We can be superman and conquer the world...
or we can just sit and show off our ruffles.
Either way,we love summer and we love, love, love our swimming pool.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
We love summer!
Most afternoons this time of year we can be found in the backyard pool splashing around. It's a constant - lunch, storytime, naps, and splashing in the pool. It's not a big pool, it's but wet and cool and all kinds of fun.
We can be superman and conquer the world...
or we can just sit and show off our ruffles.
Either way,we love summer and we love, love, love our swimming pool.
We can be superman and conquer the world...
or we can just sit and show off our ruffles.
Either way,we love summer and we love, love, love our swimming pool.
Speak up, be heard
For as long as I can remember my mother has not been afraid to speak up. She is careful with her money and when she does spend it, she expects to get what she paid for. Whether it’s a meal at a restaurant, an expensive sweater or a $5 pair of slippers from Wal-Mart, if the product does not live up to the quality my mother fairly expected, she will kindly ask for a return, exchange, replacement or whatever may be adequate for the situation. To her credit my mother is never really demanding or rude about her requests but growing up I can’t say that I found this to be one of her most endearing traits. Okay, honestly it drove. me. crazy.
I know moms are meant to be slightly embarrassing – it’s somehow hardwired right in there with their baby producing organs, I think – and I am well on my way to becoming that delightfully embarrassing mother in my own right, but in recent years I have come to better understand, and even respect, my mother’s motives for speaking up. There are two primary reasons for this. 1) I am spending my own money (well, since I don’t have a job I technically spend Ross’s money, but he is very generous). There is definitely a change in thought process, a clearer understanding of value when you are no longer spending mom and dad’s money, but your own money. The realization of its limited supply has caused me to be a more judicious shopper and place greater importance on getting what I paid for. 2) A realization that if I were offering the product or service and it was not meeting customer expectations, I would want to know about it. This is where a history of business classes serves me well. Quality control can definitely be strengthened through customer feedback and a company never has a chance to rectify the situation and improve their product if assertive customers will not communicate with them.
And so gradually I have followed in my mother’s footsteps and chosen, in certain situations, to kindly let the company know when their product has not met my expectations and in the process of doing such I have experience some wonderful generocities from companies – particularly in highly competitive markets – seeking to keep happy customers.
My first example occurred when Ross and I purchased a new HE washer and dryer set about a year and a half ago. I have been a loyal Tide customer from the time I started buying my own laundry soap and when I needed to switch to the high efficiency variety for my new front-loader I picked up a vat of liquid Tide HE from Costco. Since I was a powder detergent girl in the past this liquid form was a new frontier for me, but it was the tricky new dispenser that really threw me off.
The liquid for this baby dispenses into the provided cup and the cup fits right back onto the bottle. While this is a nice concept, whenever I am returning that cup to the bottle it is filled with the remains of the detergent I just threw in with the load, requiring me to clean the cup out after each use so I can place it back on the bottle in a tidy manner (yes, I am a type A personality). Now I don’t know if any of you have tried to rinse out a cup lined with HE detergent but that soap is highly concentrated making it a bit of a cumbersome task. Upon becoming frustrated with this process I began asking my HE Tide loving friends how they handle their Tide dispensers and I learned a few throw the cup back on and are not bothered with the drips that run down the dispenser and others just forget about the cup and eyeball the necessary amount of the detergent as they pour it right into the machine.
Unfortunately neither of those options work for me, because a) I would be endlessly frustrated knowing my Tide container had drips running down it and b) I would be endlessly frustrated if I thought I was potentially wasting excess detergent and/or not using enough to properly cleanse my babies’ clothes due to inadequate detergent measurements. Oh, the horror. So it occurred to me that Tide really needs to work on improving the engineering and design of their dispenser so as not to put me, their loyal customer, in such a quandary. And so I decided to tell them just that. I politely shot them an e-mail to voice my concerns and encourage them to improve their product for ease of use. Wouldn’t you know that the executives at Tide (or some under paid techie at their response center in India) took the time to write me back, thank me for taking the time to comment, inform me that the measuring cup was actually designed to be easily tossed in the wash (which I love the idea of and now do regularly) and included a coupon for $15 off my next Tide purchase in appreciation of my loyalty. Score, two points for Tide!
