What if...

Luke brought this book home from the school library today: A Mama for Owen, by Marion Dane Bauer. Seemed innocent enough. Until the drowning little hippo roars for his mama, until he can roar no more, as his family is separated by the flooding river. *sniff, sniff* That's when this mama could barely hold back the tears and was beginning to wonder why on earth someone would write such sadness for children. And trust me, after the beautiful and tender description of Owen's love for his mother hippo, losing her was sad. But Owen washes ashore and finds a 130 year old male tortoise, Mzee, who becomes his new "mama." A bittersweet story. But you know what they say, the truth is often stranger than fiction.
Imagine our surprise when we finished the story and read on the last page of the book that the precious story of Owen and Mzee is true. (Apparently, the story failed to capture my attention when it happened in 2004, but then again, I had a 1yr old and a 2 yr old at the time so not much in world news did catch my attention). Owen was rescued after the 2004 Indian earthquake and taken to a nature preserve where he met Mzee. Owen was still a nursing calf at the time, and normally would have spent 3 more years under his mother's care. Mzee showed Owen what to eat, where to sleep, and for a couple years, (until it was time to introduce Owen to a hipp-ette) they were inseparable. Owen and Mzee have their own website, BBC documentary and several books. Their relationship has even spawned more than one children's song.

We have officially entered the final countdown for school.

TEN more days of school.

Ten more 6:11 a.m. alarms.

Ten more car pool lines.

Ten more snack and/or lunch packings.

Then it's goodbye daylight bedtime, goodbye afternoon homework drama, goodbye lunch money, goodbye...

Hel-lo, summer!

Update: No luck with the missing monkey, but I did find a little time to work on the blog. Not sure that I'm done, but boy do I have a headache, so I'm done for now!


I decided I was tired of the old blog background, so I started playing around with the blog this afternoon...the background, the template, the pictures, etc. After several failed attempts at finding what I want, and stripping the page down to nothing, there seems to be a small child needing my attention (there's a situation with a missing monkey). I'll have to come back to the blog later.

Thanks Becky and Debra, for making a detour to spend the night with us.

Thanks Jenna, for waking up at 2 a.m. and getting in bed with Aunt Erin. Sweet memory.

Thanks Jackson, for telling your mommy you wanted me to open your poptart; made me feel like a million bucks.

Thanks Liam, for getting up so early; it helped us make the most of our short time together. And for peeking in the back door and saying, Uncle Erin, thanks for saying you'll take me in the front yard. It makes me happy when you say that. Makes me happy too, little man.

Thanks Pastor and Holly, for helping us make the most of a rainy Saturday afternoon.

Thanks Nicole, for letting me share in the major milestone of Evan's first hot dog!

Thanks lifeguards, for keeping a watchful eye on the blue-lipped little ones swimming in ice cold water, in the rain no less, so this momma could catch up with friends.

Thanks Dunkin' Donuts guy, who voluntarily added more sprinkles to Luke's ice cream after the first guy was so stingy.

Thanks Adam Sandler, we enjoyed your Bedtime Stories.

Thanks Lily and Luke for sleeping in so Daddy could have a chill morning.

Thanks Bill, for doing such a great job as Professor Beaker, I'd forgotten how much fun it can be to share the "stage."

Thanks Teri, (or maybe I should say sorry!), for letting me use your check-in clipboard for a good laugh.

Thanks to the 70+ preschoolers who helped me forget what I was so irritated about in the first place.

Thanks David, for keeping the kids occupied so I could take a 90 minute Sunday afternoon nap. All that singing, dancing and story telling can wear a girl out. With ribbons in my hair and my colorful clothes and sparkly accessories, I may be dressed like I'm 10 years younger, but by the time it's done, I feel like I'm 10 years older.

Thanks David, again, for getting up first this morning with our noisy boy, the early riser, and letting me stay in bed. Suddenly, I feel a little lazy, but grateful none the less.

Thanks Millers, for hosting us, despite the delayed race's attempt to ruin our fun...missed you Dooleys, wasn't the same without ya!

Thanks Jack, for finding such a big rock, and giving us such a big, but concerned, laugh.

And most importantly, thank you to all of the service men and women who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom. I am so thankful to live in a country where I can sleep peacefully in my own home, gather with friends at will, allow my children to play in open spaces without fear of harm, publicly worship God...all the things that added up to one really great weekend. Freedom is a huge blessing, made up of hundreds of little things I do everyday. May I never take these freedoms, or the ones who serve and protect, for granted.

