A dance to remember

We are coming out of the fog in the House of Francl. Connor came down with Roseola on Monday night, so we slept little and fought a super high fever until Thursday evening when his fever broke.  By Friday morning a rash appeared confirming the diagnosis.  But we still didn't get much sleep Thursday night or Friday night.  Finally yesterday I felt around in Connor's mouth and it turns out he's also been cutting his 2nd molar through all of this.  Poor guy!

I am pleased to say that after a good night's sleep I am coming out of the first trimester fog and feeling much more like myself and that Connor and Lily finally slept well last night!  Hurray!  

But this post isn't really supposed to be about all that.  It's supposed to be about my Lily.  Every season with her just seems to get better and better.  Maybe it's that we're experiencing everything together for the first time, or maybe it's that she's just a joyful little thing, or maybe it's simply that she's my girl so I get such joy out of experiencing life through her eyes.  At any rate, we've had a delightful month.

Yesterday just she and I got to go shopping for the first time I can remember since Connor was born.  She picked where we ate, she got to pick one candy from the candy store for dessert, we searched for a robe for her (to no avail, so we ended up ordering online).  It was just so fun to have her along for the ride.  

Usually of necessity, I take both kids with me when I do just about anything, or I take Connor and Chase takes Lily.  So yesterday's time together brought back memories of what life was like before Connor.  I felt like I had it all together - she wanted a snack and I had a snack in the car for her, she wanted a drink and I was ready with water, she was tired of walking and I could carry just her for a little ways.  No rushing to make nap time, no containing a 1 year old through lunch in a restaurant, no need for wipes (that I usually forget to stick in the diaper bag).  It was truly amazing!  

It was good for me to experience the importance of that special, individually invested time.  Lily and I do special things during Connor's nap, but it's not the same as the better part of a day devoted to doing something special together.  All I'm really trying to say is she's marvelous, and I love spending time with her.

A week ago, Lily got to do something extra special too - her dance recital.  (Quick disclaimer for the aunts/uncles/cousins out there who didn't get invited: This was our first year doing this and to be honest, I wasn't sure how it would go.  I was worried she wouldn't do anything on stage at all, so I didn't invite too widely.  IF we do dance again next year, I'll invite you and get you tickets ahead.  We didn't mean to "leave you out" of this event in Lily's life.  It's just it was a first for all of us, and I learned a lot.  We'll do better next time, if we do it again!)

Recital was on a Saturday at the Performing Arts Center in town.  It seats about 500 people, and it was packed out for both of the performances on Saturday.  Our dance studio in town is actually really good and puts on a great show.  I don't know how many dancers there were, but a LOT. Lily's class was one of 2 preschool classes, the youngest dancers.  

Here's my little dancer. This was after it was all over - can you see the elation and relief on my face?
I'm proud to say her performances peaked at recital.  I couldn't get her to practice at home,
and she was distracted by all the new stuff at dress rehearsal, but recital was quite good!

Each of the two shows that Saturday was 3 hours long - a 1pm matinee and a 5:30pm evening performance.  Each age group had their own "home room" where room moms (attempted) to keep the kids happy, clean, and dressed for their next dance.  I was a room mom along with a few others during the matinee in the preschool room.  While Lily's class only had 8 dancers in it, the other preschool class had 12 or 14.  *sigh*  We had over 20 little girls between the ages of 3 and 5 in a small room for 3 hours...  It was possibly the longest 3 hours of my life!!! 

Most of Lily's class watching Frozen on my Kindle.

There were many bathroom runs, lots of costume adjusting, and countless snacks handed out.  You'd think from the way the kids ate that parents never fed them!  I guess boredom results in hungry preschoolers?

Coloring and snacks.

As Lily explained, she was on the blue team, and the other preschool class was the yellow team.  We mixed up and played together.  But honestly, the electronics were a LIFE SAVER!!!  I don't know how we would have done it without Tinkerbell and Frozen and iPads and DVD players and Kindles and phones.

Parts of both teams watching Tinkerbell on a portable DVD player.
The only thing that would have made this more effective was having
a bigger screen.

