When you read this blog and look at the pictures in the Spring thru Fall, it's obvious that our family loves to hike! On Sunday afternoon, the temps reached into the 40's and we were all getting a little stir crazy. Mike suggested that we take a family hike. We chose a waterfall trail that we're pretty familiar with. I would have loved to see this waterfall in the ice and snow. It's not easy to access, though. The trail to the falls is right around 2 hilly miles through the woods. It was a little tough going through the snow, although some of the trails had been broken by other hikers. We ended up opting for some easier terrain with the slippery footing and our young hikers. Still, it was a really nice walk and I have to say, I am very proud of Ava. She hung in there for a good 2 1/2 mile hike. I only had to carry her twice to give her feet a short rest. It felt so good to be back on the trails again. I cannot wait for the Spring thaw!
I wanted to note: Hiking in the winter is so much quieter than in the summer. Very few birds chirping. No bugs buzzing. No leaves rustling. It was strikingly silent out there...I mean besides the sound of our little family crashing through the woods and singing hiking songs. : )
Here are some pics and a couple short clips from the trail.
Monday, February 22, 2010
A Visit to Leesburg
Earlier this month we got to spend some time back in Leesburg. All of the men on my side of the family headed down to Florida for the Daytona 500, leaving the women and children behind to fend for themselves. (No worries. We're accustomed to this "fending for ourselves" business). Since we all had the H1N1 virus over Christmas, I really didn't get to spend any time catching up with my family. I was excited to finally have the chance. It just so happens that on this trip, we drove directly into the storm that was dumping snow all across Indiana and Ohio. It didn't make for a fun drive, but boy did it make for some fun times for Ava and Emily to play in the snow with their cousins. My sister Karla's boys Riley and Hudson, sledded, dug tunnels, and climbed the snow pile exhaustively with Ava and Emily on our first afternoon back. I had to make them come in for a hot cocoa break! They were sporting some of the pinkest lil' cheeks I ever saw!
Unfortunately, this trip, it was my sister Angie's turn to be sick. The first day I watched my niece, Ella who was also getting over "a bug". And we saw Angie for a brief visit...but we wanted to avoid the stomach flu at all costs! The girls and I ended our trip by celebrating Valentine's Day with a sleep over at Aunt Karla's house. Fun times!
Here's some footage:
Unfortunately, this trip, it was my sister Angie's turn to be sick. The first day I watched my niece, Ella who was also getting over "a bug". And we saw Angie for a brief visit...but we wanted to avoid the stomach flu at all costs! The girls and I ended our trip by celebrating Valentine's Day with a sleep over at Aunt Karla's house. Fun times!
Here's some footage:
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Happy Birthday to Me...a big mess and a long reflection
So Tuesday was my birthday. Ava was off at school and Emily was "helping" me in the kitchen. She's been on a chocolate kick lately. Even though she looks like her daddy, she gets her taste in food straight from me! Refusing to give this child chocolate can result in an all out tantrum. So after she begged and whined and grabbed my legs pleading, I finally gave in and offered her one tiny piece. Hey, I know how a girl needs her chocolate! Moments later it became clear that this was the wrong move on my part. That tiny morsel awakened a monster craving in little Emily for more "chockey". When denied, she flew into an all out rage. She kept tearing open the pantry door, pushing over the chair to climb up and reach the chocolate, and finally, when I removed the chair, trying to climb the shelves. I kept shutting the door and stood my ground. Finally, I removed her from the kitchen, turned on Sesame Street, and plopped her into a bean bag chair for some quality time with Elmo. "Emily, watch t.v., Mommy needs to do the laundry." She glared at me as I walked off to the laundry room to throw in a load of whites. No sooner had I transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer and started tossing in the whites did I hear a loud shattering sound from the direction of the toy room. I dropped everything and ran. When I rounded the corner to the playroom, there stood Emily in front of the Rose Petal Cottage, smiling as she admired this mess:
She threw the first Red Hot "bomb" into the cottage, and when she threw the second, the impact caused it to shatter.
