They Always Win

I'm late to work every day.  Every. Single. Day. That may not come as a surprise to anyone since I'm well known as being a bit tardy.  My principal at South, Mike, used to always say as I walked into faculty meetings, "Well Jen's here, now we can start."  I get it. I deserve any criticism when it comes to being late in most cases, but not in this case.  I wake up in plenty of time to leave for work, battle the highway, and plug my teacher # into the computer right on time.  But I don't. Instead my drive is a hurry-and-go-switch-lanes-watch for cops kinda drive.

And this daily #@* of a drive is because, well, because no matter what - my kids win in the morning.  If I fly around the breakfast table giving kisses and wishing them a good day at school, my intentions are to leave the house.  But, with just one whiny, but sweet, "fix my hair, mama" and seconds later I'm brushing hair and searching for ponytail holders.  I can't seem to leave them.  I can't seem to get out of the door.

I think it comes down to this. I don't want them to ever think that I put work before them.  But as much as I want that to be true, I still have to miss their morning rush and afternoon fallout.  What will they remember when they are 15, 20, 25-years old and looking back?  Will they remember those 7 years I stayed home and volunteered for every job, was present at every event, and was around for pretty much everything that ever happened to them?  Or will they remember that one year when mom decided to get a J. O. B. and she always rushed out during breakfast unable to chauffer them on that long drive to school like the old days. And even though we've been working through these changes for seven months now and we have the schedule down pat, it's still not easy.  It's not easy to give those minutes of their time to someone else.  Those minutes right after they walk out of school and have three thousands things to say between them, to someone else's ears.

But we've all settled into the routine, and I have my role, K has his, and the kids have theirs and no one is the worse for wear, but ya'll, it's tough.  And if you know how to do it, how to erase that g u i l t thing, I'm all ears.  Because I want them to win. Every. Single. Time.

The End of an Era

Some good things must come to an end.  Tonight I'm pondering all the many things in my life that have found their ending. Some of those conclusions came without fanfare, but most of the time, almost all the time, for me, endings come with fear and hesitancy, and a little bit of sadness.

Earlier in the school year, I had to come to terms with a major ending in our life - the ending of all things preschool -  no more daytime preschool rec classes, no more Tuesday morning library time, Mother's Day Out and preschool - done, and any other daytime activity created with a stay-at-home mom in mind. I think the moment I first recognized that that era was really over was the first day of Sunday School for this 2013-14 school year. Since 2005, when Elijah was 2 and started SS classes, either me or Kenny have walked one or two kids down the preschool hallway.  When I realized all three were now in one building, in one hallway, it actually made me tear up.  I had no reason now to visit with the teachers who taught preschool, or apologize to them for our kid being late.  That stage was over.  I now have all elementary-aged kids, all grouped together.  And while I don't want to jump the gun, in just a few years, we will again be straddling two age brackets, two school buildings, two school schedules.  

It's just enough to make me run kicking and screaming from all this growing, all these new beginnings and sad endings. 

And now, speaking of sad endings, my entire reason for writing tonight was to give praise to two great coaches (Kenny and Coach Jon), and 5 years of coaching boys basketball through UPWARD. Five years of working together, of getting to know one another, and for a family to build a friendship together. They took 4 and 5 year-old preschool tikes and through the years have helped them develop into boys, both in faith and basketball skills. Our boys are now in 4th grade, and if all goes well, Elijah will try out for the Lutheran South 5th grade boys' basketball team next year and will give up those two month's of Saturdays playing UPWARD ball with some wonderful, and amazing faith-filled families.  

Coach Jon will always be Elijah's favorite coach (not counting his dad, of course) and we are thankful to UPWARD for putting Elijah on coach Jon's team so many years ago.  That one year when Kenny told Jon, a mere stranger, "Hey, I'll help out if you need me" turned into another year, and then another, and another, and another. Now, these two guys coach like the best of them and I will greatly miss getting to watch them in action, their enthusiasm, their fun, and their kindred spirits. 

Thank you UPWARD -- we are so grateful to you for our friends, and for making the months of January and February so much more exciting & busier than they ever would have been. 

It has been our pleasure. 

But never fear ---
We Still have Lydia -- and coach Kenny has found a new niche - coaching girls.

