Day Seventeen: Leaving or Left

There are two kinds of people in this world: the kind who leave and the kind who get left. Certainly, at one point or another, we've all worn both titles, but in general, we identify more as one or the other.

I'm the kind who gets left.

I say this, naturally, on the day my parents fly back around the world and on the Man's first weekend trip out of town (we made it a whole month here!). And before you think that I'm acting sorry for myself (always a possibility), let me just say that I got to sit on the front porch with the boys after we tucked the twins in, and we watched the twilight shimmer on the sea while we ate M&Ms and enjoyed our pterodactyl jack-o-lantern.

Okay, okay, I admit, I did have a few moments of feeling sorry for myself. You see, even after a lifetime of primarily being the kind who gets left--growing up in language school city, watching my sisters leave for boarding school and then college, repeatedly sending my family members back overseas, deployments, TDYs, and random out of town trips--I still don't enjoy it.

While it's never fun to say goodbye, when you're the one leaving, at least you have something to look forward to. But when you're the one being left? All there is left is the absence of someone that you love.

The last couple of months, I've identified as "the kind who leaves". In a lot of ways, it's been kind of fun. It was an adventure. There were exciting life experiences on the horizon. But today, I'm back to feeling like "the kind who gets left."

You know what, though? I can feel sorry for myself or I can eat M&Ms on the darkening porch with some adorable children and an awesome pumpkin (and then make said awesome children run up and down the stairs multiple times moving my tablecloths from the linen closet to the kitchen).

And perhaps more importantly, I can brand myself forever as "the kind who gets left" or I can rename myself as "the kind whose Jesus never leaves her or forsakes her".

I think I'll take the M&Ms and Jesus.

Pick me!
Pick me!
Pick me!

Day Sixteen: The Nesting Place

It has been one month exactly since we moved in to our new home. When I say "moved in", I don't mean "since the movers brought all of our stuff", but rather, one month since we unpacked the pets, the kids, our suitcases, and some mattresses that we brought in the trailer. The movers arrived a couple days later.

You know what got accidentally left at the Navy Lodge though? The stack of books that I'd been reading during the move. Seriously. And when I called after everything was unpacked and I realized what I'd done, the Lodge informed me there was nothing to be found. Sure there wasn't…

Before I lost the book.

Among said books was Myquillin Smith's The Nesting Place, which was my moving gift to myself. I'm really sad to not have it on display in our new home because the pictures were beautiful, but thankfully I'd read all the way through the book and taken a few notes so that I could put into practice the encouragement she provided.

Okay, true confession: I may have cried (just a little) when I discovered that this book (and my collection of Peter Wimsey stories and my copy of The Hardest Thing To Do by Penelope Wilcock) didn't make it. I just thought I should be honest before I continued.

Reading The Nesting Place during our move was really great timing on my part. It helped me think through our household goods while I was away from them, and then when they were returned to me, I could approach them in different ways, having thought through more thoroughly what the Man and I wanted our home to feel like. Myquillin Smith had lots of practical suggestions and jumping off points to help engage your creativity, and I've seen how her writing has affected my take on our home this time around (contrasts! focal points! white space!).

I know I've mentioned this before, but when I'm in transition, it's nice to hold onto the idea that I can revamp certain areas of my life that I think could use a little work. My home is one of these areas. Since we moved, I finally bought a lampshade for the standing lamp that's been shade-less for over a year. Thanks, Myquillin Smith. I couldn't have done it without you. Next stop, finally replacing the shedding, fringed throw pillows on the couch.

So, if you're struggling with how you want your home to feel or what you want it to look like, get the book. Not only will it challenge and encourage you aesthetically, but it might just help you see "home" in an whole different light.

Incidentally, after yesterday's post, I had a friend tell me how clean my house looked. Sweeter words have never been said, but the truth is I'm just following the Nester's advise and clearing some spaces. Also, I cleaned the house before I took those pictures because I'm vain. Vain but honest!

more of this series

Day Fifteen: Come for a Tour?

Welcome to the house tour! Part of the fun of moving is seeing all your stuff in a new house that you haven't grimed up with all your gunk! So, come on in (virtually) and enjoy it with me.

