Ten Things

1) It rarely rains in Yakima. I miss the rain. And I miss a good old-fashioned Midwestern thunderstorm. Today, however; it rained! Alot! I breathed in the glorious scent of fresh rain, and the kids played on a new-to-us playground in the rain. Triumph. 

2) Rudyard Kipling, I am done with you. I have tried again and again to read your works, even as a 10 year old slogging my way through the wicked accents of Captains Courageous, and I have come to the conclusion that we were never meant to be. I cannot handle the roundabout-ness of it all. For the love of literature and all things sane, come to the point, man! You will not be a part of my life anymore, O Best Beloved.

3) Lucy threw up in the car on the way to Seattle. I caught ALL OF IT in a plastic grocery sack. We were in the middle of the Wenatchee National Forest when this most unfortunate event occurred. The conversation before, during, and after this occurred went a little something like this:

Lucy: "Mommy, I sick!!"

Me: "Oh no. I knew this was going to happen. Steve, I'm going in."

*Mary climbs into the back seat while Steve is flying through the mountains at 75 mph.*

Mary: "Here, Lucy. Let Momma help." *opens bag*

Lucy, shaking her head violently and crying: "NO NO NO!!"

Me, probably louder than I should have been: "LUCY. YOU HAVE TO THROW UP IN THE BAG."

She did. THANK YOU, LORD. You are too good to me.

Me: "Uh oh. The bag is starting to drip. I need to get rid of this thing!"

Steve: *slams on the brakes and pulls over*

*Mary jumps out of the car and because we are in a national forest and cannot, in good conscience, just leave the bag ($500 fine, anyone??) turns the bag upside down VERY CAREFULLY and proceeds to trail the contents out in the grass. Mary ran back and forth a few times doing this, then opened up the back of the van to find the mother lode: An entire stash of gift bags in various sizes that were destined for Goodwill, but had not yet found their way there. Procrastination to the rescue!! Mary placed the ick bag in two doubled up gift bags, rolled the tops over, stuck them in the back of van, disinfected her hands, and got back in the van.* 

We proceeded to make our way to Issaquah, Washington (um, GORGEOUS little place) without further incident. We stopped to have lunch at Chipotle. This was an event of truly epic proportions, because sadly, there is no Chipotle in Yakima. As we approached the restaurant with great anticipation and reverence, Steve walked over to a large dumpster. He was holding the puke bag(s). The dumpster was marked for PAPER and PLASTIC. Steve tossed it in there. Boom.

And THAT is how it's done, folks. (Never mind that it was most likely a violation of biohazard disposal. Don't burst my bubble.)

4) Cherries are now in season in Yakima. If I ever had an inkling of a doubt about being here, it has been thoroughly banished by the consumption of local cherries. My head is spinning with the possibilities. 

5) All I want to eat lately is roasted cauliflower. With an egg on it (naturally). You must, must, MUST try this roasted cauliflower recipe. The onions caramelize so sweetly, and the garlic turns into this wonderfully mellow, yet rich, savory delight. And the cauliflower? Don't even get me started. I've been eating more vegetarian meals for lunch the last few months because I have been finding that eating heated up leftovers (as delicious and healthy as they may be) makes me quite sluggish for the remainder of the afternoon. Sluggish is not an option for me these days, so bring on the veggies, fruits, and protein. 

6) The children; they are growing so fast lately, it seems. I am working on being a more patient momma  these days. It's actually kinda working. 

7) Would you just look at these little ladies?

 

                                   "Can I have some of your apple, Lucy?"

                                    "Please? I'm looking right at it. I can do this."

                             

                                      "Oh, very well; then I'll just lick your arm."

In other news, I would like to make an earth-shattering statement: GIRLS ARE SO DIFFERENT THAN BOYS. This has been a public service announcement. 

ANYWAY.

7) The big boys are playing flag football. The coaches keep adding tiny variations to the schedule, which is basically slaying my soul. However, the boys are having a great time, so let's focus on that, shall we?

8) Tillamook Oregon Blueberry ice cream is a revelation beyond revelations (hi, Jenelle!)

