A week ago today I was...

totally passed out on my parent's easy chair in the family room. I didn't mean to fall asleep there for the night, but I guess I should have expected to fall asleep earlier than my usual twilight hours considering I had been up for 16 hours and ran 14.1 miles earlier that day.

Oh how wonderful it was to go home to my parents and just be their daughter for the weekend. It was a little surreal at first, showing up at Mom and Dad's house without a carseat, diaper bag or 4 pieces of luggage. It didn't take long, however, for me to ease (regress?) into my role of the lazy daughter (teenager?). I even found an old report card in the room I was staying in from the 5th grade. It really did feel like I had gone back in time. I laughed so hard reading my teacher's comments. Some of them are unoriginal repeats each period. Can't blame her. Teaching is hard. Report Cards must be a pain.

_________________________

First Period: {Michelle is an excellent SCA representative for our
class. She is also doing a good job as our class secretary. I am pleased she is
on the Honor Roll as well as the Good Citizen's list. 11/18/92}

Odd, I don't even remember being the class secretary. I'm living proof that some events, which may seem like the world of importance at the time, are not even remembered into young adulthood. Tell that to your kid the next time she doesn't make the soccer team.

Second Period: {Michelle continues to be an excellent SCA representative for our
class. I'm pleased she made the Honor Roll as well as Good Citizen's list.
Please help her to remember to return signed papers and behavior sheets as well
as notices on time 2/5/93}

Behavior sheets and notices? What kind of student was I and still managed to be a "Good Citizen"?? Funny, I still have a hard time turning things in on time. Old habits die hard.

Third Period: {I am very pleased that Michelle made the Honor Roll
and Good Citizen's List. She needs to remember that she is allowed 2 days for
each day absent to make up her work. I was very proud of the excellent job she
did in the Battle of the Books. 4/8/93}

Hmmm. Either I turned in work before it was due or after following a bout of absences. My guess is after, that's way more my style. You know, I still have the Thesaurus my librarian gifted each of us on the Battle of the Books team when we beat out all the other elementary schools. We were so awesome.

Fourth Period: {I have enjoyed teaching you this year, Michelle,
and reading your creative writing. You should continue with your writing. Good
luck in Middle School. 6/16/93}

Sorry, Mrs. Moran. I haven't done much in the world of writing beyond this blog. Hope it makes you proud. In the mean time, I'll keep working on that novel . . .

_______________________________________

After having a good laugh over my report card and reading a little, I crashed on to my pillow and enjoyed the thought that I had absolutely nothing on my agenda the next day, and no one to be in charge of. I think I was smiling as I fell asleep.

The next morning was glorious. I was not awakened by anyone or anything. Just my internal alarm clock. I got ready and opened my door to smell a delicious French toast breakfast waiting for me by padre. It was so enjoyable to sit and eat breakfast, just Dad and me.

Later, I illegally visited my mother at her school (sorry junior high school to remain unnamed. I didn't check in and I was a visitor). It was fun to see her in her element and practice patience with kids that act my kids' ages. She is my inspiration. Afterwards, I drove down to see my sister Melody and we shopped, saw a movie and had dinner. It was so fun I nearly forgot I was a mother of two. The next morning I didn't let myself out of bed before 9am. It was beautiful. My Dad met me at the kitchen table and had a brilliant idea:

Early birthday present.

For those of you familiar with the Sheppard family, you must know that this is an attempt that has been vetoed by my mother for years. No matter the gift, no matter the reason, under no circumstance are any of us allowed to receive, much less open, a birthday gift before our birthday. Those of you who know my father are also likely aware that he is quite the renegade. He is not a yes-man. He decided I needed an i-Pod shuffle before my race. My birthday is not until July.

I squealed with excitement. What perfect timing! I had been so close to caving and just buying a shuffle but something stopped me...something about trying to be fiscally responsible or to stop buying whatever I wanted when I wanted it. So we were off to Sam's Club, Daddy and I, to get a cute little i-Pod shuffle for my birthday that wasn't for another 3 months. I'm not quite sure when the permission was granted (or the forgiveness asked for) by my mom. I stayed out of that and just happily went along with Daddy's great idea.

