So there were two fairly significant life events this week, and (as was my fear when starting this blog) I did not have time to post about them (Like Vivi darling, "Who has time to write a memoir? I'm still LIVING my memoir.") But to the point--2 events:
1. Chad and I celebrated our nine year wedding anniversary. I posted the quote from our church program on Facebook ("If you live to be 100, I want to live to be 100 minus one day--because then I'll never have to live a day without you." Winnie the Pooh) and was showered with memories and comments about the fated day--February 24, 2001. I also posted a photo of us, laughing and drinking beer in our wedding finery, and was struck by, like they always say--how thin and young we looked. Even though it seems like it could have been yesterday, we've crammed a lot of living into 9 short years. On my card to Chad, I noted some of our stats:
4 beautiful babies, 5 houses, 2 apartments, 1 dog, 9 cars. Chad commented that the next nine years will probably seem boring by comparison. To be sure--we have been very very busy. I have never really doubted my decision to marry this man, and though we find it hard to like each other every minute of every day, I am optimistic that our love will stand the test of time. I would choose him all over again and I'm grateful for the life we've built. I read once that the older we get, the more we need people who knew us when we were young. You only get to fall in love for the first time once. I'm glad my first love, my only love, is living by my side day by day. Here's to the next 90!
2. The second major life event this week was the birth of my new nephew--JohnPaul Giles Markham on February 23. JohnPaul is the second child and first son for my younger brother Brad and his lovely wife Laura. JP evens out the Markham grandkids at 4 girls and 4 boys (my 3 girls and one boy, Carrie's two boys, now Brad's matched pair). We are a big, boisterous group when we all come together, and our noisy, full families are a great source of strength and joy for me. We got to meet JohnPaul on Thursday night. I was a little shocked to rediscover (more on this in a later post, I'm sure) that my insatiable baby itch may, in fact, be sated. I watched the Queen toddle around (yes, more on that later, too), smiling her huge, endearing grin and snuggled someone else's baby without the least hint of longing. He is a healthy, handsome little fellow and I am anxious to get to know him better over the next weeks and months. Welcome to the family, little man.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Blessed
Tonight, we celebrated the birthdays of our only son (6 on the 14th) and the queen (1 on the 18th). Both sets of grandparents, 3 uncles, 3 aunts (one recently adopted), 4 cousins (one not quite born yet--but soon) filled our guest list and our home. Having lived away from my hometown for nearly a decade, there are times, even now having been back for 5 years, when such an informal, uneventful event fills me with happiness.
I grew up this way--surrounded by a large, loving network of aunties and uncles and grandparents and cousins. The kind of growing up where it was no surprise to look out at a school play or game and see a smattering of random family members, to run into a relative at the grocery store, to attend family events where it takes 3-6 grown women 3 days to prepare enough food for. When our first two little ducks were born, we lived 3 hours away and birthdays were a quiet affair (at least until we could get home on the weekend to celebrate properly). This morning, I cooked 5 pounds of sloppy joes, made 4 dips, made a Sam's Club run and stocked up on chips, beer and wine.
Tonight, our carefully swept and vacuumed floor is littered with crushed potato chips, shreds of wrapping paper, and nerf bullets. The queen's hair is crusted with frosting. My kitchen table is covered with 2 new lego creations, a baby book, and darling homemade hairbows. I'm sipping one last glass of wine while the kids watch Disney channel in their jammies.
I'm exactly where I've always wanted to be. I'm not sophisticated or rich, famous or important. But, thanks to the good Lord, a good man, and a lot of good luck, I'm surrounded by love. Happy Birthday little ducks. My cup overflows.
I grew up this way--surrounded by a large, loving network of aunties and uncles and grandparents and cousins. The kind of growing up where it was no surprise to look out at a school play or game and see a smattering of random family members, to run into a relative at the grocery store, to attend family events where it takes 3-6 grown women 3 days to prepare enough food for. When our first two little ducks were born, we lived 3 hours away and birthdays were a quiet affair (at least until we could get home on the weekend to celebrate properly). This morning, I cooked 5 pounds of sloppy joes, made 4 dips, made a Sam's Club run and stocked up on chips, beer and wine.
Tonight, our carefully swept and vacuumed floor is littered with crushed potato chips, shreds of wrapping paper, and nerf bullets. The queen's hair is crusted with frosting. My kitchen table is covered with 2 new lego creations, a baby book, and darling homemade hairbows. I'm sipping one last glass of wine while the kids watch Disney channel in their jammies.
