Where November Went

So practically yesterday, November started, and suddenly today it's practically over. It's certainly not lost on me where it all went, though; here's a quick synopsis if you want to skip a few paragraphs of whining below.

Week 1: Anniversary, then a hasty goodbye on the way to my school (aka Army training, Round 2).
Week 2: school and sickness.
Week 3: school and homesickness.
Week 4: home and Thanksgiving. So much thanksgiving.

I will say that at least the month both started and ended with a lot of love and happiness, even if the rest of it pretty much went down the tube.

My first stint at school in September wasn't so bad, but for some (okay a lot of) reasons, my second and final round this month was a whole lotta rough. For starters, I arrived after some long delays to find that our "hotel" was not the same well-appointed, civilized establishment as last time; instead we were relegated to the should-be-condemned Roach Motel across post. Which necessitated a trip to Wal-mart [foreshadowing] for roach spray after a late night grocery run in the pouring rain.

I wasn't feeling great the next day when I woke up to go to class, but figured it was just traveling and jet lag. And maybe a little hangover from the roach spray. I felt increasingly blah as the day went on, but told myself that I was fine because in order to graduate we couldn't miss more than 4 hours of class. So obviously my top priority for both rounds of training was staying healthy. My body, frustratingly, did not listen, and I went to bed that night in not-so-hot condition.

Day 2, I woke up feeling horrendous, and of course found out that my kids had been sick so I knew I'd almost certainly picked up a virus from them. Immediately after passing our first test, my instructor convinced me to go to the clinic. Over the course of 4 snail-paced hours the doc did a blood test and gave me meds and said it was probably viral but it looked like I was over the worst of it. HA. Famous last words, Doc.

The reality? Day 3: Horribly sick, couldn't even get out of bed. (Thank you God for Veterans Day which we magically had off so this veteran didn't have to miss class and get sent home but instead could suffer in peace in bed at the roach motel.) Day 4: Still horribly sick, but I drug myself to class. (Seriously it has been literal years since I've been so sick). Day 5: Slightly less sick, finally able to eat for the first time all week. Somewhow passed another test. Day 6: a half day of class, then I rested away the remainder of my Saturday and Sunday.

Somewhere in there, between the beginning of the plane ride and the end of the sickness I also devoured a really good book...probably since I could devour nothing else. (Tangent: How is it that there's less than a month left until it's time for my annual 'What I read This Year' post? So many good books left to read!!!) I also watched a whole lot of Fixer Upper on HGTV. (Tangent #2: Joanna Gaines is my new celeb crush. Everything she is and does is amazing and if you read this Joanna could you please come to my house and make it amazing?). I also said countless and constant prayers for everyone I could think of to distract myself from my own misery...so I think I can count that as a positive for week one?

The second week passed in a blur of long days, late nights, and this fun thing called MDMP where we basically pretend to plan a mission with all the right steps like we will most certainly do in the real Army. Oh and ALSO. Lest I forget my foreshadowing: somewhere in the middle of week 2 I got a call from my trusty bank, saying that while I was sitting in class that day they had intercepted some not-so-trusty (and ridiculously lofty) charges on my card from a certain Wal-Mart which I had only ever frequented the very first night for the danged roach spray. So getting to cancel my card made traveling back extra fun.

But finally, finally we were free to walk across the stage in our extra fancy uniforms that required a whole second bag check for a mere 30 minutes of graduation glory. But I grabbed my civilian garb in record speed and soon I was jetting off into the beautiful Colorado sunset blizzard.

And you know what? When I collapsed back home in the middle of that blizzard, I was the most weary, rumpled, thankful, contented mess there ever was. I literally could not stop saying "I'M SO GLAD I'M HOME"... and Peter too. Because for every one of my woes in this long and drawn out woesome tale, he had an equally wearisome and exasperating woe to deal with back home.

Accordingly, I think we were in the best mindset possible approaching Thanksgiving this year. There was no rushing around, no worrying about what needed to be done or how things appeared (including the Halloween decorations that were still out when I got home); only settling in and appreciating the life we're so lucky to normally have. I snuggled the kids and my husband, and thoroughly reveled in the fact that we hardly had anything to prep for Thanksgiving except pie since my wonderful in-laws hosted again.

As such, the rest of this post will be devoted to such memories of gratitude of Week 4, as a little reminder to myself that ultimately this month wasn't a loss, and it still ended as well as it started for just as many good reasons as there were woes. [But I'm still glad to see it in hindsight].

Now bring on the Advent season! Please!

Cousins and grandparents.

Brothers.

Yes Please.

Did I mention that it was a White Thanksgiving, too?

