Simplicity: The Art of Complexity featuring Irony and Type-A Personalities

I feel like a  lot of irony has been occurring in my life lately.

Today I was asked to draft a thank you letter to someone I am most definitely NOT thankful for. Granted, the letter is not from me and it's more of a political move than genuine thankfulness, but this person does not deserve to be thanked. I won't get into the nitty-gritty except to say this person cares only about generating revenue and not about informing and educating our community and that's exactly what they are being thanked for. Do you see the irony here? (You have no idea what I'm talking about and have quit reading because I've left the realm of inclusion so I continue for catharsis.) I also may or may not have have had personal AND professional conflict with his person. It's hard to please everyone, I guess.

Last week, in an attempt to be "totally on top of things", I decided I was going to start work on my first graduate-level class the moment it was posted on Blackboard. I usually don't work on Fridays and the class was supposed to be posted that day - 5 days before the class officially starts. Win! In my mind I pictured sitting in my big, pink chair next to the fireplace with the laptop perched atop my comfy blanket. In silence and uninterrupted focus I would dive head first into academia. I even brought my new glasses home from work. 

Instead, I discovered the Internet was down that day. Which meant two things: Obviously, I couldn't access my class and less obviously, I couldn't distract the kids (who were also home with me that day) with Bob the Builder. "Can we fix it?" Not today. 

So, really, that's it. At least that's all I can remember right now. I guess I just have a general sense of irony lately. So I exaggerated when I said, "a lot". What I should have said was, "a completely normal amount."  

Self diagnosis: I'm focusing on the negative things that are bound to happen in any one's life and inserting a sense of sarcasm to protect myself from the realisation that I don't have control over every little thing. "Ha! OF COURSE I decided to quit drinking diet Coke on THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE, EVER, EVER, EVER. THAT'S SO FUNNY AND IRONIC! HA-HA-HA. HO-HUM. i have no control... i need to have control...DIDDLY, DIDDLY."    

The more I add to my life the more complicated it gets. Which is the opposite of living simply, right? And isn't that the title of this blog? And, FYI, more compartments means there are more opportunities for things to be absolutely, positively out of my control. It doesn't matter how many calendars, iPhone apps, organization tactics, and highlighters I have. If the freaking Internet is down then there's nothing I can do about it. (Except I downloaded the Blackboard app so that never happens again... wait, what? Control freak you say? Well, yes.) I know, I'm out of control with control.

It's in my control to live simply, right? I don't have to have a family of 4 (yes I do), a full-time job (yes I do), be enrolled in graduate school, run a non-profit, and various other activities that chink away at my simple life. For the short-term I could say, "Screw this! I'm spending the rest of my days in the hammock in the back yard! My kids can run around barefoot and WE WILL LIVE SIMPLY AND THE SUN WILL SHINE FOREVER!" By the way, we don't have a hammock. Yet.

For the long-term, I'm choosing to let things be a little bit crazy right now. We have goals. We (my family and I) understand we're not the only people in this world. Maybe not the little ones, but Chris and I know that. We're not trying to run a race or keep up with the Jones'. The things we do have a purpose and most of the time we have felt led and compelled to our involvements. I think THAT is simplicity: Doing things with a purpose. Prioritizing. Making sacrifices. Sometimes that means our life revolves around our calendar and sometimes it means we sit in the garden and eat pea pods off the vine for an hour.   

And sometimes it means we relinquish control of our crazy lives to the One who has all the control because simplicity is not a goal. Simplicity is now.  Simplicity is always present. Just simply live. (Double entendre intended.)

"The trouble with simple living is that, though it can be joyful, rich, and creative, it isn’t simple." — Doris Janzen Longacre

Lucy Lately



Picture by Flat 4 Photography



Lucy was 15 months old when we met. I'll never forget that day nor will I forget the joy she obviously brought to her daddy's life. Now I get to share in that joy and am amazed by this little girl and how much she's changed since that day.

Lately, Lucy...