Slight Corners

I took a day off of work to spend with Lanie while her teachers went to a conference.  As is tradition for all Ward kids in Kindergarten, I spent the day doing what she wanted.  After a double block bike ride, we spent our free time at the zoo.

Last year, when Lanie and I spent a l-l-o-t-t of time together, this Houston day of fun would have been expected, run-of-the-mill, and most likely taken with a group of friends, and I would have rushed her to and fro and spent more time talking to the adults and letting the play date of kids take their own course.

But on this one Friday, with just me and Lanie exploring at our own pace, and with just each other to talk to, I learned something quite obvious.  When Lanie is in charge of an audience of one, life is simple.  She's a gem - easy-going, no dramatics.  With the exception of a rush to giraffe feeding time, we walked a slow step.  We waited in a line for expensive zoo food without complaint.  We spent an unusual amount of time watching bats eat apples, and an armadillo run, surprisingly fast, on spindly legs. And we could skip the snake and spider building, because who really likes to see that - not us.

I don't know if it was that day or maybe it's been happening without my notice, but I have this strange feeling that my Lanie, my "Oh, mercy - Lanie!" has turned a slight corner.  She seems just a little bit more grown up, a little bit more focused on school work, a little bit more independent, and just a little bit, well, easier.  And when you have our lifestyle, when on any given night we have 5 places to be, just a little bit easier is just what we need.

Life Doesn't Frighten Me

       Fifteen years ago today was a pretty rotten day.  No major details here, but if you've known me for any amount of time, then you know all about it.  It's my story about loss, about the moment a girl went from naively independent to embarrassingly dependent in the biggest ways.

      After the whole event, my counselor told me that I should read the police report I filed every year on the anniversary, the one with the freshest, most detailed play-by-play of that February 10th morning.  Her explanation that it would be helpful to remember what I've been through, and to see where I've come each year.  I always thought that was bad advice since I assume most people who have ever been attacked or violated in any way would prefer to stuff it away.   And I really don't follow her advice yearly, but I do like to commemorate the big ones - the 5 years, the 10 years, and I can hardly believe 15 years have passed.

     I like to remember because it gives me a chance to see God's hand in that moment as I begged the stranger to stop, as I prayed the Lord's prayer that sent him away.  I like to remember the wonderful people who walked into my life, and became my strength all because I didn't have any of my own.  And mostly, I give thanks that the damage done to me will not last forever.  I wrote this poem one night when I couldn't sleep in response to a Maya Angelou poem (in a 6th grade text book) about her childhood fear of the dark.  It's not high poetry, heck it's not even good poetry.  But I can sit here tonight on my computer and remember with such force how real my dragons were then, and how sharing a little of it with Maya Angelou seemed like the most natural escape. But all glory to God that time and so very many prayers from people I love have a way of softening a fearful heart and sending those dragons away.

So before this day ends, I want to give thanks to the people who were there, who slept on floors for me, who offered their home for me, and who knew, even when I didn't, that it was all in God's hands.

If I Could Be Maya (1999)

Life doesn't frighten her at all
She'd be so ashamed
I cower low.  I'm afraid
While she fights her daily dragons

Daylight shields my enemy
in solitude
This creature, omniscient -- haunts day and night
Sending  prickly,
                     chilly,
                          icy
Heart plummeting,
Breath catching
Sickness

When he captures his prey -- my imagination
Taken hold,
Flings my mind without care
No secret wall to hide behind, no fleeing from his claws

He stalks
Ste a d il y
In nooks and crannies of every room
Waiting
He overcomes.

Anger, not fully comprehended
A loss, not completely understood
A survivor - hands folded in prayer

"Only in my dreams," Maya says
The only times she's afraid
If it were only just that, Lord
If it were only just that.

Oh Texas

Texas, oh how I love your Arctic Blasts. And I love that the possibility of rain and freezing temps gave me and the kids a day off. 

We may not have gotten the snow day we'd hoped for, but we have had a fabulous morning of trampoline ice angels. 

 Enjoy your day and stay cozy. 

Eleven Days of Travel

I'm backtracking here.  It's mid January now and I'm bitter I missed all the opportunities to talk about our ELEVEN day vacation.  Now that we are home, whenever someone asks what we did over break, my line is:  "Eleven days, 3 kids, 3 cats, a Barbie Dream House and no snow.  Ugh."  Don't get me wrong, we were so glad to go back home, and the kids and cats did (I think) pretty darn well considering no one could move more than a few inches in the (what Kenny calls) his Tetris-packed van.

