2010

What writer doesn't ponder LIFE around this time every year? What human, at least in the U.S., doesn't? Many of us are creatures of both habit and an unwavering drive to be better tomorrow than we are today.

The problem with this outlook is that we're doomed to never reach our ultimate end. How can one ever be happy with where one is in life if one is always seeking to be better in some unknown future? This dilemma -- to be at peace with who I am now versus finding motivation to improve myself each and every day -- is a daunting one at best. Most days, I'd rather not think about it. Some days, I don't.

On these days, I merely get up and live. I wake up early (even if I'm extremely tired), I tend to my children (even if they aren't on their best behavior), I tend to my home (even if I don't get everything done like I want), I connect with my husband (even when we have to wait until the end of the day to enjoy each other's company), I serve my community and honor my commitments (even when this isn't convenient) and I love those I've been blessed to love (even if they are miles away).

When I look back, I realize I do these things everyday. What's left are those holes wherein I need to fit a few things that don't have my enduring commitment. For me, a main one is exercising most days. I like to workout, I enjoy working out, I have the time and I have the opportunity. There is a change in mindset that must occur for me to do this everyday -- just as I love my children everyday, just as I love my husband everyday. I must also love myself every single day.

There seems to be two kinds of people in the world -- those who love themselves too much and those who don't love themselves enough. I'd love to find some wonderful place in the middle to live out my days. A nice, healthy, balanced area in the middle where I can say, "I deserve this," but also say, "I can deny myself that." A place where I enjoy life's goodness without warping that enjoyment in a state of frenzied self-indulgence. A state of being that is never perfect, but always working itself out -- by way of my energy, my choices, my love.

The beauty of it all is that my life holds this inescapable fact: it can be all I want it to be. So, here's to yet another new year, another clean slate, another chance to feel the excitement of the gift of time. Time to make the very most of life, everyday.

twenty years

If I wasn't a woman, I might be singing "Like A Rock" right about now. In three days I'll turn 38, so it's been 20 years since I was 18. "Twenty years now... where'd they go?"

The difference is that I have an answer to that question.

I've spent those 20 years growing, loving, serving others, messing up big time (but not so big that I ruined my life!), trying and trying again. I've had a marriage, two children, a college degree and a move to Austin in that time. The lessons learned are priceless, though were not without costs. It's hard to believe I'm old enough to be living by phrases like, "I wouldn't change a thing."

Here is the pre-40s of my life, I absolutely feel I am the most ME I've been in a long time. I'm not sure if that comes from having a very loving and safe life before my move, followed by a lot of new experiences and changes after my move. It could be that I became a mother and fulfilled my desire to be a full-time mom with no other obligations other than to be here for my family pretty much any and all the time I can be. Perhaps I accomplished the things I set for myself as I hoped to and therefore haven't felt the need to DO more or BE more, at least not while my boys are young. I still have ME needs, but I feel at peace meeting those only as they coordinate with my life as a wife and mother first and foremost.

I had a revelation of sorts yesterday... I said to myself as I got ready pre-dawn to face another day of making lunches, preparing meals, squeezing in a workout and reading time, and volunteering at my kids' school: "I don't want to conquer the world. I just want to change it for the better."

Approaching 38 is a good place for me. I've heard it said that we are our truest selves at the age of 6. At that time in my life, I climbed trees, roller skated, rode my bike, played school, sang and danced in my living room. I started a girls club and we raised money for a local children's charity. I published our household newspaper on my sister's old typewriter and I loved to swim.

Amazing how much of that is still me today.

texas. football. stadiums.

Every year, around the time of two-a-days, my husband gets that look in his eye. It's really a reflection of all that his senses are taking in: a misty morning, freshly cut grass, a hint of cool on the breeze. Be it late summer or early fall, football is in the air. It finds a cozy place to reside for several months in the hearts and minds of many across both Texas and the entire nation. High school, pee wee, NFL or college, most people have some interest or another -- directly or indirectly -- in American football.

Since moving to the Lake Travis school district in 2005, I've been in Cavalier Nation... and what an honor it has been! The year my oldest started kindergarten in LTISD, the high school football program won state. The team repeated the next year and is currently marching toward its third title in as many years. VERY exciting times around here, to say the least.

Tonight, I was reading an email bulletin from the LT Booster Club and making a note in my calendar that this week's game is being played at Kyle Field on the campus of Texas A&M. Immediately I smiled to myself, remembering the many wonderful stadiums I've been to and the numerous games I've witnessed, especially since becoming a true football fan (I call myself a student of football because I love to ask questions and learn all I can about the game I never have and never will play. However, I do visualize myself as a really awesome linebacker, fast and intense in a small package. But that's another blog altogether).

The Dallas Cowboys: their last year in Texas Stadium and their first year in Cowboys Stadium (wins both times!); the Baylor Bears: when they actually went to a bowl game at the Alamodome too many years ago; my other alma mater, University High School, when they played at Kyle Field in the playoffs years ago; the year Vince Young led the Longhorns to their National Championship -- those were my first UT games and we had season tickets. What a way to spend a season! There was my first trip to the Cotton Bowl, only to witness Texas Tech losing to Alabama (and having to endure their catchy, albeit insulting, "We just beat the hell outta you" cheer). I also recalled watching the Midway Panthers play their home games at Baylor's Floyd Casey Stadium this past season, as well as the Lake Travis Cavaliers winning two state titles in that very stadium for the last two Christmases... that stadium where my college team never celebrated any national titles. But I did see a goalpost come down when Baylor beat A&M a few years back. My extended family gathered at that stadium to see Lake Travis beat Highland Park two years ago and Longview last year... Longview, who stopped Midway from advancing in last year's playoffs just a few weeks before... Longview who stopped the Panthers again this year.

