As I type this, Vann is putting Charlie down for the third time.  You know you have an issue when your older child starts feeling like more “work” than your younger child – because you know, a little person who can get her own milk and go to the potty by herself should have more independence than your baby still in diapers.  Or so you would think. I love Charlie SO much.  She is a hilarious child; full of questions, spunk, and imagination.  But man, she is in a super-needy phase right now and I think she and I might benefit from a little break from each other.  I find that I yell more than I have in the past.  And when your 3 year old starts stomping around huffing and puffing in exasperation you figure she probably didn’t get it from Mickey Mouse.  Newsflash: I’m not too great at hiding my frustration.  Yeah, I know – you’re shocked. My city mom friends would tell the funniest stories about their 3-4 year olds when I had my one baby and that phase seemed forever away.  “Does she ever.stop.talking???” was a  common complaint.  Well, I can tell you, I get it now.  Case in point – This week we rented “Finding Nemo” from the library.  ALL DAY LONG Charlie was assigning names to Ella and me: C: “No, Mommy, her name isn’t Baby Ewa it’s Nemo.” C: “Mommy, what is my name again?” Me: “Uh, Marlon.” C: “Mommy, what is your name again?” Me: “Uh, Dorrie.” C: “Mommy, Nemo’s going down the potty, we have to save him.” and the usual fare: C: “Mommy, I need a snaaaaack.” C: “Mommy, I’m going to work.” C: “Mommy, do you live here?” And so it goes.  And so I say about my loveable little chica: “Does.she.ever.stop.talking???”

I’m feeling inspired today. It’s great having creative friends, isn’t it??  Really, the kind that are so talented and gifted at something that you just can’t believe it? I thought I might share a few of my favorite blogs… Tracy from Sellabit Mum is a true inspiration to me.  She’s a mom of 3 girls and she gives it to you straight.  No BS, no faking it, no trying to make everything look perfect.  And yet her girls are sweet and gentle and truly good kids.  I love that she blogs about the struggles of motherhood – and of course the fantastic things too – she’s real.  My new(ish) friend Michelle has a blog called the Blah Blah Blah blog.  She is so cute.  And her house is too.  She just has that “touch”, you know?  Everything she does/writes about is magic.  My sweet friend Haley’s sister Caitlin has a wonderful blog that I just started reading and am so captivated by.  It’s called Roost.  Check it out! So speaking of creativity, I long for it in my own life.  This blog, what started out as a way to share pictures of the girls with family has really become everything to me.  Ask Vann – I am often worried that no comments equals my words out there in the blogosphere going unread.  And yet I know that I read a ton of blogs and only comment once in awhile.  But a little of this whole blogging thing is wanting approval, yes?  At least, I think so, if we are being honest with ourselves. Can I admit something to you, in this safe place I call home?  I miss the applause.  I miss hearing the praises of my work onstage.  I miss the feeling of contributing something, of being someone else, studying life…being told that I’m really good at something.  Back in the day, I was good.  Really good.  And yet, somewhere it slipped through my fingers like water.  And now that I feel like my passion for writing has been renewed through this blog, I just wish I knew the big picture.  I wish I knew what God has in store for me, for my life.  I want to feel like I’m using my gifts and talents to their fullest.  That I’m making an impact, saying something, doing it all.  I’m creating a blog for my MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group this summer.  I’ve never done anything like that before.  I’m a little scared but excited.  And of course, I’m a mom and keeping two little people alive everyday.  It’s a full-time job and I love it but I need something for me.  I have to have something for me.  So I pray for peace.  I pray that God has the perfect place (be it the stage or something else entirely) for me to express who I am: as a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend.  I pray for that acknowledgement.  I pray that at the end of a long day, after the girls are tucked in and the house is picked up and the sun is setting…I am not forgotten in the hustle and bustle of life.  That God doesn’t forget about me and the desires of my heart.

