That same old feeling

Another holiday season has come and gone. A month of my birthday and a trip to NY and Christmas and New Year and school performances and gift buying and cookie making. It came and it went. Now a blur. It's the eve before the actual new year starts for us, the REAL start of schedules and school and work. Bert went to bed early because yea...let's get a good start to the new year. But there lies the difference between mothers and fathers. He is sawing logs and I am pacing the house. Anxious. I have both the dishwasher and the washing machine going simultaneoulsy. I have paced the house collecting shoes and sorting coats and setting out water bottles and lunch bags. Another semester starts tomorrow at our new school location no less. And I am excited for what the year will bring but as usual it comes with sadness. I love it when everyone is home all day and we are on a schedule of our own making. I like the coziness of Christmas break and family gathering and friends getting together and eating too much and singing silly songs. The passing of the holiday means the passing of time and I will never again have a 6 year old and 17 month old at Christmas again. I'll admit, I have some regret. I was a little more about errands and logistics this year than I wanted to be. And I yelled. I have never been a mama that yelled, really--never. But the 5 year stretch isn't enough to keep little hands from touching and antagonizing and I found myself having to raise my voice more than I liked. I hate that. 

But as I type this, I already feel something that sounds like forgiveness. With fun there has to be discipline, it's part of my job as a parent. And I read some really wonderful things today about keeping the magic of the holidays and vacation alive in the everyday. I'm anxious tonight not because I think that the Lord doesn't have everything under His control because I know he does. I'm nervous because it's my job as a mom--to be intentional about sending my baby out into the world again tomorrow. To know we can't keep sleeping in and eating cookies for breakfast and staying up watching movies. It's disheartening and sad for something to end when it was good. And I guess that isn't regret but instead accomplishment--we did it, we had a wonderful holiday. 

January has started and I have decided I love January. I used to dread it as a let down after so much fun. But with the busy schedules of this season of life, I love how slow it is. It is usually a month of catching up...on rest, on reading, on family time. The first week of January holds a lot of sad memories for me but happy ones too.

Tomorrow morning I will (hopefully) get up early. Crack open the first few pages of our devotional--a fresh start. And then walk Loulie to her new school. Prayers for all the mamas that will be back at it tomorrow with expectations and goals. Ideas of what they want their year to looks like. I have picked three words that I hope will set the tone for our 2016...adventure (even in the mundane), presence, and margin. 

As this old feeling creeps in, I am reminded of how thankful I am that I already long for the goodness of my present life and the blessing I have been given. 

My biggest problem...

I basically do this to Loulie at least once a month and poor Tad suffered the same scene at about 5am this morning...

Dog Days of Summer

It is a sin that we live 5 minutes from the beach and go so rarely. A goal of mine this summer has been for Loulie and I to go more, which we have, but Bert has only been twice (maybe). I decided Friday night to remedy that. Instead of packing up for or usual Friday night at Freshfields dancing, we decided at 6:30 to throw on our bathing suits and head to the beach. Besides, it has gotten so humid here, by the water is really the only place anyone wants to be. 

6:00 is my favorite time of day to spend at the beach. There were still a good many people there, but if you have ever been to Folly, there is no pretention or reason to be at all self concious. So Bert and I both joined Loulie riding waves and rolling in the sand. We played until dark and then threw on cover ups and walked through the little downtown for dinner. It was a sweet family night--the kind that isn't big plans but that you will probably remember with more fondness than the nights you did have big plans.

The rest of the weekend was pretty low key--a birthday party, church, ice cream date with good friends.  Bert and I did have a movie date Saturday night--The Way, Way Back.  Loved it! We are pretty particular about movies and always rave when we see something different. It was a dark comedy and we were still talking about it Sunday afternoon. Not giving anything away, I did have a hard time seeing Steve Carrell play the antagonist. 

This morning starts a busy week--I am so towing the line between schedule and just having fun. On one hand, I feel like we need to be working on adjusting bed times for the early school time we have coming to us but I also want to pack in as much fun and freedom as we can into the next few weeks. Looking at the calendar though, I think life is beginning to force us into good behavior--early bedtime, eating better and getting organized. I can handle--I thrive on structure. But oh how I am going to miss those late nights at the beach.