9) We are going to California! In August! For Steve's grandma's 90th birthday! Right by the ocean! Steve is going to have to swim after me and drag me out against my will. Now, if we could just avoid Lucy getting sick on the drive down or back...*prays*

10) House hunting is an astoundingly emotional process. We are having quite the time finding something that suits our needs best, and it's getting a bit discouraging, to be honest. But sometimes, when you think a decision is going to be difficult to make, God just sort of settles it for you. I had been agonizing over this one gorgeous older home which Steve and I had taken a look at back in November and decided against it because the basement was a bit of a freakish dungeon. Well, I needed closure. I needed to see this lovely home again. Maybe it could work! *idiotic optimism* So Steve very graciously set up another showing. We walked through the house, and I could sense almost immediately that I was "over" it. But we both knew that the basement would be the clincher. We walked down. I immediately smelled something very, very wrong. Something was...dead. Sure enough, there were dead mice...AND MAGGOTS. We cleared out fairly quickly after that. And so, sometimes it's nice when a decision has become GLARINGLY OBVIOUS to oneself. Even if it involved dead mice and maggots! 

So there you have it! But let's end on a slightly more positive and less grotesque note, shall we?

My new friend Layci and I are in the official planning stages of putting together a mini-homeschool co-op for our boys in the fall, and words truly cannot express how excited I am. This girl; she is a true visionary. I am just feeling insanely blessed to have met her. My dear Wisconsin girls, I am in good hands. You'd love her. And on that blessed note, goodnight, dear friends. May you sleep well and may your basements be free of all unwanted creatures.

A Rather Strange Series of Vignettes, Part Two

I don't really know where to begin. I shall make a list! A list doesn't really count as a vignette, but I DON'T CARE.

1) Poor Lucy had the stomach flu pretty bad this week. After having five kids, I am so, so past the point of freaking out, waiting in agony to see who will get it next. We've all had it so very many times that I now think nothing of a child running to the bathroom to make a deposit. "You all right there, pal?" *sniff sniff* "Yeah-huh." At one point during Lucy's bout with the flu, I was in the process of changing an atrociously atomic diaper. The following conversations/events occurred:

Me: "Oh boy. David, please get me a big towel from my bathroom. Quick! Lucy's diaper is a complete disaster!"

*David trots (hee hee) off to get a towel. Or at least, that's what I thought.*

David returns, panting, and holding a sock: "Here you go!"

Me: "I said a big towel. From my bathroom. Please get me a big bath towel from my bathroom."

Does this make any sense?? I thought it did.

*David runs off*

*Daniel, not David, returns. He is holding a nebulizer mask.*

Daniel: "Here you go!"

Me, incredulous: "I said a BIG TOWEL from my bathroom. PLEASE. What is going on? I AM LOSING MY MIND."

*David returns. He is holding the base of the nebulizer.*

Me: "What is going on? I don't understand this. Go upstairs. Walk into my room. Walk into my bathroom. Grab any large, hanging towel and bring it to me. If there are no hanging towels, open the white cupboard and grab a towel from the cupboard, and BRING. IT. TO. ME. PLEASE."

*David and Daniel sprint away and return, bringing a very damp (but large!) towel. I gladly accept this, because at this point I am perilously navigating a small river of waste.*

And Steve wonders why I am losing my mind. Every day, I go a little more crazy. But that's okay. Today is definitely one of those days (Just bein' real here), but I often say out loud throughout the day, "They are little only once. They are little only once." And then I screw up 108463985686 more times before I got to bed. Oh well.

Thus ends the story of the towel.

2) The weather here is so, so, so fabulous; I can't even begin to describe how glorious it is to this life-long Midwesterner. It was 84 degrees TWICE last week with almost no humidity. We died a thousand deaths of bliss. Tomorrow we go on a hike with some wonderful new friends.

3) There are teeny-tiny coffee stands all throughout Yakima, and a couple of days ago, I tried the closest one to my house. It stands astutely in the parking lot of an adorable little flower shop. I tried something I've never tried before. They call it...The Pegasus. What might this concoction be, you ask? I shall tell you. It is a LAVENDER Italian soda with a small bit of coconut milk drizzled over the top. It's purple. It's beautiful. It's bizarrely delicious. I will be back for more.

4) Kate turned nine months yesterday! Oh, my widdle pwecious Kit Kat; my Katie blue eyes, my Katie Jane, my baby Katers...

She is hilarious and sweet. We all adore her. 

Thus closes Part Two of a Rather Strange Series of Vignettes. And now, if you would excuse me, Daniel has decided to wash his shoes. Good day to you all. 

A Rather Strange Series of Vignettes- Part One

Sometimes, when I wish to write, I have so much to say and so much to remember that it's nearly impossible to organize my thoughts in a cohesive manner. That means it's time to just. write. And so, with my apologies in advance, here is Part One in a Rather Strange Series of Vignettes that will hopefully convey some happenings in our life here in Yakima lately.