The only downside (besides the travel space) to spending your whole vacation on the move is, well, you spend your whole vacation on the move.  This makes coming home and jumping right into the routine again, a little hard. We can't figure out why nothing in our house is clean or why zero projects were accomplished - oh yeah, we weren't home.

The upside to all the going though, is that we got to visit and visit and visit - with each other, with our families, and with our friends and truly the best part, we got to watch our kids befriend the next generation of our favorite Oklahoma and Nebraska people.  Since we don't make it home that often, it's a relief when Elijah and Lydia and Lanie play with these boys and girls they see maybe once a year.  I think there is this assumption by adults that just because you throw 8 kids together who have similar ages that they'll be best friends.  Doesn't always happen.  We are just lucky I guess, really blessed that this trip worked in our favor.  I loved seeing Elijah play soccer with Jenny's kids or Lydia beg for a sleep over with Sharla's daughter or Lanie tagalong with her second cousins.  For those moments and so many more spent visiting this past Christmas, I know I'll take another 11 day road trip sometime in the future, maybe minus the Barbie Dream House.

For those who we visited while up north, I've got pictures to share, or comparisons to make.

The Old & The Young.

                               

It's Time for Girl Scout Cookies!

When I signed the girls up for Girl Scouts, I knew that they would enjoy it.  Or at least I hoped they'd enjoy it.  When I finally did, all of my guilt for not having Lydia in a troop any early could finally be put to rest.  Being a former Girl Scout with a mom who worked for the Girl Scout council, I felt just a little pressure to get these girls involved.  Lanie is a tough kid to please though.  She doesn't want to do anything but play - no soccer, no softball, no gymnastics, and "stop signing me up for dancing."  I was a bit worried.  Luckily though, they both love their Brownie and Daisy troops and are having to make new friends.  So far Lydia has gotten the chance to be in the Pearland Town Home Parade and also go to an archery lesson.  I wasn't able to go watch but her dad texted a picture of her along with this comment:  "Lydia "Katniss" Ward is pretty darn good."  You'd have to read/watch the Hunger Games to get that reference.   My point - she's getting to do a lot of things she wouldn't normally get to do. 

Lanie got her Daisy pin at a special ceremony when she recited the Girl Scout promise.  (okay 7 moms sitting in a circle watching their girls get up in front of a group is my idea of a ceremony).  She now can recite the ol' pledge: "Oh my honor, I will try . . . ." 

All in all, Girl Scouts -- good for my kids.  The one teeny tiny thing about having two daughters involved in girl scouting is (depending on how you look at it) the dreaded or (glass half full), fun cookie sales.  For me, it's double the trouble.  Double the pain of asking friends and neighbors to BUY, BUY, BUY!

Yesterday was the first day the girls could sell, so we went out and walked the neighborhood on what must have been the best Texas weather day Ever in January, truly.  I basked in the sunshine as I walked the sidewalks. Love this Texas.  And surprisingly the girls really liked going door to door selling cookies.  I felt so old, watching their own independence grow. 

Lanie's spiel:  "Hi I'm a Daisy.  Do you want some cookies?"  I was little concerned the neighbors expected us to give them free cookies. But because she's little, and cute, and spoke shyly, several neighbors probably felt like they'd break her heart if they said no.   Lydia was a little more informative, professional, explaining what she liked best about being a Brownie (when asked) and she sold even more. She did run into a No Soliciting sign at one door which totally confounded her.

The best part of the whole hour or so we walked was watching just how into selling Lanie got.  After her "I don't like any organized sport" attitude, I didn't expect her to be so jazzed to walk up to strangers' doors and talk.  And she was so optimistic.  When she walked up to a house with no cars in the driveway, she reasoned, "I bet someone took the car, but the others are home."  Another time when she lingered at a door much too long, and when I told her to come on since they weren't there, she told me, "I bet they are upstairs and it's just taking a while for them to get down the stairs"or the people who had the garage open who didn't come to the door she thought, "they must be vacuuming and can't hear the ding dong (her name for the doorbell)." It was refreshing to see just how positive she was and how much thought she put into the people behind each door.

