Life is Supposed to be Hard

Our move was an adventure of Jetsonian magnitude. Minus the flying car.



Life is hard.

Being a teacher at the end of the school year is hard.

Being a mom is hard.

Being a mom of a daughter who broke her foot two days before school got out is hard.

Moving is hard.

Moving the day after school ends is hard.

Moving with a kid who broke her foot three days earlier is hard.

Loading up a U-Haul trailer in June, in Florida, in the rain, in the absence of professional movers or strong civilian assistance is really hard.

Realizing that the 20 boxes you brought home from school aren't going to fit in the U-haul trailer, and fighting excessively about it with your husband is hard.

Him telling you the only way to bring your stuff is if you rent a second trailer and you also tow one behind your car, for ten hours, on I-75, with a broken daughter and 2 dogs. Hard.

Cleaning the apartment you're moving out of, in the morning, on moving day, to avoid a $250 fee, before picking up the two dogs to drive 10 hours in the back of the car with you is unimaginably hard.

Dealing with all of this while getting berated by family members because you're leaving them, well, it's nearly impossible.

Oh, and to do it with a smile on your face for your children, and joy in your heart because you believe in what you're doing...preposterous!

Things haven't been easy, but this is life, and life is supposed to be hard. I thank my parents for teaching me that. For teaching me that opportunities lurk in the shadow of obstacles, and that God speaks in a still, small voice. That no matter the bravery required, that you follow that voice and pray to find the path set before you. For us, that path didn't allow us to see around the corner or over the top of the hill, and sometimes we wondered if the path was clear at all, because it felt like maybe we were trampling through waist high grass. We weren't always confident. We weren't always calm, or kind, or pictures of peace. Sometimes I cried, and wondered if we were making a mistake, but that still small voice in my heart of hearts kept me steadfast.

Now, 14 days later, it is difficult to comprehend how seamlessly life is coming together here- the details of which give me goosebumps. That is not to say that it has been easy, because it has been full of challenging times, but it has been our heart's desire every step of the way. It has been our prayers met, our thoughts realized, and our quiet conversations coming to pass. It has been absolutely faith affirming, and I am so very grateful to be where we are today.

Tennessee. The place where God whispered for us to go to, and then faithfully brought us to. He never promised that it would be easy- just worth it.

The best is yet to come.

Inside Out

The movie Inside Out is on my mind a lot these days. When it first came out (and Trevor and I spent at least 5 minutes sobbing, at various parts) I thought it was the worst kids movie ever. I remember saying, "Thanks Pixar, for animating one kid's downward spiral into clinical depression." I like my movies happy and carefree because life is hard enough, and Inside Out was not that. It made me think. And since I didn't want to think during a kid's movie, I kind of resented it, even though I could see it's brilliance.

I put the movie in the back of mind, and just sort of inadvertently came to terms with the theme of Inside Out, which I think I have deemed to be "sadness is the key to happiness". When Joy wouldn't let Riley feel sadness, when she pushed her aside and tried to hide her out of the way, Riley couldn't cope. Instead of feeling sadness she felt anger, disgust, and fear which are much more volatile emotions. But it was Sadness that softened her. When Sadness was finally given her place, Riley's heart melted, and her loved ones could see her pain and rally around her. Anger, disgust, and fear are lonely feelings. They are defensive in nature, and try to keep us from being hurt which pushes people away and further isolates us. Sadness, however, is a bat signal for a group hug, and it draws friends and family in. Only when we show our sadness, can we clearly find the path to the happiness that we once had, or are dreaming about.

My kids picked Inside Out to watch last night before bed. We are moving in less than a week, and they wanted to watch Inside Out, an animated fictional documentrary of the world's worst move. It shows how a move breaks hearts, and friendships, and almost destroy a family. It felt like an impossible movie choice, but I just smiled and said yes. Then I reminded myself that it's ok if my kids feel sadness watching this movie. It's even ok if they feel sadness when we shake their lives around like little snow globes and move them 500 miles away. Sadness is their friend, and when I see signs of it, I will come running. I will be there to cry with them, and support them, and help them find a path to the happiness that we are all dreaming about.

Thanks, Inside Out. I like you a lot.

Stupid Florida, I Love You

It's a hard time in our lives right now. All for good reasons, but honestly, just very hard. We are moving out of Florida, our home of the past 17 years. Let me be perfectly self-aware here, I have never been a good Floridian. Now though, as I encounter some of the appetizers of goodbye, awaiting the full entree, I have realized something. As I have been here, living, loving, and sometimes uttering the phrase "stupid Florida", the peninsula has been quietly tattooing a little FL shaped imprint on my heart.