I talked myself into going for a short little jog after the shuffle was purchased, just to make sure I knew my legs were working. They were. When I returned, my little sister Rebecca showed up bearing many gifts, including Gossners chocolate milk boxes and birthday presents for Cade and Savvy. So thoughtful!

Melody soon arrived and we all headed to the Expo for the Ogden Marathon to pick up our race packets, and rub shoulders with likeminded crazy folks who traveled distances near and far to convene for a run requiring insane amounts of mileage.

We spotted celebrities, entered drawings, won prizes, and saw a few funny things. Thanks to Rebecca, we had her camera to document the outrageous fun:

Celebrity Sighting:
I don't know these gentlemen, but I was particularly inspired by them and in my book they are celebrities. I initially thought this was Team Hoyt, but after a little further research, it isn't. And I thought the gentleman pushing was the father and the son was in the chair. On race day, I saw them at the starting line and the man pictured here pushing the wheelchair was actually walking alongside a different man who was pushing Bart. (the flags on the wheelchair read, "Go Bart!" and "The Bartmobile!" so I assume that is his name) So, be they father/son, uncle/nephew, friend/friend, it is touching to see how running includes everyone. Bart was getting everyone excited at the Expo and the starting line with his "Yeeeahhh!"s and "Wahooo!!"s. It was great.

Oddities:
We spotted this dog at the Expo and got a good laugh. I've never seen a dog like it before in my life. Pretty ugly. Pretty cute.





My kind of table centerpiece! These running shoe planters were on all the tables at the expo and all along the course on race day with balloons tied to them. This one in particular made me smile. Kyle owns a pair of running shoes just like this one:

Prizes!

We each entered in a drawing sponsored by Kimberly Clark. Rebecca won. Melody won. I did not win, so I got to snap the photo of them with their awesome spoils!

I had to take this shot...it makes me laugh. This is Melody being all serious about her race and talking my Dad through her pace strategies. If you notice on the counter are her computer generated target race times. She cut one out and wore it on her wrist like a bracelet for her race.

It sure is nice to be mediocre. Love you, Mel!

Friday night Mom made us a delicious spaghetti dinner. I got permission from Melody to okay a dessert after the meal, so my mom made our family favorite, apple crisp. It was delish! As we were sitting around the table we laughed and commented that this was the first time we were all together (minus brother Austin) without the kids or spouses. We really enjoyed our time together as a little family unit.

That night Melody and I drove up to our hotel room in Ogden and were unpleasantly surprised that we did not get the room we had originally booked (2 queens). Instead, we found ourselves sharing a king. Fortunately neither of us are movers in bed and what little sleep we were able to get that night from all the jitters and the train horn, was uninterrupted by the other.

Race day forthcoming!

Savvy for sale! (I think....)

Thanks for indulging me in a little bit different writing for my last post. Ever since my bus ride up to the half marathon starting line, those ruminations would not leave my head! It was a nice release to get them on paper...er, onto the blogosphere. The rest of what I have to offer from the experience is mostly pictures, so it'll be a nice, quick eye-candy-like read. Thanks to each of you for your kind words. It's always nice to hear people like what you write, especially when you weren't expecting it.

I'll leave you in suspense a while longer about the race, because that is not what I am posting about tonight.

I just needed to take a minute to divert my attention from my screaming, sleep-deprived 2 year-old. My blessed, strong-willed, sassy, coal-eyed Savvy is throwing a tantrum over something I can't seem to decipher between her shrieks and wails. There is nothing more I can do for her, so I have left her to work it out on her own.

I've always tried to keep naps and bedtime sacred in my home. After reading Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child back when Cade was 4 months old and I could not handle being sleep deprived any longer, I have maintained the position that sleep=happiness, for me and my children. And it is truth because I now know what it is like to have a non-sleeping child.

It is not happy.

