family

Winter Sunshine

Winter is tough sometimes, ya know? The gloomy, grey days that turn into dark nights at 5 pm from the early winter sunsets. Wake up to dark, leave for work in the dark, come home to dark. We feel like we are living in this constant cycle of blah.

For us, we have this yard that seems unusable in the winter. We look out to ugly colors of green and brown on the ground. When we get out of our cars we hustle to walk up the path to escape the cold. I’m sure for others you pull into your garage, shut the garage door behind you to keep out the cold, and sneak inside to warm up under a blanket. We all long for the sunshine. Not only for the warmth in the air but the stability that comes with the sun.

Sometimes I catch myself falling into that blah cycle of winter. We can’t go outside as often. We don’t see our people as often. We can’t share our porch and daily stories with our favorites. Work stress seems constant.

It’s been a tough year. Social distancing, unexpected loss, heartache, sickness, new “normals” (that I’m fairly certain I’m over). A tough year for everyone in all sorts of ways.

Then…this week at bedtime Brantley told me I’m the best mom ever. And every time I crawl out of his bed Brooks squeezes my face before he kisses me goodnight, and says “I love you my big momma.” I mean, I’d rather not be referred to as big momma, but I’ll take it. Both boys help bring the groceries in and hold the door open for me to walk into the house when my hands are full…without being asked and void of complaint. If I get pinned in a family wrestling match, they free themselves to jump on Sam and give him the ‘ol ground and pound or pretty effective knee slam so I can wiggle out. They argue over who gets to place what out when setting the table for dinner. They hug and tell each other good morning when they wake up (somedays this sweetness only lasts seconds before the not so nice sibling love comes out). Everyday they are pumped to show me what they did at school and daycare or tell me about their day.

…and this, my friends, is exactly the sunshine that will get us through these long winter days. The days where this old yellow farmhouse gets more love and footprints than the land it’s surrounded by. When the real sunshine finally decides to grace us with her presence we will blanket ourselves in all that vitamin D she’s givin’ out and refill our cups once again.

Until then..these young gentlemen, who so kindly love us on all the long winter days, will keep throwing out their sunshine and we are going to soak.it.up. I hope you can find your own winter sunshine, too.☀️

Even Crazy Dreams Come True

When we got married my sister in law made me a book of letters written from so many important people in my life. I recently read them all through tear filled eyes and today I’m reminded of the words of one of my bridesmaids & college roommates.

The letters were full of memories and laughs and marriage advice. In her letter my roommate wrote, “marriage is what you make it”. See, she and I spent countless college hours on our couch pondering life and all it’s wonders. She was married a couple years before we were and knew these words were exactly what she needed me to hear. Years later, she’s definitely not wrong. (Thanks, Ky!) Marriage, life, all the things, are exactly what we make it.

Before we bought this house Sam and I spent an endless amount of nights on our back porch coming up with all the pros and cons of being here. One night we’d have great ideas and the next we’d talk ourselves out of everything we dreamed of the night before. We even made a list on an old cardboard box that sat in our garage. We walked past that list twice a day, every day, for two years. Sam’s level-minded self saw expenses of owning an old home and what ifs. I saw crazy ideas and babies running barefoot.

The only thing that made me nervous was if the farm would ever feel like ours. Would my family feel just as safe and welcome here as Sam’s family has always felt? Would it be ok if I changed paint colors? What if we decided to change the way something has always been done?

This weekend my family came over to celebrate life since quarantine and simply be together. The pool was filled with kids, and adults, and now has less water from a cannon ball contest. We played a pretty intense all-in family game of wiffle ball. We sat in a circle of chairs in the yard for dinner and when it got late we moved the circle to the campfire for s’mores.

In 10 short months of living here we have done all of the things I was afraid of doing. Sam has painted almost every wall in this house. The porch is never as clean as it was when we used to visit. Our care-taking of the pool isn’t quite up to par, yet. We’ve made a mess of the yard after a long night at the fire. My family has come over to visit and felt just as welcome at this little house on the prarie as Sam’s side of the family felt the next day when they came over. Friends and their tiny babes have come over to play and slipped right into place. I’ve sat on the porch on slow mornings and had glimpses of talking with Sam’s grandpa and imagined the boys walking through the garden with mine. My grandma has told me multiple times, with a smile on her face, that she can’t believe I live on a farm. Life in this house is different than it was a year ago but in so many ways I’d like to think it is the exact same as it’s always been.