Our hearts betray us, and my heart betrayed me by falling in love with this place that I have detested for so long. The palm trees that have always been so cliche to me, now seem to hold an essence of unmatched freedom and beauty. The horrible flatness that plagues this land now makes it the only place that I want my daughter to learn to roller blade. The lack of seasons, horrific! Except it does get delightfully chilly in winter, without my kids having to have an entire second wardrobe, or me having to worry about snow tires and black ice.

I have no family in "stupid Florida", but in the Florida-shaped place in my heart, I have something even better. I have friends that have become family. Ladies who have chosen to be like sisters to me, even though there is no obligation of shared DNA between us. Jessica, Carla, Amy, Shelbie, Christie, Evelyn, Ashley, Bev, and Lori- you have made me laugh, cry, and be a better person. You and have loved me, and have loved my kids along side me. We have celebrated birthdays, graduations, summer vacation, children's accomplishments, and new opportunities. We have gone places together- mostly to Tijuana Flats, but also breakfasts at busy diners, concerts, concerts, and more concerts, movies, work trips, Disney, and sometimes just the grocery store. I have no choice but to take you to TN with me in my heart, because you can never, ever be replaced. Thank you for not being offended by my transparency, or humor. I doubt I will find more souls like you, should I search forever. You are more than I have deserved. There are no sufficient words, and I cannot bear to say goodbye.

So I won't...not yet. I will just ponder the past 17 years in my heart, and count myself one very lucky lady. Thank you, sweet Florida. Life here has been so, so good.

The Noticing

"From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere."
Dr. Seuss

Today's conversation between Trevor and I went like this:

"Trevor, have you seen Taryn? Like, did you see which way she went? She told me she would be out here playing with you."

"No. I didn't see her at all. Oh, man. Is Taryn going to be on an Amber Alert now?"

Things like this happen in our house all the time. Funny little conversations that are very serious to my 7 and 9 year old, but that just make my husband and I laugh. Oh, and don't worry. About 10 seconds after Trevor declared her about to be the subject of an Amber Alert, Taryn came walking up the sidewalk from the neighbor's house. Phew. Tragedy averted for another day.

People often tell me that my kids are funny. I don't think they are. I mean, they are. Yes. But I don't think that they are any funnier than anyone else's kids. I just think that I notice.

I have been keenly aware of my fleeting time with my children ever since I remember. When Taryn was 2, I called my best friend on Christmas morning and said, 'I can't believe I only have 16 of these left with her at home!" It isn't normal. Don't think for one second that I believe that to be a typical thing to occur to a mom of a toddler on Christmas morning, but that's my brain for you.

It can be a curse. In fact, I often have to force myself to enjoy the moment rather than stress out about it vanishing. But the gift of it is that I take a mental note of most of the little nuggets of humor, innocence, or childlike brilliance that come up in our day to day existence. I love to share them with my husband, or in blogs. And I think my hope in sharing them is to spark "the noticing" in other people. Almost inevitably another mom will say, "That reminds me, just the other day little Bobby said..."

How special it is for parents to take on a perspective that doesn't wish away the exhausting, needy, dependent years, but rather sees them as a fleeting blessing that must be purposefully observed, and recorded in the deepest crevices of our hearts.

Some day, when there are no more toys to trip over, or tears to dry, the memories of these funny little people trying to make sense of the world will be our best friends. Each face. Each mispronounced word. Each time they wondered if they would see their sibling on an Amber Alert when she was just at the neighbor's.

OK, maybe not that last one.

Echoes

The house is starting to echo. You know, that way an empty building does. We haven’t moved very much out, but today I called to Jayme from the room that I was packing, and I heard that hollow empty return that made my stomach turn. We are leaving home.

This little building has been our home for 13 years, and it has been a place of safety, love, warmth, and hope. We brought our babies home to lovingly prepared nurseries right here. We paced the hallway with scrawny infants for hours on end in the middle of the night here, and built blanket forts that stayed up for days. We put our Christmas tree in the same corner every year, and hang backpacks on the hooks by the front door. I can still picture the different backpacks, a new one each year, but there they have all hung.

Occasionally I cry. It’s not because I am sad, but rather because my heart is directly attached to my tear ducts, and when I reflect on all of the happy memories that we have built in this home, it shows up in wet little drops on my cheeks.

Our next house will be the first house we have moved into without our dog Max. Our first “child”, if you will. We got her in college before we were married, and had her for 14 happy years. It’s not good or bad, just something I think of.

I am so excited to buy our next house. It will be the first house we have bought as a family. We bought this house with the hope of a family, but we bought it for ourselves as a young, married couple with theoretical children who would probably like it too. The next house will be bought for all of us. Taryn’s bedroom will be larger, with space for a desk, and reading corner, per her request. Trevor’s room will be trickier, as he demands it be identical to his current room. Naturally. I don’t know what the house will have, but I know that it will be for us from day one- all four of us. That thought is lovely, and exciting, and worth the occasional tear drop brought about by an empty echo, or as my heart suddenly stumbles upon a scene from the past in an unexpected place.

