Some thoughts about 2012

Here they are, though they be brief.

  • Rooftops-Mountainsides-Beachfronts-Cube
  • $$$$$-$$$$-$$$-$$
  • Can eat anything I want – Gain weight looking at food
  • Coleman’s favorite hobby is vomiting. He never misses a rug.
  • I witnessed a ridiculous number of trees come down.
  • I started to settle into my family.
  • Moved into a season of curious learning with God, and out of a season of deafening silence.
  • Still think about smoking every day. Wish it was healthy.
  • My life is full of transitions, and my husband is a constant. He is mine and I am his.
  • Sleep isn’t super necessary anymore.

Scariest and most exciting thought in my head right now: Heaven is not a place for people who are scared of hell, it’s a place for people that love God.

I don’t know what this blog is anymore, but I like looking back and remembering, because my time is flying by. Here’s to more updates in 2013.

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I tried it and I liked it

In an effort to cut costs we’ve been cooking every meal at home. Every. Meal. At. Home. This requires a ridiculous amount of planning, coupon-ing, and talking yourself into cooking, when all you really want is a Hungry Howies pizza and wine on the couch.

It’s been fun, I never really knew I had it in me to cook. I’ve always been super intimidated by cooking meals for people, but with Pintrest I’ve been making huge progress. Having a visual aid takes the unknown out of it for me.

Just this weekend I made these two Pintrest recipes:

Egg Patties for breakfast sandwiches:

And Bacon Chicken Quesadillas with Avacado:

Surprisingly, 3 out of 4 Thompson’s liked the quesadillas. That’s a big win, because usually we get 1 out of 4 liking anything, and, well, the 1 is me.  I had diced up some chicken for chicken alfredo the night before, so I just set a bit aside for these quesadillas the next day. Travis cooks bacon every morning that we have the kids, so I asked him to cook me some extra pieces, so those were on hand as well. Add some cheese and a sliced up avacado and you’re left with a surprisingly easy and really filling lunch that’s a nice break from the ordinary.

The egg sandwich things are awesome. Break an egg into a muffin pan, cook for 15 minutes at 350. Done-zo. You can add ham or spinach or whatevs. We keep some english muffins around that we toast, then put the egg thingy on with a slice of cheese. The hubs verdict was, “Make a dozen next time because I will eat two of those a day.” The egg patties last for a week in the fridge, and if you use non-stick spray in the muffin pans they slide right out. My biggest fear was that they’d break apart coming out of the pan and lose their functionality, but huzzah, they did not.

Weirdest of all, I’m finding some real enjoyment out of cooking for my family. There are a few things the kids ask for repeatedly now (Will wants macaroni and cheese, Liv wants Sesame Chicken or Shrimp), and it’s nice that I can do something small that makes them happy.

You can find me on Pintrest here to see what else I’m cooking lately! If you have any good, easy recipes with a picture, share them!

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Friends Forever

I got to reconnect with a friend today, someone that I haven’t been able to communicate with for years. We were both in seasons of life where it was inappropriate for us to speak with one another, so we just didn’t. That is a weird sentence to type, but I think that it’s good to acknowledge things like that. Sometimes, it’s OK to not be friends with someone. Sometimes, you have to step back and let some time march by before all of a sudden you’re back in the relationship and it’s like time never even went anywhere at all.

I used to think I was pretty smart. This is why comparing yourself to other humans is bad, because in light of most decision making (peopleofwalmart.com, anyone?)  you can suddenly seem kind of above average. That turns into pride, which inevitably leads to destruction. So you flit through your twenties comparing your success to the people around you thinking maybe you’ve got your life together, and then you realize you don’t.

As a kid in church I’d heard the phrase “guard your heart” and I really thought I got that, and maybe I did for that season of life. But now married (um, again) and a step-mom, I see it in a completely new way. Friendships are a privilege because they take time away from relationships that are a right. My step-kids have the right to my time and attention, and so does my husband. So I guard my heart against certain friendships. Which is why, even though I was glad to rekindle this particular friendship for a few hours, I know sooner than later I’ll step away again.

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Storm Days

Hurricane Isaac is sprinkling through our yard as I type, and we’ve been notified by local school officials that our kids are not going to school today for their safety and the safety of the staff.

It’s raining. Part of me just cannot believe my kids are getting out of school because it’s raining and windy at the same time. Part of me is glad they’ll be home.

I can remember being very, very young at my private christian school. It was a school where we had to wear dresses every day and we went to chapel once a week. I’m going to guess I was six, because when you’re as old as I am it’s plausible that I can remember back only so far, and six seems reasonable.

So I was six and there was a tropical storm or a hurricane or something and I was at school, because my parents worked and I was always at school, even after school hours were over. I was in daycare until they could come get me. I had before school care, and after school care, and summer school care, and I have no idea how they afforded it all but I’m glad they did. Thanks guys. Back to my story.

I recall the power going in and out after school, and we all huddled into this hallway near the front office with my daycare teacher, Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson always wore her dark hair in a bun, with a t-shirt tucked into her long khaki skirt.  The fact that she wore tennis shoes and socks with those skirts bothered me even as a six-year-old. We got to use the bathrooms at the front of the church, which were usually reserved for adults in their Sunday dresses and pantyhose and fancy shoes, not sticky-fingered kids dirty from the playground. There was a long pew on one wall covered in crunchy orange velvet fabric on the seat, then a hard floor and a concrete wall on the other side. The kids sat on the floor, and we didn’t complain. We all sat watching the rain through the glass double doors that led out to the parking lot. Parents would trudge in one after the other to pick up their kids.