...and a perfect weeked for relaxing with the best Polar Bear Rug around. 

Merry almost December to all, and to all a happy Advent!

Eight is Great!

Today we are lucky enough to celebrate another happy anniversary. What does 8 years of marriage look like for us?

-A few weeks ago, Peter booked a babysitter for an anniversary date night and told me to choose where I wanted to go. I looked at a few reviews, hemmed and hawed over the decision, and 3 days before our date when he asked where we were going, the decision was still not made. He asked what kind of place I wanted to go, and I said "I want to not be stressed when ordering because I hate feeling high maintenance with all of my allergy restrictions like Sally in When Harry Met Sally." So he helped me choose a place with impeccable service--and rose petals to boot--and I got the most stress-free meal I've had in a long time.

-After dinner instead of going out for drinks, we ended up at the mall, looking at that one Pottery Barn couch we love and perusing Crate & Barrel for the new cookie sheets that the baker in the family (him, not me) desires. We left as the stores closed and arrived home by 10pm ...because it was our bedtime and Starbucks was closed. But at least we stayed out till then, because returning home right after dinner at 9 would've been even more lame.

-Our present to ourselves was the bedding set that I've been eyeing for the past 3 years, which will go perfectly with the new warm gray paint color I've picked to brighten up our room--another gift that Peter conceded to letting me choose...and will eventually help me follow through with one of these days. (Even after staring at our walls daily for 6 months like me, he doesn't think the rust-colored faux paint in the master or the contrasting Hershey brown and dingy salmon bathroom walls are as dark and depressing and gag-tastic as I do).

I've been doing a good job living patiently under the Tucson Sun... but
my shabby chic heart and soul can only take so much 'Western Glam.'

-After pampering me with all of our other "gifts to ourselves" that I pretty much monopolized, he surprised me by slipping the most beautiful string of pearls around my neck while I stammered incomprehensibly. He spoils me far more than I deserve, this one.

-He came home early today, and since the kids were off school (because of Election Day) we went on a family anniversary hike. It included him putting up with all of my photo op moments, a massive and very cool fallen tree, and a very theatrical emergency pit stop behind a tree only after our most recently trained potty-goer had desperately run at least a hundred yards convinced that he could to make it to the bathroom (that was half a mile away), screaming and crying in vain all the way. At least his jeans stayed dry in the end. Oh and the happy coulple even spent a few minutes holding hands. It was a beautiful day--likely one of the last ones of the season here--and I'm so glad we went.

-Finally, we happily ditched the nice meal I had planned on cooking for us in favor of a dish-free night at Qdoba (his idea this time, not mine). Then after exchanging cards we enjoyed a few rounds of his gift, a mini cornhole set, before revisiting one of our long-time favorite bonding experiences--a marathon of The Office, starting with Season 1.

True story, start to finish.

So, in a nutshell, this is what eight years of marriage looks like for us. A lot of little happy moments mixed in with a whole lot of chaos and normalcy, all held together by the grace of God. And each of the ways we celebrated this year were perfectly "us" and perfectly wonderful. The best part? Spending another anniversary together--in person--something I hope we will never, ever take for granted!

Happy Halloween! {2015}

A fun Halloween with all of our favorite family, friends, and wonderful new neighbors!

Last But Not Least...

It's that time again.

You, little one, are a whole year older; I'm a whole year more bewildered, wondering where the days went. No matter. 365 days later and here we are. And since I poured my heart out for two other birthdays this year, it's only fair that I do the same on yours, don't you think?

You are a happy little light in our lives, my son, and you always have been. Before your little heart started beating inside of me, the doctors warned me that a future with more children was highly uncertain for us. Some of the scary things they told me came true. So when we found out about your little heartbeat and we saw you wriggling around safely and happily in my tummy, growing big and strong, you became our happy little miracle of hope. Of course, we can't forget to thank our buddy Saint Jude, ("Saint of the Impossible") for praying for you and us along with all of our other friends, and convincing the Author of Life that his feast day would also be a great day for you to be due...and born. Some miracles aren't so impossble after all, are they?

You remain [almost always] the sweetest, happiest, most guenuine, talkative and ham-tastic little boy there ever was.  You see the world in all positives. When I asked you what you wanted for your birthday this year, you said "I'll be happy with my presents, whatever someone buys me!" When you get excited about something, you say "yahooo!" in the cutest and funniest little voice. Your gleeful energy amazes me. You are the most annoyingly enthusiastic early morning person I've ever met (which I still think is a rather unfair distribution...if you could just donate a fraction of your morning spunk to the rest of us, our mornings would go off much better). Tonight Daddy and I wondered what it would be like to spend even half a day being as positive and happy as you. Daddy wasn't so sure the people at his work would go for it, but I think it would make the world a much better place. You do everything full force--sleeping, playing, laughing, making minion noises--often it's highly entertaining. And it's a pleasure to see how you're interacting with your siblings as you grow. You snuggle on the couch and read with your sister and crazily crash around the house with your brother. There's still fighting, but there's also lot more contented playing than there used to be. (Knocking on wood that it continues).