I am totally grateful, and totally blessed.

The best is yet to come.

A Dog Named Flaco

I spent several hours today inconvenienced by a little black Chihuahua that found its way to our garage today. He followed my daughter home from a bike ride, despite her politely asking him not to. My husband was out building things in the garage and the friendly little guy just came running in. No collar and absolutely no reservations. He licked, jumped, wagged, and ended up on my patio because we live near a busy street and were afraid to let him wander off, lest he wander into traffic. I called him Scar because he had a giant, nasty, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his back...long healed over and hardened to protect itself.

Everyone seemed to enjoy this surprise guest but me. I wasn't the happiest. What if he's dirty? Fleas? Worms? Can he get my dogs sick? But I put water out for him and gave him treats, and when my daughter told me that she thought his scar was ugly, I told her not to judge a book by its cover. What if it was our Gracie out there, lost and alone? Wouldn't she want someone to take look after her for us until we found her? She agreed, and the pendulum quickly swung in the opposite direction as she named him and asked me a thousand times if we could keep him.

We hung a "FOUND DOG" sign on the telephone pole by the end of our street, and waited hopefully for the owner to call us while our visitor ran absolutely wild in the patio/backyard. My 7 year old passed the time talking baby talk to Scar and calling him our new pup. Each time he said it, my anxiety increased exponentially. My own two dogs went out and played with him for a bit, but my fears over his potential diseases made me bring them back inside, and so we had the joy of their incessant barking for about 90 minutes. I don't know what they were saying, but I'm sure it was about this stranger in their turf, having all the fun!

We called a neighbor to see if it was his, and he said, "NO, but there's a grey bulldog sitting outside my door that won't move". Although interesting, we did not investigate the bulldog. Our hands were full. The kids and I took the dog on a walk to the neighborhood across the street, and ran into a nice lady who took pictures to post on the local Facebook page. We were going to go all the way to the end of the street, but we saw a little dog barking at us, and thought it might be a friend of Scar, so we turned around to find him. He was gone by the time we got to where he had been. We knocked on a couple of doors, and then headed home.

Meanwhile, in my mind is the nagging thought that we are supposed to be Traveling tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and this dog is beginning to feel like he isn't going anywhere. Normally, people come around quickly after a dog escapes and ask if we've seen him. We were going on 4 hours already! So, I put him in car and went to nearest vet! Scar thought it was a delightful adventure. He climbed from the way back over the seats until he was on my lap, with his head out the window. The vet was closed for lunch, must be nice, but they saw us at the door and let us in! How lovely. Scar stood on the counter waiting to be scanned, and when they did scan him, it turned out that he had a chip! I was overjoyed. This little adventure would end soon! I expected an address very near to my house, but it came back as an address in Miami Beach...boo. I asked for the phone number, and turned to leave the vet. As we were leaving the lady who had helped us called out, "Oh, and his name is Flaco!" Hmm...alright Flaco, I thought. Let's get you home!

When we got in the car, I texted the number, and almost instantly I got a response! Yes, the man had a lost his dog. Yes, he lived near Hoffner. What color was the dog I found, because actually, he had lost two!!! He sent me his address and my phone guided me to his house because after 16 years in this town I still don't know how to get anywhere new. To my surprise, he lived on the very street that I had walked down with the kids earlier that day. We drove past the place where the little brown dog had barked at us, past the lady's house that took pictures for Facebook, and to the very end where a man greeted us, took his pup, and thanked us. I told him I was glad the story had a happy ending, and asked him if the other dog he lost was brown because we had seen one on this same street earlier. He said, no, "It’s a gray bulldog!" He was beside himself when I told him I thought I knew where that one was too. He followed me to our neighborhood and my husband walked him down to the neighbor's house that he had spoken to on the phone earlier. Sure enough, three minutes later they came back up the street holding a gray French bulldog. They found him still sitting in the same spot where it had been four hours earlier. And just like that, our adventure was over!

I don't know why all of that happened today- no idea really! But I am very glad that two dogs were reunited with their owner. I'm smiling now thinking of the fun my kids had with the little, unexpected adventure that wagged its way into our Monday, and I am happy that a dog named Flaco came to visit...and then went home!

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My Thoughts Toward Paris

11/13/15

I have no connection to Paris. I am not saddened because of WHERE this tragedy of terror happened; I am sad BECAUSE it happened.

I am sad because I am a person- a mom, wife, daughter, sister, teacher...and so were they.

This life is fragile, and precious, and it is always fine...until suddenly its not.

When I pray, it is not for Paris, it is for her people. For them to be comforted, for them to find the strength to go on amid such tragedy. It is also for the rest of us who were not directly touched.

Nations full of us.

That we would do something.

Whether it is to open our home to someone in need, or to vote, or to donate money, or to go and help where help is needed. Just let's do something to make this world a better, safer place for our children.