• Is a girlie girl. Lucy loves the dirt and being outside just as much as Jackson, but lately she has discovered the perks of being a girl. We've bonded over finger nail polish and hair bows. She loves to accessorize with bracelets and necklaces. She can name off every single Disney princess and says, without a doubt, that Cinderella is her favorite. I think Rapunzel (Tangled) comes in a close second. I, personally, love this because girls are so much fun to shop for.
• Colors inside the lines. This girl is a pro colorer. She carefully chooses just the right color and then meticulously finishes the page. Really, she's great at anything creative and I love seeing her freestyle it on the chalk/marker/paper easel we got her for Christmas. She makes wonderful smiley faces. :)
• Grew Up, Up, Up! We had to get Lucy new pants. One day she fit into her pants and footed pajamas just fine and then the next day she had highwaters and wedgies. I can't believe the growth spurts she can pull off! Daddy is 6'10" so she has some catching up to do, but at this rate she'll be up there in no time!
• Sees the details. No detail goes unnoticed with Lucy. "I love your beautiful dress!" she'll say to anyone with a skirt on. She notices when I'm wearing different earings and calls them "wonderful." Her "wedding shoes" (pink, corduroy Tom's) are some of her favorites. If something has changed in the house, she notices and if someone does something nice for her, she notices.
• Is so caring. The other day, simultaneously, I spilled my coffee AND Jackson started drawing on my light pink chair with blue pen. It was a moment of chaos and Lucy looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "It's okay mommy Carey. I love you." After that, anything can be okay. She also gives the best smooshy-face kisses and little pats on your back accompany any hug she gives. What really gets me is that she picks up on the emotion of those around her. She senses when your sad or happy, angry or sick and responds appropriately. By the way, "Papa Brad is [still] all better."
• Has her own sense of humor. Lucy sees joy in the world and finds humor in the little things. I love watching her get tickled inside by seeing things like Christmas lights through her fingertip, daddy making silly faces, her own silly faces and farts. (Yes, farts. Trust me, it's funny.) 
• Loves her Gramma. Lucy has a special bond with her Gramma Marlena. There's nothing better to Lucy than going to Gramma's house, baking cookies and working in the garden. More and more, Lucy looks like her Gramma and could even qualify as Gramma's minime. This is a wonderful thing because Gramma is wonderful. 
• Stopped wearing her purple princess dress every day. This is good because we no longer have to sneak it into the laundry room, but kinda sad. She still loves "beautiful, wonderful dresses", but now it can be ANY dress.   
• Is going to marry Jackson. Ever since the wedding, Lucy occasionally states that she is going to marry Jackson. It's the cutest thing.
• Has an opinion. I have no doubt in my mind that Lucy will grow up to be the kind of person who stands up for what she believes in and is passionate about. She is strong and fragile- which I know are opposites, but I think of less as opposites and more as compliments.

Lucy will be 4 in May and as she morphs into a little girl, the kind that picks out her clothes and prefers not to eat meat, we see a beautiful, wonderful person emerging who is unique and can be summed up as all things Lucy.

Jackson Lately



Picture by Flat 4 Photography


Lately Jackson has seemed all grown up. I know I'll say that every year until he is, in fact, all grown up. When that day comes I know I'll be able to look back and see all the happiness in the process of growing up.

Lately, Jackson...

• Found his independence. I love the look on his face when he conquers something he hadn't previously been able to do. Crawling into his car seat, going potty, putting on his pajamas, taking his plate to the sink. All by himself. He's also pretty adamant about attempting to do things on his own that he hasn't quite conquered. Practice makes perfect. He holds his hand up like he's a crossing guard and says, "You stay there. I do it." I love it. 
• Put his smarty pants on. Not to brag, but Jackson can say his ABC's, tell us what sound each letter makes and tell us some words that start with each letter. He can also identify written letters. He'll be 3 next month. He can count to 20 (he skips 15,16,17 and when he gets to 20 he starts back at 14. It's a work in progress.) He can also count to 10 in Spanish. Thank you, Dora. Colors were so last year.
• Asks why. Why? Why? Why? His inquisition of life is so wonderful. 
• Sings to himself. When Jackson was just born I started singing "Skidamarink" to him. We still sing it often and lately I'll walk in a room to find him happily playing and singing that song (along with others like, 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' and 'Jingle Bells') 
• Gives the best kisses. Butterfly kisses are a favorite of his, but he also likes Eskimo kisses and Cow kisses. We do each of these every night and finish off with a big Bear hug. Including sound effects. 
• Goes potty "in the toilette" (said, by Jackson, with an Italian accent). I know I mentioned this before, but I'm so proud of how far he's gotten with this. We started the process a year ago and we've pretty much conquered #1 and are well on our way to conquering #2. Since he's become such a master at #1 he gets "little treats" (his phrase, not mine. It's usually a small piece of candy or raisins) when that occurs. When #2 occurs in the toilette he gets "big treats" (fruit snacks) AND Mommy and Daddy Chris do funny dances and smile a lot.
• Loves to be outside. He's always loved to be outside, but the bigger he gets, the more he can do. Yesterday he found the perfect stick in the yard. I let him bring it in the house and we're going to use it to hang a Valentine craft. 
• Is a snuggle bug. "Mommy, can we cuddle on the couch?" Heck yes every time. Those words are like music to my ears. He is the cuddliest little boy I know.
• Developed his inner clown. Jackson is goofy. And his comedic timing is impeccable. He likes to make the people around him laugh which is so, so sweet. "Mommy, is it funny?" he'll say (sometimes after he's done something NOT funny which makes it all funny. It's all in the timing!).
• Tells stories. Sometimes they're true, sometimes not, but he's gotten pretty good at telling stories. He's also really fun to talk to. Lately, I've been spending a few minutes before he goes to sleep just sitting on his bed and talking to him in the dark. We go through the list of people and things we love and are thankful for. We talk about the moon and the stars. Sometimes we talk about monsters. We always talk about what's happening the next day. "What happens next?" "We wake up!" "Next..." "We go potty." "Next..." "We eat breakfast." "Next... next... next..." So far, we've made it 3 days in advance.
• Plays well with others. Jackson went from playing next to others kids to playing with other kids. He's not afraid to make friends and can even be a little overwhelming to the other child with his initiation. "Hi! What's your name?" is usually the opener, said directly in their face while waving a stiff hand back and forth. He and Lucy are getting pretty good at make-believe and (I never thought I'd say this) sharing.