I remember my dad coming to pick me up and I remember how his car always smelled like his aftershave. We drove home in his little company car, and when we turned into our neighborhood we were very, very quiet. Two doors down from our house, my best friend’s roof was missing. It had been shaved off by a chain link fence flying through the air. The screens to our porch were gone, and there were trees down in various yards. It was terrifying, yet fascinating as we kept trying to figure out how a tornado could so viciously attack some houses and just carelessly pass by others like drunk bumbling idiot stumbling through a restaurant. I remember feeling so lucky that my roof didn’t get shaved off by a fence.

I won’t tell my kids that story today, because I don’t want to freak them out. But while I’m teasing them about missing school because it’s raining, I’ll watch for flying fences.

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Monster

Found this sitting in my drafts folder and decided to publish it tonight. 

 

Dear Twelve,

Today was your first talent show. You’re in 6th grade, almost exactly my height, and you wear tight, tight pants that make your father cringe. You have the body of an 18 year old. You have the wit of an 18 year old. You have zero organization, which is why I’ve been doing your laundry all. freaking. day. It’s also why we hugged you and gushed about your third place win tonight singing “Monster” by Paramore (!!) and then said, “Okay, let’s talk about that math test you forgot to make up.”

You walked right onto that stage and owned it, sister. You were well rehearsed and nailed every note, every lyric. You bounced around and had great energy and we were like, TOTALLY STOKED!! You seriously rocked. Your outfit was perfect and it was just all around completely inspiring. I videoed it for your aunt and uncle that had to miss it- they were so bummed.

While I personally think you were robbed with your third place win (You deserved first, obviously), you took it in stride and the best part was when they announced second place. Yes, when they called your friend Elizabeth’s name for second place, you smiled and laughed and rejoiced for her. And that was the most beautiful part of your performance tonight, Twelve. The fact that you are not putting on any sort of show when you love someone. That’s the real deal and you do it really, really well.

 

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Will You Remember?

I think Five might be a Physical Touch kinda person. And gifts. He LOVES getting gifts, and giving them. Just yesterday I received a leaf he’d plucked from a tree, especially for me, and the day before he found a brown leaf while riding his bike (you know, the crunch, fall looking kind of leaf) and he stopped riding, picked it up, and brought it to me. He’s pretty thoughtful.

But back to physical touch. He loves hugs and chipmunk kisses (and recently we learned about eskimo kisses) and squishing (which maybe I will demonstrate on video for you someday) and cuddling and wrestling and tickling. And since statistically he’s the only Five year old I’ll ever have, I love giving him hugs and kisses and squishing him and all those things, and I think a lot about how lucky I am to get those hugs, his affection.

Yesterday I told Five ‘bye’ and went to hug him before I left…it’s sort of become a ritual that’s morphed over the past year. We used to do “Grand Finale” hugs where I’d hug him and flip him over, and now he’s half my size and I can’t do it anymore. Such a bummer. But we improvise.

Yesterday he didn’t seem to want to let go of me, and when he is still enough to let that happen I just close my eyes and soak it in. Those magical hugs where he relaxes and lays his head on my shoulder. He is so, so quickly becoming an “all boy” little boy, no baby anymore.

I just held him and rocked him and while a thousand thoughts about him and his life raced through my mind, I said, “Five, will you remember this when you’re a teenager? That we had lots of hugs and that you fit in my arms and that we love each other?”

He said, “Yes, and when I’m bigger YOU will fit in MY arms!”

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What happened to September?

Can someone, anyone, please tell me where September went?

I feel like I blinked and now it’s October and I’m getting married like…(counts on fingers)…really freaking soon.

And just to slide right into ways to make you nauseous and completely over reading anything here, let me tell you about why I love Travis.

(Here is where I should list things like his eyes, or how smart he is, and how he’s super funny and great with everyone, but instead I’m going to be selfish and list something that has to do with meeeee! I’m an only child!)

It’s because he really really gets me. Which is good, because somewhere in the September days that raced by, I lost my mind. I got stressed, and scared, and mean, and I kind of possibly blew up all over him about everything that was stressing me and making me scared (and did I mention mean?). And he takes it, and he doesn’t run away or lash out at me,  and he tells me I need to eat something and maybe catch some Zzz’s, and it’ll be better soon. Weirder still, he never holds it against me when I freak out on him, and he is absorbing some qualities I seem to have lost along with my mind, like remembering everything and any sort of organization.

In conclusion (this falls woefully short of essay length, but it felt really darn good then writing ‘in conclusion’, like maybe Mrs. Ostman would be proud of me), I feel very secure that he knows who I really am under all of the crazy that happened in September. So unless he gets hit in the head really hard (or just comes to his senses), there’s a good chance that he’ll still know who I am and love me when all the crazy happens in our years to come (and since we are a blended family, and we own our own business and we travel, the local forecast calls for crazy).

Here’s to you, October. My resolutions for you include not stressing out, and drinking some of your delicious beer while eating oysters. Cheers.

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