Such glory and pain... I can only imagine the hearts of boys and men, young and old, who've walked out of those tunnels, onto those fields, into those lights and crowds. As a fan, the screams and cheers and high-fives, I assume, don't compare to those exchanged between the warriors who have taken to their battlefield with all the heart they could muster for any given game. As a woman, as a fan, as a student of the game, I feel blessed to partake in whatever way possible. And I look forward to a lot more football in my future... including that LT game this weekend (yes, this is how my husband and I might spend our first weekend in a long time without our boys) and a weekend visit with old friends in two weeks (a visit that was basically scheduled around the Cowboys game on the NFL Network).

Yes, lots more football in my future. I say, set the DVR or pile on the warm clothes. Either way, bring it on!

the world of self

I am all the warmth and compassion and love that I need.
For myself. For others.

Within me I find all the comfort and happiness required.
For survival. For today. For tomorrow.

Outside of my world of self --
my skin, my heart, my thoughts --
I control no man.
I wouldn't want to.

Here in this place that is my constant refuge
(and sometimes my deepest despair),
I am made whole and complete
for truly there never is more than this.

Looking outward
I face a plethora of challenges:
elation, fear, hope, death.
All of the above and more.

Inside I live only what I choose,
depending on the day, depending on me:
victory, laughter, peace, joy;
anger, melancholy, sadness, isolation.

I do not leave God out of my existence equation.
I wouldn't suggest you leave out yours -- if you have one.
Inside the world of my own making, however,
none has more power than this.

winter is coming

I can tell that winter is coming to this place.
Late in the evening it is undeniable,
when the only sounds are of the house settling,
the wind blowing,
and my parents stirring in their bed.

Before now, even in quiet times, there was more than such silence.
Someone was coming home,
a telephone rang,
laughter could be heard from somewhere else.

Tonight the hallway is dark;
there are no moving shadows,
only stagnant ones cast by picture frames
outlined by a lone nightlight.

In this house, I sang and danced in my childhood.
The garage was my classroom, stuffed animals my unruly students.
My room was my hangout and years ago,
our backyard was one happening place
complete with swimming pool and diving board.
The living room was my stage
when I pretended to be Debbie Boone, Marie Osmond and Olivia Newton John,
or when I entertained to Perry Como.
The driveway was my ice rink
when I skated on wheels that were destined to become blades;
the hallway was my platform for all things gymnastic.
Our trees outside were my hiding place, no tree house necessary.
The kitchen counters and cabinets
were my domain for discovery and adventure.

Winter isn't here yet.
There is a new baby, a great-grandson.
My nieces and nephews find comfort here,
good food and plenty of laughs.
There isn't complete silence all the time.
But if this house were a tree, the leaves would be turning,
in their place and in their color.
Winter cannot be stopped.

Autumn has been my favorite time of year for most of my life.
I never cared about being out of school for summer;
I loved school!
And spring only meant that the end of school was close.
When I realized that my December birthday fell in fall,
and that I love football,
and that I probably love Thanksgiving more than Christmas,
fall became an especially treasured time of year for me.

With the cold of winter always on its way,
even to this house, the home of my childhood,
I am at peace here in its autumn.
Despite the chill, I can always find warmth.
Along with a sad promise of end comes glorious hope always for new beginnings.
The legacy of love and family will carry on through seasons to come.

Tonight I am warmed by the light of familiar shadows,
smells and sounds.
My children are next to me, cuddled close and content.
Across the hall, I think I hear the familiar deep breaths of my beloved father
and the shifting beneath covers that tells me Mom is still awake.
I am like her in this way... still a night owl, never one to fall asleep too quickly.

But even as sleep comes to me slowly,
I remember that winter is inevitable,
as is its promise for rest and long awaited peace.

it's been a while...

My life has gotten so nice and full, kind of like that feeling after you know you've had your money's worth at a buffet. What I mean is there just aren't many free moments to sit and write about the many things I ponder, laugh about or notice on a daily basis. Case in point: Why do people leave their (often times very BIG) dogs off their leashes? I'm an animal lover and I always tell people we had our puppies (Rottweilers, to be exact) long before we had our human kiddos. But here's the deal: dogs are still animals. No one knows what might set a mild dog off or send a calm canine into a frenzy. My son MIGHT smell like pizza and your Lab MIGHT very well like Italian food. Boom! Now you've got your really laid-back 70-plus pound dog chasing my not-quite 50-pound kid who is just starting to warm up to dogs. I've seen MANY a dog owner tell me knowingly, "Oh, he's friendly," only to see their faces and hear their voices eventually strain on the verge of panic when Fluffy doesn't do exactly as he's being told. Come on, even the human ones don't listen all of the time! Yadda, yadda, yadda. GET A LEASH!

Yeah, so I've not written in a long time. And so many times, I actually have something to say. But then the washer beeps or I remember I have an email I must send out or it's already pick-up time and my babies are coming home! It's been a fun ride, this having two boys in school full-time. Hectic and zooming and sometimes insane, but pure fun! Here are some updates for you:

DAVID:
This is my child who'd rather watch a movie than play outside, but we'll have none of that! Well, at least not much during the week. No video games and very little (if any) TV from Monday through Thursday. But there are other fun ways to fill their time. Ok, he doesn't always see homework as fun, but he does enjoy his piano lessons. He's also signed on for Destination Imagination again this year, and he still loves science. David isn't yet required to do a Science Fair project, but that's just not an issue for him. He is psyched to get to participate this year, even though he is only in the 2nd grade. Currently, he is conducting an independent study about molecules (he had wanted to do chemistry but his teacher told him that might be a little too difficult). I spent time earlier this week teaching him the basics of note-taking and research, and then helping him compare the molecular structure of acetaminophen and aspirin. The things his brain can grasp... talk about a beautiful mind!