Once upon a time we jokingly started calling you "The Commentator" and the name certainly suits you more and more with the passage of time. You like to narrate everything down to your every movement and thought. You fill everyone in on everything, whether you're gracing family, friends, or that random parent on the sidewalk with your words--you know, that one mom who was desperately trying to get her kid into the school as we were leaving, but you thought it would be nice to excitely hold your new craft in front of their faces and explain in painstaking detail each step it took to create your masterpiece? I often have to tell such very polite people that it's okay to just keep walking because you will just keep happily talking, whether or not they're still there.

You (like your Uncle Q) love food. You are forever talking about food, asking if it's time for food, begging for more food, whining that you're hungry, and of course eating it non stop. Thankfully, it's not gone to waste--you, little man, clearly have the tall genes of the family. When we measured you tonight, you were taller at age 4 than big brother was last year at age 5. It's no wonder people ask if you two are twins!

You love Mommy and me time, even though sometimes it turns into Mommy works while you watch TV time. (Or maybe that's part of why you love it so much!) Thankfully, we do occasionally get to do some fun things for just two of us, you and I. You're still a mama's boy through and through. You crawl into my lap every night night during bedtime prayers to snuggle, and you've made a habit of ambling up to me at random points throughout the day with a little grin on your face and prolaiming, "kiss!?" as you grab my face firmly between your squishy little hands and plant a fat one (or ten) on my cheek.

Yes, as we've established, your sweet and happy moments abound. Except when they don't. Because you just won't. Like you can't even. For example, this morning when I mentioned that you had one last thank-you note to complete for all the very nice presents that you were so thankful for, and you collapsed on the floor in agony and cried all the way to school and into your classroom because it was your party and you could cry if you wanted to. It's clear that you're still the baby of the family and you don't like to hear the word "no." Boy does that baby blood still run thick through your veins. If I dare you to do something you are not predisposed to happily and enthusiastically agreeing to, you can tantrum it out like there's no tomorow.

Draw a picture? For a thank you note?
You don't even know my life.

Thankfully, since you are so predisposed to being happy and agreeable a fair amount of the the time, the whining and crying are manageable enough. Especially when we tell you not to laugh and so desperately hang on to your frown until you eventually laugh-cry your way back into happiness. After all, that's still what you do best. If you don't believe me, just go back and count the amount of times I ended up using some form of "happy" in this little note to you. I hope that's always as big a part of your soul as it is at age four!

Happy birthday, my little miracle man with a big personality. We're so thankful God made you and we love you to pieces!

 --               --               --

An interview with Ethan, age 4

Favorite color: Rainbow colors.
Favorite food: Bananas, just like minions!
Favorite drink: Smoothies.
Favorite song: Pepperoni in the Fire (lyrics and music by Ethan) and Born in the USA (no joke. always his first request during dance parties).
Favorite animal: A bear and my favorite color of bear is red. Oh and brown!
Favorite clothes: All of my clothes.
Favorite outdoor activity: Playing police and Army!
Favorite game: My Star Wars (Trouble!) game I got at my party. [and didn't write an thank-you note for yet].
Favorite Sport: SOCCAH! (aka soccer).
Favorite Hobby: Help water the plants.
FavoriteTV show: Paw Patrol.
Favorite Movie: Despicable Me.
Favorite family activities: Playing fishies! [Not something the rest of us ever recall doing together, but okay].
Favorite place to go on vacation: MOUNTAINNNNNNSSS!
What do you want to be when you grow up? Nuffing. (confirmed after asking a second time).
What are you looking forward to most about being 4? I get to go on big kid stuff. ("Like what?") Like stuff. And...well, Mommy, I have fun at school when I'm four too!

Selective Mutism Awareness - Marie's Contribution

October is Selective Mutism Awareness Month, along with all the many other causes that share the world's attention this month.

Our daughter, Marie, has Selective Mutism, which I've made brief mention of in the past. It's a big part of our lives, but not something I really talk about here since we firmly believe that it should be Marie's place to share if she'd like, not ours to speak about for her. Recently, though, her desire to share has surfaced quite a bit in many incredible ways, and I am honored to be able to use this platform to help her share as she wishes.

