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"There must be more to life." This is a phrase I've heard uttered in dozens of different ways. Some say it with hope, some with sorrow, some say it with the certainty of faith,  and some with the uncertainty of doubt.

But I wonder what it is that people mean when they say "more".  Do they mean more stuff?  More gadgets and gizmos?  More rooms on a house?  More designer clothes and handbags?   Or are they looking for more meaning? More connections?  More emotions?   

Yeah, i know-that's kind of a no-brainer.  "More" to the majority of people in my circle of acquaintances means something hidden amongst the latter.  More means building more memories with their children.  More means doing something that makes a difference.   But I see these same people burying themselves in an avalanche of the trivial "mores".  They spend so much time chasing the material mores and lose precious time in which they could find the real meaning for which they are searching.  In 20 years, will your children remember the $200 headphones they got for Christmas and broke within a year, or will they remember the "carpet picnics" that end in a massive,  "no holds barred" tickle fight?  Will they remember that mom had a fresh manicure every week, or will they remember the gentle touch of an un-manicured hand that soothed away the nightmares, checked for fevers, and smoothed back sweaty hair?   Will they remember the sound of designer heels clicking down the hallway as mom rushes off to earn "more" so she can buy "more", or will they remember the sound of slippers scuffing across the kitchen floor as mom dances around the kitchen, joyfully making yet another family breakfast?  Will they remember the $3000, (that with interest, will turn into $4000) spent on a high stress, jam-packed vacation or will they remember the camping trips and cuddling around a campfire telling ghost stories.  Will they remember the $100 Halloween costumes they wore for 2 hours,  or will they remember the Halloween costume that mom helped them make, and the laughter during that time?  

One lament that I have often heard at funerals is "I wish I had spent more time with him/her."  People seldom, if ever, say "I wish I had spent more money on him/her."  So why do we waste tremendous amounts of our most precious commodity (time) on the things that don't matter (stuff)?  The most valuable thing we will leave behind when we die are the memories we have made with those we love. Not the stuff.  So get off the hamster wheel that is "material success" and wander instead down the shaded forest trail of "emotional success". You never know what you might find around the next bend in the path ;)

Brass Pigs, Flying Fish, and Test Driving a Husband.

Years ago, when I was young and impulsive, I decided to take a trip.  I was living in Texas at the time, and was disillusioned with love, bored with Texas living, and ready for new adventures.  At that point in my life I had lived in western New York, Las Vegas, Provo, UT, Scottsdale, AZ, and Arlington, TX, and had taken multiple road trips across the southwest.  I guess you could say I have a bit of a gypsy soul.  I love the excitement that comes with being in a new place; the possibilities and the idea that there may be something fantastic just around the next corner.  So there I was, having just turned 21, embarking on a new adventure, traveling to the beautiful Pacific Northwest to visit my brother and his family.  I never imagined that one trip could forever change my life.

I arrived in Washington in February- not a good time to arrive in Washington- it's actually a better time to be LEAVING Washington.  It's grey, and hazy, and drizzly, and just a bit depressing.  There is a reason that the Pacific Northwest is the capital of "Major Depressive Disorder with a Seasonal Pattern" otherwise known as seasonal affective disorder or SAD.  Yep really- Dr.s in that area diagnose people as SAD. all. the. time.  So here I was- newly arrived, already feeling a bit battered from a crushing breakup that happened right before I left Texas, and unsure about the direction of my life.  My first few days there, I spent countless hours walking along the rocky shoreline, sitting on the damp sand, and staring off toward the horizon.  I felt like I was waiting for something, but I didn't know what.

Roughly halfway through my planned stay, my sister in law and I decided to take my niece to the mall to get her some new shoes....I walked out of there an hour later having just been offered a management position at a great little clothing shop.  I wasn't sure about actually moving to that area, but I figured "Why not?".  So I did.  I was really enjoying it after a couple of weeks.  I hiked Mt. Ranier, explored the Olympic Penninsula, went horseback riding in the rain forest, kayaked in the ocean, visited Mt. St. Helen's, and wallowed in the stupendous beauty of spring in the "Emerald City" (or close to it anyway).  I rode a brass pig, gave it a kiss on the nose, and caught a fish in newspaper that was thrown at me by a tradesman at Pike Place Market.  I joined a volleyball league, roller bladed everywhere and went mountain biking all the time.   I went to the Viking Festival, built friendships to last a lifetime, and tried something new each week. LOVED.MY.NEW.LIFE :)

To this day some of the people who are dearest to my heart are people I met at that time in my life.