I know moms are meant to be slightly embarrassing – it’s somehow hardwired right in there with their baby producing organs, I think – and I am well on my way to becoming that delightfully embarrassing mother in my own right, but in recent years I have come to better understand, and even respect, my mother’s motives for speaking up. There are two primary reasons for this. 1) I am spending my own money (well, since I don’t have a job I technically spend Ross’s money, but he is very generous). There is definitely a change in thought process, a clearer understanding of value when you are no longer spending mom and dad’s money, but your own money. The realization of its limited supply has caused me to be a more judicious shopper and place greater importance on getting what I paid for. 2) A realization that if I were offering the product or service and it was not meeting customer expectations, I would want to know about it. This is where a history of business classes serves me well. Quality control can definitely be strengthened through customer feedback and a company never has a chance to rectify the situation and improve their product if assertive customers will not communicate with them.
And so gradually I have followed in my mother’s footsteps and chosen, in certain situations, to kindly let the company know when their product has not met my expectations and in the process of doing such I have experience some wonderful generocities from companies – particularly in highly competitive markets – seeking to keep happy customers.
My first example occurred when Ross and I purchased a new HE washer and dryer set about a year and a half ago. I have been a loyal Tide customer from the time I started buying my own laundry soap and when I needed to switch to the high efficiency variety for my new front-loader I picked up a vat of liquid Tide HE from Costco. Since I was a powder detergent girl in the past this liquid form was a new frontier for me, but it was the tricky new dispenser that really threw me off.
The liquid for this baby dispenses into the provided cup and the cup fits right back onto the bottle. While this is a nice concept, whenever I am returning that cup to the bottle it is filled with the remains of the detergent I just threw in with the load, requiring me to clean the cup out after each use so I can place it back on the bottle in a tidy manner (yes, I am a type A personality). Now I don’t know if any of you have tried to rinse out a cup lined with HE detergent but that soap is highly concentrated making it a bit of a cumbersome task. Upon becoming frustrated with this process I began asking my HE Tide loving friends how they handle their Tide dispensers and I learned a few throw the cup back on and are not bothered with the drips that run down the dispenser and others just forget about the cup and eyeball the necessary amount of the detergent as they pour it right into the machine.
Unfortunately neither of those options work for me, because a) I would be endlessly frustrated knowing my Tide container had drips running down it and b) I would be endlessly frustrated if I thought I was potentially wasting excess detergent and/or not using enough to properly cleanse my babies’ clothes due to inadequate detergent measurements. Oh, the horror. So it occurred to me that Tide really needs to work on improving the engineering and design of their dispenser so as not to put me, their loyal customer, in such a quandary. And so I decided to tell them just that. I politely shot them an e-mail to voice my concerns and encourage them to improve their product for ease of use. Wouldn’t you know that the executives at Tide (or some under paid techie at their response center in India) took the time to write me back, thank me for taking the time to comment, inform me that the measuring cup was actually designed to be easily tossed in the wash (which I love the idea of and now do regularly) and included a coupon for $15 off my next Tide purchase in appreciation of my loyalty. Score, two points for Tide!
Round 2:
A couple of months ago Ross came home to find our littlest darling in her Exersaucer with bits of neon green druel excreting from her mouth. After further inspection, we found that she was actually chewing the paint off one of the toys on her sacuer, which was purchased only a month or two earlier. While I didn’t find the fact that our child may have ingested a little paint to be all that alarming I was a little disappointed in the saucer as it is a product specifically designed for those gnawing, drueling little people. So when I had a minute a few days later I shot an e-mail off to Evenflo – the maker of the Exersaucer – with a picture of the damaged toy and I kindly let them know that they might consider using non-painted pieces in the future. In no time I was rewarded with a swift response regarding the safety of their water-soluble paints as well as assurance that replacement toys would be over-nighted to my home as soon as I could provide them with my mailing address. Two points for Evenflo!