Lily's costume was darling, and for the most part comfortable for her. It wasn't scratchy or anything. But you always knew where the blue team had been...  We left a trail of feathers wherever we went.  During the evening performance after Lily's group did their first dance, a blue feather flitted around on the stage for about the next 3 dances!  Also, as a room mom it was important to have a needle and blue thread to sew feathers back onto costumes.  For all the money we paid for the stupid things, you'd think the feathers should stay on...  None the less, they were adorable.  :)

Getting ready for her tap dance!

I recently had a mom ask what I thought of dance.  Here is my assessment:  it's expensive.  And it's not just that the lessons are expensive (because paying for that doesn't bother me too much).  It's the shoes ($34 for tap shoes!  and we got her ballet ones for $0.50 at a garage sale last summer. I don't even want to know what they cost if you buy new.), and the costume ($55), and the recital tickets ($8/ea), and the recital tights, and the t-shirts you can buy, and the summer dance camps, and the dance studio sweat suits, and the... It's really unending.  I didn't buy anything I didn't have to buy, I borrowed what I could, and we were still in the $300-400 range.

So if you can afford it, I think dance can be really good.  It added structure to Lily's week.  She got to be in a classroom setting under a teacher other than me, and they moved and wiggled the whole time.  Her teacher was amazing with her and all the other little girls, and Lily learned a lot in terms of physical development.  Little things like toe pointing, the crab walk, point and plies, standing on her toes, tapping her heel, etc, etc.  All these things are things I would never teach at home, but they develop motor skills as well as the fact that she and 8 little girls learned to do something together.

I don't know if we'll keep going with dance.  Based on watching all the little girls, Lily's not a natural, but she's not bad either.  Of course she wants to do it again, but what 3 year old doesn't want to be a ballerina?  The coming year will hold a LOT of new things for our family, so we'll make the decision when the time comes.  But for now, I can say that I am glad we did it this last year, and it certainly made for a lot of good memories!

Happy 1st Birthday Connor!

I'm shamefully late in posting this - almost a whole month late.  Connor turned 1 on March 28, and I couldn't be more proud to be his mommy!  

Before I really dive into this, I want to establish something.  In our home we celebrate birthdays. I mean we CELEBRATE birthdays.  They're not always huge blowouts, not always big cakes or lots of presents.  But we spend the day gratefully celebrating and enjoying the birthday person.  Surviving another year is no small thing.  In this world we have NO guarantees for our next breath let alone our next year.  I hope that whatever your style, you truly celebrate birthdays - it doesn't matter if it's 1 or 5 or 86.  Each one is priceless and each person should feel, (every day, but especially) one day a year, how very cherished, treasured, valued and loved they are.

Connor's 1st birthday was on a Saturday, and I woke up extra exhausted.  So the massive to do list I had (which included decorating the cake and making some of the food) got put off in favor of a nap at about noon.  The party started at 5.  Thanks to help from friends and family it all got done on time and we had a wonderful party!  

As you can see below, the cake and cupcakes got finished in time. (It was a good thing I picked a simple design!)

We didn't get a family picture that day, but we did get a Mommy, Connor, Daddy picture.

Having seen how much cake I made, you probably realized that the party was big.  Like 30+ people big.  That's a little absurd, considering a 1 year old will have NO memory of this party, and who really has that many people to celebrate with anyway?  

Well, the answer is, we do.  First birthdays are big for me.  It's not about the 1 year old (although it is).  For me, this party was about thanking all of the people who made the first year of Connor's life possible, survivable, and even enjoyable.  Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and dear friends who support our family in a million ways came to celebrate with us.  Without these people's time, attention, care, and love of Connor, Lily, Chase, and I, Connor would not be the healthy, delightful, jolly, curious, marvelous, brilliant little boy that he is.  These people have poured into us, especially in this last year, and this was our chance to say "thanks."

Lily and cousin Ella.  That Ella was there was the best part of the party for Lily, I think!

These handsome cousins helped us set up and tear down. They are also fantastic gentlemen that I'm excited for Connor to watch as he grows.

*sigh*  Oh that little darling.  I just love him!

Connor had lots of help opening presents.  This year he actually needed the help, so all was well!

One candle for the handsome one year old.

