Reflections Upon Lent 2019

This year was the first time in my life that I gave up something for Lent. I didn't know I was going to do it until Ash Wednesday. It wasn't planned. It's like my gut (probably the Holy Spirit) said, "You should give up Facebook for Lent."

So, I did. Facebook is something I really enjoy. Facebook is also a bit of a problem/distraction in my life, and I know it. I had never taken a break from it since I joined back in 2004(!), and I felt like I was long overdue to step back and take a hard look at how I spend my time.

It was hard. I had to take it off my phone, and I had to block the website on my internet browsers because it was second-nature to just go there. I missed it. I felt like I missed a lot of things and important info (like, for example, I missed the announcement that Camp Lawrence is closed this summer—the kids were so looking forward to going again). I learned a few things, though. One thing is this:

Once you're on Facebook, there's really no going completely off of it. People develop the expectation to communicate with you there, so if you're off, you do fall out of touch with people—and that can be either good or bad. I'm not sure which of those is heavier. I think it depends on the day.

I did replace my Facebook time with a Bible study series (She Reads Truth), work, and an attempt to read real news sources (that was a horrible idea, BTW), for the most part. Our company (G.W. Berkheimer) hosts a trade show for select dealers every couple of years, and we had one on April 11 that we had to prep for. So, it was actually a really good thing Facebook wasn't even on my mind during that time. Also, this was the first time I ever successfully completed an entire Bible study during the Lenten season. A good chunk of it was the entire book of Job, which is always harsh.

This was also the first time that I have ever attended multiple Holy Week church services at our church (Portage First United Methodist), and we brought the kids with us (Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday on top of regular church services). The kids came out of it with a ton of questions, and it was incredible—Henry especially. The other two kids did, too, but they were marginally less intense with the rapid-fire questions. They were well-behaved throughout—even though I will tell you that Ev is right on the edge of really being able to handle it at age 7. (During the Maundy Thursday communion, he grabbed/dropped at least one other piece of the unleavened bread in the offered basket before settling on a piece that he deemed acceptable. I died. Sorry, Pastor Michael! I did not anticipate his pickiness. Luckily, we were in the last row!)

I was moved by those Holy Week services, by the way. I wish I could've made it to the mid-day ones that week, too (I almost made it to one, but I was just a little too late). Andrew said he went to the one on Good Friday that was from 2:30 to 3 p.m. (for his lunch break that day), and Pastor Michael talked about the hour of Jesus' death. He said it was really powerful, and I was sitting at my desk at home working all day. The Good Friday service that night did move me to tears a few times—especially when the whole church sat in silence. It's unbelievable how silence like that can allow the weight and the reality of everything to come crashing down on you. It's that feeling that transcends all need for physical and visual proof. It's real. He's real. It happened.

After all, I'm glad to be back on Facebook once more. I missed being in touch with the rest of the world. I hope I'm a little better about managing it in my life moving forward. I'm going to try, anyway. I'll leave you with some photo highlights of my Facebook/Lent hiatus.

This is Nora with Lil Falk after her school play, James and the Giant Peach.
She blew us away with her performance as Miss Spider.
And, I can't say enough about how much we love Lil Falk.

We went to the ODVFD's Annual St. Patrick's Dinner/Dance. The kids loved it.

My mom made a Scottish Highlands cow at the behest of Henry within, like,
48 hours while the kids were at the Farm for a visit over their Spring Break.

Andrew and I hiked Cowles Bog while the kids were out of town,
and we saw these rare beaver-geese and their destruction.
They were not pleased with my photo-taking and/or giggling.

We just discovered this area of Ogden Dunes we had never seen before.

Spa day kid 1. (I may get in trouble for posting these one day.)

Spa day kid 2. The boys totally wanted to do this.

Spa day kid 3. I painted her toenails, too.

Hen's. I think.

Mine.

Ev's. I think.

Henry's biohazard egg.

Nora's Miss Spider or her egg.

Mine. Side 1.

Mine. Side 2.

Henry says this is his.

Ev's.

I think these last two are Nora's.

We attempted setting Nora's hair for Easter. It was a success!

She grew up over Lent, BTW. It hurts me.

That's a wrap! See you on Facebook. Did I miss anything that you can remember?

St. Paddy's Day

It's so close to being spring. So close. We heard (and saw!) Sandhill Cranes flying overhead today. That always means that spring is soon, but not quite yet.

This time of year, Willis gets the itch to grill, and sometimes, I can suck it up and sit outside with him. I couldn't do it today. I did it yesterday, but it's just a little chillier today. (We woke up, and there was fat snow falling and accumulation on the ground.)