This morning as I sit here on the porch listening to the ducks, and the birds, and the slow traffic far away I’m remembering my college roommate and know that our life is exactly what we’ve made it; pretty dang grand. This old yellow farmhouse, and all the endless amount of work included, is a perfectly imperfect dream I don’t ever want to wake up from. ❤️

Cheers to the Dads & Grandpas

Sitting at my grandpa’s funeral, a devastated 17 year old, I remember listening to my dad give a speech about his life. A part of that speech was a story I’d forgotten about until today.

When my dad was young he enjoyed himself a good ol’ mayonnaise and cheese sandwich (gross, I agree). One evening he wanted his mayo and cheese snack. My grandma told him no, blaming a broken mayonnaise jar. In my dad’s kindergarten eyes this was no problem, my grandpa would fix it. This time the jar was, in-fact, unfixable. At my grandpa’s funeral my dad explained that was the last time his dad was unable to fix his problems.

As we were getting ready for bed tonight I heard something drop on the floor. I looked over and saw it was Brantley’s favorite seashell. This dang shell has been sitting on the counter for three months. I’ve tried to move it, hide it, put it away, and that thing keeps making its way back to the counter. I looked at the shell, I looked at Sam who gave me the not good look, and waited for Brantley to realize what happened.

Brantley slid off the chair and fell into my lap in tears. That story about my grandpa popped right into my mind as I was trying to console a four year old over a broken seashell given to him by his Memaw. I thought of my dad fixing our problems because he had a dad who fixed his. To me a broken seashell was no big deal. To little boys a broken shell and a mayonnaise jar meant so much more.

Just then I heard Sam assure Brantley we could fix the shell (and I was hoping super glue would magically appear). I found some glue, I put Brooks to bed, and came downstairs to a little white seashell resting on a paper towel waiting for glue to dry. That four year old? Content on the floor playing because dad fixed his problem..again.

I flashed forward to years ahead where we will be consoling him over missed shots, broken hearts, and every other thing I am not ready for. I thought of my own parents and the times they held me telling me everything would be ok..even if they weren’t quite sure how that would happen. Because that’s what we do as parents– hope and pray we can find the answers.

Today I am thankful for the dads and grandpas who can fix the seashells and all the problems. The dads who find the glue and stick us back together when needed. The dads who lead by the best example. What a grand reminder on this Father’s Day about the little things really being the biggest. ❤️

Adventures with Baby H- Part 2, My Wish

Warning: This is going to be a sappy, mushy post. Those pregnancy hormones must be kicking in. Also, we have not found out Baby H’s gender yet but for the sake of my sanity, in this post baby is going to be referred to as he.

In the last couple months Sam and I have attended/been part of several milestone events for people in our life. Funerals, weddings, wedding showers, hearing my niece say one of her first words, friends buying a house and I’m sure more I can’t quite remember (thank you pregnancy brain). I have found myself fighting back tears at many of these events. It’s quite an amazing feeling to be growing a human. At Sam’s great aunts funeral I found myself hoping he would live a life as joyful and memorable as her. That there would be people who loved him and wanted to share stories and memories with him. At a wedding we went to last night I couldn’t hold back the tears when I looked at Sam, tears rolling down, during the mother/son dance and said “I’m going to have to do this some day.” His response was, “I might have to, too.” Lordy, these are things you (or maybe it was just us) don’t think about when you have the conversation with your significant other about having kids. Of course we have thought about the school events, sporting events, or family outings but literally every single part of our lives is going to have a whole new meaning once baby arrives. And we just simply cannot wait. I hope Baby H has people in his life who will guide him, create adventures with him, teach him a thing or two and just show him how it feels to be one of the luckiest people on Earth.

I hope he understands it’s okay to keep things simple like our grandparents. They have showed us a little hard work will take you a long way. I hope he has the dedication to all things like my dad (Sam, not so secretly, hopes he has the athletic ability of my dad). I hope he has the strength of my mom when life doesn’t go his way. I hope he has the love of the outdoors and the ability to take care of others like Sam’s mom. I hope he has the sense of humor and ability to make people laugh like Sam’s dad. I hope he has the sense of service like my brother. I hope he has the want to make things right like Sam’s brother. I hope he has the ability to cook like his aunt (unless some crazy miracle happens and I suddenly enjoy cooking, he won’t get that from me).