He liked the candle and knows how to blow, so he *almost* got it blown out by himself.  Sister helped just to be sure it was totally blown out. :)

Digging in.  He didn't get too terribly messy.

But he did love the experience.  :)

Connor Bear, you're our favorite Connor in the whole world.  You've taught this mama a lot about patience, discipline, growth, and development.  You've also reminded me how valuable a whole night's uninterrupted sleep is. (Thank you for FINALLY sleeping through the night!!!)  Our family is much brighter because of you, and the days are more joyful.  May you grow in curiosity, health, gratitude, patience, and wisdom in the coming year.  WE LOVE YOU!!!!

Thank you, Chase, for a fabulous vacation!

I'm exhausted.  Completely exhausted.  My calves hurt, and my shins are a little bruised.  But I am SOOOOO happy!  *sigh*  What a marvelous vacation.

I mean, just look at this and tell me you wish you weren't here:  

That's me with Mozart over my shoulder and the North Peak in the background.  To be honest, the skiing was probably some of the worst I've ever skied, other than the blizzard that one year.  This year it was icy.  It was also warm.  Like 45-50 degrees highs warm.  Too warm, really, but still SO fun!

And when you're skiing with a crew like the one above, it was just... amazing.  It was the first time I'd hit the slopes in 10+ years, and I was definitely more in shape back in the day.  But, guess what?  I've still got it!  Like riding a bike - you never forget.  :)  I can't tell you how happy that made me!

This is me and my sister-in-law.  (I'm the homeless looking one.  I never thought about how ugly my skiing getup was until just now as I'm looking at the pictures.)  We are on the top of the highest peak in the Outback, just above the treeline.  Way in the distance, you can see Breckenridge.  It was beautiful!

This is Chase, on his snowbike.  I made the mistake of taking him down a blue that was a bit steep on the first day and, well, that was the end of that.  He didn't get hurt, but he decided that snowbiking (as well as skiing and snowboarding) is not for him.  Somehow strapping things to his body, riding to the top of a mountain and then hurling himself down it isn't his idea of fun.  Something about his "self-preservation instinct." (I will never understand him.)

Chase spent day 2 of our ski trip reading in the condo and bringing us lunch at the slopes.  I'm certainly not complaining!  A hot lunch at the entrance to the gondola in between runs.  And he let me ski to my heart's content - he even cleaned up our room in the condo.  He's the best!

A few highlights from the trip:

My nephew (age 11) said from out of nowhere one day as he looked at a bottle of salve, "I'm really disappointed that you would buy something called, 'Bengay'"  This from my newphew, Benjamin.  Also the multiple times my niece put Bengay on her legs, and then rubbed her eyes.

Chase's whole snowbiking experience.  From the certification class, to the 40-something year old asthmatic out-of-shape woman who was also in the class, to his inability to cut across the mountain (it "just doesn't work" for him), to the asthmatic woman's husband telling Chase he was "shredding it," to... oh man.  There's just so much with that little trike  "quadracycle."

There were, of course, the wipe outs.  My one spectacular head-over-heals, one skiied, tumble... as I tried to put my 2nd ski back on outside of the gondola.  It was amazing.  A guy skiied by me and called over his shoulder, "Wish I had a camera for that one."  Honestly, it was the only time I fell, and it was amazing.  Then there was the time Ryan went to take a jump and landed on dirt.  It just so happens that skis stick to dirt while Ryan went flying superman-style forward.  Then the boys, the poor boys, who snowboarded and caught edges all the time (less the more we skied) - face-plants and flat-on-their-backs were very common.  I never saw it, but I am told that on my nieces first run down ever, she fell at least 50 times.  However, when I skied with her, I didn't see her fall once.

Most improved?  Well, that's hard to say because all of my nephews and my niece had never hit the slopes before and all of them skied blues by the time it was over.  Well done, guys!

I really don't have anything more to say other than that it was fantastic and you all should go skiing.  It's absolutely the best vacation ever!

