For the longest time I was hung up on the concept of being normal. Being perfect. I would quiz my husband on what was normal when he was a child. What did you do for birthdays? Christmas? Easter? Summer vacation? Allowance?
I thought I would have it all figured out between his childhood and mine. I would take from here, take from there, blend new family traditions that reflect the old. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not. My husband is pretty easy going, so I end up doing whatever I want for chore lists, birthday parties, holidays.
When the kids were younger, he also worked out of town, so our every day routine was different. No sit down for supper every night, mostly we had cereal. Or pizza. Or pancakes. Or whatever the kids would eat that day. We had early mornings when I had class in the morning, and late mornings when I had night classes the day before. We walked everywhere we went because we had to. But we were a bit different having three kids in four years. And the concept of perfect changed. Perfect house, perfect kids, perfect wife and mother became to mean different things.
Then the kids got older, and a new normal was developed. I chose to homeschool. That became our new normal, not everyone else's normal. Then Andy started to entertain more. Which is a very different version of normal as our house filled up with unicycles, magic tricks, doves, machetes, and torches. Non-work hours began to be filed with shows and practice. And rubber chickens.
Soon after we added another boy. And discovered our second child has Asperger's. And ADHD. And our first boy is hyperactive, probably ADHD. Once again, normal shifted. Perfection shattered. What I once thought of as normal was so far away. Perfect was not even a long shot. It was no where in sight. And normal became long school days, late nights, a messy house, and hyper children. Loud children. Boys who are such boys! Girls who are such girls!
Soon I came to realize that normal and perfect are more like a mirage. You can see it, you think. You can almost touch it sometimes, but not really. And I adjusted. Our normal is not your normal. Your normal is not our normal. And I am glad. Because I would not trade my fire-juggling, tight-rope walking, magic huband, my girly stage performer, my free spirited nature lover, my delightful 100% rough and tumble superhero, or my singing dancing crazy son for someone else's image of perfect, of normal.
Our lives are filled with rubber chickens, nature crafts, music, glitter, stage performances, dancing, laughter, school work, magic, wonderment, and joy. And it is perfect.
Showing posts with label Andy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andy. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Top Ten Reasons My Husband is the Best!
I know that there are many people who seem to live their private lives a little loud on the Internet. And often times I wonder if some gush over each other online because they do not do it in person. I have mostly shied away from declarations of my undying love for my husband because, well, because I do not want to be all gross and mushy. However, I have also noticed many other little things, jokes, but not really jokes, about husbands. Or men in general. And even when they may give me a chuckle at times, I can not help but wonder if we spend too much time joking and not enough building up the men in our lives. So many people do not have an involved husband, a present father, a male role model. And when we see those jokes about how guys are,well, it makes me think that maybe that is why. Because we joke and tease, but underneath that is a festering disagreement over who is better, men or women. And that is not encouraging to anyone, respectful to anyone, most of all those men who give up so much to care for their families. So, I want to pay a little tribute to the man in our house, the love of my life, my best friend, the father of my children. I want him, and you, and guys everywhere to know they are appreciated, loved, and respected. I may even gush a little, but it does come from my heart.
And so, here are the top ten reasons that my husband is the best. Maybe even the best ever. Each of these is a reason that I love my husband more today than the day we got married.
10. He cares about what is important to us. Example, the night that our power went out for seven hours overnight, in January, in Pennsylvania, he did everything he could to keep us all warm. He even saw Faith's concern about her gecko, and knowing that it would freeze in the house without heat, he put it in a small container and tucked it in his sleeping bag. All night long.
9. He provides for us. He works hard to provide all that we need. He is willing to do what he needs to so that I can stay home and care for and educate our children. And at times it is hard. At times he works more than he should have to, days on end. And at more than one job at a time. But we always have what we need. And a lot of what we want. Even when he chooses to go without.
8. He helps us because he wants to. He will work all day, and yet stand at the sink washing dishes with me at night. Or fixing supper. To be with me. Or coaching soccer, teaching Sunday School, getting to know the kid's friends. Taking hikes, bike rides, and doing "man crafts". Helping to dress Barbies, sitting down for tea, or knowing the lyrics to Selena Gomez. He is involved in everything he can be with each of us.
7. Every Saturday morning he wakes me up with coffee. Sometimes it is earlier than I would like, but it is to spend time with me.