Earlier this month, while listening to some rock song or another, David said to me, "Mom, I can't understand a word he's saying!" It might have been Metallica, but nothing harder than that. Yet there was my 7-year-old sounding more like a 70-year-old. I told him with a chuckle that what he said was something an old person would say. After this he said nonchalantly, "I FEEL like an old man." Of course I asked all kinds of questions. Basically, he said when he has to get up and down at morning assembly for the pledge to the flags (US and Texas), he feels old. Just some sort of physical confirmation that truly, David is an old soul, even though we still call him Baby David. I could go on, but I'll move on to my baby boy...

DYLAN:
Just call him Mr. Hair Gel. We're talking every morning. He's committed. I have to admire both his attention to detail and his concern for self-grooming and appearance. He doesn't seem obsessed or anything at this point, so that's good. But there is so much more to my little 5-year-old than his good hair. He is currently taking guitar lessons and struggling at times. Despite his love of Elvis and sporting a rock n roll kind of moniker, Dylan would rather be outside playing catch, crossing the monkey bars, skateboarding and just BEING outside. I find that he is fairly concerned with his handwriting as well as wanting to read on his own, which is a great thing. He's also a good friend... there are about five boys in his class that are bona fide buddies at this point. It's really cute to see their interactions and to see how much they all seem to genuinely care about one another. On the other hand, Dylan has described himself on more than one occasion recently as shy or embarrassed. He's not exactly looking forward to his guitar recital next week; suffice it to say he's only been at the thing a couple of weeks now!

During the summer, Dylan started to complain about his knees hurting him once in a while. Long story short, he is scheduled to see a pediatric rheumatologist because his blood work didn't come back perfectly clean. I think the "more scary" might-haves are ruled out but a mother still has to fight off thinking there is something to worry about at times. I have my faith and my prayers and (surprisingly) a peace in my heart. What will worry get me? I think it was Jesus (or some other famous person from the Bible) who said worrying wouldn't gain us an inch in height... do you think I'd still have to lie about how tall I am if that was the case? Therefore, my SugarBear is off to see a specialist in a couple of weeks. So odd that it's my very active, boxing- and gymnastics-loving son who might have an issue with his bones. Fortunately for him, the pain is still pretty rare.

BOYS:
You can see how very different they are; I venture to say they are more different than alike when it comes to personality, preferences and mannerisms. It's easier to tell you how my sons are alike versus how they are different, so here's this.

*They don't:
listen well or quickly
love my new recipes right off the bat
have a lot of patience
like to lose AT ALL
do their chores consistently, even though we're trying the ALLOWANCE thing
have a babysitter, still

*They do:
love their extended families SO much
love video games
enjoy movies as a family (especially episodes of Gilligan's Island, which we're Netflixing)
enjoy each other's company most of the time
pray, together or on their own
care about heart issues like love, forgiveness and peace of mind (they really do!)
love school and learning
love their Daddy
like hanging out on the playscape together
travel VERY well

It's no wonder my life is filled with the lives of my children. Having had them in my 30s, I think I had time to have my OWN life long before having them. And if life is good to me, I'll have a life to call my own once again when they are men of this world. So I don't mind that someone might say I don't have much of a life... though I used to mind this. In truth, it's possible that no one understands me. My selfish side is ALIVE and WELL, believe me. But there is a real joy to choosing everyday to be done with MY life when I pick them up from school, and start to focus on theirs: homework, lessons, play time, dinner, reading time, family talk time, bath time, bed time, etc. My husband helps with all of this big time! And in the morning, it all starts all over again with breakfast, clothes ready, lunches to be made, hugs, kisses, well wishes and final good-byes for the day. It's a glorious cycle that I am so happy to be a part of.

Oh, I almost forgot one other way they are so VERY similar. They both ADORE their Momma!

goodbye, cameron

One of my favorite things about the movie "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is the character, Cameron. When I first saw this movie, I'd never heard of the name (only as a park in Waco). And he was so hilarious, especially when he's sick in bed and they play the song which ends with: "...let my Cameron go."

I've met a few Camerons now, but probably none as sweet as my son's friend. He is a really great kid, in addition to being smart, talkative and helpful. So it was with a bit of sadness today that we said goodbye to Cameron as he and his family make a move to another city.

On the way to pick him up for a last-minute playdate this evening, my son David asked me to play "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. I don't know why I was even a little surprised to see my very kind-hearted son getting misty-eyed as he asked me in a quiet voice, "Mom, is this the last time I'm going to see Cameron?" I was shocked but managed to tell him that maybe it would be. I added that it was a real treat they were getting to hang out one last time.

So for all the friendships out there, short-lived or long, treasure these. No one ever knows what life will bring, when people will leave or how long it might be before you see someone again. And may we all be the kind of friend who would want to play a sweet little song to capture the mood of one last playdate with a good friend.