Jackson will be 3 on February 9th. Starting this year I will be asking him questions each birthday and recording his answers in a book with a birthday picture. I can't wait to see what his answers will be and, later, to see how he's grown and changed.

Finding the Joy

This one's for Gros Papa Phil.

And for my older, more mature self that will look back and cherish memories like these. Because I know I will.

Lucy (3) and Jackson (2) decided to take Christmas into their own hands this year. I don't know... maybe it was just taking too long to get here or they thought we were doing it all wrong. I guess I'll ask them what the heck when they get old enough to put reasoning behind their actions.

I'm pretty sure the morning went something like this:

J: Hey, Lucy. Are you awake? Because I've been awake for three hours and tried going back to sleep by singing Dora's version of Twinkle Little Star but it just isn't working out for me.  You know, "Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder... what you ate for breakfast." "Is that the right song?" "No Way!"

(Only parents with kids who watch Dora will understand what is going on here.)

L: Yeah, I'm familiar with that song. I am now awake. Which is bad because I'm generally pretty grumpy when I don't wake up naturally, on my own.

J: Right, well, I was thinking... we could really help mom and dad out by unwrapping all the gifts under the tree for them.

L: I'm listening. 

J: They've seemed a little stressed lately what with dad quitting tobacco and mom taking that test that determines the future of her professional career. I'm sure they'll really, really appreciate it. Let's go do that - for them.  

They proceed to plop down out of their beds and sneak downstairs in their cute, innocent, footed, penguin pajamas. I don't know how the mayhem begins, but someone had to start it and I'm guessing it was Jackson. The first, lonely tear of wrapping paper is the starting gun to a scene more commonly observed on CHRISTMAS MORNING.
It is 6:30am on December 24th, 2011.

After what was probably way too much time for a 2 and 3-year old to be sans the parental units on a separate level of the house, I wake up - probably from the innate sense that our children are having way too much fun doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. To be fair, things you're not supposed to be doing, as a rule, are more fun.

I walk slowly down the stairs fearing what I might see. About halfway down all movement from the first floor ceases and I hear Jackson whisper, "We need to hide!" Little footsteps scamper across the floor and I arrive at the bottom of the stairs to find an undisturbed first living room (we have two, don't question it). As I round the corner toward the second living room I see my sweet little angels hiding in opposite corners of the room. My eyes then scan quickly toward where the tree resides.

To be honest, my first reaction to what lies before me is excitement. After over-analyzing this event I later determine the reaction was Pavlovian. (It was Pavlov who had the dogs, right? A little help, mom?) Every time I have ever seen a room filled to the brim with torn wrapping paper prior to this it has been the result of me tearing the wrapping paper and therefore having new possessions.

That feeling lasts a whole two seconds until reality sinks in. And then I am shocked. And then I am angry. And then I don't know what the heck to do.

So, without looking my children in the eye, I turn around and walk in a zombie fashion back upstairs to our room where my husband is blissfully snoring. (At this point I consider just going back to bed, but then I remember the Christmas cookies sitting on the counter and there is no way I'm re-decorating two dozen cookies)

 Chris. I need your help. Chris. Chris. CHRISTOPHER! A LITTLE HELP HERE! 

We both snap out of it- he out of his sleep and I out of my state of PTSD- and we immediately engage the 4-Wheel-Drive of Parenting.