In the past, we hadn't really put a name to the condition when talking to Marie about her challenges, because it simply wasn't relevant yet. As she's grown and learned about the world though, her curiosity and thirst for knowledge have resulted in more involved discussions and a greater depth of understanding of her condition. So over the past year, we've taught Marie the term Selective Mutism, what it means, and that there are other kids in the world who also have Selective Mutism and who are also working hard to do brave things every day. To help this process, at the start of the school year I ordered a fantastic children's book called "Can't Talk? Want to Talk!" written by one of the mothers in my UK-based Facebook group, SMIRA, which stands for the Selective Mutism Information & Research Association. (Thus far, most of the research and studies for intervention/treatment has been done in the UK). Marie read the book herself as part of her homework reading assignment, and has asked a few times already throughout the year about sharing information with others so they can understand Selective Mutism, too. Marie also explained Selective Mutism to an older student at school one day during a break, because she said she felt comfortable enough in the moment to teach the student about it when the subject of her not talking came up.

I was extremely impressed with her desire to advocate for herself and spread awareness, so a few weeks ago I asked Marie if she wanted to do anything special for Selective Mutism Awareness Month. Her response? She wanted to make a diagram showing what happens physiologically to someone with Selective Mutism, and have her teacher tell her class about it. She also requested that I share it with Facebook. I searched high and low to see if there was any such diagram out there, and I could find nothing. So we created it together--though really, she did most of the work. She also gave an interview, which you can read below.

One thing that I've learned is that even when kids with Selective Mutism sometimes can't speak, they are not necessarily shy. This is clearly true in Marie's case. If she has something to say, she is determined to find a way to communicate her message, and she's not afraid of doing the hard work to make it happen.

If you had asked me before I became a mother what my proudest moment might be, never in a million years would I have guessed that this was it. Now, I'm so glad it is, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

World: this is what our 2nd-grader, miss Marie, would like to teach you about Selective Mutism.

AN INTERVIEW WITH MARIE ABOUT SELECTIVE MUTISM

What is it like to have Selective Mutism?

"Embarrassing. I can't talk when I really want to say something, especially like on the first day of art, when kids got a piece of candy for answering questions right about the rules and I couldn't say anything even though I wanted to."


When is it most comfortable to feel like you can talk in school? 

"When I'm around my friends and no one is embarrassing me."


Why is it easier to talk to your friends? 

"I'm way more comfortable around them because they act nice and funny around me and they help me and treat me the same as our other friends."


When is it hardest to be comfortable and what makes it too hard to talk?

"When I have to stand right in front of the class and they want me to talk. When someone is rude about trying to make me talk or tries to get me to talk. It makes me want to walk away and I never really feel like I can talk to them."


What do you want the world to know about Selective Mutism?

"Not to tease about it. Just ignore them [not talking]. And it will be easier for the person to talk if you ignore it."


Interview by Marie. Questions by Marie’s Mom.

Retreat, CathSo Style

A few years ago, I became part of an incredible Facebook group of women from around the country (and now a few select international gals). We are ladies from all sorts of backgrounds who are trying to stay grounded in our faith while working our way through life. It started mostly as bloggers and people who do the Twitter thing (I still can't seem to jump on that bandwagon) looking to continue friendships and support each other in a more suitable space. And so a Facebook "sorority" group of sorts was born; "Cathsorority," or CathSo for short, has been going strong ever since.

I've been fortunate enough to meet and become great friends with a few of the girls in Colorado, going to weddings and baby showers and baptisms together, but for the most part, a good portion of the friends who have known me best for the past 3-4 years I still haven't met in person. 

We've had plenty of discussions about beaming ourselves to a big after-bedtime cocktail bar in the sky to hang out in person, and we've joked often about starting a commune, especially since at this point we could fill every community role necessary with all of our different degrees and strengths and talents. But alas, all the wishful thinking has been just that--wishful--since most of the occasional meet-ups have been limited to a few people in the same geographic area. 

Last year, though, one of our local Colorado sisters came up with the idea to make a girls' getaway happen for real: we would rent a cabin in the mountains, we would hang out together in person, we would have some (semi-) crazy fun, and focus on faith and sisterhood over glasses of wine and s'mores. 

Over the course of the year it evolved form a little idea into reality, and this past weekend we made it happen: a retreat, CathSo/Sisterhood Style!

Out of our lovely group of women, roughly half were from our original online group and the rest were more wonderful local ladies who we met throughout the course of the year. (To fit in comfortably with the life-filled theme, we had four infants accompanying their mamas, four pregnant women, and at least four Marquette monitors out of the bunch!) We began Friday night with pizza, a talk, and a little mixer to get the party started, with prizes based on best-dressed and most creative. The theme: Purple Mountain Majesties...because it's impossible to ignore the majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains while on retreat in Estes Park, and also because there can never be enough purple in the world. [Unless it's paired with green on a big dinosaur].