It all started very quietly. A few weeks ago Savannah started waking up around the same time as Cade-- the 7-7:15 range. That was doable. Surely we missed the days when they woke up between 7:30 and 8am but no matter. (I'm almost in tears as I think back on those sweet, well-rested and sadly short-lived days). Then she started pulling the 6:45-6:50 nonsense. I don't know...there is just something purely miserable about the clock reading six-anything when your daughter is ready to start her day and there is nothing on the agenda that starts before 9am. Sadly, she just kept waking up a few minutes earlier each day, and then this week, it really hit. Yesterday was her all-time record of 5:15 am. She was bouncing around the house with energy I did not even know existed before the sun came up. As you can guess, by 11am she was more than ready for her nap. So down she went. And to add more ribbons to her no-sleeping streak, her nap was not even an hour long.

The ultra short cliffs notes version of Dr. Weisbluth's book is this: Sleep begets sleep.

The more consistent the naps, the better sleep at night. The better sleep at night, the better her naps. So you can imagine how quickly the cycle can change to no sleep: The earlier she gets up, the shorter her nap. The shorter her nap the earlier she wakes up.

This vicious cycle Needs. To. Stop.

When Kyle got home last night some time after 11, despite the fact he was exhausted, I announced I was not getting out of bed before 10 am the next day. I was convinced this was the night Savannah would crash and she would sleep until noon and I was going to take full advantage of it. I charged Kyle with the task of getting Cade off to school in the morning and I would soak in the comfort and quiet of my bed because surely a little girl living on 13 hours of sleep for most of her life would hit some sort of wall after averaging maybe 7 or 8 hours and give in to the world of zzz's. Right?

I was so wrong. She was up. I don't know what time, but she was up well before noon. Well before 10.

I am cranky.

And she is screaming. And rather than go door-to-door in my neighborhood and sell her for free, I'm blogging.

This is when photographer's work is truly appreciated. I can look at this picture and almost be convinced I want to keep her:

Almost.

Oh wait.... it's quiet.

HALELUJIAH.

A little day-jah-vooooooo

I step onto the school bus and Coach Spain greets me with his usual chipper "Good morning, Freshman!" and smiles at me, despite my tired face. I attempt a grin and courtesy chuckle at his little jab. Freshman year was done and over with, but Coach Spain would never refer to me otherwise.

I find a seat close to the front and slide in. I fish my Walkman out of my track bag and grab a mix tape I made just for this occasion: a very long bus ride. I pop it in, hoping the tunes will squelch my nerves. I glance down at my Adidas running shoes and smile. Thanks, Mom. They not only look pretty, but feel suuuper comfortable. My teammates are chattering happily around me. I begin to unzip my back pack and think, nah, I'll get to my homework later. I glance at my stopwatch: 6:07am. This is way too early. Especially for a Saturday morning. I closed my eyes and snuggled up to the blanket "quillow" my grandma made for me. Billy Ray Cyrus began belting through my headphones my secret 5th grade favorite song, "Achy Breaky Heart." Sleep didn't come, and I could taste anxiety in my mouth and feel it in my stomach. Desperate for a reprieve from my pre-race jitters, I began to think about Tuesday's chemistry test, my upcoming English research paper, and the stake dance later that night. I smiled at the thought of boogying with my girlfriends and pressed my thumb and forefinger to my ears to make sure my good luck earrings, red and blue turqoise butterfly studs, were still in tact. Yep, still there.

I pull out my Gatorade and notice a sticker my mom slapped on it. "2:20 and 5:30!!!" she had written. Those were my goal times. I had recently taken to the 800 meter and 1600 meter runs and was loving it. Winning both races at the track meet the previous Wednesday certainly boosted my confidence, but also raised my expectations. Though Coach Joe was convinced I was a two-miler, I was thrilled Coach Spain let me have my way and run in my two favorite events. Perhaps I could be a two-miler. But I didn't want to be. Eight laps around the track required way too much concentration for the likes of me. If I couldn't handle that race mentally, I certainly wouldn't be able to handle it physically. I take a gulp of my Gatorade and close my eyes again......