Announcing our new recruit to Team Francl

The gag order is over!  Yes, it's true.  We are expecting #3!!!!  If I were in your shoes, I'd have a lot of questions, so I'll just go ahead an answer them:

1.  Due date?  October 28, 2015

2.  How far along?  6 1/2 weeks

3.  That make the kids how far apart?  If this one comes on his due date, Lily will be 4 years and 1 month old, and Connor will be 19 months old.  Exactly.  We have a thing for birthdays on the 28th day of the month.

4.  How are you feeling?  So far so good.  I've started carrying snacks everywhere, because I need to eat a little something every couple of hours.  And the first trimester exhaustion is just starting to hit.  But this is all normal for me at this stage, and I absolutely cannot complain.

5.  Boy or girl?  For the first time ever in a pregnancy, I feel very strongly about the gender, and I have from the second I knew:  BOY.  I'm 99% sure this is a boy!  We'll find out in a few months for sure.

6. Name?  We know the name if it's a boy (and it is), but we're not sharing, not even with Lily and Connor.  So for now, this little one is Bitty Bear.  (Lily was "Little Bit" before she was born; Connor was "Baby Bit" before he was born; and now that they're here, Lily and Connor sometimes are "Sister Bear" and "Brother Bear" respectively.  So you can see how the nickname "Bitty Bear" came to be.)

7.  What do the kids think?  Lily is thrilled to "be a big sister again!"  She's also convinced that she has a baby in her tummy too.  She has told me multiple times that my tummy's getting bigger (thanks for that this early in the pregnancy, dear...) and that her tummy is too.  Last night she told me that when our babies come out of our tummies, she will hold my baby and I will hold hers.  "We'll trade, won't that be great, Mom!"  :)  She cracks me up!  And Connor is too little to know what's going on.  But if his sister is excited, he is excited.  So I guess he's looking forward to the new baby too.

8.  Planned or surprise?  Oh boy, isn't this the question!  (Be honest, it's what you really wanted to know, right?)  We knew the potential risks and benefits and took our chances.  Turns out we basically won the lottery!

To be totally honest, this pregnancy was more planned than I've let on to most everyone so far.  We weren't surprised in the least, and we're really, really excited!  When Connor was only a couple of months old I was already talking with Chase about the next one and when, Lord willing, that one might come.  And now, here it is!  I can't say we'll ever do things this close again, necessarily, and who knows how many more kids we'll even have. But this time around, Chase and I both agreed this was right for our family.  We were both ready.

This whole experience makes me want to apologize to all of my friends who have had kids closer than I thought was reasonable - as if I knew what was best for their family. So if you're one of those friends, I'm so, so sorry!  One friend in particular, I nearly cried for when she told me she was pregnant again so soon.  In that case it was a surprise and not planned in the least, but my response, I feel, placed my own judgement of appropriate child spacing upon her and her family.  I felt sorry for her - almost to the point of pity.  What right did I have to put that sort of a label on that child - something to be pitied?

It's all made me rethink how I respond to other people's situations.  We are called to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn.  So I'm not saying it's wrong to share in the shock, trepidation, fear, uncertainty, and all those other emotions that come along with unexpected or unplanned pregnancy.  But putting my personal ideas about the right way to plan a family on someone else's situation isn't right.  If things aren't sinful or wrong, then I should not treat them as if they are.

I have found that people tend to say "Congratulations" tentatively - like they're waiting to see if I'm genuinely excited or if I'm going to burst into tears at our folly of having to kids within 19 months of each other.  The more I think about it, I guess I appreciate this response.  It shows that others are willing to share with me in life exactly where I'm at - be that joy or grief or even both.

But let me be clear when I say I am excited.  EXCITED!!!!!

There will likely be some other big changes coming our way in the coming months, but the Lord knows them all now and is getting us ready for them.  For now, all 5 of us are resting in His sovereign plan for our family.

A celebration and blowout kind of day

Today we celebrated - really had a blowout kind of day.  First, we helped some dear friends move into the house they've been working on for 5 months.  There's still work to be done, but they are living there.  Tonight!  Celebration!

Then this afternoon, we went to my mom's parents' to celebrate both of their birthdays.  I won't tell you how old they turned, but I will tell you that I hope I age as gracefully and with as much spunk as they have.  They are a joy to be around, and all of my mom's branch of the family (save my sister who was away at college) got to celebrate and hang out for the afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Hurray!

