Normal? I Hope So . . .

Do ever find yourself going through your day asking yourself, "Is this normal?"  There are certain questions that keep reappearing like pesky summertime freckles in my mind.  So, I think it's time that I get these questions out there to determine whether (A) other people feel the same way or (B) I'm going crazy.

Questions that have roamed through my head today:

1. Is it normal that every single day I find a sippy cup with chunky week-old milk hidden among my boys' clutter?  And if this is normal, why don't they make sippys with little radars so they can be found easily?

 No, Hudson!  Don't drink that milk!  I know it looks like a milk shake, but it's not!

2. Is it normal to look at the destruction in your house at the end of the day and think, "I know I did a pile of dishes today, I know I cleaned that highchair three times, and I know I picked up those toys already!  What happened??!!  I blinked and my house got frightfully dirty again."  Or, more like my kids woke up from their naps, and mess soon followed.  Again. 

 

Not actually my house but very similar to what my house looks like.  It's the end of the day, and I'm too tired to take a real picture.  Pretty sure that's normal. 

3. Is it normal to think it's kinda cute when your kids get frightened?  I think it's cute that Hudson fears the vaccum and has to be held on my hip whenever I clean the floors .  And kind of adorable that Corbin hates Chuckie Cheese.  And when we took our boys through a car wash because we thought they'd love it, I was at first disappointed when I didn't hear giggles or see smiles.  But then I thought it was just pitifully sweet that they were so scared.  It just reminds me that my two little guys still need their mama, at least every once in awhile.  

Hudson and Corbin are not feeling the love for the car wash experience, as you can see.

4. Is it normal to have an embarrasingly small number of pictures of just you and your spouse since your children came?  I have no excuse on this one.  Ben and I just spent a weekend without the kids, and that was my one goal.  Get a nice picture of just the two of us.  Here is the picture I have from that weekend.

Now, that's a keeper.  I think I'll order an 8 X 10. 

I guess even if this isn't everyone else's normal, it's okay that it's mine.  And now back to my reality--time to clean out sippy cups, re-pick up my house, carry Hudson around on my hip while I vacuum, and photo shop myself into the picture above.     

"Pour me. More wine."

Before kiddos when Ben and I both worked as teachers, we decided to think ahead to our futures by working tirelessly in the summers to save money.  Ha, not exactly!  Instead, we thought ahead to the future and decided to travel to bed and breakfasts and wineries to get it out of our systems before we had children and our vacations would take a louder and less relaxing turn.  And I can't say I regret that decision for a minute.

But this summer, we thought it might be time to buckle down and work.  And work has definitely come pouring down.  A month ago Ben was looking everywhere for summer work, and within a few days he got hired to teach summer school Geometry, be on a curriculum team to revise the Latin texts for next year, and my personal favorite of his three jobs--give tastings at the Bluemont Vineyard on Saturdays.  Ben has definitely had his hands full--teaching the Pythageron theroem by day and balancing wine glasses by night.

This summer surely hasn't been relaxing like the vintages of past, but when Ben brings home a bottle of sparkling peach wine and a wad of tips, it still seems pretty grape to me.   
   
A view from the deck at Bluemont Vineyard

Ready for work.  Keep smiling.  You'll bring in more tips!

 

Don't worry.  It's not all work and no play.

The Bittersweetness of Spring

For months we've waited for relief from the chill, relief from our kids' drippy noses and hoarse coughs, and relief from those gray skies and bare trees.  Relief has finally come.  The chill has been replaced with warmth, the noses have dried, coughs have quieted, and sunshine and a blanket of green have returned.  For a moment, all seems right with the world.  All until morning dawns and we discover a layer of pollen coating our cars, a lawn that cries out for a weekly mowing, and sinus pressure reminding us of that little nuisance called allergies.

Isn't that the way with life sometimes.  Trials and struggles moving alongside the beauty and excitement of a new season.

So it's been with our life as of late.  We've entered a busy but joyful time with the buying of our first house--new projects, more room, and the feeling of finally being settled.  But in the midst of this has come struggles too.  After undergoing fertility treatment in order to get pregnant with the boys, we had one more good chance of bringing another child into this world.  But in April we learned that it wasn't meant to be.  And though the pain of infertility is nothing new to us and though it's nothing compared to those days when we so desperately just wanted one child, the pain still stings.   

But the times keep moving, and so does this season.  With life's disappointments come new hopes, new callings, and new strength.  And with it also comes a powerful reminder.  Through cloud and sunshine, He will abide with me . . .

"I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace, can foil the tempter's power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be
Through cloud and sunshine, abide with me."

                           ~Henry Francis Lyte

 Link to "Abide With Me" sung by Indelible Grace

 My rays of sunshine:

The Bluemont Bunch

Last Saturday we traveled down Snickersville Turnpike, over the one lane bridge, up the mountain, and through the woods.  To Grandmother's house we didn't go, but to our own.  We said goodbye to our charming 1900s carriage house and said hello to our log home in the woods.  This suburban girl has gone country and now woodsy in one short year. 

But don't call me Mrs. Paul Bunyan just yet.  Floral patterns will still reign over plaid, ruffles will still make a much needed appearance, and our five acres will be dog and blue oxen free.

So when you're in the need for a rustic getaway, come on down to our Bluemont lodge.  Seriously.  We'd love to have you.  Although, we can't promise that we won't put you to work.  There's a lot of wood that needs splitting . . .

