On Being Missed

My husband, a very busy – hurried – relentlessly overworked man, frowned at me from across the Valentines dinner we were sharing.  A stolen moment that up until even then, we had not been sure would happen. 

“It’s a sad day when you’re too busy to write on your blog”.  He made a frowny face.  I smiled.  “really?  what do you mean?” I probed. 

“Well, it’s just you haven’t written any of your posts…you know what I mean…the long ones that get everyone in the gut.  It’s been a while.  Lots of pictures, and those are good…but…I miss your writing…a lot.”  I was flattered – truly.

And I guess he’s right.   I haven’t written a whole lot lately.  Not that I don’t have thoughts about this or that, or long posts about some dramatic thing or another swirling around in my head – I do!  I just lack the time and effort it takes for me to get them out.  My only free time is at night.  Usually, late.  So it comes down to this: Sleep or blog.  Sleep or blog.  What would you do? 

I’m trying out a new normal – which includes a blooming Blog Design business (woot woot!) and a return to work (thankfully and once again, from my home).  It also includes a very busy husband who cannot be home as often as either of us would like (you can figure out how fun that is after several days - alone with two children...who I sometimes feel could eat me alive and no one would notice...like a crazy lady with too many cats....but I digress)  I have a husband who could likely sleep for weeks straight if left uninterrupted (bless him).  But for the children who are the self-appointed Sleep Deprivation Duo.  But for the children we could both sleep for weeks.  Like mummies in a tomb. Mummies, I tell you.  Asleep mummies who don't speak.  Just lay there.  Wrapped up.  Sleeping....(sigh)

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{lost in thought about sleep now...can you ever have too much sleep?  I don't really think so.  I'm tired just thinking about it.  Does the mummification involve chocolate?  Some sort of chocolate layer on the inside that I can sort of eat my way out, if necessary?  I could totally be on board with that, or whatever.}

ahem.  Ok.

So yes, lots to tell and say and write about.  No time.  And – oh, the children.  So much to say there too.  So many fun things to share.  They are wonderful and a mess – all in the same breath. 

I’m sorry.  Sorry if I have fallen back a little on the writing.  Sorry for my lackluster blogging lately.  It happens a couple times a year, I’ve noticed.  Just some apathy that usually clears up when life settles down after changes set in.  We’ve had some changes - that's for sure - and so I’m waiting for the wind to die down.  It’s coming…I can feel it…stay with me!

Meanwhile, can you stand this Risky Business boy?  This is not staged people.  I can’t make this stuff up.  He came out, did a little dance, turned on his heel and retreated to the bedroom.  But not before I got me some LOVE shots.

**ALSO – big time public apology to my parents for missing the video Valentines Day call.  {smacks forehead for 100th time} – I’m still upset about it.  Forgive me?  We love you and the gifts.  More to come on all the Valentines Day love…

Happy Valentines Day!

So sweet, it breaks your heart

Ever since my parents came for a special one-month visit back in October – Quint has carried a tried and true flame for both of them.  A flame of love in his little heart that provokes him to mention them daily, talk about them, ask for them, include them in lists he makes (“me go store?  me go with Papa?  Nina?"), and more recently, add them into his bedtime routine. 

Because he misses them so much, I gave him a picture of the three of them in a frame for his room.  Just so he can “see” them every day if he wants to.  And it turns out that he does.  Very much.

Love and miss you, Nina & Papa…

Hi Nina.  Hi Papa.  How was your day?  Mine was fine. 

Goodnight kiss for you.  And for you.

picture me {im}perfectly

 

I hope/think/believe you already do.  Knowing that I am, alas, an imperfect girl in so many ways.  I’m often known for spilling the truth on the mothering/wife/being a girl gig – and it's certainly not ladled with much besides my messy life and the trappings of too much reality. 

 

I don’t often join in on the many blog exercises I see running around the pages I follow, but this one….well, it spoke to my sense of need.  The need for women to be able to speak out about what life is really like.  That it’s not, in fact, perfect.  That there are many days, many…, where you might want to throw in the towel.  Imperfect.  But still, it remains in the shadows for so many that would rather cover up the vulnerability of their humanity.  Hiding that {im}perfect girl that lives within each of us.  Darn her.  

So, I'm in.  Here is the setup:

 

Special nod to the creator of this blessed practice in honesty -

Hill, over at capturing motherhood who writes:

“picture me {im}perfectly is a weekly project to reveal that we don't have it all together.

i will post a picture me {im}perfectly blog post every wednesday 
where you will be able to link up to your blog

(or leave a comment) for the whole week (until the following tuesday) revealing that:

you are not picture perfect,

your kids are not picture perfect,

your house is not picture perfect,

your crafts are not always picture perfect,

let's encourage, inspire and remind other women that none of us have it all together.”

OK.  So....
 

...onto my own {im}perfect life.  Last year (and I know I'm stretching it here., but it has really stuck with me)..we were taking family pictures. Correction: trying to take family pictures.  For Easter.  And I was snapping off all these great shots of the kids and it was...well, great.  But then came our turn to be a family of four for the lens, and we got a couple sorta cute pics and whatever.  I think I even posted them on the blog.  For all of you.  Remember?

 

Well, here is the {im}perfect truth.  And frankly, it ain’t pretty, people.  Nope.  Not a bit.  I get easily frustrated.  I’m short of patience these days.  Take it up with God.  I have no idea why.  I’m annoyed.  In general.  And bless the man who married me, because he puts up with it all the time.  And when you try to deny to yourself that you’re that person…the one who is yelling and annoyed and annoying to be around?  When you try really hard to pretend you’ve got it all together? 

Oh forget it. 

I give you…{im}perfection:

“Stop cracking jokes and take the friggin’ picture already!  Do we have all day? 

Good grief…I’m aging here.  My kids are impatient to get down and eat chocolate.

I am impatient to get down and eat chocolate. 

Can we cut to the chase and take a picture like we’re happy already? 

For crying out loud…” 

(or something to that {im}perfect affect)

“Oh really?  Another temper tantrum?  You can’t just take the picture?

Why?  Because you didn’t just get a gazillion bite-size pieces of chocolate in your basket? 

You didn’t get spoiled all the live long day?

I’m so tired of this.  Just take the picture! 

What, are you TWO or something?  Jeesh.” 

(she seemed to say)

Do you know what I see when I look at this picture?  Ugly behavior.  Things not working out  according to my mental perfect plan – for whatever reason, and all that crappy behavior coming to the surface.  I mean, that first one…holy cow.  And to be honest, I think it was mostly in jest – because we had been joking around there as well – but just seeing it…knowing that there are many times that my behavior – much the same as what you see here – is not in jest.   And that is my life. 

The good news?  Forgiveness.  Mercy.  A new day to work harder on it.  Grace.  Of a loving Father and a loving husband.  I am certainly a work in progress.  And it’s not always pretty. 

So no matter what you might think of how perfect other peoples lives are – blogging is not often the best platform for that.  Bloggers let you see what they want you to see.  Not typically the imperfections – but the glossy version.  And in doing so, we can often get mixed up and confused about what is normal.  Especially when we perceive other women have it all together.  Especially then.

Is it normal that I can’t get my house clean?
Is it normal that I can’t corral my kids?
Why can’t I craft like that?
Why can’t I cook like her?
Why can’t I have the latest Coach bag?
(sorry, that last one was my inner desire spilling out towards the keyboard)

But in all seriousness…

picture me {im}perfectly.  From now on.  Promise?