Unaware of how much time had gone by, I awaken to the bus lurching to a halt. We had arrived. Coach Spain stood up and lead us in the Lord's Prayer. I smile, admiring his conviction. Teachers weren't allowed to lead students in prayer, but Spain didn't care about that. He cared about us running well, and knew bringing God into the equation certainly wouldn't hurt.

I stepped off the bus and begin scouting out a good spot the distance girls could lay claim on. Though it was only 9am, the sun is blazing hot, so we take refuge under the stadium facing south. I still feel queasy. Why am I doing this? I ask myself. What part of this is fun? What part of failing myself is great? I wasn't big into placing, but I was big into my personal times, hoping to qualify for regionals. If I wasn't running, I'd still be in bed right now..... instead I am focusing on:
a. breaking 5:30 in the 1600 b. breaking 2:20 in the 800 c.run so hard I wanted to die at the finish line. (c. was a good compromise. even if I didn't run well, I would know I did my best by how awful I felt afterwards)

---- 10 years later ----

I hug my sister and wish her luck. I watch as she crosses the street heading towards the line of buses facing the road to Eden. I waved and turned down the street, meeting my line of buses which were headed 13.1 miles past Eden; the starting line for the half marathon.

I step on to the bus and this time it is I who greets the bus driver with a smile. She nods while blowing into her cupped hands. It was cold. Very cold. I found a seat and slid in. I pulled out my cell phone and glanced at the time 5:17. Ugh. It's a crime to be up this early, I complain to myself. I listen to the caucophony of voices around me and smile to myself at the high intensity conversations. People are anxious about the race. I am calm. I settle in my seat further to get comfortable and put my headphones on. I switch my i-Pod shuffle to random and begin enjoying the tunes. Thanks to my dad, not only did I have a much smaller and more comfortable method of listening to music during a run, (the shuffle was an early birthday present purchased the day before) he also downloaded some great music, including none other than Miley Cyrus.

I check my ears for my special penguin earrings. I had purchased them the night before at the hotel front desk while checking in. My son Cade has developed a minor obsession with all things arctic, especially penguins. He had left a message on my voicemail the night before in tears telling me how much he missed me. So I bought the penguins to feel like my little Cade was with me. My eyes stung with fresh tears and I wipe my eyes. Sure miss my darlings, I thought.

I take a swig of my orange Gatorade, appropriately provided by my mother dearest. I smiled, thinking of the spaghetti dinner she prepared for my sisters and I the night before. Just like old times.

The bus starts and I look out the window watching the scenery change before my eyes. Old homes close together faded into a windy road of cabin-like homes which then faded into no homes and just a road overlooking a lake. It was beautiful. Peaceful.

I think about my children, what they might be doing at that moment and smile. Recollecting previous bus trips to races, this one is far more enjoyable. It feels so good to not have any worries. I enjoy the ride and laugh about how some things never change:

I was still running, and still admitted that I didn't have the mental capacity for the long races. The full marathon for instance. 13 miles seemed so much easier on the mind. I still wore good luck stud earrings and I was listening to a device that was given to me for my birthday, just like my cherished yellow walkman. I wasn't listening to Billy Ray, but his daughter this time around. My mom still took her role seriously as the mother of her running daughters and all my carb loading and hydration can be attributed to her. Yep, some things never change.

Yes, lots hadn't changed, but a lot of things had: I wasn't nervous. I was content with my goals:
a. not get passed by any marathoners (after all, they were starting 13.1 miles behind me) b.run the entire race without walking or water c, the most important: feel great the entire race.

Lost in that thought, I look down at my wrist and laugh. I forgot my stopwatch at the hotel. Just as well, I tell myself. Now I'll really have a chance to just run and not think about my pace.

to be continued....

Headed to the gym

to get a massage! Sore doesn't even begin to describe how my body feels. Allow me to leave you with some footage of Cade's debut:

Lucky him, he got to be a Little Speckled Frog!

(if you'll turn your attention to the boy in the brown shirt and jeans in the back row. I swear he is on his way to be the next American Idol. I love how into the song he gets. I watched a few other clips of their songs and he was doing an air guitar to a few of them. Hilarious!)

a second by second account of the race forthcoming!