Finally, on the way home, we stopped off at a little Mexican restaurant for supper.  Conversation was good, the kids were great, the food was delicious.  Mmmm.  A great end to a great day... almost.

Connor had annihilated the rice and beef that I'd shared with him.  Annihilated it in such a way that it was all over the floor.  As we finished up, I bent over to try to mitigate the mess, and then it hit me:  the stench.  Sniff, sniff  It could only be one thing.

I picked Connor up, grabbed the diaper bag and excused the two of us to visit the changing table in the restroom.  There was a mom and two little girls ahead of us waiting for the single restroom.  You know the kind - it's a little 6x6 room that has the sign outside that designates it both a boys and girls restroom.

The door opened, the occupant left, and the waiting mom went in.  Connor looked over at me and gave me a monstrous Mexican-food caked grin.  I made a mental note to wipe his face down while changing him.

We waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And we all knew what that other mom was doing.  Clearly it wasn't going to be ideal to go in after her.  But we were dealing with poop too, so NBD.  As we waited, a lady got in line behind us.  Connor started shooting his most winning grins her way and eventually got bored of his upright perch in my arm.  He dive-bombed forward and I caught across his chest with my other arm.  I pretended to make him fly.  He was loving it!  But then his shirt came up a bit.

What was that?  Oh no.  No, no.  Blowout.  Darn.  At least the onsie caught it and it hasn't seeped through onto his jeans or over-shirt.  Don't lay him down on his back.  Sit him up and get his clothes off so it doesn't squish out more.

The mom FINALLY comes out of the bathroom.  Her daughter goes in.  The lady behind me leaves - too long of a wait.  I balance my son more carefully.  I don't want to inadvertently add to the mess I'll have to deal with.  Handle with care!

The daughter comes out, but just then a little boy comes prancing around the corner with his dad.  He clearly really REALLY has to go.  I graciously inform the dad that I'll be dealing with a blowout - his son should go first.  Son goes in.  Son eventually comes out.

By this time, I know that my family has finished whatever was left of their food, paid the bill, and is likely waiting at the door.  Fortunately, I'm an experienced mother.  A veteran.  I got this.  NBD.

We walk into the little 6x6 room and lock the door.  I see the changing table doesn't have those little paper covers, but there is a roll of that brown paper you dry your hands with.  I quickly unroll 2 lengths and lay them on the changing table.

I sit Connor down and reach for a diaper and wipes.  Connor reaches up and knocks the Glade automatic sprayer off of the little shelf next to the changing table.  Who put that there anyway?  Oh well, I'll pick it up and put it back when I'm done.

I take off his shirt and pants.  His onesie isn't just... well... dirty.  It's bulging.  In the back.  Like a muffin top.  Oh crap. (Literally)  Call for reinforcements!  I reach into my back pocket for my phone to text my mom.  Empty.  Other pocket!  Empty!!!!  Sigh.  Buck up!  Time to show 'em what you've got!  You've done this before!!!  You got this.  I unsnap the buttons on the bottom of the onesie and lift it up his back just enough to assess the situation.  The muffin top is poop.  All of it.  The diaper is no help here.

I look behind me and notice that the toilet and the toilet paper are both within reach.  I grab some toilet paper and lift the onesie again.  Swipe.  Sploosh.  The first offensive went well.  I go for it again.  Swipe.  Sploosh.  I hope that doesn't clog the toilet.

I reassess.  I roll his onesie down from his shoulders and off of his body.  There is still a LOT of poop in it!  Oh well. Where do I set it?  On top of his other clothes on the shelf below the changing table I guess.  I've broken through the front line!  Hurray!  I grab wipes and clean up his back.  Then I stand him up to undo his diaper.

The diaper comes off and I go for a wipe.  The room goes completely pitch black. What just happened?  Why....?  "Connor, leave the light switch alone!"  Why did they have to put the changing table so close to the light switch?  My son is standing on the changing table leaned over one arm as I use the other arm to contend with a diaper that gave up long ago.

I manage to flick the switch back on.  I see the trash can.  It's within reach if I stretch and can get the lid open.  Success!  The diaper is gone!