A few weeks after moving to the Evergreen State I had started dating a nice guy, laid the foundations for some great new friendships, and was having a blast exploring my new home.  I had a invitation from some co-workers to join them for dinner and drinks at a local restaurant/club.  I accepted, and had a great time.  We had a few drinks, danced, and shared a lot of laughs. I was no longer looking for anything.  And then he found me.  Or rather I, in a round-about way, found him......  A week or so after my co-workers and I went to dinner, we went back again.  This time, we invited our friend Michelle to go with us.  Michelle just wouldn't stop talking about this guy she saw across the room- he was soooo cute, he was looking at her- or at least in the direction of our table (eek!),  she wanted to do 50 Shades of Grey type things with him- so I told her to go get his number.  She hemmed and hawed, and played the part of the shocked 18th century English virgin, and insisted that she couldn't possibly!  So I went over and got his number for her.  She was ecstatic, he was indifferent, and I made a new friend.  He and I played basketball together, took shots of tequila, played hangman, and had early morning breakfast at Denny's.  We were friends.  He was dating a few girls, Michelle included, and I was still dating my "nice guy".  I couldn't have been happier that I had taken a chance on moving....

And then I broke up with my nice guy; because, as it turns out, he wasn't so nice. He was actually kind of possessive and had some anger issues.

My basketball buddy, tequila shot partner, hangman cohort, and Denny's breakfast co-aficionado, as it so happens, had been waiting for that moment.

4 weeks later we were married.

Yup :)

.....And thanks to Michelle, I knew I wasn't buying a lemon- because seriously, ladies- If you wouldn't buy a car without taking it for a test drive, why wouldn't you do the same for a husband?!?

items to cross off bucket list: spur of the moment move across the country, horseback riding in a rain forest, visit active volcano, ocean kayaking, see an Orca whale in it's natural environment, catch a fish in a newspaper, dig clams on the Pacific coast. Test drive a pick-up truck with a camper shell. ehem.... ;)
(and a few others...)

From baby curls, to the other "short&curlies"

......Oh yes, I went there.  I really did. This particular blog was inspired by familial pressure, sympathy, and sadness.  I'll start at the beginning- My youngest son is 2 years, 2 months, 17 days old.  He was our unexpected little cuddle bug- our older two are 11 and 9.  So I guess I can cross "have a surprise baby" off my bucket list! lol but I digress, back to the tale.  I have not wanted to cut the baby's hair, as this is my last child (unless there is another surprise baby waiting in the wings), and I didn't want to admit to myself that he is growing up (far too quickly), so I was just allowing it to grow wild- his hair, not the baby- rather like what I picture John the Baptist may have looked like in the wilderness.  My husband, mother-in-law, mother, and the rest of the world, were all against me. {familial pressure} The constant "he needs a haircut" lament was usually met on my end by "Okay, I'll cut one when we get home."  Even his big brothers were getting in on it though; the day that we went to my older son's basketball game and the concession stand manager called the baby a girl, was the last straw for my husband.  He kept at me, pestering and cajoling, but I stood firm!  I did not want to see the baby curls flutter to the floor, taking with them the last vestiges of babyhood...Why? You ask? Let me tell you why.  As the baby curls fall to the floor, it's like a magical, invisible, infusion of testosterone suddenly appears, turning your sweet, cherubic, cuddly baby boy into a rough and tumble, "snakes and snails and puppy dog tails", little boy.  B-O-Y.  Scraped knees, bloody noses, broken windows, BOY.  They start to get crushes, and have girlfriends, and play sports, and suddenly Mommy isn't the center of their little world anymore.  And that creature will eventually hit puberty and come sauntering in one day to announce proudly "Guess what? I'm growing hair....down there....", just like his big brother did to me a few weeks ago.  And that is the transition I dread the most- I miss my baby boys and their absolute certainty that the sun rose and set for Mommy, I miss watching cartoons with them, and doing exercise DVD's while they napped...now, with our oldest clearly enamored of girls, and they of him, I feel like I don't know if I'd be properly preparing myself or cursing myself, if I were to start watching "Teen Mom" on MTV.  You know- just so if anything were to happen, I'd know how to talk to my oldest's girlfriend in a few years....
Back to the haircut- I caved.  I folded like a cheap paper plate on Superbowl Sunday.... It happened as I was going to pick up the older two boys from getting haircuts, and my mother in-law, bless her heart (we'll get to that in a later post), said "Carol, you really need to cut his hair."  To which I responded, "Okay, I'll cut one when I get home." ...but then I looked in the rearview mirror, and my gaze was met by my precious, little baby boy- or rather he attempted to meet my gaze- but his hair was hanging in his face and his eyes kept crossing.  I thought about how miserable I would be to have sweaty hair hanging in my face, given how much it bothers me to have sweaty hair on my neck at the gym. {sympathy} I contemplated buying him a little camouflage bandanna, but decided that was a bit too redneck- even for this family...so I drove straight to the shop, sat it the chair snuggling my baby boy, and watched as the baby curls fell to the floor...{sadness} As soon as he was sufficiently groomed, I set him down to brush the stray hairs from my lap, and he laughed, looked at his older brothers and grunted "feed me more"- apparently a reference to a WWE wrestler.  And so it begins......and ends *sigh*

"Vaycayenvy": noun. 1.  The slightly resentful feeling one can get while looking at a friends' vacation photos.  2.  Jealousy felt by those in colder climates when seeing friends' social media postings related to their tropical vacations. 3.  The overwhelming urge to drop everything and run to the nearest travel agent to book a "get away from it all" trip after hearing about a friends' awesome time abroad.
Usage: "When Krissy started posting pictures of her trip to the Dominican, I must say, I had a bit of vacayenvy."

