Summer Insanity 2016 (Part One)

We are breaking our summer fun into two vacations this year. We just returned from part one on Wednesday!

We went to Marietta, Georgia to visit my dad, step-mom, and brothers! We had a wonderful time!

Our Recipe for Disaster

  

Moving is never fun, but it is a real disaster when you are disorganized, unprepared, the place you are moving to is a disgusting mess and still full of the possessions of the three generations who've lived there before you. You can put timelines in place, make plans, and set deadlines. None of that helps when you have to rely on inconsiderate and incapable people for success.

Throw in a recently ill, teething, and confused toddler. Add generations of family who all have different motivations, with very little sleep and high tensions. Stir the pot with past conflicts, looming deadlines for getting our move finished, uncooperative weather, health issues, and having asbestos linoleum in the new house.

The recipe for Disaster.

I don't have time to write much more now, but I leave you with some pictures of the process and the new plan: get everything out of the old house and give up on having time to clean/fix things so we can get our deposit back.

The Problem with People

The problem with people is that you can't hold them to a higher standard.
You can hold yourself to a higher standard, but they don't have to meet it.

That is mostly fine until you have to rely on other people for your word to be kept and your endeavors to succeed. Then, you are the mercy of their standards and like it our not, you are measured by them.

Should I have to lower my expectations in order to accommodate those who are casual about their standards and who don't value keeping their word?

This is the point I get mad. I tend to yell. In search of other solutions, I day dream about giving them a taste of their own medicine. Then, I sit down with a tub of ice cream and watch a well written British mystery program. I try to solve a fictional murder, since I can't solve my own problems.

I'm sure there are healthier ways to process. I know there are more productive pursuits. Tell me though, how many of them involve chocolate, my couch, and Kenneth Branagh?

Yeah, that's what I though.

New Beginnings in Old Familiar Spaces

Glenn and Elizabeth Kelley bought a house in Lubbock, Texas in the 1970s.  They probably never imagined that in May of 2016, their great-granddaughter, her husband, and their one year old great-great-grandson, would be making improvements and moving in.

I have fond memories of the house as a little girl, visiting "Grandmother" and "Grandaddy." I married my teddy bear in a lovely ceremony attended by three wooden giraffes, a brass elephant, and a real stuffed baby alligator.

I remember being encouraged to play quietly with Max (the energetic toy poodle) while Grandmother watched the Price is Right and kept a running total of her would-be winnings on a scratch pad by her chair. I remember her being so proud of her roses when they were doing well and taking me out in the yard to see them. I remember chasing tiny frogs on the front walk after it rained for several days. I remember Max watching out the big front windows when we said our good-byes.

I remember the sad things, too. When Grandmother fell outside on some ice and was in the hospital, she returned home with a walker. I remember they day we went to see her and her eyes were yellow from the pancreatic cancer. I remember meeting in the house after she died to share our fondest memories of her with the minister. I remember my Grandaddy living there all alone and feeling sad for him.

Though a house is only building that provides shelter and privacy, over time, a house can become a home. It plays host to many life events and becomes more in the hearts and minds of those who've spent time within its walls. I don't claim to know or understand the emotions others hold for the building we are preparing to move into. I don't know what it will come to mean for us. However, I am happy that we will get the opportunity to spend time there and add to both the visible and invisible history of the little yellow house on Thirty-Something street.

Paradigm Shifts

I often find myself reflecting on past mistakes. I don't intentionally dwell on the past, but my mind just seems to wander there.

Thanks, anxiety. 

The Willow Tree

There is a new willow tree on my block.
I'm sure it's not new to the people who own it,
Just to me.
I've lived in this house for two years,
But never remember seeing the willow before today.
Reason stands that I've seen it, but forgotten.
Perhaps.

Or, perhaps my eyes were closed to it until now.
Maybe it came about last night, and everyone just thinks they never noticed it.
Maybe it isn't there now.
Maybe I need more sleep.
Maybe none of us pay enough attention anymore to things like willow trees.

From the Start

I have a teething 13 month old who still struggles with staying asleep and whose started pushing boundaries. I have a cat who is over-grooming and mowing all her belly fur off. I have a wonderful husband whose love I cherish daily. Together our lives are stressful, but not unhappy.



As another year begins, the world seems full of a hope that is different from that which I have experienced before. This hope is a well spring of something deeper than renewed plans to dejunk, lose weight, and do the dishes in a timely manner. These plans at work in my heart are about a complete paradigm shift from the life I've been leading to something richer in meaning.


My daily life has become a monotonous routine of moment to moment triage from morning until I can crawl back into bed at night. Daily struggles to do laundry, dishes, cleaning, feeding my son, cleaning him, dressing him, paying the bills, running the errands, sharing the car with my husband, keeping up contact with family and friends... I have felt like I wasn't living so much as being pulled along by the vague promise that someday I would sleep more than 3 hours in a row.

This holiday with my husband and son has been amazingly restorative to me. We've had13 days together before my husband has to go back to work! 10 of them are gone, but I plan to use up these last 3 with happy moments to restore us, fortify us against the long months ahead.

I have planned so much work for these 3 days, but I know that next week and the weekend, we will celebrate our diligence by resting before we begin packing for our move.
We have so much to do, but the hope of getting it all accomplished is much more tangible than it was 10 days ago.

I feel like, for the first time since August, we are going to get ahead of our chores, we are going to get our lives in order, we are going to do these things because we are not who we once were, but so much more than that. We are going to be who we want to be because we have decided to face responsibility, instead of deferring it.

We are going to work together to be great parents.
We are going to work together to be more than who we were before.
We are going to sort our belongings and prepare for our future.
We are going to consolidate our debt and get serious about repayment.
We are going to radically change the way we work together as a team.
We are going to move in April.
We are going to be debt free in 12 years.