You will have to tilt your head to the right to properly view the following pictures since Blogger can't seem to get it right despite the files actually facing the correct direction. 

Suspect #1



Suspect #2

This is what we did (and we're not really looking for your approval or constructive criticism of our parenting style at this point. I'd venture to say that any decisions made during this time were made under duress): We took all the toys away. (To clarify; we had a minor incident similar to this a few weeks prior [this is what I get for finishing my shopping early] and both kids had been well-warned of the consequences. But, alas, they are 2 and 3-years-old.) We re-wrapped a few of them for the predetermined and approved Christmas present unwrapping times. They both had to do hard, manual labor for the rest of the day. Chris and I opened our gifts from each other.

I'm kidding about the manual labor part, but if they made snow shovels that fit a 3ft tall person I would have been all over that.

It wasn't until later that I was able to see the joy in this story. Instead of receiving looks of sympathy and dismay from the Grandparents after recounting the horrific details of that morning, we were met with that Santa-like glimmer in the eye. The one that approves of harmless mischief. Their bellies practically shook like a bowl full of jelly from their amusement.

This is a story that will go down in history.

They look so cute and innocent.




The evolution of Friendship.

Bekah Joy Hornor Kooy (your new married name means I consider you a poem), you can skip over the first half of this post because you've heard it all already.

Last night I got to spend 2 hours talking to one of my Best Friends, Bekah.
Saying "Best Friend" sounds weird and juvenile, but there are definite levels of friendship and she qualifies as a "Best".
I'd say there are three levels of friendship: Friend, Good Friend and Best Friend.
Best Friends, like Bekah, are those people who you can talk to about anything and you no longer care what they think about you. You're comfortable around each other and if a little fart slips out, then, so what?
Good Friends are those people you can hang out with and enjoy, but you still care (and wonder) about what they are thinking you might be thinking about what they are thinking about your parenting choices. And you are judging their parenting choices. And mostly you just gossip about other Good Friends with Good Friends.
Friends are more what Facebook would qualify as "Acquaintances".

Bekah is a Best Friend because I can fart in front of her (although I rarely do) and she will laugh and think it's funny and not start scrolling through her phone to discretely delete my contact information like a Good Friend or Friend would do.

Okay, Bek... you better go back and read that part because we did not cover that in our conversation last night.

I had an entire post dedicated to explaining to my Best Friends why I am now different from them because I have kids and they don't. After typing out the last sentence - "...and that's why I've become a complete drag after 9pm and usually have stains on my clothing." - I decided it was waaaaay too personal to have the entire world Singapore read. I highlighted and hit Backspace. I'm truthful and personal here, but it's pretty distasteful to be calling out your friends on Blogger. And after talking with Bekah, I've discovered that my emotions were headed in the wrong direction. When I thought I was justified in complaining that my Best Friends no longer understand me, what I was really feeling was their absence. I miss them. And I want to all be living in the same city again. We're all having life experiences that make us different from each other. I love that and I hate that.

It's going to take some getting used to, at least.

Last night Bekah and I were talking about our stress triggers and how they are different for each person, but carry just as much weight. My stress-triggers include having an office directly across from the bathroom so I can smell when people poop and kids (mine) who make Ewok noises during church. Bekah's include, understandably, almost all aspects of being a PA-C at the Cardiac ICU at UW.
So, let's recap: Poop and Ewok noises drive me to drink gallons of diet Coke and waste time blogging when I should be studying for the MAT's while Bekah might eat something that has Gluten in it if she's spent the day around people who are nearly dead whose lives she probably saved and sometimes wasn't able to. (No disrespect intended.)
It certainly puts it all into perspective, but we concluded that everyone is justified in their stresses because no matter what they are the level of intensity is the same. Or maybe she was just trying to make me feel better.

I think it's this disconnect or misunderstanding that left me feeling distant.
I'm over it now and I plan to start writing letters with pen and paper to bridge the gap. I'll even spritz them with a little perfume to make it more personal. Or I'll let my kids run around with them for awhile.

I love you guys. And that's personal.