But, sitting in here, looking at him through the (disgustingly dirty—we have kids and a gross dog, and my priorities don't involve constantly cleaning this) window, and seeing him out there reminded me of something. I like him. It sounds odd to say it out loud, but everyone knows you are supposed to love your spouse. You're called to love when you marry. It's biblical and stuff. I actually like him, though. A lot. Like, if I met him again right now and had never met him before, I'd still really like him. I'd be like, "That guy, Willis (or Andrew, or whatever his name would be that day)? I like him."

When I met him in college, there was something about him that made me think, "This guy is 20-going-on-40, and he's such a dork," and I loved it. I'm such a flake, something in me craved the order I knew this guy would provide naturally (not by rule of law or whatever), but he is also so fun-loving. I can't help but to truly believe in divine intervention with this match. I couldn't have planned it better, myself.

So many times, I pray that my kids will have this same connection and divine intervention. I know that things don't always happen they way we hope or want, but if connection happens, I hope it's like ours.

Why We Are Removing the Phrase "Play Date" from Our Lexicon

Recently, I have found myself battling with whether or not I need to or should explain this out loud, but I think we've finally hit critical mass. It needs to be put out there in the universe.

It's possible that this is going to be unpopular, but as of last fall, we, as a family, have decided to remove the phrase "Play Date" from our lexicon. For the record, I am definining a "Play Date" as the planned activity of a kid going to a house or a kid coming to (and into) our house—not necessarily the definition of families getting together in a party setting or gathering with kids. That's different. I'm not sure if that's the true definition of "Play Date," but that is what it has morphed into in our world. It's just the basic act of a kid being over at our house or our kid(s) being at someone else's house.

There are a multitude of reasons for this conclusion, but I will lay out the most important ones.

It's too hard to manage. It's too hard to be fair to each of our (three) kids about it (Henry seems to get the most play date requests around here). It's too hard to be equitable to the play date participants (balancing work, school schedules, and multiple friend sets from each kid).

I don't know if this is your experience at all, but we started to see a pattern that one play date didn't necessarily satiate any kid—it only intensified the need for more activity, more play dates, more things that we need to do and get on the schedule. The more we do, the more we are expected to do. Enough is not enough. It cannot be sustained.

We (my husband and I) realized awhile back in our experience that parenthood is basically just a careful management of expectations. This is just part of that puzzle. We do a variety of other lame-looking things to navigate this, but we're just talking about one particular thing, here.

Our kids are at an age, now, where they are capable of managing their friendships outside of our involvement. Furthermore, and I recognize (and appreciate that) we are really lucky here, we do live in a neighborhood where, when it is nice outside, our kids can roam and go to parks and meet up with their local friends there. This is more challenging during these intense winter months (and, during the school year, when it seems like everyone goes to a different school in our neighborhood), but on warmer days, they still try to make it happen. At least during this time of year, they have school friends that they are interacting with and developing relationships with (although, I do wish there was more social time/recess available to them at school, which is a whole other blog topic for another time), too.

My husband and I grew up in an age where everyone was disconnected from constant and immediate contact, and we were responsible for managing our social interactions. Was it boring sometimes? Yes. It turns out that it's good for you to be bored, though. We wish this type of personal growth (disguised as mysery) for our kids, too. They deserve that.

So, while we look like some weird, stand-offish jerks on the surface, we're actually just trying to cork the seals and ford this unpredictable stream. Hopefully, this mysery will have some company. Outside. At a park.

7 Reflections on Today

1. It's funny how there are people who feel that they own specific floor space in a Zumba class, and I'm always in it!? Even if I was there first. I'm not saying I dislike these people: they seem nice. But, this is real and weird. I can be in any particular spot in a room and not really care—I just prefer personal space.

2. If grocery shopping takes you Y amount of time on your own, when children are added to the mix, you take Y and multiply it by 2 for one child and add one more to the multiplier for each additional child. So, for example, for me, it's Y x 4. I spent half the day at Meijer today (with my children), and we all about died.

3. Need a job, anybody? Meijer in Portage needs more deli people. It wasn't posted, but that was my observation.

4. There was a mom at Meijer (at 12:35 p.m. today) at the checkout who had a screaming toddler and a laughing 10-month-old. I saw several people flee the line to avoid them, and I purposely went to that line. My kids entertained the 10-month-old (who was doing fine on his own because he thought his screaming brother was hilarious), and I said a couple of things to the mom that I thought I'd have liked to hear (from, clearly, a seasoned veteran with my whole crew there) like, "It's quite something to have one laughing while one is crying, isn't it? Talent!" and "Ooh. 12:35 p.m. It's about that time. I'm familiar with that. I've done that a few times."

