The Words in our Home ~ Jen

When I was in 10^th grade, I read the first aphorism—or proverb—that changed my life. It was hanging out right in the middle of Act I of Shakepeare’s Julius Caesar. Cassius says to Brutus “Men at some times are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings” (Act 1, Scene 2, 140-143).

Yeah, I know what Cassius and Brutus went on to do, and I know that in the tenth circle of hell, Satan is chewing on Brutus for eternity. But that’s not the point.

The point is that my 15 year old self was rocked by the divine literary affirmation of what my parents had been telling me: my life was mine, every triumph, mistake and consequence. All mine to make or break. Intoxicating. Empowering.

As a teacher I put aphorisms around my classroom, in print that was big enough to read from across the room, but only if you really focused. I never called attention to them. Aphorisms need to be mulled over a few times. I waited for the students to ask me. And in drips and dribbles, over the course of the year, kids would come to me and say “Can I ask you what this means?” To which I always answered “First, tell me what you think it means”.

I’ve done the same thing in our home. Only Gabriel can read, and he’s probably too young for Ben Franklin, but I want the words to be a fixture in our home, familiar, like old friends. I want the words to be there for the day they lose a game, or get a D, or fight with their friend. Something to mull over. To help them figure it all out.

Because sometimes the answers to life’s questions can be tied up in one tidy, historically, philosophically or spiritually significant saying.

Here they are!*

This was the first sign Shea and I got when we married. It was a gift from my sister-in-laws parents and had hung in our kitchen since the day we moved in. — This was the first sign Shea and I got when we married. It was a gift from my sister-in-law’s parents and has hung in our kitchen since the day we moved in.

This hangs in our guest bathroom. Gotta love Mr. Franklin!

This sign hung over the window in the nursery for all three babies. From "Guess How Much I Love You". I never want my kids to doubt! — This sign hung over the window in the nursery for all three babies. From “Guess How Much I Love You”. I never want my kids to doubt!

We put this in the living room, along with the S, which is our family initial. We are proud to be children of God.

I've had this one in my home in some form or fashion for almost twenty years. This MOVES me. — I’ve had this one in my home in some form or fashion for almost twenty years. This MOVES me.

I bought these as favors for Anne's baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be. — I bought these as favors for Anne’s baby shower. There have never been sisters in my family before, and I wanted to let the important women in my life know that I learned about sisterhood from them. This is who we try to be.

This one kind of speaks for itself. But we want our kids to know we have faith in them.

I got this one at Kohls. Gabriel quotes it at Kate sometimes, which makes me smile.

This one is going upstairs between the kids' bedrooms. Simple. — This one is going upstairs between the kids’ bedrooms. Simple.

This is our newest sign, purchased from Shutterfly for Shea for Father's Day. Love it! — This is our newest sign, purchased from Shutterfly for Father’s Day. Love it!

Of course, the most important words in our home are contained in our family Bible, which normally lives on our hutch, right within easy reach. But since we are currently short a hutch, it’s in the cupboard next to the phonebook, which is pretty appropriate if you think about it.

I am sure as the years go on, I will add or switch some of the hanging words in our home. Maybe (dream of dreams) the kids will add some of their own eventually. Either way, I hope we are always a family of words, spoken and hanging.

*The wooden signs were made for us by my sister-in-law’s mother, Karen Shoemaker. Her work can be found at www.shabbyshoesigns.com.

Nobody’s looking at you ~ Dana

My cousin is beautiful. She’s about 5’3”, has long, naturally wavy, blonde hair, and blue eyes. She’s got this infectious laugh and there is nothing about her that doesn’t sparkle.We’ve lived super close to each other, and we’ve lived continents apart. Now she lives about an hour away, but our kids are pretty much stair-stepped, hers are 7 and 4 and mine are 2 and 8 months, so we don’t get to spend nearly enough time shopping at Anthropologie and eating cupcakes, like we used to. But we catch up about once a week on a marathon phone call that seems short if it falls under an hour. I love her with all of my heart and all of my soul.

One Saturday at the beginning of summer she was headed to Fashion Island in Newport Beach with the kids and we were discussing her outfit. Definitely not pants, but maybe a long skirt? “I DO NOT want to wear shorts,” she told me, “my legs are way too pale.”

“Let me tell you something,” I said. “Nobody’s looking at you.”