6. I never have to carry a laundry basket. Or a sleeping child. And I have never had to carry a vacuum to a different floor of our house. He carries it, and then runs it for me. We live in a house with three flights of steps. I have never vacuumed those either. He does it before I can.
5. No matter how I look, how I feel, or how I am acting, I know that when he looks into my eyes and says that I am beautiful that he means it. From the bottom of his heart. And then I feel beautiful because he believes it and the look in his eyes when he says it tells me why.
4. I have been watching his magic and juggling show for almost 15 years. And he still dazzles me every time he is performing. Even when I have seen it for about a thousand times. Or know the secret. It is still magic.
3. He includes our children. He patiently explains things he is fixing. From painting the dining room to fixing the washing machine they are right there beside him. And not just the boys. He shows our girls how to fix stuff as well. He teaches them tricks to be in shows. He gives them little jobs so that Firefly is our family ministry, not just his show. And the pride in their eyes shows that they love to be included.
2. He can fix anything. If he does not know how to fix something, he learns how. From vacuums, to washing machines. From hot water heaters to cars. He keeps it going. And he is not afraid to call his dad for some guidance.
1. He lives his faith. He is exactly the same man at home as in public. He is the real deal. Praying with and for us, explaining Scriptures, telling stories to illustrate the right way to live, encouraging the children to not follow him, but to follow his Father. But I am confident that if they follow him, they will be following Jesus.
And so, here are the top ten reasons that my husband is the best. Maybe even the best ever. Each of these is a reason that I love my husband more today than the day we got married.
10. He cares about what is important to us. Example, the night that our power went out for seven hours overnight, in January, in Pennsylvania, he did everything he could to keep us all warm. He even saw Faith's concern about her gecko, and knowing that it would freeze in the house without heat, he put it in a small container and tucked it in his sleeping bag. All night long.
9. He provides for us. He works hard to provide all that we need. He is willing to do what he needs to so that I can stay home and care for and educate our children. And at times it is hard. At times he works more than he should have to, days on end. And at more than one job at a time. But we always have what we need. And a lot of what we want. Even when he chooses to go without.
8. He helps us because he wants to. He will work all day, and yet stand at the sink washing dishes with me at night. Or fixing supper. To be with me. Or coaching soccer, teaching Sunday School, getting to know the kid's friends. Taking hikes, bike rides, and doing "man crafts". Helping to dress Barbies, sitting down for tea, or knowing the lyrics to Selena Gomez. He is involved in everything he can be with each of us.
7. Every Saturday morning he wakes me up with coffee. Sometimes it is earlier than I would like, but it is to spend time with me.
6. I never have to carry a laundry basket. Or a sleeping child. And I have never had to carry a vacuum to a different floor of our house. He carries it, and then runs it for me. We live in a house with three flights of steps. I have never vacuumed those either. He does it before I can.
5. No matter how I look, how I feel, or how I am acting, I know that when he looks into my eyes and says that I am beautiful that he means it. From the bottom of his heart. And then I feel beautiful because he believes it and the look in his eyes when he says it tells me why.
4. I have been watching his magic and juggling show for almost 15 years. And he still dazzles me every time he is performing. Even when I have seen it for about a thousand times. Or know the secret. It is still magic.
3. He includes our children. He patiently explains things he is fixing. From painting the dining room to fixing the washing machine they are right there beside him. And not just the boys. He shows our girls how to fix stuff as well. He teaches them tricks to be in shows. He gives them little jobs so that Firefly is our family ministry, not just his show. And the pride in their eyes shows that they love to be included.
2. He can fix anything. If he does not know how to fix something, he learns how. From vacuums, to washing machines. From hot water heaters to cars. He keeps it going. And he is not afraid to call his dad for some guidance.
1. He lives his faith. He is exactly the same man at home as in public. He is the real deal. Praying with and for us, explaining Scriptures, telling stories to illustrate the right way to live, encouraging the children to not follow him, but to follow his Father. But I am confident that if they follow him, they will be following Jesus.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Like Father, Like Son: The Concussion Chronicles
For sure all of you are thinking that I am the Concussion Queen, and yes, that is true. And some of that will make a great blog that I shall write later. But for those of you who hang out here on a regular basis, which is pretty much Sarah and Anna, you have probably seen my husband hit his head. On everything in our house. It happens often, and usually goes something like this:
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
BAM
Me: “What was that noise?”
Andy:*grumbles*
Me: “What?” Because if that was not a kid, I am so not getting up…
Andy: “…..”