Yup.  I screwed up.  All Vann wanted for Father’s Day was to sleep in.  No taking anyone to the potty, no leading girlies back to their beds, none of those fun nighttime rituals.  I had all these plans to get the ankle biters out of his hair: a walk bright and early, before it gets hot?  a trip to the donut store?  daddy waking to both Charlie and I covered in batter, baking him a Pillsbury Funfetti cake in the kitchen? Sadly, none of these things occurred because after I got up with Charlie at 6 for the standard pottydaddymommywillyouturnthetvonformeupstairs conversation, I apparently went back to bed and entered a coma-like state.  The next thing I know, it’s 8:30, Vann is doing the breakfast routine, I’m still in bed, and I have no time to get ready for church (as his other request was “going to church as a family”).  Fantastic. I’m really not sure what I did to deserve a man so giving and loving and willing to sacrifice his Father’s Day morning so that I can sleep in.  Vann and I have a pretty harmonious marriage.  But this past 18 months has been the hardest time in our relationship, and I know he goes unrecognized for all of the juggling he does in our family life.  The truth is that I couldn’t have asked for more in a husband.  God blessed me with a man who is kind, generous, selfless, and wicked smart.  Some of my favorite times with my hubby are when we are watching something on TV and he explains things to me in “layman’s terms” and we end up having these amazing conversations, about politics, and history, and life.  He is respected in his job and is notoriously a “people person” – which pretty much means that everybody loves him.   He has dreams for his family and for his girls, is fiercely protective, and has never micro-managed me or my need for time to myself or with girlfriends.  I have an amazing Dad who always puts his family first – even though I am 33 he makes sure I have good tires on my car.  He climbs up into the attic of our house in the middle of the Texas summer to check our a/c unit.  He fusses over my girls and has the answer to EVERYTHING. My Dad has lived a wild life (he was an Olympian in the 1988 Calgary games and has had lunch with Prince Albert at the palace in Monaco – just to name a couple examples), and sometimes I’m sure he is an intimidating pair of shoes to fill.  But Vann is well on his way to being the kind of father to our girls that my Dad has been to me.  And even if they don’t know it at 10, or 15, or even 25, they will – when they become mothers and get married and enter their 30’s – they will “get” it, and love him more than they ever thought possible. So honey, I’m sorry you didn’t get the morning you were hoping for.  I will try to do better next time.  Until then, know that we love you and can’t live without you. Happy Father’s Day.

So last Christmas Vann and I were at Costco and happened upon the complete series (including both movies – good and bad) of “Sex and the City”.  Of course, we had to pick it up.  Now, Courtney (my dear roomie from my first few years in Chicago) and I didn’t have HBO back in the day – so we had to meet at Tavern 33 on Lincoln Ave. to watch the show every Sunday night – back when SJP was at the height of her popularity (although I will always love her) and every single girl in the city drank Cosmopolitans.  I mean, we all had our Mr. Big’s, didn’t we?  Our Aidan’s, our Harry’s, our Steve’s?  I know I did. It never grows old.  Tonight we were watching Season 2 – when Carrie and Big get back together for the second time and he still can’t commit, yada yada yada.  Oh, the sheer reality of it all!  What it really made me wistful for was the City itself.  Getting dressed up, nights out on the town, cabs, 2 am, too much wine and a little bit of boozy kissing – let’s be honest, you know you’ve been THERE – and all.the.butterflies. So why does all of that change after you have babies?  I don’t mean it changes forEVER – like it never happens – because of course we still have date nights – but it’s just not the same, you know.  Where Vann and I are now, we hope and pray we make it till 6 am before a certain 3 year old is crying by the side of the bed complaining that her “covers are all twisted up” or the classic “I can’t find Ducky!”.  Bleary-eyed, one of us (usually Vann) leads her back upstairs to her bed.  It’s easy to romanticize the pre-kiddo days, isn’t it??  Funny how when I was on those dates with Vann all I wanted was for him to utter the words “future” or “we should do that this Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year’s”, you know, any sign of a commitment.  And now?  Commitment is what we got.  Ironic, no?? Ah, the grass is always greener, isn’t it?  I wonder sometimes if my sweet hubby wishes I put makeup on more than once a week, for church on Sunday.  I wonder if he wishes I kept a cleaner house.  I wonder if he thinks he might like to see me in something other than workout clothes. Oh, honey.  You really are the best.  The most fantastic partner, friend, father, husband.  I love you and hope you know how much your girls adore you. Here’s to more fantastic city-like date nights in our future.

This weekend marks a very bittersweet anniversary.  On this day a year ago, our apartment was totally boxed up and ready to load.  The girls were safely in Texas already, and Vann and I were saying our last goodbyes to the city that was our home and the birthplace of our family.  I will never, ever forget that feeling – a year from this coming Sunday I stood in our alley and kissed my hubby goodbye and watched he and his Dad drive away, two 16 foot trucks filled with our worldly possessions.  I said thank you to our motley crew of sweet men who came to help us, fighting to hold back the tears but ultimately losing it in front of them, causing lots of shuffling feet and sidehugs.  I sobbed as I made my way up the back porch into our empty apartment – this precious home where we walked through so much happiness and so much struggle.  I stayed back for the weekend to clean and hand in our keys. I just re-read this post about our old home and man, I am in tears once again.  A whole year has passed in the blink of an eye and yet it still feels like it happened just yesterday. I watched Oprah’s finale last night, and one thing she said really resonated with my heart: "I’ve talked to nearly 30,000 people on this show, and all 30,000 had one thing in common: They all wanted validation. If I could reach through this television and sit on your sofa or sit on a stool in your kitchen right now, I would tell you that every single person you will ever meet shares that common desire. They want to know: ‘Do you see me? Do you hear me? Does what I say mean anything to you?” I felt like God knocked me upside the head.  I’m laying in bed with Vann next to me asleep, and I’m crying, and in my mind I’m screaming, “Oh Thank the Lord it’s not just me!” A year ago one journey was ending and a new one was beginning.  We left the safe place, we knew the rules, we knew how to play the game, in Chicago. I admit, I don’t know how to play the game yet here in our new life.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t learn.  And I know that God is always here, waiting for me to be still…and listen.