Then I survey the wreckage.  I have a poop covered son, held up by my poop covered hand, standing on a poop covered table.  Oh, and he's dive-bombing for a pile of poop on the pathetic effort at a changing table cover I put down moments ago in hopes that they'd be helpful.  Now those to strips of brown hand-drying paper are just another thing on which we have caked poop!

I divert Connor's attention from the pile of poop, quickly get rid of the brown paper (all while balancing my teetering son on the changing table) and reach for wipes to get my hand clean.  Pitch black.

"Connor.  Don't mess with the light switch!"

I flick it back on.  Things just got serious.  Giggle!  But this is hilarious!  But I have to hurry this up.  My family will think both Connor and I are buried in a pile of poop... Which we are, but we won't be for long!

I'm like a ninja.  I whip wipes around and clean like all forms of poopy darkness are closing in on me, but refuse to let them win!  Pitch black.

"Connor, seriously, quit with the lightswitch."

I finally get the boy clean (mostly), pull out a diaper and jammies and then lift Connor enough to put the jammies down on the changing table.  I stop short.  Sigh.  The changing table looks like... well... like a major blowout battle was fought and the blowout won.  I look at my naked son, look down at my jacket (already needing a wash thanks to supper getting all over the sleeve).  I shrug and settle Connor on my hip, reminding myself that the jacket has to be washed anyway.  I try not to think about the poop I didn't *quite* get off of his buns.

With one hand, I start wiping down the changing table.  Connor discovers (again) the little shelf next to the changing table that once held the Glade room spray.  With one hand, Connor nearly knocks the shelf down onto us.  Awesome.  Scoot away from that wall, but don't scoot so far that you can't continue to cleaning the changing table.

I finally decide it's clean enough to lay down the jammies, the diaper, and the boy.  Boy into diaper into jammies.  Hurray!!!!

I pick him up and go to grab the bag.  That's when I notice the onesie - my nemisis - still awaiting a safe place to travel home.

I have these fantastic little bags that I keep in my diaper bag for just such an occasion.  They're slightly scented like baby powder, and they really do hold in the smell and the mess very well.  Unfortunately, I'm down to my last bag on the roll.  You know how difficult it is to get the last bag of a trash bag roll unrolled? Yep.

I'm squatting next to the diaper bag, my son balanced on one arm (because public bathroom floors are gross, and that changing table, despite my best efforts isn't much better), trying desperately to unroll this stupid bag with my free hand when I hear my mom's voice, "Steph?  Are you ok?"

"Yeah!  I'll be out in a sec!"  I've been in here forever!  I bet there are 10 people lined up out there.  I wonder if staying in here until the place closes is an option?  No.  No, I can't.  My family is waiting.  Walk out proud and no one will suspect the battle!

FINALLY the bag is freed and opened.  I stuff dirty clothes in the scented bag, stuff the bag in the diaper bag, and hold my head high.

That place has never seen a mom walk through with such assurance and confidence.  Or at least that place has never seen a mom fake it so well.

Post Script - I did remember to put the Glade automatic room sprayer back on the little shelf.  Any who have used that room since us should be eternally grateful for that.

Post Post Script - It's a good thing he's so stinking adorable...

Over half of my life

On Wednesday, February 4, 2015, a major thing happened.  Something I've been talking about for months, something I've anticipated for years, something that happens to most people much later in life.  I hit the point that I've spent 1/2 of my life with my spouse that day.  And you know what?  I didn't even notice it.

Not because it wasn't important, and not because I wasn't looking forward to it.  Simply because life happens and often the urgent (diapers, snow days, dinner, work and the like) get in the way of focusing on the important (in this case, celebrating a major landmark in our relationship).

On February 4, 2000, Chase asked me if I would "go out with him."  So began the adventure that is us, and here we are 15 years later, still together.  Half of my time on this earth has been spent with this man.  I mean, we haven't been married for 15 years.  We'll celebrate 10 years of marriage this summer.  But 15 Valentines with him as my beau, 15 New Years with him to kiss (Ok, not really.  It took a while to work up to the kissing since we were so young!), 15 Christmases where I've searched for the perfect gift for him.  Fifteen years.