She smiled in appreciation, and it's possible my kids drove her nuts. However, she did take a moment to tell us all to have a good day as she left. I think that's a good sign.

5. There was another mom at Meijer who was waiting with her son for Sandy while my kids were rudely monopolizing her (Sandy). Everett was mopping the floor with his body under Sandy (trying to get a penny!? and a disease!?). Nora found an extra penny and gave her newly purchased (with her own money) white stuffed tiger a ride on Sandy. I said the following things out loud in no particular order:

"Everett. Stop mopping under Sandy with your body. If you're trying to get a penny, it isn't worth it."

"Nora. There is a living, breathing boy over here who is waiting very patiently to ride Sandy while you give your stuffed animal a ride."

"Guys. Stop sticking your fingers in the moving parts of Sandy. That is unwise."

Then, I found out that Everett still hadn't taken his turn, and as I was losing my $#!+ about it, the other mom looked at me (fondly, I would say) and said, "Oh! Don't worry about it. He can go."

After that, she intimated that it's hilarious: the things that we find ourselves saying as parents and offered the "moving parts" comment as one of those things.

6. There are people in this world that are super angry all the time, and nothing will melt their icy hearts. As I was coming out with all my ducklings, Everett, who had grazed all the aisles of Meijer for random trash, had decided he wanted to throw out a couple of items before crossing the street. A woman in a large SUV appeared to be waiting for us to cross when Ev decided this, and I was too busy making sure nobody ran into the parking lot. Three seconds passed (while Ev delivered his trash to the receptacle), and this woman (in the SUV) hit the gas hard so as to make a racket, and as she drove by, she was shaking her head. My first instinct is to always think, "What a jerk." But, then, I remember: her life probably sucks if she's going to behave that way on purpose. (Not that I expected her to wait. It's just weird that she had to shake her head and be all huffy about us not crossing when she needed us to . . . when I have THREE kids that I am managing and a very large cart.)

7. Top three least favorite roads to travel in the whole world in ascending order:

1. I65 south near Merrillville. 
2. US30 in Merrillville.
3. Willowcreek/Crisman Road in Portage.

BONUS ITEM: Dogs are gross.

We Survived Disney, February 15-18, 2016

Well, we did it. We went to Disney. It was a brief trip—just Monday through Thursday morning. We packed a lot of action in that time with two days at the Magic Kingdom.

Here are some of my absolute favorite pics from the trip.

This was our kids' first time ever flying! We chose Spirit Airlines.

Henry, Ev, and Nora just moments after arriving at our resort, Port Orleans Riverside (our room ended up being at Alligator Bayou).

Best photo ever from the teacups: our first ride at Disney.

Of all the things we were worried that would freak out Ev (like Pirates of the Caribbean), he was most horrified by the Enchanted Tales with Belle when the magic mirror turned into a door. It took about half a day for him to recover.

Misty moisty morning on our way to Cinderella's Royal Table breakfast.

Best photo of the kids in front of the castle.

Here is the WHOLE album shared via Google Photos.

Thanks to tips from several good, thoughtful pals, our short trip was eventful and efficient! The kids had a blast. In fact, Henry kind-of broke down on the way home saying he wanted to go back. Poor guy.

Everett's Big Adventures

This guy has been no stranger to the ER or the doctor's office in his time. He's had stitches in his face. He's had his face glued before. He was there with us (briefly) when Henry got his concussion a couple months ago. That said, Everett has had a pretty rough June. The little guy managed to pick up some Lyme disease in the last couple of weeks.

BTW, this is what a bulls-eye rash looks like which is a clear indicator of Lyme disease.

Then, within just a week of Ev's diagnosis for Lyme, on Father's Day, we decided it'd be a great idea to ride bikes over to the Portage Marina (Marina Shores) and fish off the dock. Everett's getting to be really good at handling his little bike, and I was impressed with his ability to manage one of the wheel chair ramps when we got closer to the marina. Then, we reached another ramp that led down to where the boats are docked, and as we rode down this ramp, I quickly began to realize that the grade was more significant than I would have expected (being a wheelchair ramp heading toward a marina). Right at the moment that I realized this, Everett had finished the ramp and rounded the corner at the end of the ramp, and his momentum carried him (and his bike) right off the edge of the platform and into the dark, murky waters of the marina.

I've probably never been so scared in my whole life.