I hope he has people he calls family even though they are not blood related. The people he may start to explain the relationship, “My parent’s best friends of 30 years, daughter’s…” but then just decides to say “My family, you probably won’t get it.” instead because it’s easier.  I hope he has cousins he is excited to  talk to when life shows him new adventures, even though they may be scattered across the country.

I hope he has friends he stands in a circle with at a wedding and belts out songs like Jamey Johnson’s “In Color” and knows he’s not the only one that is singing the words right from the heart. I hope he has friends halfway around the world who share with him what it’s like to be a part of a different culture. I hope he has “small town America” friends that he can go visit after a rough week and enjoy the smell of cow manure and simplicity that being in a town with one or two traffic lights brings. I hope he has the friends he without a doubt knows will have his back at all hours of the day.

I hope he can sit on the patio of his own home on a sunny Sunday morning, throw a rope with his dog, hear the tv going inside the house and have a hard time understanding how he got to be so lucky.

Adventures with Baby H- Part 1

I’m back!!! I took a blogging break from the world for several weeks. I felt the only thing fun/funny and exciting going on in our lives was our news of expecting a Sam/Andrea in October. Since I wasn’t at the point of pregnancy to announce it to the world, I decided to hold off on the blog. Here are our first few weeks as a newly expectant couple. Buckle up, it’s going to be a long one…

Let me start with saying that Sam and I kept this HUGE secret to ourselves for the first 9 weeks. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops..ok maybe just tell our close friends and family…but we decided not to. Sam made a good point- he said “You can only tell your family your having your first baby once. Let’s make it memorable.” We are both the baby of the family, so this totally made sense to us. Our older brothers had hundreds of pictures taken of them as babies and we can only find a few of us, including the professional family Christmas pictures.  Perfect example of youngest child syndrome: for years my family and I would put the Christmas tree up together. Every year, never failed, I would complain about the 10 “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments my brother had and the maybe 3 I had. I’m sure one was even broken. My family had finally heard enough whining and when I was 22 years old they all bought me a “Baby’s First Christmas 1988” ornament. Well played, well played. I think I finally surpassed my brother in the baby ornament department…at the age of 22.

Ok, back on track…I like to think we are fun people. We like to enjoy happy hour on Friday, or a couple drinks with friends during the week, maybe even a little Sunday Fun-day every now and then. Before this experience I didn’t realize how much fun we really are, aka how much we go out. It is real hard to continue to answer the question of why you’re drinking water over, and over and over again. Sam and I came up with a plan, that in our eyes, was nothing short of genius and just had to work. I told everyone I was on some type of antibiotic. Of course everyone’s first question was “What’s it called?” Being able to play the ditzy, I have no idea what’s going on card so well (Let’s be real, I don’t “play” it, I “live” it), I would simply respond with an over-dramatic “Seriously? I don’t know when I wear my clothes backwards. You think I’m going to remember what meds I’m on?” The plan was nothing short of perfection for the first couple weeks. As the weeks went on, I could see the doubt in our friends’ eyes but only a couple times did I have to fend off the “YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!!!” claim.

One night when Sam and I were discussing the baby in the secrecy of our home (since this seemed to be one of the only spots we could talk about it) we started on the topic of names. Sam was throwing out off the wall names and I was shooting them down every time. It took me a while to figure out he was doing it just to get on my nerves. Once I realized that I started to laugh at the name suggestions. I think the next name he suggested was “Tony- perfect for a boy or girl” were his exact words. Disclaimer: I know several Tony/Toni’s…great people…just not the name I would like to name my child. We were still in the first 9 weeks and hadn’t told anyone yet so Tony started to stick, more as a joke. We would be out with friends and family, “Hey babe, how’s Tony?”, “Does Tony want any of my burger?”, “Did Tony like his cupcake?” Not one person ever caught on to Sam talking about Tony even with the scene I made when he would say it loud enough for all to hear. I hope Baby H enjoys this story as much as we have when he/she grows up. 🙂

Now we are ready for our first doctor appointment. Because I hadn’t told anyone at this point, I couldn’t ask anyone how the first appointment went. I was nervous as all get out but Sam was cool as a cucumber. My doctor’s office is a small little place with only a few patient rooms and a rather tiny waiting room. We walked up to the counter and the first thing the receptionist said was “CONGRATULATIONS!!”. Sam and I both looked around thinking “SHH, someone might hear you say that”. When we realized there wasn’t anyone in the office who would know us we relaxed and nicely said thank you. Her first impression of us probably wasn’t the best.  There was another man and woman in the waiting room so Sam and I had to be on our best behavior while we waited. That didn’t last long.