I'm exactly where I've always wanted to be. I'm not sophisticated or rich, famous or important. But, thanks to the good Lord, a good man, and a lot of good luck, I'm surrounded by love. Happy Birthday little ducks. My cup overflows.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sweet teeth
2 lessons I know, have learned at least 5000 times in my adult life, and yet, like the crazy person I am I violate again and again:
1. Do not go to the grocery store first thing in the morning on an empty stomach.
2. Never, under any circumstances, is the purchase of not one, but TWO bags of mint oreos ever advisable, acceptable, or justified. Not if I have 10 more kids. Not if I am hosting a party for hundreds minutes after my return from the store and this is the one item I have promised my guests. Not if it is the end of the world and it is absolutely the only item left on the store shelves. Never.
Three things I know about myself, whether I am in the mood to admit to them or not:
1. I have no will power when it comes to sweets. My sweet tooth is legendary and insatiable. And once I start, look out. My husband and mother-in-law share my weakness. My MIL once used my now favorite phrase in reference to being alone in the house with a pan of brownies: "I can't have it here. I will sliver it to death". My beloved hubby doesn't even bother with the slivers. He just puts a fork in the pan and leaves it there. No kidding.
2. Every diet I have ever tried has fallen to the sweet siren of chocolate. Were it not for my health conscious and unyielding mother in the first third of my life, my sports and work outs in the middle third of my life, and breastfeeding in the most recent third of my life, I would certainly weigh 300+ pounds.
3. My poor children have no chance in the world when it comes to sugar. Every one of the hard earned teeth in every one of their sweet little mouths screams for the joy of sugar. For that reason, I try not to keep too much around. Except when--to bring this post full circle--I go to the grocery store first thing in the morning on an empty stomach.
At very least in this houseful of sweet teeth, I know even 2 bags of oreos won't last long. 14 hours, 1 1/2 bags down. And look how happy it makes the queen (see how easy I can justify?)...
Friday, February 19, 2010
Resolved
Around January 5 of this year (not to be just TOO trite), my husband and I engaged in our annual (and, yeah, kinda conventionally annoying) process of creating our New Year's Resolutions. The list contained the usual (lose that last 15 pounds of baby weight, be on time, spend less money, floss) and some new ones (get more flexible!, pray with the kids more). The one that has been rolling around in my head the most, however, is the one I am at long last beginning tonight--start a blog and blog at least once a week.
Since that time, I have penned dozens of posts--all of them witty and insightful and full of my unique blend of humor and practical wisdom. Each of them has contained some measure of the information and history I want to document for my 4 little darlings--the little daily happenings that make up our life together. The trouble, of course, is that all of these posts have all been in my head.
So, rather than wait another minute (or at least to make the most of the next few while my Disneyworld pictures upload to the printer), I begin.
First, a little about me. I am a thirty something, full time working mother of 4--3 girls, one boy. I am married to the love of my life who drives me crazy as often as he fills my heart to the brim. I am living and working in my hometown and my parents and brothers (whom I adore) all live within a 2 mile radius. My sister is my best friend and daily confidante who went and found her soulmate in and settled down in Houston, Texas. Family is my life. To support this life, I work in Supply Management at a huge multi national manufacturer of construction equipment. My husband and I own a small historic millwork business (windows, doors) which he manages. My life is crazy busy, full to the bursting, and I love it.
I majored in English and Rhetoric in college and after the birth of my fourth (and likely last) baby last February, I vowed to rediscover and reinitiate the activities that made me me before babies. After much soul searching (at least that available to me in my daily 12 minute commute to work), I decided that I needed to do 2 things:
1. Write
2. Work Out (flabby former athlete that I am)
7 weeks later, I have taken the first step.
As I mentioned, this blog has been on my mind a lot. I gave a lot of thought to the title of my blog, and since I couldn't come up with anything all that clever, I settled for Mama Duck. Allow me to explain.
First and foremost, "Ducky" has been a nickname of mine since high school. In a nod to the famed "Long Duck Dong" of 16 candles fame (Is that the right one? At any rate, the Molly Ringwald movie from the mid-80s), a classmate once dubbed me, in reference to my gangly height (nearly 6 feet tall)--"Long Duck Dawn". The name stuck, and "Ducky" I was for some time. My parents even owned a small ice cream store for a number of years which they called "Ducky's Sweets" in honor of each of our nicknames (yes, my big-hearted sister was dubbed "Sweets" by her high school friends!)
Consequently, I often encourage my little ones (ages 7, 6, 3 and 1) to follow me with the words "C'mon little ducks" (when I'm not using the also oft-used, "Hurry UP WE ARE LATE *expletive deleted*" refererence resolution number 2 above). Seriously though, I love the idea of the proud Mama Duck waddling along with her sweet,fuzzy little babies trotting obediently behind her. Nevermind that my first duck would be staring off into space and wandering off in her own direction, the second two would be attempting to destroy one another feather by feather, and the fourth would be attempting to climb onto my back and latch herself firmly around my neck. Still, the image is beautiful.