This is our yellow house on the hill looking out over the ocean. Our wind chimes make it feel like home and our Security Forces flag reminds us of our roots…and reminds the Man of the purpose behind all his hours of studying.

The Little Man wants to show you our hoard (or horde) of gourds again. There were a few pinecones added in this week. Also, is that kid handsome or what?

Here's the master bedroom, complete with a vase of roses compliments of the Man who buys me flowers after I've spent all day at the E.R. with one of our children. Do not fear. There was no repeat E.R. visit. These pictures were taken early last week.

The Trig-dog deeply desired his presence to be felt in our bedroom. Even though he typically sleeps with the boys these days.

If you go through that door, you'll find yourself in our bathroom. When you visit, I'd advise you to not take Bruiser with you. Also, two sinks. We have graduated to awesomeness.

Here we are in the boys' room. I thought I got a better shot than this one which includes a well-dressed but still pajamaed Tiny. I promise I do dress my children occasionally. There is a super awesome Toot and Puddle poster above their dresser and a Barney Fife tintype above Tiny's head, but you can't really see them because Phone Pictures. Such joy and happiness.

Littles and Trigger are reading books together on Tiny's bunk. This could quite possibly be the epitome of coziness.

Moving next door, here's the twins' dresser, which has been turned into a bookshelf by necessity (remember, one of the bookshelves died en route).

Here's Bee's bed. At the time, there was a pile of bedding in her crib because she'd been sleeping in the guest room, but now there's actually a sheet on the mattress and a sweet baby curled up asleep with her lovey. I moved the twins back in together when my parents arrived…and it's been wonderful. I'm not saying they haven't woken each other up once or twice, but Bee tends to sleep through Bruiser fairly well, and Bruiser is adapting to Bee, and I think it's making them better sleepers.

Note that Bee's crib does not have a bedskirt on it. I have the material, but I'm still working on a friend whose sewing skills I can mooch off of. I believe in my ability to make moochable friends.

Bruiser's crib and the most important piece of furniture in their room. Beds are optional but books are forever. Incidentally, that lamp seems to have petered out during the move, so it's there for decorative and completely impractical purposes.

Coming downstairs (we'll go back upstairs later for the guest room, study, and guest bathroom, but the stairs are good exercise and I don't want you to get bored sitting too long), we'll start in the dining room, because eating is awesome. Note flowers from the Man, and Littles too, incidentally. I think it was a joint project. And the super hero cape because sometimes you need a speedy exit from the table.

The other wall in the dining area. The Man maintains that's an awful place for our salt and pepper shakers, but I think it gets the job done. Of course, none of our dinner guests have been able to find said salt and pepper shakers, which could mean that he's right, but see how decorative?

Directly next to the dining/kitchen area is an empty space that Littles refers to as the "homeschool room." "Homeschool"…you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

This bookshelf did make it, thankfully. Otherwise I'd be building furniture out of books. Which might not be that bad of an idea.

And our piano, which has yet to be retuned. I might tune it after the next move. Also, note the houseplant. It is going to figure in its own post later in the month. So long as it cooperates.

Oswald interrupts this program so that you can admire his awesomeness.

Moving on. Here's the kitchen. And the stack of sippies that define my life. 

And here we are in the living room! Incidentally, out those windows: the ocean. Well, I mean, over a couple hills, but you can see the ocean! Sorry about all the exclamation points.

Littles wanted to be in the picture. Here he's modeling how comfortable our couch is.

Last shot of the living room. I know you were desperate to figure out where we put the TV.

And here's a lovely shot of the downstairs half bath. For some odd reason, I look pregnant in this picture. Don't get your hopes up. I'm not.

Oh, oh, this will be fun! Here's the Man's study. Although I helped hang pictures, this room is all the Man. 

He hung our diplomas to make us feel awesome and intellectual.

Here's Little pretending to be his dad. So studious.

And hanging on the wall beside the desk, THIS:

I have yet to make that dead rodent a Security Forces beret. In the meantime, he continues to bare his little rodent teeth in defiance. You can shoot him and stuff him, but he'll spend the rest of your life grimacing at you in retaliation.