Gracias friends, dads and camcorders

What dear, dear friends I have. I am awe-struck by your quick responses to my S.O.S. as well as the great lengths that were taken to ensure I was properly prepared for my race. One friend e-mailed me her running list via her Blackberry while she was camping in the WILDERNESS for work. Another girlfriend took the time to actually attach SIX of her beloved running favorites in e-mail form. And, my dad had his thumb drive ready full of Miley Cyrus for me when I arrived here late Wednesday night.

Sweet.

I just returned from my sister's making the sacred playlist. The songs are so good I might actually not want to throw myself in front of a Mack truck whilst running. Thanks to all of you, my sister's fabulous existing i-tunes library of songs, and Cascade Endodontics I have about 5 hours worth of hip, happening and wholesome music. Cascade Endodontics footed the bill on the songs that were purchased tonight. So, for a really good time you should go in to Cascade Endodontics for a root canal. That way you can listen to the music I added to their library. I personally haven't needed a root canal yet, but after reading this personal blog review about my brother-in-law's practice, it almost sounds fun. ;-)

Now, if you all wouldn't mind having a moment of silence for me tomorrow at 10:30am central time I would greatly appreciate it. Nope, that's not when I will be running (8am Saturday morning MST if you were curious), it is when Cade will be singing in his special preschool "Pet Shop" performance. And I won't be there.

Kyle told me about this conversation that took place today: (or yesterday technically now that I notice the very late hour)
----
Kyle: Cade, I am really looking forward to your pet shop performance tomorrow. It's going to be great!
Cade: Yeah, well, is mommy going to be there?
Kyle: No, bud, mommy won't be there. But I will! I'll be there and it is going to be so great. I just can't wait to hear you up there singing!
Cade: Yeah, well, I just hope Savvanah can come.
Kyle: Yes, Cade. Savvy will be there. And you know who else will be there?
Cade: Mommy?!!!
Kyle: No, bud. Mommy won't be there. But I will!
-----
Yes, the guilt and sorrow are seeping in quite heavily about now. Sad. Too bad the building doesn't have wireless, then we could Skype the performance.

So for now, I am hanging on for dear life to the words my friend Carrie said to me when telling her about my scheduling conflict:

"That's what Dad's and camcorders are for."

Funny, they seemed so much more comforting when I was booking my flight....

Condolances welcome and appreciated.

S.O.S.

It's coming down to the wire my friends, and I reeeeeallllllly need your help. I have a race this weekend. I need to pull together a sweet playlist ASAP that will last me thirteen point one miles of pavement pounding bliss.

My music criteria:
* Clean lyrics
* Peppy (cheesy is a-ok), and energizing

Pretty cut and dry, yeah? I'm so out of the music loop that I don't even know where to begin. All I know is I want Cyndi Lauper's Girls Just Wanna Have Fun on my playlist and that's pretty much the extent of my brainstorming. There must be a ton of songs out there just begging to be on my i-Pod right? You know those songs that are so fun to listen to that you can't help but break out in a little jig when you hear them? Yes, I want those. I've got 120 minutes to fill. Okay, just to be safe, let's say I need 140 minutes. I wonder if my battery even lasts that long.... ?? It should, right?

Ready, set, go!

Happy Madre's Day! (part-o uno)

Friday afternoon I picked Cade up from preschool and he handed me this:


(that's me, he explained. notice the long hair?)
I opened it up to read this:

My heart melted. What are the chances that he would say something this perfect when it was his turn to dictate to his teachers why he loved his mother? I would expect something like "I love you because you let me go to Tyler's house sometimes and play video games" or "I love you because you let me watch movies when you want to take a nap."

I had to wipe away a few tears after I read it. Cade's teacher gave me a knowing smile and said, "Isn't that so sweet? I just got chills when he said that to me."

I love my little Mother's Day card because it perfectly captured my sweet Cade. He is uniquely aware and very appreciative of beauty especially in seemingly insignificant things around him. Like my little earrings. And it warms my heart to know that he appreciates the time we spend in the kitchen during Savvy's naps. Even more, it's a tribute to my own mother because he loves baking with her in the kitchen and appreciates the fact that I am trying to be like his Gramma.