Good luck and God bless you and your family, Cameron!

currently me

Had some facebook time the other night and I updated something about myself. Thought it worth sharing here, for what it's worth. (By the way, I was in the middle of a new post today about my sons TEACHING THEMSELVES TO PLAY CHESS when the power went out and zapped said post... suffice it to say, those boys continue to amaze their mommy!) But, back to me:

i like people and solitude. outdoors and indoors. summer and winter. comfort and change. i love to shop until that hour is over, then i hate the very idea of it. old friends and new friends. i want to love the me i am today and not be so preoccupied with the me i want to be or the me others see. i keep the faith. i hate my lazy side. i LOVE the water and i LOVE my kids. i think i was delusional as a young person (both as a kid and as a young adult), but i guess that's ok now. i'm married to the best guy ever. and that's saying a lot because my dad is AWESOME. i'm pretty big on family, even when i feel distant and like they don't understand me (or i them). i think and worry too much. i can admit this, but i'm not ok with it. i don't ask anyone to be friends on facebook or anywhere else because i just don't. love what you do! i absolutely LOVE that i get to be home full time as a wife and mom. and i'm finally owning that and not ashamed of sounding spoiled or lazy, or afraid of people thinking i do nothing all day. if you don't know, you never will. i've learned to expect less of people, but i don't feel jaded or cynical... just wiser. i am way less outspoken than i used to be but i still love passionately, and i am totally ok with the fact that i don't have all the answers.

no explanation needed

Why do some of us feel the need to explain who we are, why we believe as we do and how we choose to spend our lives?

I had the privilege of spending time with a dear friend last week. She wisely echoed the sentiments of my husband who strives to remind us in this family to embrace the NOW. For there is truly NOTHING else. Not ever. Moments to come are always ahead of us while the things of the past can never be recaptured or done over. Many of us can't get our brains around this for some reason.

Planning is sometimes a bad habit; even as I write this, I cringe. I hate last-minute things but I've also learned that my best efforts at planning and preparing do not guarantee smooth sailing.

As we get ready for our family vacation, I'm trying to relax. I'm trying to avoid reaching my maximum stress levels just in time for R&R. I'm trying to understand that some projects will not get done, some laundry may go unwashed, the house will not be immaculate. Even now, as my boys are making a grand mess with Play-doh, I'm realizing that the only person who's going to freak out about mess or stress over imperfection in my kitchen is ME. Why am I so hard on myself? Today, right this moment, I am letting my boys be boys... messy, unorganized, free-spirited little boys. There is enough explaining in life ahead of them. For now, there is no need.

get your goofy on

Must be something in the air... or just a long time since I've exerted some goofiness. And for anyone who doesn't know the REAL me, I can be REAL goofy. So here are some ways I got my goofy on just in the last few minutes.

* I did a George Jefferson walk and then pulled a seriously shocked look when Dylan asked about it and demonstrated what I was doing.

* I replied to a friend on Facebook (FACEBOOK! I must be a little bored.) with some wacky TV suggestions: Little House on the Prairie and Golden Girls.

* I stuck my tongue out at another friend... also via Facebook.

* I laughed so hard at my Facebook antics, I literally had tears in my eyes.

* I came in the office and acted like an idiot for no reason, then laughed about it while my husband looked at me as though I need medication. He did laugh, though.

One thing I know is that this is MUCH better than those blah days I've been feeling every now and then. Maybe I DO need medication!

live. and let live.

I think I've been pressured to be more than I am. Not as far as what I do for my family or how I contribute to society or even the ways in which I serve at church. Being in the middle, trying to be fair and practicing tolerance has -- on both sides of any given issue -- taken on a negative feel. My Christian faith is still alive and kicking, but I know that many a fellow Christian would deem my stand on many things as "lukewarm." And any Christian knows that the term "lukewarm" is as damning as any other anti-God term. I'm serious. The Bible teaches that to be lukewarm is to be detestable in the mouth of God.

Is my middle-ground lukewarm? Who is to say this? God assigned who exactly to be my judge and jury?

At the other spectrum, I'd be labeled fanatical, holy-rolling and "Jesus freak" if I were to tell others about my faith. God forbid I offer a blessing and/or prayer to those around me who don't share my faith. But then, why is this wrong? Aren't these open-minded types the very people I should feel 100 percent comfortable around? Isn't that the true meaning of liberalism?

And yet, I think my comfy little middle-ground is not supposed to be a good place to reside. Or at least not good enough. I care about the hungry, the environment and my children. Chances are, however, if I'm not in missions or if I don't keep my non-plastic grocery bags on hand all the time or if I don't have THE perfect balance of mother-wife-woman, I'm deemed a failure.

Still, why do I (we) care about the opinion of others so much? Just about the time we are taught as Christians to shrug what the "world" thinks, we are told to "guard our testimony." It's about as easy to maneuver as a minefield. Thirty years after the first time I gave a damn, I find I still do. And I work not to! How do I work, though?

So I'll take my seat there in the middle row, toward the middle of the isle during a nice, somewhat adventurous indie comedy with just enough romance and suspense to keep the crowd happy. Yeah, that's me. I'm the one holding the popcorn and sneaking in Skittles because while I'm all for abiding by the rules, I'm also keenly aware that all that candy from Easter is going to go to waste if we don't find a reason to eat it some time or another!

An editor I like called himself "tolerant" when it came to religious identity. And really, the Jesus I learned about and claim to follow was AT LEAST this. He TOLERATED the sin, the short-comings and the hiccups of others. Considering that I don't claim holiness, and I wasn't born of immaculate conception... why the heck shouldn't I be tolerant, too? Call me whatever. They don't call it a comfort zone for nothing. And what the heck is wrong with a little inner peace after all? Someone pass my comfy blanket... AND the popcorn tub.

random ramblings

I have a friend who pokes fun at my emailing prowess... well, I call it prowess. He, and others, might call it over-the-top-ness, or something like that. But baseball season has gotten the best of me. My emails have actually been just what's needed and to whom, and I failed on my promise to copy him to each and every email I send out that has anything to do with anything on our kids' baseball team.