I also like the saying "Move like a duck--gliding smoothly on the surface and paddling like hell underneath." I'm sure my frantic paddling pace is often evident from the surface, but in general I'd like to think I maintain the appearance of keeping it all together.
For these three reasons, I chose "Mama Duck" as my identity. As I begin this blogging adventure, I am happy and excited (and a little relieved to finally silence that nagging little voice in my head). Writing was a big part of me from the time I was small. Immersed as I've been, in babies and career and just the demands of daily life, I've lost that piece of my identity and I am happy to be reclaiming it. I don't know how often I can commit to posting--4 little ones, a full time job, a happy marriage, a busy calendar--none of these point to the kind of "margin" in my life that will allow me to indulge in this passion all that often. But I will try. I think it will be therapeutic for me to babble on about my trials and tribulations and triumphs. And, since I've never been much of a scrapbooker (sorry little ducks!) maybe it will leave my kids with some documentation of our history together in a way that will also help me reclaim a part of me that I know I have been missing. Here's to the trying!
Since that time, I have penned dozens of posts--all of them witty and insightful and full of my unique blend of humor and practical wisdom. Each of them has contained some measure of the information and history I want to document for my 4 little darlings--the little daily happenings that make up our life together. The trouble, of course, is that all of these posts have all been in my head.
So, rather than wait another minute (or at least to make the most of the next few while my Disneyworld pictures upload to the printer), I begin.
First, a little about me. I am a thirty something, full time working mother of 4--3 girls, one boy. I am married to the love of my life who drives me crazy as often as he fills my heart to the brim. I am living and working in my hometown and my parents and brothers (whom I adore) all live within a 2 mile radius. My sister is my best friend and daily confidante who went and found her soulmate in and settled down in Houston, Texas. Family is my life. To support this life, I work in Supply Management at a huge multi national manufacturer of construction equipment. My husband and I own a small historic millwork business (windows, doors) which he manages. My life is crazy busy, full to the bursting, and I love it.
I majored in English and Rhetoric in college and after the birth of my fourth (and likely last) baby last February, I vowed to rediscover and reinitiate the activities that made me me before babies. After much soul searching (at least that available to me in my daily 12 minute commute to work), I decided that I needed to do 2 things:
1. Write
2. Work Out (flabby former athlete that I am)
7 weeks later, I have taken the first step.
As I mentioned, this blog has been on my mind a lot. I gave a lot of thought to the title of my blog, and since I couldn't come up with anything all that clever, I settled for Mama Duck. Allow me to explain.
First and foremost, "Ducky" has been a nickname of mine since high school. In a nod to the famed "Long Duck Dong" of 16 candles fame (Is that the right one? At any rate, the Molly Ringwald movie from the mid-80s), a classmate once dubbed me, in reference to my gangly height (nearly 6 feet tall)--"Long Duck Dawn". The name stuck, and "Ducky" I was for some time. My parents even owned a small ice cream store for a number of years which they called "Ducky's Sweets" in honor of each of our nicknames (yes, my big-hearted sister was dubbed "Sweets" by her high school friends!)
Consequently, I often encourage my little ones (ages 7, 6, 3 and 1) to follow me with the words "C'mon little ducks" (when I'm not using the also oft-used, "Hurry UP WE ARE LATE *expletive deleted*" refererence resolution number 2 above). Seriously though, I love the idea of the proud Mama Duck waddling along with her sweet,fuzzy little babies trotting obediently behind her. Nevermind that my first duck would be staring off into space and wandering off in her own direction, the second two would be attempting to destroy one another feather by feather, and the fourth would be attempting to climb onto my back and latch herself firmly around my neck. Still, the image is beautiful.
I also like the saying "Move like a duck--gliding smoothly on the surface and paddling like hell underneath." I'm sure my frantic paddling pace is often evident from the surface, but in general I'd like to think I maintain the appearance of keeping it all together.
For these three reasons, I chose "Mama Duck" as my identity. As I begin this blogging adventure, I am happy and excited (and a little relieved to finally silence that nagging little voice in my head). Writing was a big part of me from the time I was small. Immersed as I've been, in babies and career and just the demands of daily life, I've lost that piece of my identity and I am happy to be reclaiming it. I don't know how often I can commit to posting--4 little ones, a full time job, a happy marriage, a busy calendar--none of these point to the kind of "margin" in my life that will allow me to indulge in this passion all that often. But I will try. I think it will be therapeutic for me to babble on about my trials and tribulations and triumphs. And, since I've never been much of a scrapbooker (sorry little ducks!) maybe it will leave my kids with some documentation of our history together in a way that will also help me reclaim a part of me that I know I have been missing. Here's to the trying!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)