When Lydia complained about hurt feet and thirst and was ready to go home, Lanie wanted to do just one more house.  And after we hit the jackpot where a mom who previously had a girl scout bought 10 boxes from both Lydia and Lanie, we were ready to go home.  

The girls still have more to sell to reach their goal, so if you have a hankerin' for some Thin Mints or Lemonades, just let me know.  My girls would love to knock on your door.  

It's a Girl Scout promise. 

The Expectation of SOMETHING

EXPECTATIONS.  If I had to tag this picture, that's what I'd call it.
It tells such a story.
Lanie is so happy to be opening her first Christmas present of the morning.  Lydia, while watching, is so hopeful, so expectant for her.  I love that image.
I'm not sure why Elijah's head is in his hand.  Maybe he just expected to be next in line to open his presents, but never fear, by the end of the day, his turn came several times.

Before the big grandparent, aunt, uncle and cousin gathering for the ultimate12-person gift opening craziness, we had our small family Christmas.  For the past 3 years, we've held tight to a theme.  On paper, it's pretty simple.  Each kid gets 4 gifts -


1. Something You Want. 
(Lanie got her wish for doll clothes)

















2. Something You Need.
(Lydia got her much needed bedspread.  She got her last one for Christmas when she was two and moving into the bunk bed from her toddler bed. It was definitely time.)

3. Something to Wear. 
( Elijah loves the random "What does the Fox Say" song that the rest of the world can't stand - but I gave in and bought him a shirt with a fox that says "ring-ding-ding-ding-ding" or something like that.  Oh, and behind him you'll see Lydia in her new owl shirt she immediately put one.)

4.  Something to Read.
(Of course, out of the 3, Elijah is the one who actually opens the books I got him and reads the first chapter.  Love my bookworm.)

I love the theme, and want to thank my friend Jenelle for ever sparking the idea in us.  It gives us parameters and purpose when buying.  Of course, because I am my mother's daughter, I like to go overboard and then push random gifts into those parameters.  But at least it's a start.

For me?  My joyful expectations for Christmas rested on two things -
1.  "Silent Night" by candlelight in my home church, Good Shepherd.  If I had to be anywhere else to sing this lullaby of Jesus birth, it would be here: My parents and my family of 5 squished into a pew, holding tight to our candles while the lights slowly fade to black.  If I'm not choked up, I always like to stop, be still and listen to the harmony around me.  This tradition happens in churches world-wide, and I'm not alone in how much I look forward to it, but to be in the church you were baptized in, grew up in, was confirmed in, and married in -- makes it all the more sweet.

2.  A family meal.  It's not often that every Buehring/Morrison/Downum/Ward gets to press 12 bodies around a table and share a home-made meal together. I can always count on a few things:  that at least one child (Lanie) will spill or get food on them, that Mimi will tear up during the prayer, that my children will eat only two things on their plate and run away, and that my undigested dinner will be followed up with too much banana pudding. And it all happened - just like I thought it would.

Thank you mom and dad for letting us invade your home, and completely mess it up.  Thank you for the time you gave to us, for the gifts you gave our family, and for all the surprises along the way. And while gifts are great to open, the expectation of coming home again was just what I needed.  

A Not-Quite-Snowy Christmas Eve

     If you live in a northern part of the world that sees snow and blustery weather on a regular basis, you may not have a complete understanding for those of us, with kids, that don't.  For those who have never spent a year past the Mason-Dixon line, I'd like to paint a picture for you.  Imagine you're a kindergartener and when October hits, the class units turn to Falling Leaves, Changing Colors, Seasons, Cool Weather and you're walking around in tank tops and shorts.  Then after Thanksgiving, the arts and crafts unit center around snowflakes and mittens and you're still wearing short sleeves and the typical southern five-year-old is wondering when snow will fall from the sky.
If you're lucky like us, you'll have grandparents who live in great states where snow always falls.

      What is unlucky though is that we can't plan the date of the big blizzard, and our wishes don't always play out in real life.