Since purple has long been my go-to color, I was not lacking in options when shopping my closet, but sadly my Rocky Mountain Princess tiara (with real mountains!!!) was beat out by a Baby Gap pouff and the most hideously amazing lavendar 80s dress ever designed [how did I not get a picture of that one, Andrea?!]. 

Saturday was a very full but great (and surprisingly peaceful) day. Our first stop was St. Malo, the beautiful chapel John Paul II had visited during his time in Denver. Sadly, most of the grounds were destroyed in a devastating wildfire a few years ago, but they are working on rebuilding, and the chapel on the rock still stands. While we were there, one lovely lady gave a wonderful talk on sisterhood with the chapel and the mountains as the backdrop:

No filters here #becauseColorado

Then came a pleasant hike in the Lily Lake area, followed by time in downtown Estes Park taking in the sights, shopping, and enjoying lunch.

Some of the original CathSo gals.

Let me just tea nerd out on you for a moment to tell you, the little tea cafe called Moon Kats Tea Shoppe where my group ended up eating had some crazy awesome culinary creations that totally knocked it out of the park. I'm talking Earl Grey tea bread with lemon curd and clotted cream, Tea Cider (yes, tea steeped in apple cider) and the freakishly delightful sippable masterpiece I ordered called Orange Spiced Tabby--aka cinnamon tea steeped in frothy orange juice. You better believe that my tea game will be stepping it up a few notches in the future. If you ever find yourself in Estes Park, do yourself a favor and just wander on by sometime in the afternoon. Trust me.

Anywho, reeling myself back in...

Back at the cabin, some crockpot deliciousness was waiting for us, along with the wonderful priest who drove all the way out just so we could have mass in the comfort of our little lodge. He also offered reconciliation and adoration which was a real treat since most of us mamas with bebes have found that for some strange reason it's slightly difficult to fit those things into our schedules in the real world. That was easily the most restorative part of the weekend for me...a whole evening of guiltless peace and silence just to be fully, wholly present in the moment.

On the subject of being in the present, we chose the saint Jane Frances de Chantal as our designated patroness/role model/inspiration for the weekend. She was someone all of us ladies--from single to married to working to homeschooling--could relate to in different ways because she lived through it all. She was was a wife, a mother of four, a young widow, and a businesswoman (managing her husband's estate and then her in-laws' estate in a day and age where women weren't supposed to touch those things). She was always helping her community and grieved the loss of two of her babies and many family members before becoming a nun later in life. She focused on charitable work and influenced some pretty incredible decisions with local authorities to care for the sick and contribute all her convent's resources when a plague hit her region of the world. And she did it all with grace. At one point she said, "...we must live in the present moment, without forecast and without worry about ourselves, concerning either the future or the present." We adopted this wisdom as our motto for the weekend:

The whole weekend was the perfect balance of time for reflection and connection (at least for me, a self-proclaimed ambivert). It was so nice to connect with other ladies who had many of the same goals and who were struggling with a lot of the same conflicts, and who appreciated the same kind serious and snark that I do. We talked well into the night about all sorts of things, from the lightest of subjects to the deepest of thoughts [no Jack Handy required]. And I definitey lost a little sleep giggling and whispering animatedly with my roomates because it was way too easy to revert back to our 6th grade sleepover selves.

30 going on 13.

The matchmaking here starts young...

It struck me at some point that this was the first retreat I've gone on for myself since I've been in college/become a mom; it's been so long since I've taken that time away from the ceaseless to-do list so I could spend valuable time revisiting all the inner corners of my heart and soul. It challenged me to reach beyond my comfort level in some ways, re-examine some priorities, and get back in touch with the way I want to approach life. I enjoyed it all thoroughy. And it changed me deeply. So deeply that I came back and baked stuff. From scratch. For my family. (I know right? I should go on retreat like every day).

Garden fresh strawberry-rhubarb cobbler.
And I almost enjoyed making it. Who am I?

I'm so glad we [mostly my dear friend] figured out how to make it happen and put in all the hard work to pull it off. I'm so glad that I'm returning with deeper relationships with wonderful people who (as one friend put it) are actually real people behind that screen, not a bunch of creepers.

And I'm so glad I'll get to continue hanging out in person with so many of you. Thank you all for a lovely, spirit-filled getaway!

Planning team, minus one lovely mama who is busy snuggling her 2-week-old--as she should!