On another heart-melting note, I heard Savannah stirring around 5 o'clock yesterday morning. We weren't ready for it to be "a good morning yet," as the kids say, so Kyle picked her up out of the crib and tucked her in between us in bed. I crossed my fingers. Usually she will only last a minute or two before she starts crawling around and jumping on the bed, forcing Kyle and I to draw straws and be up for the day. Five minutes went by and she was still in the same spot. Then she linked arms with me and whispered, "I love you, Mom." and drifted to sleep. It was one of those moments I want to remember forever.

Some other highlights...

...a bouquet of tulips, sleeping in, breakfast, an afternoon nap, a delicious steak dinner enjoyed outside on the deck, and Portillos chocolate cake...

[kyle yanked my chain Saturday night and told me portillo's was out of chocolate cake and asked for my second choice of dessert. i told him there could not be a second option for dessert. he whipped this out of his dresser drawer after dinner. he thinks he's so funny.]

After dinner, we took a drive to the Tiffin's open house to see their yard....acres and acres of beautiful trees and flowers.

Savannah took advantage of the no tulip fine freedom:

I am a little bummed that I didn't get a picture with both of the kids. Once I answered Cade that no, Brother Tiffin did not have video games, he gave up trying to stay awake on the drive over.

It was a lovely weekend, full of sweet little mommy moments. I wish I could bottle up those moments and pull them out when I'm forgetting what's important, you know?

not that I don't already know that chocolate cake and naps are important....

I ended my day checking my e-mail and found this news clip in my in-box from my sister-in-law.

Didn't know I received such a prestigious award, did you? It's okay. I kind of like to keep things like this on the DL.

:)

The Healing Powers of Spontaneity ** With updated map!

I was feeling a tad bit sorry for myself last week. You know that jealous/homesick feeling when your family members are off doing something fabulously fun and taking part in a once-in-a-lifetime celebration...... and you aren't there?

Yeah, it pretty much royally stinks.

A few weeks before you make the decision not to take part in the festivities, you are relatively comfortable with your choice. Your reasons seem totally valid {i couldn't possibly go to there without Husband! that wouldn't be fair to him!} and you've pretty well talked yourself out of it {after this move back to Chicago, i won't have the energy to go anywhere!}. Your reasons are totally justified {i'm going to be seeing them 2 weeks later when I fly back for my race. i need to be frugally minded here!}

The closer it comes the more you just try and push it out of your mind. A day or two before, you may even get lucky and forget about it for 20 minutes. You look around at all the laundry, cleaning and other mundane housework you are getting done and say to yourself, "Now if I were on that trip, I certainly wouldn't be accomplishing all these very important tasks."

The day of you are looking around and realizing your current day isn't packed doing anything particularly special. You think about your kids. Their day isn't being spent doing anything really out of the ordinary either. So then you try extra hard to make sure you are doing something super fun, feeling a little guilty that they have no idea what they missed out on. And you do. And it was your decision.

The day after is a little melancholy. You speak with your family, and they tell you how great it was, (and they are probably holding back most of the details not to make you feel bad) and you so wish you had been there.

Your reasons for not going all seem pretty ridiculous. Like some hyper-paranoid mother on worry pills.

Two days later you happen to see pictures of the fun they had and you really get mopey and are full of regret and realize if you had gone, no one at the homestead would have missed you. You were not doing anything that warranted a clone of you.

Hindsight is forever 20-20, but dang I wish I had gone....

Party numero uno we missed out on:



Party numero dos:



Yup, I missed out on a trip to Disneyworld with my older sister and didn't make it to the college graduation of my younger sister and her husband.

Boo.

Fortunately all was not lost and fate had a little surprise up it's sleeve. I phoned my friend Carrie to ask her a quick question, and she surprised me with, "Oh I am so glad you called! Want to take a day trip with me and my kids up to Holland to see some tulips?!"