Me: “You hit your head again, didn’t you?”
Andy: “Umm……”
Me: “BWHAHAHAHA….I mean, are you OK?” Note my deep, deep sympathy.
We have that conversation almost daily. Pipes in the man room, that low ceiling as you go into the basement, open cupboard doors, open other doors, the shelf that keeps getting knocked out of the fridge, and, more recently, the wall, have all fallen victim to my husband’s forehead. So far he is on the losing end. Now he never gets a concussion, just a bruise, scrape, or a cut. But he passed his awkward-headed-ness on to poor David.
At first I blamed the head bumping on toddler hood. Every toddler I have ever know has tried the walk under the table trick when slightly too tall. Or misjudged and bumped his or her head when trying to jump up on someone or something. Or even the pew diving escape route from church has caused a few bruises in each of my children. And the parent or uncle who attempts to stop them.
David has all that down to an art and still he hits his head. Bending over by his toy shelf he misjudges how close he is standing and hits his head on the way down. And then on the way back up. Walking onto the back porch he hits his head on the railing. He frequently opens the door so that he gets hit by the door knob. He pulls, pushes, or knocks things over on his head. Occasionally the bump is a bit much and he starts getting a bit loopy.
The first time he had a concussion he tried to jump off an wooden swing. He succeeded in the jumping part, just not the getting off the swing the whole way part. He got dumped on the ground and the swing hit him in the back of the head. He fell into the mud, which to him was way worse than the bump on the head. We attempted to handle this like we normally do: an Iron Man ice pack, some hugs and chocolate. Then he started staggering around, said no to the chocolate, fell over a few times, and began talking nonsense. It was not until he kept asking who turned off the sun because he could not see that I became worried and took him to the ER. One CT scan, two orange Popsicles, some ibuprofen, a band aid and three hours later we were back at home. No sweat. The youngest of four has not thrown us something we have not handled before for at least a year.
Fast forward two months. Several small head bumps, bruises, skinned knees, and attempts to defy death later we get a second bump that sends us traipsing to the ER. I decided, against all other cautionary tales of my exercise mayhem that it would be a good idea to begin to enjoy family bike rides now that Faith and Isaac are getting good at riding their bikes without training wheels. First family trip: the park. We grab some water, jump on bikes, and head out. Angel, Faith, Isaac and I are riding, and David is relaxing in what he calls his rom-pom-pommer, but what normal people call a toddler seat, on the back of my bike. After a few blocks the kids start getting overconfident, and I have to admit I did too. They start weaving back and forth in front of me and one of them hits my front tire. My bike came to an abrupt halt and the back end, rom-pom-pommer, David and all fly into the air and land on the ground. David’s head hit first. It was kind of like that creepy nursery rhyme, Rock A Bye Baby.
Anyway, after untangling all the bikes, kids, and myself, we got David our of the pommer and his head was gushing blood. A few passersby took notice and came to our aid. I figured this was like every other bump on the head, but with more blood and embedded gravel, until David leaped out of my arms into the arms of some random guy and hung to him for dear life. He was screaming, “Daddy, you are here!” Over and over. Then a lady came and brought him paper towels, a Popsicle, and an ice pack. David said, “Thanks Grandma!” Then he proceed to shimmy away from “Daddy” stagger around and fall on his head. He proceeded to talking nonsense and falling over several times while trying to get away from me to “Daddy” until my mom got there to take us home. I had called out doctor and he recommended the hospital. Again.
.
We came home, picked up the kids, tracked down our bikes, and in the meanwhile David fell asleep in the van. We rode our bikes home, and as Andy was pulling the van into the driveway, David opened his eyes, looked right at me and asked for a ride in his rom-pom-pommer.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Change-R-Us
We are in the middle of a remodeling project. I say middle with much optimism. Very much optimism. We are pulling up carpeting, ripping off wall paper, sanding wood work and installing a light in the living room. For the first time in my married life I will have a living room light. Now, of course, when I say we I really mean Andy is doing the “work” kind of work. I am doing the “picking paint colors kind of work”, and let me tell you, that is hard!
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
By the completion of the project we will have refinished the hardwood floors in the dining room, both living rooms and the hallway. There will be fresh paint in the same rooms. And the furniture will be in the room it belongs in. Unlike our current random couch placement. Or book towers in every room. Or chairs in odd corners.