Here's the hall bathroom. Polka dots are fun.

And my favourite part of the hall bathroom, four hooded towels all in a row. Cue the collective, "Awwww."

Finally, the piece de resistance, our guest room where you (YES, YOU!) can stay when you come visit.

Out those windows, the Pacific Ocean. Also, please note the stacks of books on each nightstand available for your reading pleasure. And please do not note the wrinkled bed skirt. Last time, my husband's great aunt (literally and figuratively) ironed it for me, and she hasn't visited yet to iron all my bedding. (Come on, Aunt Beth! Doesn't that sound like so much fun? Forget the beach, come do my ironing!)

Okay, last picture, this tiny little nook is my favourite part of the house. It holds the Man's great grandmother's sewing machine and my great grandmother's antique chair. Now that Bee has moved back to the nursery, I'm planning to use it for a writing desk. Or just sit there and enjoy the view.

And that, dear reader, is an overly extensive tour of our house. I promise never to do this to you again. At least, not until the next time we move.

Day Fourteen: Leaving Space

Sometimes life is just very full. And we need to leave a little space around the edges to breathe.

I come up against the practicality of this concept every time the Man and I hang pictures. I like a lot of space. He likes a little. We compromise and generally end up with something aesthetically pleasing.

Incidentally, his tendency away from space seems to only apply to picture hanging.

With this move, I've been exploring the idea of leaving social white space, as well. Because sometimes I get so caught up in being a friend and making new friends and providing friends for the kids, that before I know it, our family's down time is pressed out at the edges. Yes, I've jumped in to making friends now that we're here and settled, but I'm trying to provide some space around the edges too.

Space to explore our new home as a family.

Space to be quiet and not talk so much.

Space to be the kids' friend instead of always providing play mates just their age.

Space, even, to feel a little uncomfortable in my own skin because there's no one to distract me from myself.

Space to force me towards Jesus.

That's all I'm writing about today, the need to allow ourselves space when we are in moments of change. Tomorrow, I'm going to start the photo "tour" of our house, if you'd like to join. Lots of badly taken phone photos so you can see what our new place looks like!

For now, I'd like to share with you my favourite picture I've taken this week. I'm very proud of the fact that I took it on my phone. Pat me on the back and tell me I did a good job.

Legos and Christmas lights. That's how we roll. Consider this your teaser for the house tour.

More on the between

Day Thirteen: The Next Box

We've had guests this week (I mean, of course, other than my parents--do parents count as guests or are they just parents?). Each time they have marveled that we are all settled in, with pictures on the wall, and no boxes left in sight. Although I do confess, we haven't hung our gallery wall of family pictures, only because I've been lazy about buying frames for the twins' photos, and how awkward would it be to not have a third of our family represented?

Rabbit trailing.

Anyway, the secret to our success may be my new motto in life. Here it is.

Drum roll, please.

Just unpack the next box.

Because when you're in transition, sometimes it seems like the mountain of boxes is overwhelming and you don't know where to start. So you start with one box and you unpack it. And then you do the next box and the next box. And before you know it, you can actually see out of the kitchen and into the dining room and, lo and behold, they didn't lose the top to my tea pot after all.

Similarly, going through the transition of adding a new kid to the family: just change the next diaper, wipe up the next mess, give the next bath.

Or the transition of getting married. Make the next apology, give the next kiss, schedule the next date.

And on it goes.

Sometimes the challenges seem insurmountable. Take it one day at a time, one kid at a time, one To Do list at a time, one meeting at a time, one test at a time.

Just unpack the next box.

Because sometimes, you find something beautiful inside:

Find the rest of the fun

Day Twelve: Mind Games and Missing

Every place we go, every season of life that we are in, there are good things and bad. Everyone knows this. And everyone knows that sometimes it's the littlest things that make the biggest difference.

The first thing I said to the Man when we got to our new house was, "Oh, the windows are so beautiful!" He kind of looked at me funny, but he should've known that the windows in our last house were the bane of my existence with their spiderwebbed panes that were impossible to clean. I thank God almost every day for the beautiful, large, single-paned windows we have here. Sure they're covered in pint-sized hand prints (with the occasional smear from a wet dog nose), but they are spider web free!