Angst in Stream of Consciousness

When I sit down to write a blog post I usually don't have a topic in mind. I just get this itch to write - to communicate whatever is in my head. So, this post can go one of two ways: I feel a heart-to-heart coming on OR I want to pretend that I'm crafty because it's the holidays (but really I'll just steal other people's ideas, implement them into my home and look really put together and/or crazy). Where it will go, nobody knows...
Speaking of the holidays (do you like my blog decor?), I'm having Thanksgiving at my house this year. With Chris's family. I love Chris's family, but how can I not feel slightly anxious about this? (By the way, I know you're all reading this blog and that makes me a little bit embarrassed so let's just awkwardly not talk about this at the table on Thursday, okay?) It's all about healthy relationships. And about panicking and suddenly feeling very insecure about that particular green color and bold brick color I painted in our house. Will people lose their appetites because of my interior design choices?
And then there's the turkey. We received a 21 pound gobbler from Rocky Ridge Ranch at the end of our CSA season. It's so large that we couldn't fit it in our freezer and I ended up having to make a late-night run to a friend's house in my bath robe and slippers to stow it in their freezer.
I have the following questions about preparing a turkey for Thanksgiving:
One... How do you know you've gotten all the guts out?
Two... Do you have to stuff it with something once you've gotten the guts out?
Three... Will people be able to tell that I instead got one of those roasted chickens from Safeway and taped magazine pictures of beautiful, golden turkeys on it?
Chris's family is now thoroughly horrified. And scared.
Another slight concern I have is football. Here's the situation: When my dad was staying with us (for farming purposes - don't want to get the small-town rumor mill started) we bundled our phone, Internet and Dish. We didn't have a TV, but dad had one in his room. When he stopped staying with us (for newlywed purposes) we still had the bundle because we had a contract. By the way, why do those contracts feel more like that token bad relationship everyone's had where you know you need to get out, but you just can't? (oh, maybe that's just me.) I feel the same way with my iPhone cell plan, but that's more of a co-dependency situation.
Anyway, we have the basic channel options and I'm worried we won't even get the football games that everyone will want to watch. You know, those big ones like the bowls and stuff. I don't think you can get football games on Hulu or Netflix. And even if you could, I don't think people would enjoy gathering around the Mac to watch them.
So, with the angst of a teenage boy I prepare for my first holiday hosting. (Not true, I had Christmas Eve at my house last year.)
Here's the important thing this Thanksgiving: We're all together. Just don't mind the smoke coming from the kitchen. And thank God for Paula Deen.

If my Turkey doesn't look like this you all get a refund.

See? Now wasn't that fun?

It's a Circus in Seattle.

It's been awhile since I've laughed until my cheeks hurt.

This past weekend Chris and I loaded up the ol' Tribute with the popcorn maker, Ball jars and toiletries and headed over the hill to Seattle. Just the necessities ya know...

We checked in at the Red Lion downtown and headed directly for Anthropologie. I could wear/live with anything in that store with the exception of this little number:



Christmas is coming. Do not get this for me.



I then headed over to Bekah's loft for her Bachelorette party. Bekah is everything she sounds like. Smart. Beautiful. Fun. Repeat. We met at Whitworth where she was the best setter I've ever had. I'm pretty sure I was the worst middle she's ever had, but I picked it up Senior year which also happens to be the year we became soul sisters. Which I'm just now realizing our friendship hinges on my ability to play volleyball.

Jokes.

I love Bekah. And Bekah loves Matt. Which is why we were in Seattle in the first place.

The Bachelorette party consisted of Mimosas, Susan's famous enchiladas, Mariachi cut-outs awkwardly staring, lingerie and WhirlyBall.

What, you ask, is WhirlyBall? It's ridiculous. Put bumper cars, Lacrosse and basketball at the same table, give them a few stiff drinks and you have WhirlyBall. Google it. You won't regret it.



The gals! And Bek's loft wall that everyone wishes they had.

 The next day was Bekah's wedding! Bekah and Matt managed to pull off an incredibly sexy wedding. They had the reception and ceremony at Pravda Studios on Capitol Hill. Gorgeous. And Unique.

Can we talk about the umbrellas?

Having just planned a wedding I'm very attune to wedding details and Bekah and Matt had lovely, thoughtful details. The circus theme (thus, the popcorn maker) was a unique accent that screamed Bekah and the southern comfort food was a tasteful nod to the time that Bekah and Matt spent in Atlanta while she was in PA school at Emory. And Bekah rapped to Eminem so there's not really much that needs to be said after that.

And then there was the Photobooth. Enter: Sore laughing muscles.





We were completely inappropriate and loving it.



 Chris and Natalie are comedy soul-mates.



Matt: this is my all-time favorite.

So, congratulations to Bekah and Matt! And thank for letting Chris and I stay at your loft and watch after Hank and Ralph (we bonded)! We love you and in our limited marriage experience can honestly say that you will have the time of your life. In your vows you said, "I promise to love you when it's easy and when it's an effort". It's not always fun, but it's always love. We love you!