When I imagine Lily and Connor being 15 years old, it seems like 15 years is such a long, long time, but when I think back...  Ok, it does seem like a long time ago that he asked me out.  But not THAT long.

How old am I?  How did I get here?  Nearly 10 years of marriage, 2 kids, a dog, a cat, a minivan.

We've often joked that I'm an "old soul."  Part of me has always functioned like a 50 year old.  And we've joked that Chase is "a kid."  Most Part of him has always functioned like a 5 year old.  We're getting to the point where between the two of us we're averaging out to about 30 years old, and we're hitting our stride.

Valentine's Day is coming and we won't make a big deal about it.  We never do - it's just not our style.  But today, as I think back to the last 15 years and all that they've held, I just wanted to put out there, publicly, a few of the character traits about my man that have made the time so special:

Loyalty
Honesty
Servant's Heart
PATIENCE (especially with my particular brand of "crazy")
Love
Grace
Humor
Ornery-ness
Majoring on majors, not on minors
PATIENCE
Provider
Leader
Wisdom
Fun-loving
PATIENCE
Consistency
Support

You can see a theme - I don't think I'm very easy to live with, so much patience is required.  I'm opinionated.  I believe there are right ways and wrong ways to do things, and things in my house will be done the right way.  I expect a lot of others, but more of myself, and I regularly fall abysmally short of meeting my own expectations.  This only makes me mad and makes me work harder to meet the constantly-growing expectations.

My blessed husband has loved me in spite of and arguably because of the above for 15 years.  This man knew as a high schooler that he wanted to marry me (when I was worried about what I'd wear to Homecoming, he was wrestling with how to tell me he was really, truly in love with me).  How did he know, and why would he think such a thing?!?  I have no idea other than that his ear and heart have always had a bent to following the Lord's leading, which is what makes it a joy for this strong-willed-wife to walk in submission to my servant-leader husband.

Chase, we've been blessed with 15 years.  I yearn for so many more, because you have made these so full and fun.  YOU are who I want to face the coming days - the good, the bad, the joy, the heartache, the celebration, the pain that they will hold. Here's to the future, where for as long as we both live, I will be able to say that I have spent most of my life with you, and it was the best decision I ever made.

Moms judging moms

To all of my mommy friends, I have a confession.  I don't really want to say it, but I feel like it needs saying.  And after I say it, I will need to explain, so go with me on this...

I "judge" you whenever I'm around you.

There.  I said it.  And it's true.

Every time we have a play date, every time we hang out, every time we run into each other with our kids (or husbands) in tow, I am watching you.  I see how you respond to your infant's dimpled smile; I see how you put the toy just out of reach of your baby learning to crawl.  I watch you address your toddler's tantrum; I watch each time you offer food to your little.  I notice the way you hand your phone to your preschooler and how you call your school age child to come to the car, it's time to go.

I can't help myself!  I watch it all, and I assess it.

I go home and mention to my husband how you dealt with a situation.  I explain what I liked or didn't like about it.

And I'm not telling you this to make you uncomfortable around me.  Because, the truth is, I know you do it too (even if you don't want to admit it).  Maybe you don't rehash the details of day with your hubby quite like I do, but in your mind, you're doing it too.

But hear me when I say this:  I am on your team!

When I say I "judge" you, what I really mean is that I watch, take it all in, figure out what I like or don't like about how you live life, and I try to learn from it.  I put into practice what I see you do that I believe will be effective with my family.  And I try to avoid those things that I don't think will work with the rhythm of how the House of Francl functions.

I do NOT think you're a bad mom because you do things differently!  I may not like the way you addressed a tantrum, or the huge bow on your baby girl's head, or the car seat cover you use, or the type of jammies your kids wear.  But that doesn't mean that I think it's wrong that YOU do those things.  I only mean that they're not for ME.

There are rights and wrongs in the world, and I acknowledge that there are times I do make value judgments about how others do things.  Abuse and neglect are not ok.  Swearing or beating - those are clearly wrong.  But on the whole, you, my mommy friends, are amazing!  And we were each entrusted with these amazingly complicated creatures called kids.  Yours are different than mine, just like you are different than me.  Therefore, you function differently, do things in ways I wouldn't, and raise your kids in ways I won't, because you're you and I'm me.