Then there was the shower head that, miraculously, did not shriek and squeal the entire time you were bathing. That was nice too.

And the rabbits? Yes, I'm not missing the Oklahoma rabbits. It's nice to walk the dog without risking the dislocation of my left arm every time he sees one of those tiny dinner plates on legs.

I'm not going to miss all of Bruiser's drool,
but the cuteness of his grin with teeth is worth it.

But you know what I am missing? (Other than all my wonderful friends, of course.) Hearing "Taps" play at night. And "Reveille" in the morning. I didn't realize what special parts of my day they had become.

I miss the turtles at the creek, and our daily walks to throw rocks in the water.

Possibly my favourite picture of the boys, ever.
Also, look how green Oklahoma was!

I miss the way the wind chimes were constantly singing, although I admit that I don't miss the constant wind.

You see, with every transition, we find a new set of things that are both good and bad. This is true not only when it comes to moves but as it applies to other areas of change in our life. I loved the flutter kicks of my babies growing in my belly but don't miss the cramps or heart burn. I love the snuggles of newborns and their tiny, grabby fingers but I don't miss the round the clock nursings or the blow out poops.

This even works for deployments! Of course, we miss the Man while he's gone, but the kids and I come up with fun things to do to make the time go more quickly and try to keep those months special regardless. So much so, in fact, that one time when the Man's deployment got cancelled midway through training, I actually felt a little bit of sadness over the loss of the plans we had made for the upcoming months! And that felt incredibly weird because of course we were overwhelmingly glad to have him home!

My parents are visiting right now.
Joy upon joy.
And look how tall Tiny is next to his little Neni!

Sometimes, I think it's all just mind games.

And maybe it is.

But in order to survive the curveballs life throws at us, we really do need to make sure our minds are full engaged. They are powerful tools we can use to welcome joy into our lives--if we choose to use our minds and eyes to look for the good and beautiful and joy-giving instead of focusing on the frustrating and ugly.

And then when we go through our next transition we can have so much fun reveling in quiet showers and clean windows and nursing-free nights or whatever else comes our way.

Binge read "In the Between"

Day Eleven: A Taste of Memory

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Psalm 34:8

In high school art class, we were asked to draw a picture of home. Some students sketched their family members. Some painted their houses or bedrooms. Some drew their pets.

I drew a picture of a loaf of bread, sliced and buttered.

When my sisters and I took the night bus home from boarding school, Dad would pick us up at the bus stop at 4am, when the stars were still out and the tropical mountain air could be barely described as chilly. He would drive us home as the city was just starting to wake up, and we would go climb in bed with Mom, groggy and smelling of Vicks, and fill her in on the last few weeks of school. At some point, Mom would pull the refrigerator oatmeal bread out of the fridge and put it in the oven to bake. The first breakfast home was always oatmeal bread with honey and a glass of chocolate milk. That meant home.

There is an accumulation of tastes and scents that make a home. What those tastes and scents are may not be something that you can necessarily predict or choose. One year coming back to the college dorm after a summer at my aunt's. As I settled in, renewed relationships (I'd spent the prior semester in England), started two jobs and multiple classes, and figured out where the year was going, I had an unaccountable craving for Golden Grahams. I kept telling myself I was being ridiculous, that I'd spent all summer successfully mooching my aunt's Golden Grahams so I obviously didn't need any now, and that I'd do better to save my money for food that actually provided nourishment. I finally caved and bought a box. I ate half the box in one sitting, and suddenly, I felt home.

There have been many studies that talk about how scents trigger memory. I'm a firm believer that memories carry us through transitions. They recall the familiar.

So when we arrived after this last move, I set to work creating the tastes and scents of home for our family. Oatmeal refrigerator bread was in week one. Pumpkin bread, chicken curry, hamburger pot pie, whole wheat chocolate chip cookies, my grandmother's rolls, my mother-in-law's biscuits… Okay, there were a lot of carbs, but, boy, are our stomach's happy!

And our house feels (and smells and tastes) a little bit more like home.

Same story: second verse.