        We left our warm Texas weather and ventured into frigid Oklahoma, and by the time we stopped at a gas station in Dallas, it really was getting cooler.  Light coat worthy.  We had such anticipation.  Then when we cruised into Tulsa late at night, we had freezing temps. Mitten and hat worthy.  And in the mind of a child (and mine too) anything this cold should be accompanied by wet flakes.  Instead, we had frozen grass and icicles on trees and a few minutes of glorious dry flakes.  It isn't what you envision when you think of a true White Christmas (Eve),  but to these completely unspoiled snow kids, it was just as exciting as you could get.  They spent tons of time in and out of the house breaking icicles and throwing rocks at a frozen creek behind my parent's house.   When it came down to it, I was more concerned then they were that snow angels wouldn't be on the agenda for the day.

       And though I'm pretty disappointed we missed out on a winter wonderland, the mitten-worthy weather, the actual enforcement of heavier coats and being able to see our breath was just enough to satisfy these warm-weather kids.

(And we still have Nebraska to look forward to.)

Wherever you are -- may your Christmas weather be just what it you want it to be.

Perspective

Instead of trying to post all the things I've missed the past month, I am going to start with what's on my mind.
And no pics, not today.
A few days ago, I was emailing a friend and giving her the chronology of all the rotten things that had happened that day. Here are some snippets:

6:35am - we notice that Elijah's eye looks like a baseball - the little red and pus I saw yesterday is now a full blown pink eye.  I read on the internet that pink eye is only contagious if you touch your eye and then touch someone else'e eye.  I don't see that as a problem and Elijah should go to school but since he can't even see out of his eye -- it's looking like we have to scramble to figure out drop off and pick up. 

7:35 - call Kenny back and here was his morning:  Get out to the van to take the girls to school and Elijah to the minute clinic.  Van won't start. Borrows our neighbors car and realizes he left his wallet in the truck (which I have - 35 minutes away) and no easy tag to get through the toll booths to get to school. I promise to call back when I get to school so we can figure it out. 

9:15 - Call Kenny and he and Elijah used friend's car to take girls to school, drive to my school to get his wallet (paying $3.00 for the toll in credit card) and stopped at the minute clinic. Waiting much more than a minute to see a doctor. (Sidenote:  It actually took two hours. Argh.)

And it really has been a tough Winter so far - between sickness, dust allergies and lice (Don't get me started - I am now a full blown expert), some cranky vehicles, and now pink eye - we are ready for our silent night.
But as things often go, everything gets put into perspective when something tragic happens.  And it did.

Another student from LSA, Paul Riley, a boy I taught nine years ago, was in a one-car accident yesterday morning.  This is the second student I taught who has died so much earlier than they should have.  And while I mourn the loss of these young souls - who I'm really mourning for right now is Paul's mother, Perrilyn.  You see, Perrilyn is one of my favorite people at LSA. Not only was she a great parent to work with when I was teacher, we then switched roles and she became both Lydia and Lanie's helper teacher in preschool and Kindergarten.  She is a delight to me.  She loved telling stories about her boys - Paul and Mitchell.

I ache for her right now.  And I know so many others do as well.  Whenever I pause my constant activity, my mind goes straight to her and what she's doing right now.  Is she curled up in the fetal position on her bed, like I would be?  Is she playing out over and over again what put Paul in the car that morning, what caused him to veer off the road - was it a stray dog, a text?  Did he fall asleep?
And then my mind swishes and I wonder if Perrilyn and her husband, Sam had Christmas plans? Did they have gifts wrapped?  Did their other son Mitchell hope for some brotherly time together over the break? Did they talk about Paul and his strengths and wonder what he would do in the new year? In his future?

I know they have an army of loved ones and church friends surrounding them and I'm so glad.  I have not a doubt that God is hand-picking his perfect servants right now who will become their comforters, who will walk in and help this amazing family find solid ground in the months to come, who will say what they need to hear. Who will hold them and guide them to the love of Christ and remind me that there is nothing He can't handle.
For now though, in this infant state of shock, despair and what I can only imagine is hell on earth, I pray:

Lord, protect this family and cover them with your peace.
Amen.

Give Thanks

I hope your Thanksgiving was Blessed and full of Thanks.

Love, from the Wards
& the Epiphany Children's Choir

Autumn with the Wards

Since I've done a terrible job keeping up with things, I wanted to throw together a bunch of pictures, and why not just use my favorite web 2.0 tool - ANIMOTO to do it.  I finally broke down and bought a subscription so I might as well use it.