Thanks to the Swine Flu, most of her kids were out of school, and Carrie discovered this was also the very week that the tulips were at its peak in Holland, Michigan.

Perfect. A little get-away. Long enough to feel like I got away but short enough to not throw off the week. And just the right timing to get me to stop feeling sorry for myself about missing out on some great memories. Spontaneity has a way of healing. Pardon the odd statement, but thank you, Swine Flu. After all, aren't we always to find the silver lining in the clouds?

So my awesome spontaneous self went up to Holland, Michigan for the day and it was fabulous. Carrie has 6 darling children between the ages of 7 and 16. They are all great kids and my kids love them. I know, kind of a wide age difference, but it works out well.

We piled in her 15-seater van and drove for 3 hours. The kids were hilarious, fighting over whose turn it was to sit next to Savannah. She ate up the attention. After only one emergency potty stop for Cade, (record low) we arrived. I have to admit, both Carrie and I were a little disappointed in the false advertising. A Web site indicated there were 5 million tulips at one particular tulip farm, but it was really somewhere around 300,000. Carrie had visions of fields and fields of tulips, but we saw a farm with rows and rows. Kind of a let-down, but it was still fabulous to get away, snap some cute shots of the kids, and spend the day with good friends.

I accidentally left my stroller in our storage unit in Utah, but thanks to two strapping 16 year-olds, I didn't have to carry Savannah:

It is a $100 fine per tulip damaged, so I wasn't about to let her roam the gardens. She happily rode on Connor and Spencer's shoulders the entire afternoon.

I am mortified I let her get this close:

I was positive she was going to deplete my entire summer vacation savings in one fell swoop. Instead, she went for a piece of straw on the ground and wanted to use it to feed the buffalo. Silly girl.

These were my favorite:

Some attempts of a little family photo shoot:

"attempt" is the key word:

This is who Cade really wanted his photo with. His beloved "ryansmootz"

Now I can check Michigan off the list!
visited 32 states (64%)

**thanks to Allie for letting me snag her holland photos off facebook :)
**thanks to dad for the graduation photo
**thanks to mel for the disneyworld photo

My non-craft

I love hopping to and fro on my friends' blogs (okay and friends of their friends...people I don't even know) to see what sort of things they are crafting and coming up with. I have been blown away by some girlfriends who in a matter of months went from an "I only sew straight lines" to "I saw a picture of this dress in a magazine and made a pattern myself and sewed it this afternoon during my daughter's nap!"

True story.

I have other friends who sew beautiful quilts, knit dolls, create cards, and make cute personalized t-shirts just because they saw a picture or read a blog and it inspired them. I have friends who are amazing chefs, others are artists. I have fabulous photographer friends, too. And some do it all. (don't worry, I won't link you to their blogs, it's not good for the self-esteem)

I am a self-proclaimed non-crafter. I won't go so far to say that I hate crafting or I can't craft. I just don't. In my spare moments of time when I feel the creative juices flowing through my veins, ideas from etsy don't call my name, begging my hands to make something beautiful. I don't lose myself in fabric stores, and I don't crave the feeling of scrapbooking scissors against my fingers.

I could feel sorry for myself for somehow lacking the gene (or just the gumption) that would make me fit better into the stay-at-home-mom scene, but I do appreciate that choice I finally made to simply not seek out ways to craft.

In my new mom/wife years, I attempted quite nearly all of the above. Scrapbooking, Sewing, Cooking, Personalized Onesies, Card making.... but it wasn't because I really loved doing any of them.... it just seemed like the right thing to do. Seemingly every woman in my midst at the time excelled in one or all of those things, and so I followed suit. I figured if I did something enough, I might actually discover a hidden talent and become really great at something, or fall in love doing something, finding one of those things cathartic. Disappointingly, I did not find myself relieving stress by embellishing scrapbook pages or chopping onions, and one by one, the attempts at a craft disappeared.