You do not want to piss this toddler off! These were the BIG bottles of Frank's, mind you. I'd just bought them on sale 2/$5 for our Super Bowl wings. The bright red sauce and tiny pieces of glass were all over the Rose Petal cottage. Worse yet, the carpet was saturated. Emily was firmly placed back on her bean bag chair while I rounded up cleaning materials. It took at least an hour, but I got everything clean. Almost good as new if you don't count the fact that our playroom now smells like a wing joint.
As I spent the morn of my 33rd birthday scrubbing, I had this random thought: 10 years ago, I was 23. I could not have foreseen this moment in my life. It wouldn't have ever occurred to me that one day I'd be up to my elbows in hot sauce trying to preserve ugly peach carpeting and a nylon play house. Ahh, 23. When I turned 23, I had just returned from celebrating the millennium at the Outback Bowl in Florida. I'd just started my first teaching job at Emmerich Manual High School in downtown Indianapolis. I was living completely alone for the first time in a studio apartment off of 96th street. I was having a blast! Feeling my independence, going to concerts, sometimes heading back to Purdue for the weekend if I felt like it. Just toss clothes in a duffel bag and I could be out the door for any destination in 5 minutes or less. Carefree. Of course, I entertained my fair share of thoughts about settling down. Back then, I thought that I knew the way my life might look at 33. In some ways, I was right on. Married to Mike (even though he hadn't asked me yet)...kids...etc. But really I had no idea about what lie ahead.
I can't help but wonder, if when I look back on my life someday (hopefully as an old woman), the decade between 23 and 33 will strike me as the most profound period of change. The decade in which I really became a "grown up". Essentially, I am the same. I have the same personality...the same spirit. But I also cannot deny how these 10 years have changed me.
Looking back...
When I turned 23, I'd only been a teacher for less than a month. I had no idea how much I'd enjoy teaching. How good it would feel to really reach students. To watch the light bulb go on when they finally got "it". It really is a rewarding profession and I'm so glad that I got the opportunity to work with so many kids. Aside from being a teacher, I worked some summer jobs back then too. First with the children in a homeless shelter and the following year I learned "the ropes" at an interior design firm. Talk about diverse experiences, going from working with families who had no home as a result of domestic violence and then going into breath-takingly fancy homes and choosing fabrics for the drapes and accessories for the mantle! I learned so much from the hands on experiences, and also from the contrast between the worlds in which these jobs existed.
After a semester, My inner-city teaching job fell prey to a reduction in force and I began teaching at Carmel High School. I moved out of that little apartment on 96th Street and had my first house built in Noblesville. With the help of my family and friends, I painted, landscaped, and decorated. Mike proposed from the top of the Empire State Building in September of 2002 and in June of 2003 I married the love of my life. Things start picking up from here...We've moved 4 times. I've packed and un-packed more boxes than I care to think about. I've been pregnant 4 times and we have 2 beautiful, healthy daughters. I've turned in my teaching hat for a mommy hat...and right now I'm trying my hand at world-class blogger too. Ha ha.
At 23 I had no idea what the human body was capable of. At 27, I found out. I grew and stretched more than I would have believed humanly possible. I held those tiny, red-faced babies in the delivery room. I nursed them at my breast. At 23, I would not have been able to fathom the joy that I would feel in these moments...the moments when their tiny hands are covered with mine. The moments when my nose snuggled into that soft, fine, baby shampoo-ed hair as I rocked the girls to sleep at night.
At 23 I was oblivious to the fear that comes with parenting. The fear that I feel in the pit of my stomach when one of my children gets hurt or sick. And worries, oh worries... such as (but not limited to): are they sleeping enough, getting enough protein/vitamins/fiber/etc, is this the best way to discipline, am I doing this right?! At 23 I had no idea how much becoming a parent would make me appreciate my parents more. Instead of resenting all of their worry and advice, I suddenly understand why...It's just what we parents do. You can't obsess over what a kid eats and drinks, how they learn to talk and walk, teach them to tie their shoes, to say "please and thank you", help them learn their multiplication tables and practice their spelling words and how to overhand serve a volleyball for 18 years and then suddenly think, "Okay, you're on your own now. Do whatever you want. I have no opinion what-so-ever." I get that now.