Here are some major orange - fall-like pics of the Ward kids.  Oh, and a not-so-fall Homecoming pic of Lanie as a crown bearer during the LSA halftime show.  I had to include it - I knew I never would get around to writing about how she really didn't want to get in front of an entire crowd and walk across a football field,  but how her sister changed her mind, oh and everyone else who knew she'd been asked - tried to convince her.  When she finally decided she could handle it and not hide behind my leg the entire time, she actually surprised me with her determination. I always like those kind of kid surprises.

Anyway, here's to just a lot of pics of kids and pumpkins and trick or treating (& crown bearers.)

Have a wonderful weekend.

10 on 11-12-13

40 and 10

Is it possible?  Did I really just celebrate a milestone 40 years only to follow it up two weeks later with my baby turning 10??  Was it really that long ago?  Have we really been parenting for a decade?
It's 11-12-13 (love when it works out like that) but almost midnight.  I just went into Elijah's room, just one more time to tell him happy birthday (even though he's asleep) and to tell him that I love him.  These past ten years have got to be THE decade of the most change in my life.  I went from a newly married gal working 10-12 hour days to a clueless parent of a fussy, reflux-plagued baby with a towhead.  And I didn't even know what tow-head meant until I had him. Then he moved into this rascal who craved constant motion and  loved parking cars, trains, and all things involving his dad and a ball.  How quickly and smoothly he's moved into a school kid who loves sports, loves reading and still loves constant activity - only now with his video games.

I think I'm going to love double digits.  I asked Elijah earlier to tell me what will make age ten different.  His response was so mature:  "I know I'll have more responsibility but I'll also get to do a lot more things for kids like ten years and up."  When I asked him what's one thing he wanted to do before he turned 11, he told me he wanted to stay at the house for a whole night by himself.  This coming from the kid who told me just yesterday he wasn't sure he wanted to go to a sleepover camp next summer because he likes being at home more.  When I questioned a "whole night" he quickly changed that to "Just an hour or so."  Maybe just a small dose of independence - but not too much.

My baby is trying to grow up and sometimes I want to let him.  I like to imagine him as an 17 or 18-year-old, trying to figure out his future.  Other times, okay, usually, I want to sit down with him on his bed and talk about old times.  I want to remind him of all the baby things he did, of all the crying it out, the temper tantrums, the crazy made-up games, of all the funny things he's said.  He's my first and (sadly to my girls) I have clearer memories of him.  I don't want to let them go.  And while I have umpteen pictures, there's nothing better than a "remember when" story.  My kids relish those moments. They love to be the star of the story.

And today Elijah was the star.

I will relish 10.  It's a good age.
Of course you'll need to remind me of that when I'm rolling my eyes at the armpit noises in the backseat, but yeah, I like double digits.  It's looking good so far.

-------------------------------------
Picture side note:  Elijah spent his birthday with a few friends at Dave and Buster's.  His favorite game -- 4 person Pac Man.  Who would have guessed?

My kind of Hill

     

 
      I just finished watching the Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy movie "Before Midnight."  If you've been a fan favorite like me and journeyed the past 20 years with this dialogue-driven movie from the onset, with "Before Sunrise" while I was in college (1995), followed by "Before Sunset" (2004) a decade later, and now, "Before Midnight" you would be as contemplative as I am now.   In the first movie, the young couple who meet on a train while in Europe and spend the rest of the evening walking and talking are 23-years-old.  I remember how much the movie resonated with me.  It was one you had to sit quietly for to hear all the phrases, the nuances, the meanings.  These two characters Jesse and Celine were the epitome of me and my analytical ravings at that age.  I loved this movie, I ached with the characters in this movie.  It's strange now to watch these same characters, aged and consumed by a few decades of life, worry, work and kids.  And how apropos that Kenny and I choose this third installment of the characters, who are now forty, to watch tonight - just days after making the turn to my forties.

      To be honest, When I saw the big 4 - 0 on a card my mom gave me, it took me by surprise.  The number carried such weight with it. For so long, I've been proud to be older, wiser, full of clearer perception.  Not this time.  I have instead felt, what's that word we throw around - - old. 