*******

I tried out a new chiropractor this week, and if you know me, you know that I am fiercely devoted to my bi-monthly visit to the beloved chiropractor. But as I mentioned, this was my first visit to this particular chiropractor. I thought of it as a bit of a "test-drive". So off I went. I parked in the back parking lot, and because I'm a genuis, I walked around the building to enter in through the front door. I opened the door, and at first I wondered if they were closed and had forgotten to lock up. There were no lights on, and nobody at the receptionist's desk, but there appeared to be light coming from an exam room down the hall, so I ambled down only to find myself at the back of the building where I had originally started out from. There was the chiropractor, adjusting a patient, so I sat down in the waiting room, filled out my paperwork, and waited. Soon enough, it was my turn. We chatted for a bit about my medical history, and he seemed pleasant enough. He was very enthusiastic and spoke in a very smooth, melodic voice, and was quite excited when he found out I was a former gymnast. He exclaimed,"Oh, I LOVE adjusting gymnasts!" Um, okay. Weird. Moving on...I laid face down on the table, and he procured a strange-looking device that somewhat resembled an iron, as in something to iron your clothes with. Except this "iron" looked like it had a small, green, leather jacket on. It turned out to be a massager thingy. So he diligently "ironed" my back and shoulders for a few minutes at an alarming rate of speed, telling me the whole time it was going to relax my muscles before the adjustment. Fine. I'm relaxed. Kind of. Then it was adjustment time. He proceeded to adjust every single muscle, joint, cartilage he possibly could, and very aggressively. He then tried to pull my head off of my body, not once, not twice, but three time. I was just about to say, "Yeah, that's attached," but mercifully, he stopped. Then he pulled out the iron again, and ironed away, chatting all the while about my muscles. Then he tried to pull my legs off, but to no avail. He then procured another tool, and this nifty little gadget resembled a rather small jackhammer. He hammered away for a bit and I nearly kicked him after it hit a reflex area in my back. I almost burst out laughing at this point, but I was determined to see this adjustment through, due to the fact that it was turning into one of the most bizarre doctor's appointments I had ever had in my entire life. He continued to chat away about my muscles and how one of my legs is shorter than the other and that was because of my hips, etc. And then, just like that, we were done, and he was continuing to chatter in a soft, almost hypnotic, tone of voice about hiking trails. He disappeared for a moment and reappeared with a piece of paper and a pen. He began to draw, if one could call it that, various maps and directions to trails. He talked almost nonstop and scrawled away in what appeared to be ancient Sanskrit. "Yes, this trail is very nice, you go up to Englewood, turn right, go up the hill," he cooed, "and you can park right here, and the trail is off to your left," and here he made an abrupt stop, looked straight at me, and said in a completely different tone of voice, "Snakes." "Snakes?" I queried. "Yes. There are occasionally rattlers." "Oh, my." I said, because I didn't know what else to say. He then launched right back into daydream mode, took 10 minutes to draw three more trails (which I did appreciate, and I even saved the paper, even though I can barely decipher it. It's the thought that counts.) I said thank you, paid him, and walked back to my car. That was Friday. As I type this, it is Sunday afternoon, and my body is telling me that I need to try a different chiropractor. Preferably one that doesn't use a small jackhammer. 

The Outer Limits of Sanity, Part Two

I promised I would be back, and I am a woman of my word. Except when centipedes are involved. Then you're on your own, bub. As I write this, however, I am sitting at my new desk area (!) in our "new" house (!) in Yakima, Washington, without a centipede in sight. And so, WE MADE IT!! WE REALLY MADE IT! I am still in a state of shock that we actually did it. I am still in a state of shock that we took five small children on a plane (granted, it was only 4.5 hours) and managed to survive. Many people have asked me how the flight went. I'll tell you how it went. Other than Lucy screaming for the last 3 hours of the flight, Kate screaming during the descent, Daniel getting up to pee no less than TEN TIMES, Lucas falling asleep and peeing on his seat cushion, and David requesting snacks every 20 minutes, it went great! The way I see it: Nobody threw up. That automatically qualifies as being a good flight. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. I need to tell you about December. I need to write about Kenosha in a way I've never really written before, except that one time I entered a Real Simple writing contest about "Life Lessons" and "What's The Hardest Lesson You've Ever Had to Learn???".  (sadly, I lost the essay when our old computer crashed. It was pretty darn good, too.)

And so, December.

It started out great! I went to a Christmas tea, we put our house on the market, we had showings almost immediately...things were going SWELL. And then, about halfway into the second week of December...