At 23 I knew about the pride I could feel in a job well done. But I had no idea of the pride that I would feel when my children said their first words, took those first steps, danced in their first recital, or most of all when I witness them doing "the right thing". Being kind to others...showing compassion. 10 years ago, I could not have described the feeling that I get when I hear, "I love you mommy". How my heart swells in my chest and I am encompassed by pure joy.
So on my birthday, as I scrubbed Frank's Red Hot out of the carpet, I realized that the past 10 years have prepared me for moments such as this. I've cleaned up my share of messes...pulled gum out of hair, scrubbed crayon off of walls, craft glue out of my rug, and (my least favorite) vomit out of car seats. It's fair to say that I've honed my cleaning skills and added a few tricks to my repertoire. But living through the last decade has also honed my persistence and patience. Two very important qualities when scrubbing a whole bottle of hot sauce out of your carpet!
Of course, all of this would not have been possible without my husband. At 23, I knew without a doubt that I loved Mike. But at 33 I have seen some of the trials and triumphs and the sweet moments of being half of a whole married couple. At 33 I recognize the challenges of being a good wife and the fulfillment and satisfaction I feel when I succeed at being just that...a good wife. I'm not saying that at 33, with a mere (almost) 7 years of marriage under our belts, that we have it all figured out. I look at the examples of our parents who have been married for 40 and 33 years and even our grandparents who have over 100 years of combined marital experience and I know that we've got a long way to go. But right now, at 33, I'm proud of our marriage and the love that we have for one another.
So yeah, at 23 I thought that I could predict how my life might look at 33 and in some ways I was right on. But there was so much more...
As I wrung out my dishrag over the sink, ridding it of the final traces of hot sauce, I ventured to look ahead to what the next 10 years might hold. Ava will be 15 (yikes!) and Emily will be 12. There may even be another member of our family. Who knows? (This is NOT an announcement...just considering the possibilities...) Of course, we will make goals. But the beauty of life (and the scary part too) is that there is really no way of knowing. In the past 10 years I've learned that I can't control every circumstance (try as I might). But I can certainly pray that we make good decisions. We can do right by our children. Love one another. Show kindness to the people in our lives. Have and keep the faith. Be present in the everyday moments...not take them for granted. And hopefully, on my 43 birthday, I will feel as content in my life and happy as I do today.
Wow. There you have it. Krista, raw and uncut. Well, actually a little cut. I took on some Red Hot bottle shrapnel while cleaning up the mess. I guess it took me more time to clean up...and reflect than I realized. I suppose, in a way, Emily DID give me a gift with this "Red Hot Birthday Disaster". It made me take the time to stop and count my blessings. Weird, I know...counting my blessings while cleaning up such a horrible mess. But I am...I have always been... a silver lining kind of girl.
She threw the first Red Hot "bomb" into the cottage, and when she threw the second, the impact caused it to shatter.
You do not want to piss this toddler off! These were the BIG bottles of Frank's, mind you. I'd just bought them on sale 2/$5 for our Super Bowl wings. The bright red sauce and tiny pieces of glass were all over the Rose Petal cottage. Worse yet, the carpet was saturated. Emily was firmly placed back on her bean bag chair while I rounded up cleaning materials. It took at least an hour, but I got everything clean. Almost good as new if you don't count the fact that our playroom now smells like a wing joint.
As I spent the morn of my 33rd birthday scrubbing, I had this random thought: 10 years ago, I was 23. I could not have foreseen this moment in my life. It wouldn't have ever occurred to me that one day I'd be up to my elbows in hot sauce trying to preserve ugly peach carpeting and a nylon play house. Ahh, 23. When I turned 23, I had just returned from celebrating the millennium at the Outback Bowl in Florida. I'd just started my first teaching job at Emmerich Manual High School in downtown Indianapolis. I was living completely alone for the first time in a studio apartment off of 96th street. I was having a blast! Feeling my independence, going to concerts, sometimes heading back to Purdue for the weekend if I felt like it. Just toss clothes in a duffel bag and I could be out the door for any destination in 5 minutes or less. Carefree. Of course, I entertained my fair share of thoughts about settling down. Back then, I thought that I knew the way my life might look at 33. In some ways, I was right on. Married to Mike (even though he hadn't asked me yet)...kids...etc. But really I had no idea about what lie ahead.