After talking with his wife, I realized he'd been spared a lot of details in recent weeks. I felt an urgency to remedy this. I wrote an email saying just this and his response is reprinted here without his permission and therefore without his name:
"Yeah. I have really been missing those rambling non-sensical emails of yours. There is a void."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on me, but neither was the opportunity... glorious, gratuitous opportunity! That's all I needed. So, I sent him the following, copied here as it was sent (names have been omitted or changed; no, they've just been changed for grins... that's way more fun):

"yeah so, anastasia gave us the invite for burgers and swimming saturday. didn't even realize you guys had a pool... lotsa fun. but we're taking a boat out that day... our last hoorah with the boat club because we think we won't do it this year... will have to see how our summers play out as the boys get bigger. so i requested a rain check... please! she was like, of course. ok, so after throwing around the 28th, 29th and 30th, the powers that be have decided on the 30th for the final (team name here) soiree, an email about which should be going out as i type but i'm presently busy with more important matters... but mark my word, an email WILL be forthcoming i can promise you this. i've got sign-up sheets ready to go and you don't want to know about the... well, i can't quite tell you that part, but... all in good time. so the 30th it is. i guess the darrens will play it by ear for tomorrow's practice... we KINDA had plans tomorrow night (maybe a movie) but nothing too solid. baby darren's in a bit of a hitting slump for sure. what else... oh, i might start freelancing some for this lady in need of a writer/editor for her business's website. that's off the subject. but there ya go... consider the void nice and filled... your cup runneth over. good night!!!"

The point of this blog is that life is filled with opportunities to waste your time, and others', with nonsense in a way that hopefully brings an unexpected smile on another's face. Then again, even if he found it only slightly annoying, I still got a big smile out of it. Glorious opportunity indeed!

conversation

Last night, I watched and listened as my husband spoke into the ear of his 97-year-old grandmother. In his limited -- and yet, perfect -- Spanish, he told her some of the sweetest words I've ever heard. That life was beautiful for him here in Austin; that he had time and made time to laugh and play with his sons, his rambunctious and inquisitive boys; that his house was nice and filled with love; that life was beautiful... and he thanked her for these gifts.

Her small body had assumed a fetal position and we were convinced she was in pain. Our small amount of time to stay with her... just to be with her, had finally come. Gone were the more familiar faces of those who live in Waco. Gone were the energetic voices of the children in our family. Just me and David, standing vigil with Granny as she lay in her hospital bed, all of us uncertain of the future.

This woman had helped in the raising (yes, raising) of David and his siblings. A maternal grandmother in the truest sense of the term, Granny was always nurturing and strong, feisty and sometimes mean in years gone by. These are his words, though he says these things with love and respect. He looks back and realizes he needed someone strong to stand up to him. He was as tall at 15 as he is now. Granny, though small in stature, was not so in will or personality. And she made no bones about any of it!

So last night, as we sat with her in the hospital and the TV played Spanish novelas, he thought it wise to convey to her his undying love, devotion and gratitude. For whatever tomorrow might bring, he was certain of what yesterday carried. I'll never forget the kindness that filled his words, the way she seemed to listen as he held her hands, and she held his. The way his love moved through words past time and space and memories to the present moment. A moment he knew he might never have again.

green tip #2

PAPER. Any and every time I see paper that is about to be discarded, I check for one blank side. If there's a blank side, I will fold and cut this paper into fourths and these sheets become my notepad. The paper is going to be thrown out at some point, yes, but how much better to have gotten more use out of it than was originally intended?

sources

My journalism roots are calling to me. I understand quite fully that MY own life -- two kids, one husband, a house, visits to the gym and laundry -- may not be of profound interest. But, as I've said many times, write I must.

I find that many manner of topics draw my interest, as well as the input of others on said topics. So if you're reading this, and you're a friend of mine, I hope you won't mind when I ask for your input on "an article I'm writing." YES, that means published; NO, it doesn't mean in the New York Times (it just means here on my blog on the Internet for anyone to see); YES, I'm serious; NO, I won't be offended if you'd rather not be "quoted." But when I ask -- and I will ask -- just answer and do so truthfully if you'd like. After all, a writer is only as good as his/her sources.

he wears his t-shirts inside out

My husband is a hippie in his own right. He still likes nice sunglasses and would love to drive (own) an exotic sports car, but he ditches the status quo when he can. I won't divulge his voting record or other too-personal quirks that I probably find appealing because then I'd be invading his privacy. But since our lives overlap so, it's only normal that my blog should reflect that fact on occasion. It's only fitting that his life would be my topic of the moment, at least sometimes. Some mention of this person in my life. My partner, my perfect fit, my best friend.

He started wearing his t-shirts inside out last year, I think. It was subtle at first, and not 100 percent of the time even now. I remember asking him about it and yet, I can't recall his answer. He has a way of not answering my questions sometimes. Tenacious as I am about open communication and exchange of ideas, I've learned to let this pass when it happens. If I am expressive and passionate about whatever my focus is at any given moment, David is just as blase' about whatever thing he ponders as it strikes his fancy. Oh, he can get worked up. Let's talk about the journalistic snafus of the CNBC talking heads or the way people cave to things like cheating or laziness for the sake of convenience. These are "our" talks, and I'm privy to thoughts he doesn't and likely wouldn't share with others. But I've always been of the belief that if you get something personal or from deep inside out of David, you've found a diamond, and not necessarily in the rough.