Tangible Evidence

It's inevitable...come the first and last day of school, I walk around with a huge lump in my throat and can shed a tear at the drop of a hat. It makes me feel completely unhinged and like a total nut! I've noticed this pattern for the past two years. It's the same feeling I had when I went back to work, when Loulie turned one, the first time I dropped her off at Sunday School without her even acknowledging my leaving---the feeling that time is passing to quickly. That I will never get to relive this stage with this child again. That Loulie will never ride past the church that houses her preschool again shouting "schkoul! Loulie schkoul!" I have a hard time with it, this tangible evidence that she is getting older. This date on the calendar that says "you can never go back." It's a strange and unexpected form of grief.
At small group tonight I asked for prayer over this feeling, knowing that the next two days will be difficult for me. I mean who likes feeling sad? I felt a little ridiculous though expressing this grief considering one couple has a severely disabled child and another has a niece diagnosed with a rare disease among other issues. So yeah, Lauren, grief? Over your healthy, growing child moving on up in the world? It's hardly seems to qualify as something to get upset over. But I look at it as a blessing--that this time has been so precious that it is hard to let it go. That motherhood has been such a surprising joy that I don't want it to go by so quickly.  I'm so thankful for the friends and teachers and time we have had together this 3 year old year. I know not all school years may go as well and I'm thankful that our last year at John Wesley will be a sweet memory.
My friend, Lee, who thinks so similar to me sent me this article after I got home from small group tonight making me feel a little less ridiculous about these uncontrollable emotions I have going on. I love it! And it speaks to this moment so perfectly. I guess I am not quite alone in wanting stop time.
"Yes, time flies.
But I don’t want to stop it. I want to climb on its back and soak up every inch of the scenery. I want to drink in the laughter, the tears, the soccer games, the visits to the ER, the blues skies and the torrential rains that this world has to offer. For when the cosmic clock is finally grounded, I will climb off its back, grateful for the wild and wonderful (full-of-wonder) ride."
So I will tearfully walk her in one last time on Thursday, go early to get a seat for their year end performance and probably take way too many pictures, all the while soaking in the gifts of this good life of being her mother. Thankful for another good year and knowing by Friday that summer excitement will have me far over this momentary grief.

Full Grown 3Ker

What is love?

Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more. (I really can't say the above sentence without picturing Will Ferrell bobbing his head back and forth. If you didn't grow up in the 90s and don't know what I'm talking about, then I really can't help you.)
Loulie's class party was at school today. This created a dilemma since in my mind I had it on the calendar for Wednesday, that is until I finally read the class email Saturday night at 11:00 wherein the room mother explained that the class party was moved to Monday due to Ash Wednesday services at the church. Since Loulie originally suggested that we make our own Valentines that are orange with sprinkles (i.e. glitter) that shoot out and then it turns into a sticker, I asked her again Sunday morning what exactly she wanted to give as her valentine. She decided she wanted her "valentime" to be cookies shaped like a heart. Which is how I came to be standing at the counter at 12:15 on a Sunday night icing 50 homemade heart shaped cookies. And as I stirred that giant bowl of diabetic coma inducing sludge, I thought about the insane things we do at the request of our children (and how stupid I am for thinking this would only take 30 minutes).
Like the time my mother stayed up all  night sewing me a dress to wear to my good guy friend's bar mitzvah the next day while also suffering through strep that had moved to her organs. I'm sure that was a real good time--I can barely make it up the stairs at 99.9 degrees, forget full body pain, sore throat and feverish. But finish she did! And did I feel like a young Kelly Kapowski in my fitted velvet shift dress with slightly puffed sleeves (again, if you are not a child of the 90s, I cannot help you with these references).  I danced my tail off that night and held my own with my slightly more developed friends who could actually buy a dress off the rack without having to stuff or take the bust in six inches. No, I felt good in my homemade shift dress, completely clueless to my poor mother who probably launched herself into the bubonic plague finishing the hem. I don't know if I ever properly thanked her but I think it might have gone down like this...
When Loulie got up this morning and walked into the kitchen, her little mouth formed into a perfect O and after a brief pause and slight inhale exclaimed, "Oh mama, those are MAGNIFICENT!"