I can't help but wonder, if when I look back on my life someday (hopefully as an old woman), the decade between 23 and 33 will strike me as the most profound period of change. The decade in which I really became a "grown up". Essentially, I am the same. I have the same personality...the same spirit. But I also cannot deny how these 10 years have changed me.
Looking back...
When I turned 23, I'd only been a teacher for less than a month. I had no idea how much I'd enjoy teaching. How good it would feel to really reach students. To watch the light bulb go on when they finally got "it". It really is a rewarding profession and I'm so glad that I got the opportunity to work with so many kids. Aside from being a teacher, I worked some summer jobs back then too. First with the children in a homeless shelter and the following year I learned "the ropes" at an interior design firm. Talk about diverse experiences, going from working with families who had no home as a result of domestic violence and then going into breath-takingly fancy homes and choosing fabrics for the drapes and accessories for the mantle! I learned so much from the hands on experiences, and also from the contrast between the worlds in which these jobs existed.
After a semester, My inner-city teaching job fell prey to a reduction in force and I began teaching at Carmel High School. I moved out of that little apartment on 96th Street and had my first house built in Noblesville. With the help of my family and friends, I painted, landscaped, and decorated. Mike proposed from the top of the Empire State Building in September of 2002 and in June of 2003 I married the love of my life. Things start picking up from here...We've moved 4 times. I've packed and un-packed more boxes than I care to think about. I've been pregnant 4 times and we have 2 beautiful, healthy daughters. I've turned in my teaching hat for a mommy hat...and right now I'm trying my hand at world-class blogger too. Ha ha.
At 23 I had no idea what the human body was capable of. At 27, I found out. I grew and stretched more than I would have believed humanly possible. I held those tiny, red-faced babies in the delivery room. I nursed them at my breast. At 23, I would not have been able to fathom the joy that I would feel in these moments...the moments when their tiny hands are covered with mine. The moments when my nose snuggled into that soft, fine, baby shampoo-ed hair as I rocked the girls to sleep at night.
At 23 I was oblivious to the fear that comes with parenting. The fear that I feel in the pit of my stomach when one of my children gets hurt or sick. And worries, oh worries... such as (but not limited to): are they sleeping enough, getting enough protein/vitamins/fiber/etc, is this the best way to discipline, am I doing this right?! At 23 I had no idea how much becoming a parent would make me appreciate my parents more. Instead of resenting all of their worry and advice, I suddenly understand why...It's just what we parents do. You can't obsess over what a kid eats and drinks, how they learn to talk and walk, teach them to tie their shoes, to say "please and thank you", help them learn their multiplication tables and practice their spelling words and how to overhand serve a volleyball for 18 years and then suddenly think, "Okay, you're on your own now. Do whatever you want. I have no opinion what-so-ever." I get that now.
At 23 I knew about the pride I could feel in a job well done. But I had no idea of the pride that I would feel when my children said their first words, took those first steps, danced in their first recital, or most of all when I witness them doing "the right thing". Being kind to others...showing compassion. 10 years ago, I could not have described the feeling that I get when I hear, "I love you mommy". How my heart swells in my chest and I am encompassed by pure joy.
So on my birthday, as I scrubbed Frank's Red Hot out of the carpet, I realized that the past 10 years have prepared me for moments such as this. I've cleaned up my share of messes...pulled gum out of hair, scrubbed crayon off of walls, craft glue out of my rug, and (my least favorite) vomit out of car seats. It's fair to say that I've honed my cleaning skills and added a few tricks to my repertoire. But living through the last decade has also honed my persistence and patience. Two very important qualities when scrubbing a whole bottle of hot sauce out of your carpet!