Happy Memorial Day!

The sand is now securely inside the Dyson, no longer in the vehicle seats and floorboards. The bathing suits are fresh and clean, smelling of Gain, no longer stiffened by salt water, hiding sand in every crease. The tender red shoulders have faded to a soft brown. New freckles have emerged on fair-skinned faces.

The beach was what it always is, a familiar friend. Different beach, different sand, different surf, same old friend.

Not goodbye, just so long, for now.

Eleven years ago today, I woke up beside my new husband. I don't remember if we woke up early or slept the morning away. I don't remember what we ate for breakfast, although I do remember grabbing a bite to eat in the lovely hotel dining room. I don't remember exactly what I was thinking on that day, as I began life as a married woman girl. I was 19. Naive about so much of the world, yes indeed. But I knew all I needed to know about him, at least all I needed to know at the time. I knew he was mine. As far as all the other stuff I thought I had figured out, not much of that I can say I was right about.

So to you, the naive 19 year old certain you've got life and love figured out, I thought you should know...

...you think he's cute now, wait til you see him at 35.

...sex at 19 is not nearly as great as sex at 30, hang in there.

...thank him for how hard he works, don't give him grief for the long hours. His work ethic is immense, and his willingness to work long hours will help keep you at home with your babies. And it will mean the world.

...you think you're tired now, with your part time job and your full time course load. Puh-lease. You ain't seen nothing yet. Rest up, girl.

...he's right about waiting a while to start a family, don't pout like a spoiled child when he says he's not ready. The four easy years you share before the kids will keep you going in the years that follow that aren't so easy.

...you think he has the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen, wait til you see them on your son.

...you think his dry sense of humor is endearing, just wait until it pours out of your daughter's mouth.

...you're not always as right as you always think you are, and even when you are, being right won't always feel so good. So don't worry so much about who's right, just love.

...you think you couldn't possibly love him any more than you do right now, but you are so wrong. The hand that slipped that diamond ring on your finger will become the hand that signs your first home loan, becomes that hand that claps as you walk across your college graduation stage, becomes the hand you'll squeeze as you deliver a baby girl...then a baby boy, becomes the hand that helps change diapers and bathe babies, becomes the hand that pats your back and tells you things will get better when you can get a little more sleep, becomes the hand you'll grip tightly as you take a giant leap of faith, becomes the hand extended to introduce your family to new face after new face after new face, becomes the hand that holds yours to quietly worship or lead in new ways and new places you'd never imagined.

...you think by his side is your favorite place to be, well, you're right about that; it always will be. Enjoy every moment of it.

Happy-Same-Day-Same-Year-Anniversary, Teri and Kemp! Here's to eleven wonderful years, and many, many more to come! Let's celebrate our 25th in Hawaii together! (Let's start saving up now!)

I have to say, all the hype I've been hearing about the Flip video camera is right on! There is a 4th grader in a class I serve who's in the hospital, so the teacher used the school's Flip camera to record get well messages for him. (GET WELL SOON, BRANDON!) She's going to visit him this weekend and wanted to share the cheerful get well greetings of his classmates. It was a last minute idea, but with the handy dandy Flip, it all came together beautifully! Great idea, great camera. She'd never used one either so we were both amazed, and even took 5 minutes of class time to look up some Flip deals online. Within minutes of opening the box, we'd videoed the kids and then replayed them on the computer for the kids to see. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy as the 4th graders would say, and the video quality was wonderful. I could just see my red, white and blue tap dancer prancing across that screen (Lily's patriotic-themed dance recital is at the end of the month.) Our current means of video is the 30 second video I can capture on my digital camera, so the 60 minute Flip seems like an eternity of family fun footage. I thought Mighty Putty and ShamWow were still tops on my "wish list" but I think Flip just blew that list wide open! I'm usually not big into the latest techno stuff, but I think what I loved the most is how much fun Ali and I had using the camera, and what hams 9 year olds turn into when that red light starts blinking!

• The way you want us to go to bed together every night, sometimes even just to sleep ;).
• The way you let me know I'm running late...you look at me, then look at the clock, then look back at me, without saying a word.
• The way you miss the small of your back each time you towel off after a shower.
• The way you play outside games with the kids inside, then give me that little-boy grin when you've been caught.
• The way you brush your hair repeated strokes, even though the first two strokes do the job.
• The way you call me during the day, everyday, for nothing, even though the telephone is your nemesis.
• The way you laugh out loud, with your head tilted back, when you think something is really funny.
• The way you get sheet marks on your face, whether you sleep for 10 minutes, or 10 hours.
• The way you think I'm so much smarter than I really am.
• The way you keep your cool in high stress situations, but lose it over a lost TV remote.
• The way you eat the burned toast, close the open cabinets, pick up the shoes, and every other little thing you do to overlook my many flaws.

