spring cleaning

I've been sleeping with my fleece socks on for about 5 months now.

No, no. Don't feel sorry for me. I do this to myself.

To beat the endless winter blues this time I rearranged the kitchen after work yesterday. Last year the yellow wall, this year furniture upended. Poor Little Kitchen.

There wasn't much to do really. Kitchen's are only so big with so many things able to be rearranged. Mostly, Drake moved from one side of the wall to the other. And the lily. The lily got moved, too.
It's just when I walked in the door and looked across the sea of papers on the kitchen table I couldn't deal with it. I felt like I was walking into a room on the show Hoarders.
It was a total of about 3-4 small stacks. But it set me off.
Pots, pans, walnuts, leashes, computers, wedding cards. They all found a new home.
And then the clothes. Eric's.

Everywhere
(about 10 articles of clothing between two rooms).

Everywhere I tell you.
When he got home from what should have been a trip to Walmart to pick up a file box (for all the papers) but really came home from a trip to 99 for a drink with his bosses I realized the clothes, and the papers, were not an issue for him.
So I folded and I hung and I sorted and I put in the laundry bin.
And I stopped before I tackled the sliding pile of papers next to the bed that are oozing out of, under from, the nightstand. He says they're important. And he'll get to them this weekend.
So I left it at that, mopped up my mess, and fell asleep on the couch.

But he just left for a work...

She's the Lily of Our Valley

She is the reason my boy turned to me today and said, "I can't wait for spring break!"

Since we just got back from a jaunt to the sunny south I questioned his comment.

He replied, "cause Aunt Lily said she'd be coming home to me for her spring break".

Not much can top that.

She's the Lily of Our Valley - always has been and always will be.

And she's always, always in bloom.

All that matters.

You can't quite tell in this picture - but Dec's tiny hand was cozy in mine as we walked.

Today, we ventured across the Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn.

Then walked it again to NYC (with yummy Pizza & Strawberry ice cream in our bellies).

And today, this jaunt across the bridge and back? This is all that mattered.

I stood on the bridge at midnight,

As the clocks were striking the hour,

And the moon rose o'er the city,

Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection

In the waters under me,

Like a golden goblet falling

And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance

Of that lovely night in June,

The blaze of the flaming furnace

Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long, black rafters

The wavering shadows lay,

And the current that came from the ocean

Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,

Rose the belated tide,

And, streaming into the moonlight,

The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing

Among the wooden piers,

A flood of thoughts came o'er me

That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, oh, how often,

In the days that had gone by,

I had stood on that bridge at midnight

And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, oh, how often,

I had wished that the ebbing tide

Would bear me away on its bosom

O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,

And my life was full of care,

And the burden laid upon me

Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

It is buried in the sea;

And only the sorrow of others

Throws its shadow over me.

Yet whenever I cross the river

On its bridge with wooden piers,

Like the odor of brine from the ocean

Comes the thought of other years.

And I think how many thousands

Of care-encumbered men,

Each bearing his burden of sorrow,

Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession

Still passing to and fro,

The young heart hot and restless,

And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,

As long as the river flows,

As long as the heart has passions,

As long as life has woes;

The moon and its broken reflection

And its shadows shall appear,

As the symbol of love in heaven,

And its wavering image here.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's The Bridge

Those weren't pillows

Here's what I pulled out of my pocket when I got home from school.
- 4 bobby pins
- 1 mechanical pencil
- 1 marbel
- 1 bean

What did you pull out... SAND?
Ugh.

San-Cap Packing List 2012

1. Clothes for Xavey.
2. Sunscreen by the caseload.
3. Earplugs (for easily agitated whiteheads in church).
4. Dora pops. All flavors.
5. Hair Die. All colors.
6. Shears for T.
7. A pharmacy for Mads.
8. Gator Bait.
9. A map of the islands (why are these so hard to come by?)
10. Blow up doll of Lily.
11. Insecticide repellent umbrella.
12. Harley Davidson temporary tattoos and boom box (for when T wears her heals and leopard print velor to the beach).
13. My husband.

These days have been so much fun I hurt from laughing....

(Photo credit: sccf.org)

Who, me?

I can't believe you all think I'M the uptight one.

Just because I've spent the past two weekends lying flat on the hard wood floor trying to catch a deep breath, because that, I've found through hours of trial and error, is the only way I can catch a deep breath. But only on the weekends. When I have enough time to even consider thinking about breathing.
Just because you are all waking up this morning in Florida. Where you are probably sweating. And not because you went to sleep last night in a head to toe fleece outfit. And not because you have to wear a hat and mittens and crank the heat in the house. But because well it's spring and supposed to be warm. Or hot. And you're probably going to go to the beach today. And running your fingers through the sand and probably even drink something with loads of ice cubes in it just to get some feeling of cool-ness. But I am here in my wool socks looking but not quite touching the deceiving sunny day.

What has all THAT got to do with me being the uptight one? I ask.

Loners

I am 31 and have never been alone.


Well, yes. I have been alone. I drive around all day by myself for work, I have the occasional hour at home by myself on Tuesday mornings when Bri brings X to Granny's.



But last night I was in a hotel room in NJ by myself for work.
I thought for a second it might be nice, I could eat a meal, sleep without being awoken, embrace some alone time.
And the second I walked through the door I was uncomfortable.
I didn't want to be alone in the hotel. I didn't want to sit in a restaurant alone. And I certainly didn't want to go to sleep without nighttime rituals. Tubs, stories, cuddles and kisses.
I tried to fall asleep, and literally my heart hurt.

I am certain that this comes from being the 6th of seven kids. I have always been surrounded. Its where I find my peace.
The presenter at my two day seminar was a mother of 6.

6.

And she was 2,000 miles away.
And half the time she was speaking I kept wondering how many times she was thinking of her kids, and family and life at home.
And like a dope, when I had a 2 second elevator ride with her in the hotel and she asked me my plans I fumbled with struggling being without my people for 1 night for the first time (well really the first time was when Leen and I drove home from FL. but again, this time I was alone).
And she kinds of half smiled at me and I jumped off at my floor.


And I left my room originally with great hopes of a meal at TGIF's and some quality me time.
Then I quickly returned to my room after a trip to the grocery store, where I ate a dinner of cheese and crackers and tried to fall asleep.





And that was my first trial.
I know that I can do it. I am physically able.
But it's not right for me.
And after actually doing it, I know that for real.