But this isn't something I tend to dwell on, at least not in this blog post.  I'll save that for my dear husband, who despite my complaints of wrinkles and gray hair, put it upon himself to create for me the best "turning 40" birthday weekend a girl could ask for.  I keep telling him this, so I'll tell you, I don't deserve his kindness, I really don't.  He put together a 4-star weekend of activity at a super-duper, not our regular Super 8 kind of hotel, with a planned itinerary and all.  I feel like a high school girl bragging about her "best boyfriend ever!"  But brag I will.  The highlight of the birthday was being able to check off one more item from my TTBID (things to do before I die) list that I created when I was in the 8th grade -- "ride in a hot air balloon."  It was amazing for me to be up in the air but not in a stuffy airplane, to be an adventurer but not have to bungie jump from anything scary, to put my safety into the hands of some balloon hobbiest I didn't even know.  Now I want to ride a balloon in every single state. Kenny may not be so glad he opened this basket of worms.  

     Tuesday the 29th came and carried with it such fanfare - an egg and bacon breakfast brought to my room (while I rushed around getting ready for work), a small get-together over my favorite mexican food and margaritas, wonderful friends and their considerate gifts, and kind words that made me cry; I was overwhelmed.  I was so deflated when the clock struck midnight, and that day was over.  Now, I'm just 40 and the anticipation is gone.  T h i s   i s   i t.  This is what it looks like.  I've arrived.  (Though my 50 and 60-year-old friends would say I'm still a young chicken.)  Now I get to see how the other side of the hill looks.  I'm hoping for green pastures, long walks as opposed to tumbling and falling,  and sunsets that slowly fall off the horizon in a splash of pinks and oranges and reds.  Yes, that's it. Oh, and lots of hot air balloons.  That's my kind of hill. That's my 40. 

Post balloon ride - followed by a champagne toast, a Balloon certificate, and a kiss

Fall Into Reading

         It's the most simple display I've done yet, but love it.  And I loved the chill of the afternoon as I walked to my car and drove down the highway with my windows down.  We may not have leaves that change colors down here in south Texas, but I think we appreciate an autumn breeze more than anyone else. It makes me downright giddy.

          Thank you Lord for taking the high of 90 degrees and changing it to a high of 75.
We won't take it for granted.

Goodbye Perfect Attendance

             Last week was the kind of week not unusual to your basic family who has children who attend schools full of kids with germs and viruses and runny noses.  They got sick - but not just one, but two days later, another kid fell prey to the sickness and then two days later Kenny and I suffered a bit and then finally, the last of the family of five, and the messiest, got sick all over the van floor and carseat and herself.  This may not be strange to most, I mean people get sick.  But not us.  Not ALL of us.  It has never happened this way.  We're a healthy crew. That's why I say with great sadness that already, just two months into school all three kids have lost any chance at Perfect Attendance.  I know you're thinking, "Really?" But yeah, for a long time the chance at that coveted award sent Elijah in a tailspin on mornings when he thought we'd be late to school.  But times have changed, and school awards have lost their lustre, and my kids don't seem too worried about that fact.  Actually, they all loved getting to stay home from school since their "being sick" only lasted an hour and then it was TV and video games.   Thanks to the school's 24-hour rule Kenny had the pleasure of keeping each kid, each on a different day.  Such a champ he is - taking the heat - all so I can keep up the Ward tradition, go to work and attempt that perfect attendance.

Too Tired Friday

A long, long day after two hours of sleep - - check

Book Fair frenzy come to an end + clean up = home at 6pm - - check

A crying Jackson Intermediate student who yells at me when I call his mom - - check

Two sick kids home from school, one on Wednesday (Elijah), one on Friday (Lydia) - - check

One kid with a lacerated gum/lip (Lanie) after running into a boy during gym class - - check

A guilty heart that I didn't hear the phone ring when the school called about earlier lacerated lip and inconsolable crying child - - check

A Friday family movie at the cheap theatre, "Cloud with a Chance of Meatballs, 2" while previously sick kids and lacerated lip girl eat Luncheables, always a healthy dinner choice - - check

A rock in the van tire, flattened, after coming out of the movie - - check

Three kids who fall asleep quickly  - - check

A good book waiting for me - - check

Thank you Friday, you're lovely, but it's time to put you to bed.