 

 Love makes us do crazy things people.

P.S. Loulie Bug, if you are 35 and reading through your mama's old blog post, this would be a great time to weigh whether or not you should move me into your carriage house or ship me off to the nursing home. Just saying.

Happy week of love friends!
(and thank you Mom for the countless hours of lost sleep)

May in Photos

 

Young Life Camp

Mother's Day

Last Day of School

Picolo Spoleto Festival

Concerts at Freshfields

So many things I want to soak in and remember, write about and treasure. But then that would require that I give up more sleep than I already do, so for now pictures will have to suffice.

Their stocking were hung by the chimney with care

I live in Charleston, right?

I was just wondering since it feels likes I am sitting in an igloo at the South Pole. This unusual freezing weather has made me feel a little like a shut in but it has been somewhat nice being forced to stay inside and relax. I've spent tonight curled up by a warm fire, working on some Christmas gifts and watching Chronicles of Narnia (one of my favs). It has been one of those evenings that has been a combination of getting a lot accomplished along with actually relaxing and enjoying the warm feeling that comes with having a clean, decorated house.

I wish we could keep our houses decorated the entire year or at least half. I actually have a distant relative that puts up his Christmas tree on Christmas Eve and does not take it down until Easter. Strange I know but I kind of get it. Every year I go on this nostalgic walk down memory lane while I decorate. With a birthday and an anniversary in December, I've had a lot of gifts and memories that somehow include holiday decor. I usually try to bring Bert in on this walk down memory lane. Try being the key word here. He's not unkind about it--he'll politely nod and smile; all the while I know he has no idea what I am talking about and in the back of his mind he's creating a list of all he needs to get on his next trip to Lowes.

So this year i'm sparing Bert and staining you on the sentimentality of a few Christmas items--I call this "If my house was burning I'd grab...(Holiday Version)"

The #1 being this... I realize that it looks like a 1970s handmade tree skirt and that is exactly what it is. My grandmother made one of these for all three of her girls to put around their tree when they got married and she made one for herself. I imagine it took her forever to sew all the tiny beads and sequins on. But as one who takes joy in creating things myself, I'm sure she loved putting all of that effort in making something for her children. My grandmother passed away the first week of December, three weeks before my wedding and the night before a group of friends threw me a Christmas shower. My mother had already wrapped this up to give me but after the events of the night before, the tree skirt had a whole new meaning. I miss my grandmother a lot through the year but most of all at Christmas time and it always happens that I am decorating the same week she passed away. I love pulling this out as my final touch to the tree and remembering my grandmother.

On a lighter note, you can't help but notice that our last name has a festive ring to it. It can get a little annoying this time of year. Seriously, I can't tell you how many times we get "where's dancer and prancer?" Yes, people are stupid and every one thinks they are the first one to crack that joke. Bert has been putting up with a lot longer than I have. The good thing about being a Dasher is that 1)it is easy to match a first name to it and 2) anytime anyone sees a cool reindeer ornament, they think of you. Hence, the 5000 reindeer ornaments we have.

My absolute fav is the one of Dasher in evening wear. Our second date was on Christmas Eve--way too early in to buy a gift but we had talked enough that we both knew we really liked each other. So Bert gave me this ornament "so I would remember him." Looks like it worked. I always hang him towards the top of the tree.If you are still there, I promise I am wrapping it up.
Bert's aunt Hilda is sweet and very talented and decided years ago that Bert and I had to meet. So she and my mother worked out a plan that she would bring me over to Bert's parents to pick up some pottery that my mother ordered from Hilda and magically Bert would be there. Well, the pottery that we picked up was two clay angels and a year later everyone in the family joked that two angels had brought us together. Bert and I both call that angel Hilda. Anyhow, she gave us this big angel on our wedding day and I absolutely cherish it. She sits on our coffee table and watches over us.

Okay, that's it. It's actually not it--I could go on and on but for the sake of time and your patience, I'm going to stop. I hope everyone is enjoying the weeks building up to Christmas.

Stay warm,

Lauren