was a lot of space, big rooms, big closets...turns out that space equals a lot of room for us to make messes!  I think a huge part of my sadness is that my hopes were never fulfilled there, as far as what it meant to make the house a home.  During one of the worst times of our less-than-two-year stint there, some of my friends made a valiant effort to bring order and a sense of well-being to the environment (I wrote about that here and here).  But because of my depression and some other factors I was never able to maintain what they had done.

Now that Mike has finished his dissertation, and we live in a smaller house, and we are cleaning out our stuff (and not moving everything over at once...he went through everything that he could while I was in Florida, and has moved things over in an orderly fashion), I am once again hopeful that this can be a fresh start.  I don't know how many fresh starts we get in our lives.  When I stop and think about it, I am grateful for so many chances to begin anew.  While it is so hard to say goodbye, to have to make this transition, to have to change so many things about the way we were living, it is also a chance to try again.

I have complained a lot since we've been here...I have to admit, the first few days were pretty awful (at least from my standpoint).  I was miserable, and I was making everyone else miserable.  Mike had tried so hard to do things in such a way that I wouldn't worry about the things that I always worry about, and all I had for him was griping.  I am ashamed to say that.  But it's true.  I couldn't see past my disappointment in several (okay, dozens of) things, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut about it.  He has been gracious while challenging me to look at our life positively (not the whole time...we've both been snarky).  He has given me a lot of ownership regarding where furniture and dishes and other things go.  I think that has helped me see that the time will come when it will feel like our home.

I haven't taken any pictures yet.  Mike took this one, though.  I called it a monument to what had been accomplished.

There are many more boxes to go, and much more furniture to be placed, and clothes to hang, and dishes to put away...but little by little we will make this house a home.  And hopefully we'll call it home for longer than two years!

When Texas Wildlife Meets Florida Wildlife

Letting Go

Michaela flew to New York City today...without us.  Mike's mom, Diana, took her and her cousin and met up with her husband's granddaughter, her mom, and an aunt for a few days of fun in the Big Apple.  Today they managed to squeeze in lunch at Alice's Tea Cup, a trip to the American Girl store, a pit-stop at the hotel, an evening at the Big Apple Circus, and dinner after that.  

Do you think they will conk out tonight?!  They had to get up pretty early, so I hope they sleep well once they crawl under the covers.

Last night I was really nervous.  Up until around 9:00pm I hadn't thought much about Michaela flying without me or being in another city without me.  I know she is in good hands, and I'm not worried at all about the fact that she is with her grandma.  But all of a sudden, after I tucked her in, and took her packed bags to the kitchen door where they would be easy to take to the car in the morning, at that point I had the thought,"What if something happens?!"  I blinked back tears and then demanded that that thought get right out of my head.  I prayed to God not only that he would watch over her (and everyone on the trip) but that he would protect me from myself and my imagination.

Wendy, Mike's sister, and I bought the girls cell phones so that if they get separated momentarily from Diana they can call her.  Or in a serious emergency, they can call 911.  Both of them have called us to report today on things:  great flight, lunch in a tea room, wonderful hotel, headed to the circus, late-night dinner.  How could they be doing anything but having fun?!

Each time I talked to Michaela she said,"I've taken a lot of pictures!"  I can't wait to see them.  I hope she's writing in her journal about her experiences.  I know she is having a blast. 

I hope she remembers to use her Purell.

haha  Don't you think I'm funny?

I am being serious, though.