At dinner, he briefly shared his thoughts on braces "for myself." Suffice it to say that this man who hates augmented breasts sees braces almost as a form of plastic surgery! He did not say this, but I think I've captured the essence of his opinion quite adequately here. He didn't have to say much for me to know that this goes back to the idea of being true to oneself, something he values as much as free will. Braces, implants, plastic surgery. I don't think permanent marking of oneself falls into this category for him, though. Tattoos can be an extension and expression of ones truest self, even if personal. Not something I'll ever do; I'll tell you what I think and who I am with my mouth or keyboard, thankyouverymuch. But I respect his take on things, which isn't to say the idea of braces is completely off-limits at this point.

I call him some version of a hippie because he reads guys you've probably never heard of, he doesn't seem to think any conspiracy theory is too out there to consider (anything's possible, right?), and he almost always wears his t-shirts inside out because he doesn't want to be a walking billboard for some company thriving on the world according to money, but unwilling to share with others. He turns off the water part of the time while showering and he's been replacing our traditional bulbs with more energy-efficient ones. He prints in "draft" quality to save on ink, and he likes documentaries but doesn't subscribe to reality television. And he firmly believes that anything anyone in our family knows about and/or is good at is something all of us should learn about and/or at least try.

With all my heart, I know he would have been a gladiator, a Greek warrior, a Samurai had he not been born now. I know he was born for this time, though, whatever the more spiritual reasoning might be. If chastity weren't an issue, he might also have been a Tibetan monk... he could pull off the vow of silence quite easily, I think. And I'm sure if we were tossed back 40 years, he'd likely be raging the machine against any and all injustices with which the youth of that era were taking issue. But even as he coaches baseball, reads to our sons and prays with them nightly, there always remains that something about David. It's not always easy to explain, but it is undoubtedly there. Always.

big boys

Marriage, chess, anatomy and questions of faith... these are the topics around our house these last few days, brought up by our newly turned 7- and 5-year-old sons. I've been blown away by their questions and interests lately. They've always challenged me to stay sharp, but when my 7-year-old wanted to type out his nocturnal animal project and kept his fingers on the "right" keys, I was blown away. I didn't even know he'd played around with a typing program at school to add to the practice he had with my husband long ago. Amazing!

More than just impressed, I am reminded that their knowledge and questions and intellect will only grow in the years to come. Am I doing what I need to do in order to stay competent? Can I keep up with their insatiable hunger for learning new things and taking on new challenges? Am I giving life my best so that I can give my children my best? Are my activities benefiting my spirit, mind, heart and soul so that I actually have something within me to give back to them?

In the deepest parts of my being, I believe I am "called" to be Mother, if only for the fact that I AM Mother, and that I chose to be Mother with an open eye. I believe it is my ultimate responsibility to be all I can be for my children, specifically during their childhood days. For me that means playing a balance game that few people ever get just right: protecting while allowing independence, knowing when to be hands-on and when to be hands-off, holding their hands and letting them soar (or fall), teaching them myself and letting life be the teacher sometimes, and challenging them while keeping life sweet and simple for as long as I can.

Like every mother before me who dreamed of "getting it right," I wake up everyday keenly aware of my shortcomings. I step over these on my way to make breakfast for these boys who are ever becoming men.

green tip #1

WATER. Even before I heard terms like "green living," "water conservation" or "save the planet," I knew there was something really wrong with how ridiculously long it takes for hot water to come out of the kitchen sink faucet. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew I should do something to stop wasting so much water!

This year, I finally started doing something. I took one of my gallon pitchers (Rubbermaid, I think) and started filling it until hot water came out of the faucet. My concerns were confirmed when I didn't get clean-the-counters hot water until the pitcher was already full and I had made my way toward filling a large Tupperware tumbler, too. It was nuts!

So this is what I do now. I use the saved water to rinse dishes when my kids leave milk in their cereal bowls, or to rinse my hands when they're a little sticky from making peanut butter sandwiches, or just to clean the sink after a rough day. Sometimes that gallon pitcher isn't emptied until three or four days go by. I smile thinking of all the water I've saved here and there.

Just my small part. At the very least, I am cutting down slightly on our water use and it keeps me aware of waste in other areas, too. My belief is that the planet's going to continue down its path whether or not I recycle or conserve water. But I am teaching myself and my children to be a little less wasteful and hopefully a lot more appreciative for the many resources I know we take for granted.

drowning

A fellow mom from my youngest son's preschool told me that she feels as though she is drowning lately. We were discussing our boys' birthday celebrations because they are only a few days apart. When she said this, I could only concur because it has been nuts around here, and I still know that our personal and family schedules aren't nearly as hectic as some. But I guess this is definitely my family's max-out point.

Every year around this time, I find myself juggling kids' sports, practices, school spring affairs, birthday parties for two kids (and that usually means more than one celebration for each between home and school goings-on), my husband's birthday, Spring Break, Easter and many more things. I am finding that even with a resolve to stay under the radar of crazy, over-stressed moms gone insane, life is easier said than done.

My husband was encouraging me to still make time for myself and the things I need to do for ME like workout and write and read. Even this is easier said than done, especially since I woke up today and my baby boy had a slight fever. He spent most of the day in bed, and I wasn't far from him. It was a moment of throwing my hands up in the air and acknowledging that today's to-do list would be there tomorrow and that for the day, I would baby my baby because in only a few short days, he'll be five years old!

It seems as though I am constantly trying to figure something out or balance myself and my life, even though I seriously try not to worry too much. I'm wondering if my approach is just off. Or perhaps this is just the way life goes. I also wonder if life would be more chaotic or "seem" less frantic if I spent eight hours of my day working some place other than in the home. I'm glad to be here. And I am always reminded -- particularly on days like today -- to be thankful for my blessings and grateful for life, however crazy it is at times.