     
The Bluemont General Store--We'll miss the Philomont General Store, but we love that this one has hand scooped ice cream!

 The front of our house

The back of our house

Our guest bathroom

The master.  Okay, so we have a little plaid (thank you, Corbin)

Our family room

The sitting room

Love all of our windows with gorgeous views!

Doing dishes won't be so bad with this view (oh, and a dishwasher makes things better too)

The dining room

The guest bedroom (in the basement--hence the lack of logs).  This is what I call my "girl cave"

My Bluemont Boys-- Yes, boys.  We're in the woods.  Clothing is optional.

Spring is Here! Time to End Our Poetry Career!

My flip flops have already made an appearance, and my cheeks are rosy from the a long walk with the boys.  But as one last ode to winter, the boys wrote two final poems.  For the next several months, they'll be trading their pens and paper for swings and pools.  But who knows--maybe they'll restart their poetry careers next winter . . .
 
A Letter Poem by Corbin John

Dear Hudson

You probably know
That as of late
I've become Mommy's little handful
I once was easy going and barely made a peep 
But now I climb anything in sight and pretend that I don't understand the word "no"
And when I don't get my way
I bite the first thing I see
Even if that first thing is your blonde little head

But don't worry
I'll keep reminding Mommy
That even though I have more energy at the moment
You are still light years more dramatic than me

So keep up those boisterous, biting wails
Keep hyperventilating when you barely get bonked in the head
And keep demanding to be picked up every time something doesn't go your way

Trust me
I don't mind
I have my good reputation to win back

Love
Brother

 

Our Pet Rats by Hudson Calvin

Most grandparents give a gift of a bear
To show how much they do care
But Poppy is tons more creative
And got us something so innovative

One day he went shopping to Ikea
And "Ah hah!" had a brilliant idea
He saw two stuffed Swedish rats
And thought, "The boys must have that!"

So as most kids are snuggling with a blankie
Or cuddling their puppy when cranky
We're hugging our animals with rabies
What a perfect gift for two babies!

Getting Martha Stewartized

Going domestic.  Not too many moons ago it seemed almost impossible, especially to those who knew me in high school.  I mean, I am the girl who under "Future Plans" in her senior yearbook wrote,    " . . . marry a sweet Christian guy who can cook and clean."

God apparently felt bad about not blessing me with domesticity, so nearly seven years ago I did marry a sweet Christian guy who could cook and clean.  And although Ben didn't enjoy it, he put up with me and helped me along during our first five years of marriage. 

But since staying at home last year, I decided I better get into domestic gear.  It is, of course, part of my job description, and I would hate to suffer a pay cut.  And slowly but surely, my dinners have transformed.  There are still days when piggies in the blanket show up on our dinner plates, but so do bowls of homemade tortilla soup, freshly prepared spaghetti sauce, and creme brulee bars.

Now that my meals have graduated from kiddie to young adult, I thought it time to begin a new tale on my domestic journey.  Recently I decided the time had come to graduate from sewing buttons to making (with a whole lot of help!) my first skirt.  Sewing?  Me?  Yes, it's true.  And today along with the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine, I felt like I could hear a beautiful melody being sung by the heavenly host celebrating my small victory.  Either that or it was the sound of them fainting from shock.

So Martha Stewart, watch out.  There's a new crafty diva in town.  And she's got a new self-made skirt and bread baking in the oven.  Well, maybe just a new skirt.  Let's not go crazy.
 
Corbin modeling my new skirt:

Modeling my new skirt with Hudson, one of my little sewing distractions .  . . er, helpers.

Poetry According to Hudson and Corbin

January is a pretty drab month.  Christmas is over, and dark, chilly days still lurk ahead.  To combat the winter blues during my five years of teaching language arts, I would always save my favorite unit of the year for January: poetry. 

And yes, I can hear your groans through my computer's speakers.  The groans that remind me so much of my classroom full of squirrelly poetry-hating students.  But, just as I told my students year after year, so I will say to you: poetry can be fun.  Seriously. 

So, as an ode to my previous days as a teacher and as a way to battle through this cold winter day, I've created two poems that I envision coming from the brains of my 13-month-olds.  And in the dreary days to come, the boys will continue to add poetry to their collection.  :)   

Here goes:

Reflections of the Winter Season: Part One
By Corbin, Hudson, and Mommy

A Limerick: "Our Horsey"

For our birthdays we got a horse
We love to ride it of course
It rides so fast
What a blast
'Til we fall because of the force

"If We Were in Charge of the World" (structure of poem created by Judith Viorst)

If we were in charge of the world
We'd cancel naptime,
Doctor's visits,
And days when Daddy has to go to work

If we were in charge of the world
We'd get to spend more time with our grandparents and cousins
We'd have two of every toy in the house
And we'd fill every room with a thousand bouncy balls

If we were in charge of the world
We wouldn't have long car rides
We wouldn't have cold milk
We wouldn't have food that has to be chewed
Or parents that take photos of us in our diapers with stupid looking hats
We wouldn't even have photos

If we were in charge of the world
We would get boxes full of tissue paper for Christmas presents
Our parents would still let us drink from a bottle at mealtimes
And two guys who sometimes forget to nap
And sometimes forget to sit still in Mommy's lap
Would still be allowed
To be in charge of the world