“Ouch.”

I realized after I said it that it totally sounded harsh. But I didn’t mean it as a dig at all. In fact, if people are looking at her, they are not noticing her pale legs.

But this is a lesson I have learned while nursing my children. Because babies, well, my babies at least, don’t want to be discreetly covered up by a hooter-hider or a blanket after a certain age. Nope. They want to see what is going on in the world. Yes, they’re eating, but that doesn’t mean a thing. And I see their point. I don’t want to be under a blanket while enjoying a good meal, either.

But when this first started happening to me, I was humiliated. I was sure that I would get dirty looks and maybe even some rude comments. So I huddled in corners, sweating, trying to hide my half-exposed boob from the world. But then it happened… nothing. People didn’t even notice. It was like they had their own stuff to worry about and weren’t even looking at me. What a revelation!

And for the most part, those who do look at me don’t even care.

And isn’t that the truth? Aren’t we all just out there, doing our best? Don’t we give each other, and our pale legs, and our half-exposed boobs the benefit of the doubt? Because when a friend tells me that her hair looks awful today, I haven’t noticed. When the lady in front of me at the grocery store mentions she’s not even wearing make-up, chances are I’ve been too busy keeping kleenex out of Baby Violet’s mouth or putting Mazie’s shoes and socks back on.

Of course, there are those who notice. There are those who look and laugh. But you know what? Who cares about them? They’re not our people anyway. And someday, they themselves will be there: running on 2 hours of sleep, lucky to just get out of the house alive. We won’t be there to see them, but others will. Others will notice or not and the world will keep on turning.

photo-30 — See… this is my cousin. Would you notice her pale legs? Love you, Bebe!

Humble Pie ~ Jen

One of the great things about being anywhere Disney is this: ain’t no one judging anyone, since we are all one dropped ice cream cone away from the Mother of All Meltdowns.

There are still moments that test this collective patience.

It was my fault, since Anne had been in a swim diaper for five hours. First she was playing in the water at Typhoon Lagoon and then she was asleep for two hours and then it was time to go, so I threw her in the stroller and we headed towards the shuttle.

And of course, as we came around the corner, there was our bus, five stops down. I started running with Gabe and the stroller, waving my arms like a crazy mama who needs to get on the bus now and not 20 minutes from now. I put Gabe on the first step of the bus so the driver couldn’t leave without us, reached down to pick up Anne, turned to point to Shea running with Kate. Shea took one look at me and yelled “OH MY GOD! POOP!”

I looked down into the stroller—the rented stroller, BTW—and saw the biggest lump of poop I have ever seen.

The next five minutes are a blur in my memory, punctuated by Gabe needing to tell me right now about the flies swarming the poop in the stroller and also needing to know right now why flies in Florida are blue. Shea whisked the stroller away to the bathroom. I had to pre-clean Anne to get her suit off. And yes I did push lumps of poop through the slats of the bench onto the cement, where they were immediately covered with blue flies.

It was EPIC.

And then, when I had the baby cleaned up and diapered and the bench reasonably cleaned and Shea was back with the stroller and the bus was turning the corner into the parking lot, Kate says “Hey Mom. Did you know you have poop on your cover up?”

Sure enough, there was poop on my cover-up, so I took it off.

And that means that I—of the soap box modesty post the day before—rode the bus back to the hotel wearing my swimsuit and nothing else, holding my baby girl wearing her diaper and nothing else.

Standing. Room. Only.

I refrained from grabbing the shuttle mic and explaining to everyone why I was wearing my suit and my baby was only wearing a diaper and we all smelled like poop.

But only just barely.

Powerful Grace ~ Jen

We just got home from a wonderful vacation, courtesy of Shea and State Farm. We spent six nights at the Walt Disney World Yacht Club resort with hundreds of other rock star State Farm dads and moms and their families.

I have two stories from our trip that I want to share. This one is a Here moment. The next one is a “This stuff only happens to Jen” story. Stay tuned for that Friday. Unless you have a weak stomach.

Two years ago, we were at the same hotel for the same week at the same State Farm event. I was a year out from my cancer surgery and treatment. We had been cleared to try for our third baby, but four months had passed with no results.