When my friend used the word "drowning," I also was reminded of the time I likened writing to breathing for me. Along those lines, I would be wise to not neglect the things I can do to better get through the stressful times.

blog to blog

Upon reading about the guy in Waco who stabbed another guy over flautulence, I posted the following comment, albeit anonymously. What? Yeah I'm scared of making smart alec comments about all that drug nonsense going on south of our US of A. But it's still funny and worth sharing here.

"ok, i'm hispanic so don't call me racist. is anyone else not shocked considering these four men were hanging out at the clarion, unsure of waco surroundings (hospital), on their cell phones, with ethnic last names, yadda yadda yadda? the violence in this story is so stupid and random. i'm not gonna say it but it rhymes with shmarshmel. or shmrug shmrafficking. or even just shmrugs. anyone? i would TOTALLY say this to my grandmother... AND my grandfather, who by the way was once in prison for shmarijuana."

The grandmother comment is in reference to the Trib's COMMENT RULES (guess it's family reading) about, basically, only writing something you'd say to your grandmother.

just 18 years old

It was on Easter morning in 1991 that I became a Christian... from my own heart, 100% my own decision, of my own free will. I'd been "saved," taken to church and Bible studies, and taught the basics of my faith since young childhood, but I had not owned it or taken steps to make it something to call mine. But that morning, I did. I knelt at my old church on the corner of 11th and Jefferson in Waco and I asked God to take my life and use it and give me His gift of life and love and peace and forgiveness through Jesus Christ. And to be honest, I've never looked back. Not that I had before then; I just never gave it much thought before then.

That year, I would turn 20 in December. I definitely was maxed out on youthful enthusiasm and conquer-the-world zeal. And it was awesome! I wouldn't trade the many hours I gave in service to my church, nor would I trade the many lessons learned or memories captured.

But if you count your life in years as a Christian -- or any other way you identify yourself -- then you might say I'm just about to turn 18. And boy do I feel it!

Gone is the carefree outlook on life... I am often full of questions and not answers. Before me sits a path whose end I know not, and whose direction I am only slightly less confused about. All around me are people who seem to have their crap together... at least more than I do! Where I once felt certain and confident, I am unsure and usually second or third guessing my decisions.

On a brighter note, I still maintain a bit of "in your face." You know, the 18-year-old who is about to graduate from high school and doesn't have it all figured out and basically tells you to take a hike when you try to tell him anything about "growing up." What's more, I believe the best is yet to come. STILL. The ridiculousness of that statement is almost painful to admit. Who am I kidding? But then I realize that, oh yea, I'm like an 18-year-old on my journey as a Christian. This too shall pass... but hopefully not too soon.

I do well to be mom and wife and keep things running around here. I am responsible and prompt and orderly most of the time. But there's still a little rebel inside of me that I can't seem to shake. Example: the more people suggest I "decorate," the LESS I want to. And while I pride myself on being minimalistic, sometimes I want to smack people with a taupe-shaded two by four when they try to show "subtle" concern about my plain walls or lack of random CRAP filling the spaces and places in my house. ARGH! Sorry.

In the end, I think I'll be what I'm supposed to be. This is all in stark contrast to my real-life year of turning 18. I had it ALL figured out: college, career, spouse, kids. Truth be told, that stuff stuck! But it goes to show that you can have the basics and foundational things go as planned and still not have all the answers... not by a long shot. Then again, I guess that's life when you're 18.

i love this man

Rarely am I at a loss for words. And yet, every time I feel the urge to sit and write about my love for my husband of 13 years, I find that words fall short of all I want to express about him and what we share.

In February, we were celebrated our wedding anniversary. In May, we will have been "together" for 18 years since we started dating in 1991. We are so mindful that time with our kids has flown by, but the same is true of our relationship. We met when we were kids, especially David since he is nearly three years younger than me. We've grown and grown up together. There's no doubt that I am comfortable and "used to" life with David. But more than that... more than the comfort and ease I feel with him... more than the familiar way he loves me or the stability that comes with sharing almost two decades of life together... more so than any of these things, I still LOVE David with an exciting, passionate, hard-to-describe kind of love.

When I know the work day is almost over for him, I get excited. When he's gone for a bit and I hear the garage door opening, I usually rush to the door or at least ready myself for his entrance. And when he is putting our boys to sleep for the night, I count the minutes until I have him all to myself. In this way, I can tell you how I love my husband, though I dare not even try to begin to explain the connection I believe I have with him. The eternal, life-long, soul mate, warm-n-fuzzy love and LIKE that I have for this man after all these years. Once again, I find that words fail me.

Instead, I'll finish. He's actually gone right now. After our oldest son's piano lesson, he went out to meet a co-worker who happens to be in our neck of the woods. I'm never as youthful and beautiful for him as I wish I could be, but I still try and be someone he is happy to come home to whenever he walks through our door.

seven years of motherhood

My son's various birthday celebrations are finished for this year. He turned 7 this month and we had traditional cake, cupcake cake and cookie cake. We bowled, had dinner at a Japanese steakhouse, traveled to Waco and sang to him at least three times!

I still don't see my kids as spoiled rotten. My sons know they are loved, they are celebrated for their accomplishments and loved for just BEING. Their birthdays come along once a year... one day out of 365 gets to be THEIR day. It has been so fun to see them grow from babies to toddlers to little boys. It has been my life's greatest honor to be their mother.