Luckily, Willis was able to leap from the platform to the dock (somewhere around 7 feet or so, I'd guess) so that he could reach down and grab Everett out of the water. I couldn't see Ev in the water when Willis got him, but he said that Everett was actually keeping his face above water on his own somehow (I'm thanking God for swim lessons and bike helmets right now). They keep the docks locked for security reasons, so there was no getting on the dock any other way.

When he came out, he cried for about 1.5 hours. For a few minutes, we were pretty confident his bike was gone (it disappeared under the water). Luckily, some boaters came over to help with a boat hook, and we were able to retrieve his bike. We did not go fishing. Ev has said he never wants to go fishing again.

Ev was also pretty upset that he lost a Croc (shoe). Also, he hurt his wrist somewhere in the process, so we had a hard time figuring out if we needed to get an x-ray for that with all the other crying he was doing about everything else.

Willis doing some dadding. He described the rescue as his first "George Bailey" moment.

I even drove Ev to the ER (on Father's Day) shortly after this happened to go get it x-rayed, but the ER was full of people with head injuries. Plus, Everett started to cheer up and be silly with me at the ER, so I ended up just leaving thinking that he must be okay after all.

Then, in the middle of the night, Everett complained about his arm again. So, this morning, when a friend offered to take my older two (the best), I ran him to the pediatrician's office (calling on the way). The lady that looked at Everett was the same nurse practitioner we used to see at our pediatrician's office in La Porte when we lived there, so it was neat to see her again. She gave us a brace for Ev's arm, and then, she sent us to the digital imaging department where Everett got his arm x-rayed.

He's not a fan of the brace. Not even a little.

As it turns out, there is a fracture in his wrist. And, I've been spending the day waiting to hear back from the orthopedic people and losing my mind. Everett keeps taking the brace off. I'm frustrated and impatient. Once we get some answers, I can get back to focusing on the fact that I'm just ecstatic that he's still here and breathing.

Also, I wish I could thank the sweet lady who was in tears who offered her help when and after it happened. I don't know who she was, but I appreciated her. I didn't, however, much appreciate the staff of the marina who kind-of yelled at Nora and Henry because their (and our) bikes were in the way of their service ATV that they were driving on the platform. "Oh, hey. Yeah. Our kid just fell in here and almost died. Give us a sec to collect ourselves."

It's been surreal.

I guess it's time to call the ortho people again and ask them why the heck they haven't called back yet . . .

Purdue Musical Organizations Meets The Hunger Games: 10 Years In

Dreams have eluded me for what seems like seven years, so I am still wondering why, today of all days, I woke up dreaming. Perhaps it's the amount of reflection that has been happening this week. (Last week, I had a 15 year high school reunion, and while we were nearby, we managed to sneak over to Purdue's campus with our kids.)

This dream was unsettling, though, and, yet, comforting in places. I'll describe it, in short, as Purdue Musical Organizations (with the folks that were in it when I was) meets The Hunger Games.

Several familiar faces (from the aforementioned PMO) met us (Willis and me) at a gathering place. We all laughed and enjoyed each other's company like time stood still since we had last seen each other. Then, we were all separated and shipped off on a really fast train to some facility that had some Starbucks-like features with undertones of corporate death. I realized, standing in this sterile place, that I had forgotten to plan ahead in any sort of fashion (bad shoes, clothes, no supplies, etc.). That's when I saw a local mom (present day) walk by with a concerned look on her face (not looking at me, just walking by), but she was clearly prepared and well-dressed for the occasion (which is hilarious because this lady is always so well-dressed and prepared).

In all this, I realized I was separated from Willis, and I had left my phone in our room (when I told Willis this part, he was like, "OH! The HORROR!"). I was realizing I might never see him again, unless it was on the battlefield where he might have to kill me. I was carrying a knife that was given to me in transit (probably by Woody Harrelson) that had more than just two dimensions that I wasn't particularly thrilled about trying to pocket.

Then, as I faced and looked out a panel of windows to realize that we were seated a tad lower than sea level, I saw some waves swell and crash over the retaining wall toward the windows. It was quite unsettling.

Then, of course, I woke up in a total panic. As the fog wore off (which took awhile, by the way), my heart started to explode with gratitude. Gratitude for not being in that place. Gratitude for realizing that I am waking up with a house full of joy, and getting ready to sneak away (just for a bit) and celebrate our ten years of marriage. Gratitude for stupid dreams that help me keep perspective.

I wonder if we'll always feel like our beginning days were just yesterday. We seem to age, but the memories sure do not.