I got the flu on Thursday. The REAL flu.
I got mastitis on Friday.
I got laryngitis on Saturday.
I coughed almost non-stop for the rest of the month.
I struggled with complications from the flu for the rest of the month. Bronchitis, etc.
I struggled immensely to just wake up and get out of bed. I had never been more exhausted in my entire  life, not even with newborn babies or 5 pregnancies. My boys would have to wake me up every day, and I would hear the girls crying for me. It was horrible. Really, really horrible. And during this entire time of illness, life went on. The house was still being showed. Preparations were still being made. People came over and brought meals and were so very good to us, and somehow, by the grace of God, we made it through. I also decided to stop being a stubborn cuss (yes, I just called myself a stubborn cuss) and go to the DOCTOR, of all things. And guess what else I had during December? Mono! Oh, yes indeedy. That would explain the immense exhaustion. Oh, my dear friends...never take your health for granted. I am far from original in my declaration, but never, EVER take your health for granted.

Talk about the outer limits of sanity!

Anyway, I started feeling better just in the nick of time, because before we knew it, the movers had arrived and were packing up our lives (I almost died three times when they moved my piano. Three times!!), and life in our sweet little house of 8 years was over. I was so very thankful to have had the chance to walk through the house slowly when they were done and practically see the past 8 years replay before my eyes. This house, this house with the beautiful woodwork that literally took my breath away when we first stepped foot into it, this house with the hardwood floors that put joy into my heart when the sun's rays fell just so over them, this house where I stirred up batch after batch of granola on those old, speckled countertops, this house where we started our precious family and brought 5 babies home to love, snuggle, and raise, this house where friends and family gathered to visit, eat, be loud, laugh, discuss books, scrapbook, and make the finest of memories, this house where I learned how to be a mom and a wife, and this house where we grew so much together and we loved and we cried and we fought and we learned and we forgave again, and again, and again. What. a. home. it has been for us. And I am in awe of God and His grace, and I will always be able to look back on my time in Kenosha as the most pivotal moment in my relationship with God. I feel as though I have come to know a completely different God than my perception of Him from my youth, and this is a good thing.
   When we were house hunting 8 years ago, I told Steve over and over again that I would never live in Kenosha. (yeah, about that...be very careful and NEVER SAY NEVER!!) I had just finished my degree at a university in Kenosha, I had two incredibly intense relationships that ended very painfully and with much drama during my time at college, and God brought Steve into my life at a time when I least expected it. I was sick of Kenosha and beyond ready to leave the past behind and get the heck out of Kenosha before we put down any more roots. I wanted to start somewhere fresh! New! Where nobody would know me!! Where I wouldn't be plagued by memories everywhere I went! Forget this town, man. I've got places to go. But, quite obviously, God had other plans. We ended up buying the house in Kenosha mainly because 1) we loved it. 2) it was a much better choice for Steve's commute to work. We took the plunge.

But then.

The housing market bubble burst with an incredibly swift and wicked vengeance, and when that bubble burst, man; it blew up in our faces. Gone were the hopes that we could pack up and sell in five years and MAKE A KILLING. Ha. Ha. *painful laugh* And so, I had a choice. We always have a choice. I could either:

1) Curl up like a baby and cry for years on end, OR:
2) Try to get to know Kenosha in a way that would be new to me.

Well, I can't stand it when people mope around and act powerless to change themselves. So I embarked on Operation "Bloom Where You Are Planted". When I had finished teaching piano for the day, I would explore. Try to find little places/hidden treasures I had not known about before. I would end almost every expedition with some time spend by the lake. And I fell madly in love with the lake and tried to run by the lake as often as possible. I don't know about you, dear friends, but when I am by the water, I feel God's magnificence and an incredible closeness to Him. (I plan on retiring on a small island by Seattle. Hi Steve!) Before I knew it, I was enjoying my life in Kenosha because I chose to see the good things. God blessed me with the most incredible circle of friends, and we shared our lives together. And that, my friends, is a heck of a lot better than curling up like a baby and crying for years on end.

Why am I sharing this incredibly personal journey with you? I want to encourage whoever might be out there that it is more than possible to find your life right where you are. I want to encourage you to not lose hope, or give up. That "The only place in life worth seeing is the place of seeing God" (Ann Voskamp, 1000 Gifts. Read it. Be changed.) Because when you view life through His lens, well, things really aren't so bad.

And now I sit here, with everyone asleep above me, dirty dishes in the sink, and I think that I'm awfully glad that we are slowly leaving the Outer Limits of Sanity. If you know me, you've shared in the journey. Let life in Washington commence! The adventures will continue!