Can we celebrate that?  Please?

I love the things I learn from the variety of friends I have as we ache through the growing pains of parenthood.  This thing ain't easy - from the sickness of early pregnancy, to the mountain that is labor and delivery, to the sleepless nights, weird diets, Curious George 4 million times, peas-in-the-hair-at-every-meal, running like crazy to keep up with the activities, worrying all the while that each decision will result in my somehow ruining my child.  And none of that even touches the foundational, lifelong challenge of character formation!

So, thank you, my friends, for letting me learn from you.  And please, learn from me - learn those things you want to do, and those things you don't.  And let's celebrate this life.

On that note, I want to take just a second to put in my two-cents about an issue that has filled my Facebook feed since I first got pregnant 3 years ago.  Vaccinations.

Oh. My. Word.  People!  If there was as much concern from people who are not parents about the unborn who are aborted each day as there is about whether or not my child is vaccinated, we would live in a world with many fewer abortions.  Holy smokes!!!

Here's the thing, no one, and I mean NO. ONE. cares more about my children than I do.  And, no one, NO. ONE. knows them better than I do.  I pour myself into these little beings day in and day out, and I watch them, closely.  So closely.

If there is something wrong with them, I know it.  And I will hunt, search, research, dig, press, push, and advocate on their behalf until I figure out how to fix it.

So when I choose not to vaccinate my newborn, know that I am doing so because I have agonized over it.  I have weighed the pros and cons.  I have read both sides' research.  I have assessed the health of my child and consequences to your child of me not vaccinating.

I am no idiot, and I am not against the public health.  BUT

But I will not put my child in a position with which I'm not comfortable simply because others are trying to bully me there.  And that goes for those who are pushing me NOT to vaccinate as well as those who are pushing me TO vaccinate.

Not that it matters, but my kids are vaccinated.  Not on the schedule that the APA puts out, but on a schedule that I am comfortable with based on my research of the vaccines, of my kids' risk factors of catching each disease, and of my kids giving your kids a disease should they catch it.  I have weighed it all.  And my decisions are ones that I will have to live with.  You don't need to remind me of that - I am acutely aware.

And I (incorrectly, I'm sure, but I choose to assume the best) assume that each mom makes this decision because it's what she believes is best for her kids based on their environment, their risk factors, their health, their situation, their rhythm of life.

Being a mom is hard enough without pressure (from people who aren't parents, by the way!) telling me what I ought and ought not to inject into my children.  When my diet is so restricted that I'm basically eating straight beef, pork, potatoes, peas and rice for weeks on end because anything else I eat bothers my nursing infant, there is no way NO WAY I'm going to inject ANYTHING into him until his body figures out how to handle mommy milk with a little grain in it first.  I am the one who will have to deal with the consequences of EVERYTHING that I allow into his little body and environment, not you.  I take these decisions very, very seriously.

I'm ranting.  I think you get my point. I'm just tired of it.  I know there was a measles outbreak.  I know it's a miserable, dangerous disease.  And I'm sorry for those facing very scary days because of it.  I am.  But bashing what I believe is best for my family isn't going to fix the measles problem.  Probably it's just going to entrench me more into my way of thinking.

And to all you moms who have had to make the vaccination decision, either way (because whether you vaccinate or not, you're making a decision about it), without researching the pros and cons to both sides, take an evening and read up on what is in that little vial that they're injecting into your baby.  Research how developed immune systems are at what ages, and what your risk factors are for various diseases.  I'm not saying do vaccinate, and I'm not saying don't.  I'm saying educate yourself so that when someone tries to bully you into doing what they think is right for your kid, you can stand up to them and tell them to stuff it where the sun don't shine.  YOU are the mom.

God chose you to raise your kids, and you have to stand before Him one day and answer for the way you did it.  You are the only one who can know which decision is right for your family on vaccinations and SO MANY other, much more important issues.

So back to my original point:  I watch you, and you are amazing.  Keep on, mom.  Keep on.