Everywhere I looked there were babies and pregnant moms, and my heart ached. After four months of trying, which was longer than it took with Gabe and Kate, it was hard not to feel defeated, and angry at my cancer and my age. Shea had worked hard for the trip and the kids were super excited, so every day I took a deep breath and made my outsides look happy.

It wasn’t that hard to do, in the relaxing lap of Disney luxury and with the joyful noise of my kids’ laughter. But there was a film over that vacation that darkened it just a bit.

Thankfully, we had our third baby. Her due date was nine months to the day after we arrived at Walt Disney World.

Last week, when we walked into the lobby of the same hotel, a wave of anxiety and longing swept over me. The feeling stayed with me when we swam at the pool that night, surrounded again by babies and pregnant women. It wasn’t until the next morning, as Annie toddled around the lobby and Shea said “Look how big she’s getting” that I realized I was holding my breath, just like two years ago, waiting for something and scared that it wouldn’t happen.

But there she was, dragging her blankie across the floor and smiling up at the bell captain.

And my heart quieted. It was a moment of powerful Grace.

I have struggled with the knowledge that we could be done having kids. Even with three c-sections and cancer and postpartum anxiety and the fact that Annie just…won’t…wean, I thought maybe there would be time for one more. The longing was not as strong or loud as last time, but it was there. I prayed over the last year to know if the longing was mine alone, or placed in my heart by God. And I also asked that if another child was not in The Plan for us, could God please remove the longing from my heart?

I prayed for contentment.

I guess sacred moments don’t always happen in sacred spaces. Or maybe sacred moments make places like hotel lobbies sacred. Either way, in the middle of the Yacht Club lobby at Walt Disney World, my prayer was answered. I saw my family, and I knew it was enough. More than enough. I understood that God’s plan is for us to move on to the next phase, that there is something else coming our way.

It’s the end of the having phase of our parenting. Now we move on to the raising part.

And the space in my heart where the longing used to be is peacefully empty. It’s reserved. I don’t know for what or who, but it’s ok not to know.

I am contently*waiting for the something else while I thank God for answered prayers and moments of Grace.

*I think I made a word up right there. But you know Dana and I used to be English teachers, which totally qualifies us to make words up. For reals.

Independence Day ~ Dana

My husband and I spent July 4th 2010 in New York City. It was the first year since 9/11 that the Statue of Liberty was open to visitors. The city was crowded beyond belief and we watched the fireworks on our televisions from our hotel room.

In the next couple of days though, we drove up the East Coast and made our way to Boston and it’s surrounding cities. Our first stop was the cities of Concord and Lexington. This leg of our epic (40 days and 40 nights) road trip was probably the one I had looked forward to the most. For there we stood, on the North Bridge, the site of the first battle of the American Revolution and the “shot heard round the world.”

As my former students will tell you, I’m a total geek for that kind of stuff. It fires me up. But there are places on this earth, places where HISTORY has happened, that are still inhabited by the ghosts of the past. The bridge was surprisingly empty and so we had a good deal of time to drink in the beauty and the importance of that place. I could feel its weight on my shoulders and I loved every minute of it.

In the city of Boston, we saw the Old North Church and Paul Revere’s house. What? One if by land, two if by sea, Baby! Awesome! I love the story of the brave men who hung those lanterns up in that Anglican (read: loyal to the King) Church, how they narrowly escaped through a window, and how Revere, a silversmith, rode on borrowed horse and stopped at each and every house, sounding his alarm, on his way to alert Sam Adams and John Hancock that the British were here.

Later in Philadelphia, we visited Independence Hall. Are you kidding me? It looks just like it’s supposed to: green table cloths, original desks, Thomas Jefferson’s walking stick at his regular chair (pictured below). It was here that those men of the Second Continental Congress, some politicians, but some farmers, lawyers, printing press operators, voted to declare independence from British rule. Their names are etched in our collective American minds: John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Samuel Adams, John Hancock.

We walked in their footsteps, honored their gravesites, fell in love again with their lives and their vision for this country of ours.

Sometimes I feel sad for what has become of America. I feel like we are forever divided. But on Independence Day, we are united in our reverence for those who fought for our freedom 237 years ago. We are grateful for their bravery, for their conviction, for their resolve. We remember their optimism and hope for the future, for our future. And together, we love America.

And besides, who doesn’t love the chance for matching American flag dresses? Happy Independence Day and God bless America.

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