1. The paperwork-There always seems to be at least one question on paperwork at doctor’s offices that I simply do not know the answer to. This time the question was “What is your race?” I know this seems like a simple question but I always, always get confused about the answer they are looking for…white, Caucasian, American, English? I never know. I asked Sam what our race is and he responded with “human”. This was laughing fit #1. Seriously? Could I have just gotten a normal answer? So then he had to go into a story of where he heard this hilarious answer to my question. A guy he used to work with put this on a form at his doctor’s office, they asked him to change it and he refused because he is of the “human race”. Fair enough, you are right, it is rather funny, especially in a quiet waiting room. So thank you, guy he used to work with for the clever response. I responded with white because I could only get human out of Sam. I’m still not sure if this is the correct answer or not.

2. The pee sample- When I turned my paperwork back into the lady at the counter she informed me they were going to need a sample of my urine and to let them know if I had to use the restroom. No problem. I sat back down for a few minutes, then told Sam I needed to use the restroom and got up. Immediately Sam nearly fell out of his chair, thinking this was the time, as he tried to get up and go with me. I laughingly told him I was just going to the restroom, no need for freaking out yet. The ladies at the desk found it rather comical. As we waited and waited Sam decided that he, too, needed to use the restroom. He was a little worried about the fact that maybe he wasn’t allowed to go to the restroom at a girl doctor. The restroom had to be labeled “girls only”. I convinced him it was ok, he just needed to ask the nice lady behind the counter before heading to the back to use the bathroom. To my surprise, as he neared the counter, he held out his hand to the receptionist and said as serious as can be,

“Do you have my cup ready for me?” I knew he was kidding but she must have missed the smirk on his face.

She stuttered over her words a bit as she responded with a “Si..sirrr..sir, we don’t need a sample from you. Only your wife.”

“Oh, ok, great! Do you mind if I use your bathroom then?”

“No, go right ahead.”

It was a good thing I had already went to the bathroom or I would have no doubt made a mess in the waiting room. Laughing fit #2. The receptionist did not enjoy our humor but I do believe she cracked a smile with this one.

3. The labor story- As we waited we looked through some magazines, of course all of them having to do with babies or motherhood. Sam came across an article that reminded him of a family friend’s story of her labor with her first child and a little fecal matter. Sam is eerily similar to the husband in the story which made the story that much funnier to us. No need to relive the entire story here but this is where laughing fit #3 comes into play. We were still in the waiting room though so we knew we had to try to keep our laughter to ourselves. Impossible. Before we knew it, Sam was crying from laughing so hard, I couldn’t breath and accidently let out a snort or sound of some sort (which then made us laugh harder) and I saw the receptionist peer only her eyes over the counter. Her eyes read, “Dang kids having kids again”. Ma’am we really are considered adults by society. Don’t you worry, our baby will be just fine. 🙂

4. The nurse- To the relief of the receptionist, we were finally called back. As the nurse was taking my blood pressure Sam was playing on the scale weighing himself. I gave him the mom talk, “Sam, seriously? Sit down.” The nurse had a bit more of a sense of humor than the receptionist and responded with they never grow up. As she was taking down my numbers she noticed our address and commented that she was our neighbor.

Us- “Oh wow, you live on Lindsey, too?”

“Yes, just up the road from you.”

“Really, what a small world! We are the second house in from the corner. Where do you live?”

“Yes, I know. I’m you’re neighbor. I live right next door to you. On the left if you’re looking at your house.”

Me (because I have never in my life seen Sam straighten up so fast)- “Crazy! Well, hello, neighbor! You’re the first to know. How’s it feel?”

She might have said something in the next few seconds but immediately Sam and I’s minds started racing. All I could think about was the bounce house that we had in our backyard last summer, the mass amounts of cars always at our house, the singing she has to hear when our windows are open, the dog barking, the ghetto lawn tractor Sam insists on driving around, I could go on. We just got lumped into her kids having kids category, too. Turns out she has probably seen worse. We had a nice conversation about our neighborhood, our dog and she left us with another option for a babysitter, her teenage daughter.

We made it through the first appointment with a little more knowledge, a little less anxiety and several new memories to add to the book. Stay tuned for the next set of adventures with Baby H. It’s going to be a fun ride. 🙂