Just this past year or so, it clicked that I should embrace all there is to being a mom. The unconditional love, the challenge to be all I need to be all the time, the gift of unlimited hugs and kisses, the power within myself to heal a boo-boo, the priceless calling to pour love, life and grace into the lives of my sons... these pieces make up the beautiful puzzle that is my life. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful opportunity than to be Mother.

friday night plights

The way I view Friday nights has definitely changed over the years. David and I enjoy the boys and rarely seek a night out, even on this most fun of weeknights! But that doesn't mean I don't want to on occasion. Then I find myself realizing the fun would be short lived, any over indulgence could lead to discomfort (who wants random discomfort?), and I'm actually more tired than I realized after a busy week as Mom.

Here's how some of my fantasies come crashing to an end:

* In my newly fit body, I storm downtown Austin turning heads and getting hit on like crazy... mostly by younger guys who fit into that category of the rare athlete-genius hybrid. Anyway, I politely decline while pointing out the obviously superior gentleman on my arm. "Hello!" But then one of these Ken dolls gets perturbed (he's never been turned down!), makes a catty remark, gets David mad and after a ridiculous amount of threats from the other guy, my husband punches him and goes to jail and that's how THAT goes...

* Fresh from dinner at the new steak and seafood place downtown, David and I make our way to a movie. I (in my newly fit body) turn down popcorn but decide to splurge on some Milk Duds. Well, it's not long before the Milk Duds are playing tricks on my stomach and I end up missing a lot of the movie thanks to frequent trips to the restroom. Yuck!

* Somewhat bored with my newly fit body, I decide to experiment with drugs, end up with the munchies, demand Whataburger and then either David goes to jail for wacky driving or the double with cheese and bacon gives me the runs or all that Coke sends me to the ER with kidney pain. Either way, it doesn't end well.

Then I blink and I'm back to reality. I turn on recorded episodes of Oprah, curl up with my favorite guy, have some laughs and priceless conversation, and fall asleep whenever I want. And that actually doesn't sound too bad after all!

what's the deal with _________________?

hard-to-pronounce last names I've never heard of before now?

people who still act weird/fake/uncomfortable/whatever even though you've known them for years and have had lots of close moments together?

the super-fit types who end up walking and sounding and acting like robots?

Oprah and all her undercover controversial topics? (And I like Oprah, by the way.)

people -- grown people -- not saying "thank you" for the little AND big things?

my weight? ugh!

dealing with thoughts and feelings and attitudes that I've not seen the likes of since high school?

people who baby their adult children?

kids insisting on being difficult?

people lying to your face?

in five months...

It just hit me (like a "insert something forceful here") that in about five months, both of my sons will be in school full-time. This is more scary and overwhelming than it is exciting. Why? Because instantly I feel the pressure to be better at so many things because, let's face it, I'll have a LOT more flexibility with how to spend my time. Here are some items that are quickly rising to the top as MUST-DOs for when this unchartered territory presents itself:

* Work out faithfully and more intensely every single day. I feel I owe this to myself and my family and that when my days are no longer spent between Dylan at home and David at school, I'll have no reason not to get in the best shape of my life. YIKES!

* Get uber-organized. I already thrive in the neat and orderly side of life, but I imagine every inch of my house shiny, clutter-free and always in order. It's like a kid anticipating CHRISTMAS morning!

* Be an even better volunteer and make my presence known at my kids' school. I do this some already, and I love it. I don't feel like I need the validation for myself as much as I LIKE to keep things running smoothly, I like to help when it's needed AND I like knowing that I can be a familiar face where my kids spend many hours of their lives.

* Scrapbook and get the boys' photos, artwork, awards, etc. better organized. This always sounds funner than it actually is. Hmm...

* Try a new hobby. Atop my list are: tennis (lots of good tennis out here), golf (ditto), sailing, gardening, researching how to grow taller as an adult, figuring out how to take on new hobbies and NOT sound so, well, old. I'd also like to summit more mountain tops and so this would definitely require some commitment to hiking around here. Glad they call it the Hill Country!

Whatever will I do? I'll miss my kids, cry a bit, run around catching up on laundry, bills, closet updates, twitter, home movie labeling and basic cleaning. Maybe by Christmas I'll be ready to get in shape. Yes, just in time for the new year!!!

cnbc

My husband is working from home full-time now. We love it! He isn't wasting time on a long commute, he gets to be as involved as he wants to be with the kids' activities, and it's just nice to have him here with us as much as possible.

The biggest negative amid all of this? Well, my laptop is now stationed atop the big desk in our home office (which is where he works), but so is the TV, which is always on CNBC. And these people are just a little bit ridiculous! See if you can stand them for long on any given day, but particularly while the main US markets are open (that's 8:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. our time).

I'd say that thus far my blogs aren't exactly profound or earth-shattering. But these are my thoughts nonetheless.

like a new lover

Oh sure, the excitement's there now, right? I've just created my neat and orderly little place in the world where I can sit and write and write and ponder and dream of... whatever. But will my days come and go, or will I commit? For writing is as breathing. And when I do not, I can feel it. I suffocate a little and shine a little less, I think.

Other things I intended to do this somewhat still new year:
* photograph my children daily from the start of each boy's birthday... didn't happen
* clean EVERYTHING... didn't happen
* schedule EVERYTHING... kinda happening, but not entirely
* speak with my half-ass British accent every chance I get (namely, in anonymous situations)... can't BELIEVE that hasn't happened

My point is that everything that matters simply has to find a home in my life. It just has to. And while this has been a long time coming, I suspect it will be a long time staying as well. Now, if only I could get back to keeping my digital photographs organized. Snap... didn't happen.

feels good

Early in the Internet surge, I didn't subscribe right away to blogging. I like my old-fashioned tendencies, and I like using pens. But progress catches up with us all, I suppose. So here I am, ready to officially BLOG. LoAna come lately... I'm not ok with that, by the way.