It's 5/11, and in 5 days, David and I will celebrate 11 years of marriage. I feel some listy-lists a brewin'...and it's been awhile since I've oozed my "isn't David dreamy?" mush all over this blog, so expect some of that to come your way soon!

I have a tendency to get a little weepy around holidays; I think because holidays cause reflection on the passage of time, which can be startling, I've had so many thoughts swirling in my head as Mother's Day approached, and now that I've enjoyed a wonderful day with my family, I'm even more full of sappy sentiment! I'll hopefully find the time in the coming days to turn some of those thoughts into posts, but for now, here is a quick Happy Mother's Day! to all the special moms in my life: my mom, my mothers-in-law, my sister, sisters-in-law, grandmothers, friends...and to my husband and sweet children. I am so blessed.

Oooh, just in case the days ahead get away from me, I don't want to miss a chance to say: Rock on, Holly! I am honored to call you a friend. You spoke a poignant word today, David and I just finished our "take away" discussion. As we unloaded the dishwasher together, we had a necessary conversation about that fear-risk-faith point you made and a specific area it applies to in our lives. Well said. Well done. Happy Mother's Day!

Before we moved to North Carolina, we lived just two houses down from my parents. You might think living that close is how you really get to know someone, and at the time, I probably thought the same. But move 600 miles and you'll find your viewing lens becomes larger, your vantage point grows, and as it turns out, the distance enables you to see more, to know more. To know better.

In the past 3 years, I have seen far less of my parents, and I know them all the better for it. I know they will travel 600 miles for a sick grandchild. For that matter, I know they'll travel 600 miles for a healthy grandchild, too. My dad will burn every second of his vacation time to spend time with our family here, or there, or anywhere in between. My mom will rearrange her schedule to be here for a birthday, or a surgery, or turn her quiet, "empty-nest" home upside down for weeks at a time for the kids to have an extended visit. My parents are not wealthy, and they will do without if it means they can do for us. And they have. Many times.

Not long after we moved out of the home two doors down from my parents and into a two bedroom apartment in NC, my parents came for a visit. One night as they were crowded in the kids' bedroom, with both kids of course, I listened in at the door. I heard giggles, and I love yous, and singing; then more giggles, and more singing. And in that moment a sadness I'd been carrying inside for months, a fear that my children would not have a close relationship with their grandparents, just melted away. Right then and there, I understood that the change in quantity of time did not have to mean a change in quality of time. Only, as it turns out, the quality did change, for the better.

Whether it was an unspoken commitment they made in their hearts, or a decision they sat down and made together, sometime in my parents' 30th year of marriage, they realized they had a new challenge to face: a 600 mile hurdle. Would they, could they, continue to build and maintain a relationship with their grandchildren? Children who had lived just two doors down. Children who now lived 600 miles away. Would the emails and phone calls and photographs and holidays and weekend trips and summer visits ever be enough? It would have to be.

Yesterday was my parents' 34th wedding anniversary. There are so many things I could say about their 34 years of marriage. Imperfections of course, funny stories galore, strange habits and oddities no doubt. Or I could applaud them for their amazing example of Godly generosity, love, and selflessness. I could praise them for their commitment to marriage and family, and the lessons David and I have learned. But tonight, feeling overwhelmed by the passage of time, and how fast my little ones have grown in our years here, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude.

Mom and Dad, for seeing the distance between us as a challenge, not an insurmountable obstacle, and rising to that challenge beautifully, thank you. Happy Anniversary.

You know how you often hear the story of a successful engineer, scientist or all around genius and it involves something like "as a child he (or she!) loved to take things apart and put them back together, just to see the way things worked."

Ever hear an inspiring story that begins with "he loved to break things...destroyed stuff all the time just for the heck of it," anyone?

Yeah, me either. Rats. I don't know what we're gonna do with this boy of ours. If there's an opposite to "everything he touches turns to gold," such as, "everything he touches turns to garbage," that's where we're at.

Moms of older boys, please feel free to comment and tell me destroyer-mode is a short lived phase. If you know otherwise, please keep it to yourself!