Of course, all of this would not have been possible without my husband. At 23, I knew without a doubt that I loved Mike. But at 33 I have seen some of the trials and triumphs and the sweet moments of being half of a whole married couple. At 33 I recognize the challenges of being a good wife and the fulfillment and satisfaction I feel when I succeed at being just that...a good wife. I'm not saying that at 33, with a mere (almost) 7 years of marriage under our belts, that we have it all figured out. I look at the examples of our parents who have been married for 40 and 33 years and even our grandparents who have over 100 years of combined marital experience and I know that we've got a long way to go. But right now, at 33, I'm proud of our marriage and the love that we have for one another.
So yeah, at 23 I thought that I could predict how my life might look at 33 and in some ways I was right on. But there was so much more...
As I wrung out my dishrag over the sink, ridding it of the final traces of hot sauce, I ventured to look ahead to what the next 10 years might hold. Ava will be 15 (yikes!) and Emily will be 12. There may even be another member of our family. Who knows? (This is NOT an announcement...just considering the possibilities...) Of course, we will make goals. But the beauty of life (and the scary part too) is that there is really no way of knowing. In the past 10 years I've learned that I can't control every circumstance (try as I might). But I can certainly pray that we make good decisions. We can do right by our children. Love one another. Show kindness to the people in our lives. Have and keep the faith. Be present in the everyday moments...not take them for granted. And hopefully, on my 43 birthday, I will feel as content in my life and happy as I do today.
Wow. There you have it. Krista, raw and uncut. Well, actually a little cut. I took on some Red Hot bottle shrapnel while cleaning up the mess. I guess it took me more time to clean up...and reflect than I realized. I suppose, in a way, Emily DID give me a gift with this "Red Hot Birthday Disaster". It made me take the time to stop and count my blessings. Weird, I know...counting my blessings while cleaning up such a horrible mess. But I am...I have always been... a silver lining kind of girl.
Life with a 2 year old...
Now that Emily is 2, I'm remembering how much fun this age is. How cute all of their little expressions and phrases can be. How cool it is to watch them learn and grow. I'm also being reminded of how much energy it takes to keep up with a toddler and how stubborn the average two year old can be when flexing their new found independence. "NO! Me do it!" One of the toddler traits that my selective memory dismissed since the last time I had a toddler in the house is the amount of damage that a two year old can do if left unattended for more than 2 minutes...heck, more than 10 seconds! I've cleaned lots of marker off of walls, carpet, and skin lately (thank goodness for washable markers)and crayon off of windows. I've swept a full bag of flour off of the kitchen floor, shampoo-ed a full stick of butter off of a greasy lil' belly, and scrubbed a full bottle of hot sauce out of the playroom carpeting (see previous post).
Along with all of this mischief that Emily is getting into, she told her very first fib recently when I inquired, "Who did this?" She replied, "Not me." Uh-huh. That's why you're covered in flour/marker/chocolate/mascara...or whatever the offending substance might be. They learn fast, don't they?
I've been stalking Em with the camera a bit lately, trying to capture this precious two year old behavior. Here are some video clips:
Along with all of this mischief that Emily is getting into, she told her very first fib recently when I inquired, "Who did this?" She replied, "Not me." Uh-huh. That's why you're covered in flour/marker/chocolate/mascara...or whatever the offending substance might be. They learn fast, don't they?
I've been stalking Em with the camera a bit lately, trying to capture this precious two year old behavior. Here are some video clips:
Happy 2nd Birthday Emily!
My baby turned 2 last month! On her actual birthday we had a fun-filled day starting with church, then lunch at the mall, then off to her first movie theatre show "The Princess and the Frog", followed by cake and ice cream with friends that evening. Two weeks later, we celebrated her birthday back home in Indiana...at the circus! Both of our families were able to attend. We used my mom's company's suite....sweet! Let me tell ya, this is the way to take small children to the circus. I can't imagine keeping all of those kiddos in their seats for 2 hours! Emily had so much fun celebrating with her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Here are the pictures:
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