Dear Kerri,

July 2008 - the day you left (& me very, very pregnant)

        So you wrote me over two weeks ago.  I was so excited to get an email from you.  It's been so long.  And you had so much to tell me.  You love your new house in Michigan.  I can't wait to see pictures. Abby and Jack are so old, so smart, so active.  You finally have that land for Matt to hunt on.  You're in the country and life moves slower for you.  And you seem so happy.
             And I am so pleased for you. I know you've lived in a cramp space for some time. No one deserves this new living more than you.

I've wanted to write you back but it seems like every time I thought about it, I wasn't at a computer and there's no way I could write a long email via phone.  I needed all my typing fingers for this.  I got your email right about the time when my life was so positively opposite of yours that I had to step back and compare.  And wonder what the heck we are doing rushing.  Wonder why I started a full time job and at the same time signed the kids up for activities that require us driving them somewhere every night of the week.  I treasure any week night we have together as a whole family and I long for weekends when we just sleep in and hang out.

Please don't misunderstand - I love what I'm doing.  After working and volunteering at Lutheran South where I'm guessing most students have what they need and maybe some more, I am working with kids who don't.  Kids whose bed is the living room couch, who depend on the free breakfast served at school, who tell me they've been saving up their money for the book fair all month and have  $10 to spend. And speaking of the Book Fair.  I've put my heart and soul into setting this one up.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  It's a one woman show. At Lutheran South, we had the luxury of 15 or more moms who sign up to help.  In our school, it's just me and some awesome 8th grade helpers.  How blessed I am to have those kids.
And a plus for my drive to work - I get to see some beautiful sunrises -- it almost erases the agony of the 30 minute drive. Almost.

So why am I returning your email and adding it to my blog?   I agree it's kind of weird. But, it just seems like the right thing to do.  So much has been happening with everyone this fall, so I might as well catch you and everyone else up.  It's been a good solid month since I've even clicked open the blog so I think it's time, though I hope not to sound like a Christmas card letter.

 Kenny is a super star who gets the kids ready in the morning and gets them to school and has an intricate car pool system set up for pick up.  He's busy working on, well work things I don't quite understand, and he's helping coach Elijah's flag football team. Oh and he's running most mornings to prepare for the Houston 1/2 marathon.

Elijah is in 4th grade - and for the first time ever tells me he has too much homework and doesn't like
school.  He still gets all his work done either at school or on the long drive home, but he's moved into the category of kid who dreads waking up in the morning.  He's playing flag football this year but has already told us he's not playing in high school because it's not "his sport."

Lydia is Lydia.  Easygoing.  Sensitive.  Enjoys school enough - 2nd grade.  Two of her friends from last year are not at LSA anymore so that makes her sad, but she seems to make friends easily.  She's dancing again this year, and for the first time is in Girl Scouts (sigh of relief from my Girl Scout loving mom :-)) and she loves to be in the kids choir at church.

Lanie is in Kinder.  She tells me how much she misses her days at home with me like last year.  And I miss them too.  Out of all three, she's having the hardest time transitioning with me working.  I feel bad leaving in the morning because she hangs on me, but Kenny says after I leave she's just fine.  Just a show. It's funny though, both girls have drawn pictures lately and the mom is always walking to work.  I don't know to like or dislike that image, but since last year Lydia though all I did was sweep the kitchen floor, it's a nice change.  Lanie is also dancing, in choir, plays in the kids bell choir, and on the fence about joining Girl Scouts.

I am suffering from some serious hip/leg/knee/foot issues that I'll be looking at soon.  I think it has everything to do with driving - being in the sitting position for 30 minutes every morning and every afternoon.  My super Google searches lead me to a piriformis syndrome. Just look it up.
This too shall pass, I'm sure.

I wish we could visit.  I would love nothing more than a cold, snowy Michigan trip.  We will make it happen one of these years.  Can you believe you've been gone from Houston for 5 years?  It doesn't seem that long, it's going so very fast.
And I feel like we could step right back to where we left off.

I'll stop writing to Kerri now, and get back to blogging.

Sorry to those readers (mom) who've been awaiting a new entry for almost a month.  Things just got a little crazy and writing tends to be the last on the long list.  But please know the Ward family is good.  We're busy, but we're good, and loving every moment.  Okay, that's sappy, we may not love every moment - kids fighting, driving a tempermental truck, complaining kids, homework, getting to sleep at midnight only to wake up at 5am, but we are laughing through every moment - and that's good.