I am really ashamed for admitting that, partially because that indicates I am a quitter, and partially because it was such a shallow reason to motivate me to do something. Granted, there will always be times in our lives when we have to do things we don't enjoy. [ I still will maintain that I desire to become a better cook. I think that one will never leave my New Year's Resolutions list.]. It is also true that in order to discover talents, one must try things out. But I really did fail at most of the above. Not because what came out of those crafting days were disasters. Some were, don't get me wrong. But some things actually turned out okay and truth be told, I enjoyed seeing a finished creation. I still do. I feel like during those crafting days I failed miserably because I wasn't being true to myself. I was in school, trying to balance being a mom to a new-born and still be involved in my major through outside activities (though practicing my future profession was not going to happen for another score of years or so). Trying my hand at sewing, scrapbooking and the like during those stressful days was absolutely ridiculous. It just added more stress.

Can you believe I actually attempted to sew Cade's bumpers for his nursery? I still cringe at the thought. The greatest day of my life was when I donated the bumpers to the D. I. The equilvalent of about 2 tons of obligation lifted from my shoulders that day. I was no longer obligated to make a matching quilt or curtains once that bumper was gone. The day I finally told my neighbor the reason I didn't go to scrapbooking night was because I didn't scrapbook was liberating. Sure, I had scrapbooks, and I had scrapbooking supplies (all from the because I was supposed to era) but to verbalize, "I don't scrapbook" was the beginning of my coming clean on quitting things I did out of obligation or trying to fit a mold of someone I wasn't doing during my precious spare time.

I'm probably the only person who gets panicky and nervous when filling out a questionaire that asks about your interests. I usually go for the easy ones that I think accurately describe what I enjoy doing: reading, writing and running. Depending on the season I'll add snowboarding, but even still, I go in spurts, and I'm still pretty bad at it. I feel sheepish writing any of them down, because typically those questionaires are trying to discover something you do that you can contribute to a cause. It's admitting that I am a non-contributor.

And every once in a while (probably when I am looking at those blogs of yours) I feel like I am not being true to myself because I don't create those beautiful things I see you all whipping out on your sewing machines and art studios. Perhaps it is a woman thing---the desire to create is innate. It's a funny, paradoxical kind of feeling. By crafting I am not being true to myself and not crafting I am still not being true to myself.

So I have been thinking lately, when all is quiet in the house, and I feel like I am on the verge of something creative, what results?? Sometimes an over-analyzed post regarding my love for cake results, occasionally something yummy is baked, and ruminations about a novel idea continue but there isn't anything tangible that I can snap a photo of and see "look what I made!"

Then it dawned on me. I do have something I crave. I do think about something and thrive on this and feel accomplished and true to myself doing. I have random notebooks stashed around the house to jot new ideas about it, I scour the internet in search of this, and my head perks up if there is a show advertised about this.

Organization.

I don't claim to be an expert, and I don't always practice what I preach (or dream about) but truly in the quiet hours I find myself dreaming of my in-home office to file papers in, a laundry room to launder in, drawers to empty and re-arrange, and garages to hang bikes and store bats and balls in.

So one should think, Great! With all the moving you do, I bet you thrive on the unpacking.

False.

I mostly crave the future home I am going to unpack into. Not because of the paint colors, curtains and couches I am going to pick out, which that will still be fun. But I dream about it for all the ways I am going to beautifully store our stuff, how I am going to functionally arrange things and use those ideas from that magazine I read while waiting at my allergist's office. (I was this close to making another appoinment with my allergist just so I could snag the magazine. I dream about that 6-page spread all the time. If only I could remember the name of it.....) The ultimate dream when I have a lot of time is the design of my walk-in closet. I think about it all the time. What drawers I am going to have built into it, how wide my dress-hanging portion will be, the width of the cubbies, the placement of hooks.....

It may seem like a boring fascination and unfortunately I can't snap pictures and say, "This is what I made today!" Or, "during Savannah's nap, I decided to whip this together, isn't it cute?" Or "I grabbed these things at a craft store and I'm waiting for a rainy day when it all comes together!" But friends, do know that I have one mean 3-car garage brewing in my head and a food pantry that could very well knock your socks off.

In the mean time, keep making those beautiful things, my dear friends! I love looking at them and I love you for making them!