Where We Are

Have I mentioned that I now have three glorious mornings a week in which I am completely, utterly, kidless? 

This is the stage of life that I've been not-so-patiently waiting for the past 12 years and here it is, thrust upon me and I'm filling my time with the things I've been waiting for.  

Like running. 

And running.

And more running.  

But also trips to Costco, and browsing at TJ Maxx, and even getting my house in order. 

The medicine cupboard, the junk drawer, all spic and span and shiny once again.  

And while I sort of love it, this new found freedom that I have, it's also sinking in and this is it. This is where I find myself, standing on the edge of my kids not needing me so much and the busyness of their lives taking over the simplicity of mine.  It's odd and a bit terrifying all at the same time.  I am now often on the sidelines instead of calling the game and it feels foreign to me, this new hat that I'm wearing.  

I've always tried to enjoy each stage that my kids are in, not wishing them away for the next one.  I loved getting up with my babies at night, snuggling them close and nursing them back to sleep, I truly did.  I loved the feeling of triumph in navigating the mall with two littles in the stroller and not one melt down to be seen.  I loved picnics at the park after preschool and then packing lunches and sending them off for a full day.  I love watching them in their activities, whether it be piano or soccer and cheering them on no matter what.  I've loved it all and know without question that I will love what's to come.  

But this freedom I have now, this time to myself to do as I please has served as a giant, screaming reminder that they are growing up, and while I sort of love it, I sort of loathe it too.  From my oldest who stands almost eye-to-eye with me to my littlest who can button his own pants and do his own zippers, I find myself missing my kids.  

Missing her sparkling blue eyes and the cutest voice you've ever heard. 

Missing his quiet play, watching him get lost in worlds of train stations and engines.

Missing her perfectly round race, completely with chubby cheeks and a smile that could change the world.  

Missing his snuggles, his blue blanket with the giraffe draped over us both as we meld together on the couch.  

Their growing.  I'm cheering.  It's where we are now.

The Mother Of All Road Trips, Day 5

I've been trying to figure out a way to describe our time in Disneyland.  

And I've decided I can't.  

Because Disneyland blew my socks off.  Exceeded every expectation I ever had.  Was more magical and fun than I could have dreamed up and I'm already itching to go back.  Everything they say about Disneyland is true; it's magical.  It's happy.  It's like there's some kind of cosmic goodness that is pumped in the air and found in every song, every laugh, every amazing memory that is made.  I will let the pictures speak for themselves but know this: we were under the spell of one Walt Disney for days on end and that spell luckily followed us home. 

I know some of these pictures are way too small for you to really see but we would be here until the end of time if I posted and described each one.  We made the most of our time, waking the kids at ridiculous hours, forgetting to feed them and walking their cute little legs into the ground.  

And no one complained.  

And no one fought.  

And no one caused drama or whined or complained of the heat or any of the million things that kids do.  

Instead, they thanked us over and over.  They took turns riding the rides together and going wherever the others wanted to go.  They were supportive when someone was afraid, excited by everything new and overwhelmed by the whole experience.  

Doesn't that sound like a bunch of sugar-coated malarkey? 

I know.  

But I swear it's all true.  

That's what Walt and his team of dream makers will do to you.  

Go.  

Now.  

With those you love. 

You won't regret a second of it. 

The Mother Of All Road Trips, Day 4

Hooray, more trip pictures!

I knew you'd be excited.  

Day 4 was one of the most breathtaking days of the trip. 

Also turned out to be one of the longest.  

We left Tracy and headed for Yosemite with me again piloting the big white van.  The drive there was uneventful except when we got lost and had to back track.  By 20 miles.  Adding to our already ridiculously long day.  But the kids kept up their happy spirits and we continued on.  

Here's the thing:  Yosemite is beyond beautiful.  Like stop you in your tracks gorgeous.  I wasn't sure if my kids would be able to appreciate that kind of natural wonder but they did amazingly.  No complaints, no whining, just pure appreciation for what they got to see.  My mama heart swelled with pride.  

We had lunch in the village as soon as we arrived, talking with the squirrels who seemed to be at every turn.  We then made our way to the very tip top of Yosemite which overlooks the entire valley.  It. Was. Unbelievable.  The weather couldn't have been better and we marveled at the beauty before us.  I loved it.  

The day was long but unforgettable.  The kids were outstanding, tucked in the back of a huge old van with no entertainment and very little food.  They trudged on like troopers and made me realize just how agreeable and easy going they can be.  It was the first of many times on the trip that my children would show me so clearly how amazing they are.  

15

(Coronado Island, San Diego, July, 2012)

15 years of me & him. 

15 years of belly laughs.  Cute kids.  Date nights.  Back rubs.  Cycling.  Planning.  Dreaming.  Wrestling.  Occasionally fighting.  For reals.  Being excited.  Crying at movies (him, not me) Late night ice cream.  Magic Shell for me, butterscotch for him.  Friends who've become family.  Kids who've become people we love to hang out with.  A romance we keep fighting for.  15 years of not a perfect life, but a perfect life for us. 

Best thing I've ever done was choosing him as my partner.

Happy Anniversary, Bug.