More than the work work, the picking colors work, the moving furniture work (also not me), the hardest part has been with Faith. She has a very hard time with change, which we know is a part of her Asperger’s Syndrome. Knowing where it comes from only helps us to understand. It does not make it easier for her or for us. She has a fit over each layer of wall paper. Each section of carpeting. Each knocked out section of drywall. Each ceiling block that is removed. Every strip of carpet tacks, which she calls carpet attacks and is waiting for them to, well, to attack.
We are also working on switching bedrooms to spilt up the girls. Which starts with getting rid of toys to move the toy room to a smaller room. My bedroom to the attic. The boys to my room. Faith to the boys room. And Angel gets to stay put and spread out a bit. And that way no one is in Faith’s space. But until then our entire house is in upheaval. Except for the bathrooms. They get to stay the same and are too small to store things in. The kitchen is not getting changed. Yet. But it has a nice corner for storing books in boxes. Or furniture. Or ladders.
Our whole house is like that Bert and Ernie book about how the fish ended up in Bert’s favorite cowboy hat. And yes, I do have a book for everything. I think that one is under the china cupboard.
Monday, August 30, 2010
It's Been Real!
And it certainly has been real. Real change. Real hard. Real fun. Real scary. Real time of trust. Pick one, it has been them all. August started out with Andy working his tail off for very little money and never being home to see our children. He was not happy with his job. He has had a desire to be in ministry. The entertaining he was doing in his “spare” time was the most fulfilling job he was doing. And so now it is the only job he is doing.
It takes a while to build a business. He has been home for a few weeks now, but the first few were still busy. Now we are in the time of building contacts, drumming up business, and waiting. Lots and lots of waiting. We have known for awhile that this was his calling, what he was meant to do. The time was never right. We were too afraid to take the step, thinking it would be a free fall. And it has.
There are people who like that feeling. I am not one of them. I like stability. I used to take risks, and big ones, without thought. Now I cannot bring myself to take risks. I see the responsibilities- the house, the van payment, the kids, the bills. These things are overwhelming in the light of the risks. This has been a HUGE risk, but I have had an incredible measure of peace. God has meet and at times surpassed every need. Sure it has only been a few weeks, but his pay was not so great before that, and we had things that were behind. And things that were really behind. We caught up. We even did some fun things with the kids. We got them the things they need. I got my laptop.
Andy is home everyday. In the past we would have been driving each other crazy by now. This is different. I love having him here, and so do the kids. We get him to help out with some of the school extras, taking hikes, woodworking, soccer practice and games. He has been here to help with David as I cook, or to take the kid outside so I can clean up. I have stayed up late to design websites, business cards, fliers, and all that jazz. We have worked together. Most of the day he is busy with contacting people to get his name out there and has gotten a few shows that way.
So please be in prayer for us. For the business we need. For us as a family. For Andy and I as a couple. Please pray that we can be the light in this world we have been called to be while doing what we love. And know that as you pray, we are rejoicing in you as our friends, and in God as the supplier of all our needs.
It takes a while to build a business. He has been home for a few weeks now, but the first few were still busy. Now we are in the time of building contacts, drumming up business, and waiting. Lots and lots of waiting. We have known for awhile that this was his calling, what he was meant to do. The time was never right. We were too afraid to take the step, thinking it would be a free fall. And it has.
There are people who like that feeling. I am not one of them. I like stability. I used to take risks, and big ones, without thought. Now I cannot bring myself to take risks. I see the responsibilities- the house, the van payment, the kids, the bills. These things are overwhelming in the light of the risks. This has been a HUGE risk, but I have had an incredible measure of peace. God has meet and at times surpassed every need. Sure it has only been a few weeks, but his pay was not so great before that, and we had things that were behind. And things that were really behind. We caught up. We even did some fun things with the kids. We got them the things they need. I got my laptop.
Andy is home everyday. In the past we would have been driving each other crazy by now. This is different. I love having him here, and so do the kids. We get him to help out with some of the school extras, taking hikes, woodworking, soccer practice and games. He has been here to help with David as I cook, or to take the kid outside so I can clean up. I have stayed up late to design websites, business cards, fliers, and all that jazz. We have worked together. Most of the day he is busy with contacting people to get his name out there and has gotten a few shows that way.
So please be in prayer for us. For the business we need. For us as a family. For Andy and I as a couple. Please pray that we can be the light in this world we have been called to be while doing what we love. And know that as you pray, we are rejoicing in you as our friends, and in God as the supplier of all our needs.
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