So the preceding definition was totally made up, but you know it was spot on, right?  Everyone has felt at least a small tug of the little chartreuse monster: "vacayenvy" before.  Shoot I feel it all the time; and places like FB and Pinterest are phenomenal at feeding the insidious, little booger.  I was perusing pictures of exotic getaways while waiting for a tenant earlier this week, and looking at the beautiful beaches, dolphins frolicking, and blue skies, when all of a sudden it hit me.  I LIVED that life for three+ years.  I took my children to Oceanside, La Jolla Beach, and Coronado Island, to Breakers Beach, on a regular basis.  We made sand castles, we watched dolphins cavorting in the waves, we found seashells and sand dollars, and we played!  Oh how we played!  We would carry buckets, and strainers, and shovels and molds down to the beach and spend the entire day enjoying the beauty of a San Diego summer day.  We swam, boogie boarded, body surfed, picnicked, played games, and threw seaweed at each other, and at the end of a long day- we would rinse our feet, clean the toys , and drive home for a well deserved night's rest.

My best friend, and sister-from-another-mister, Jenn would go with us when she could.  Jenn is the peas to my carrots, the umbrella to my rainboots, and the fun to my in the sun :)  lol....and yes my husband knows I talk about someone else like this.  She and her two boys would join us sometimes, and IF we were lucky (or unlucky depending on your viewpoint) our husbands would be able to get away from work.  I remember one trip in particular; Walt also joined us.  Walt is Jenn's boys "honorary uncle"...we all liked to give him a hard time, and this particular trip to Breakers Beach made it easy to do so. Walt was paddling out on a boogie board and wound up caught up in a current.  The poor guy was dragged halfway to Baja Mexico and had to be rescued by multiple lifeguards! Carrying those foam things Pam Anderson used to run down the beach with. And on surfboards. And in a boat. Oh what fun we had, after we knew he was safe of course, giving him grief.  We told him that if he thought the lifeguard was so cute he should have just asked for his number instead of vomiting seawater all over the poor guy's feet. Great memories!

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: even when it doesn't involve a tiki hut and cabana boy named Raul, servicing your every whim, life can be a vacation.  It's what you make of it, and the memories you take from it that count :)

2/1/2013  ....you know that moment of sudden silence in the midst of utter chaos?  That split second when the world slows down to a crawl-- the spaghetti that your two year old just threw at the dog passes before your face in high-def slow motion, the eleven year old's "almost curse" word sounds like a drawn out version of the mating call of a Tibetan yak, and the nine year old's incessant clattering of the dishes seems to be in harmony with the nearly painful pounding of your own heart beat.... That moment when you look around and say "Uh-Uh!" while vigorously shaking your head in denial, "My life was supposed to be so much more glamorous than this!"  That is after all why we all watched Breakfast at Tiffany's, Pretty Woman, and Cinderella wasn't it??  I thought that was training for the future life I was going to have! Not the whole hooker part of Pretty Woman- the swimming pool sized bathtub, indulgent shopping sprees, and private jet parts though. We were supposed to be able to grow up and go to fabulous parties, where we'd sip champagne and drawl "daahhhling" at one another whilst discussing our billionaire husband's latest acquisitions.... but no- here I am in my ordinary life, with my wonderful husband gone 70% of the time for work,  flying spaghetti, a dog that has yet to figure out the difference between beige, berber carpeting (where he poops) and grass (where he should poop), a full time job, a full time college career, three (loving, smelly, brilliant, confusion-inducing) boys, two more dogs, and two cats..... Yeah- that is my life.  Until recently I hadn't given much thought to my life.  I mean yes, I know that I am created by my Heavenly Father for great and awesome things, and that He knows the plans He has for me (Jeremiah 29:11) but I hadn't given a lot of thought to how I was using that gift, and whether I was truly appreciative of it!

Fast forward a few weeks, a few more flying dinners, and a few basketball games down the road, and here I am.  I have really been ruminating on my life recently.  I have been blessed so far beyond what I am able to fathom.  I have been given eternal life through Jesus, a beautiful family, a home of my own, friends that are truly sisters of my heart, and a loving and merciful father in God.  So that is where I find myself today- in this place, at this time, I decided that I will begin my UN-bucket list.  I will write down all of the wonderful opportunities I have had in my life, the memories I have made, the laughs I have shared, the experiences I have been given, and the lasting connections that have stood against the test of time and the strain of the miles- and I will truly be grateful.  I can't say that this will be a daily thing, as my crazy, wonderful, activity- packed, stress-inducing life (which I wouldn't trade for anything in the world, even a swimming pool sized bathtub) may not afford me the opportunity, but I will check in frequently!  My promise to anyone who takes the time to read this: You may laugh at times, you may cry at times, you may want to kick me in the ear sometimes and ask me "what were you thinking!?", or you may find what I write to be utterly boring and pedestrian (daaahhhling)...but there will always be something here that you can look at and say "Yep- I've soooo been there!"