Finally, last fall Ross purchased a new pair of Danner work boots. While they don’t come cheap good boots are an essential part of Ross’s work wardrobe and in the past he has found Danner’s to be his favorite. This pair performed no differently except for the fact that he kept breaking the laces. First it was every month or two and then it was once a month and soon it became every other week. In an effort to remedy this problem I tried buying laces at Wal-Mart and Danner brand laces from Big R. I bought nylon laces and leather ones, short one and longer ones – all to no avail. I tried quizzing Ross about the issue – is his muscular frame just pulling the laces too tight? No. Are they too loose and getting caught on equipment or tools when he is working? No. Upon closely examining the boots we noticed the lower eyelets appeared to have a rough edge that gradually – or not so gradually – wore the laces.
You can probably guess by now that I considered this to be a design flaw that Danner needed to know about. So this time I sent an e-mail to Danner Boots letting them know how much my husband enjoyed their product. I acknowledged that I didn’t keep my receipt (which I didn’t in any of these cases actually) and that the boots were clearly outside the 6 month warranty period, basically admitting that I didn’t have a complaining leg to stand on, but even so I wanted to let them know how constantly broken boot laces are a bit of hassle and I encouraged them to find a better solution for their eyelets. This time I got nice response from Danner assuring me of their product quality standards and offering to take a look at the boots if I sent them in. The e-mail stated that upon receipt of the boots they would inspect them and may be willing to offer a partial refund (according to usage and wear) if they were found to be defective. Now while this is a nice offer, in reality it is not a feasible option since Ross wears his boots every working day and sending the old ones off would mean having to buy new ones for the interim. So I responded to Danner with a “thanks, but that is not really helpful” e-mail.
To my surprise the folks at Danner didn’t give up on their efforts to appease me. They responded by asking if I would be willing to e-mail them pictures of the boots – the problem area, the tread, the wear – noting that understanding customer expectations and the performance of their product is of utmost importance to them. Eager to use my new camera, I didn’t want to turn down this photography engagement so I snapped a few shots and e-mail them off to Danner land. This time days – maybe even a week – went by and I heard nothing back. I nearly forgot about Danner all together when another message from them showed up in my inbox. In summary, the folks at Danner wished to physically inspect what appeared to be weakening eyelets on this product. If I would be willing to give them the size and model number of the boots they would overnight us a brand new pair with the condition that upon receipt of the new boots I would return the used ones (now 8 months old) to them. Deal! Ten points for Danner.
My point here is not to brag, to encourage complaining or advocate freely expressing disgruntled behavior with the hopes of getting something in return. But when we become frustrated with a product we seem more likely to wallow in our frustration or tell a friend how much we hate that product rather than give the company constructive criticism in order to help them improve their product. It’s easy to think –I don’t have any pull with these companies – but the truth is you do. Our disposable incomes pay their bills as well as anyone else’s does and if we are not willing to communicate our concerns and give those companies an opportunity to improve, to rectify the problem and earn our business then we miss out on exercising the buying power that we really do have. Not only have Tide, Evenflo, and Danner, remedied my frustrations with their products, they have made me a more loyal customer in the process. What’s more? I am now a loyal customer who is willing to tell my friends about the equitable actions of these companies. So, next time you are frustrated with a product and you really believe it is not meeting your needs like it should, send the company an e-mail and kindly let them know your thoughts. You may very well be surprised by their response.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Just so I can go to sleep...
Okay, I’m irked. I doubt I can sleep unless I write about it so I may as well just get it over with before I even try to go to bed. I just finished watching the latest episode of Jon & Kate plus 8. We’re not long standing fans in this house, but we have, in recent months, come to enjoy this show. It started around the first of the year, I think. After receiving a dazzling recommendation from a friend, I bought the Gosselin’s first book, Multiple Blessings, and as the recommendation foreshadowed, I loved it. I had caught an episode of the show here and there but the book provided so much more depth and background as well as a very direct confirmation of their dedication to Jesus Christ and I instantly became a sympathetic fan. Since then we have watched the show much more frequently and, of course, their recent marriage struggles have not gone under our radar either.
Now I am not gullible enough to assume I can believe even half of what I read or catch a glimpse of in magazines littering the grocery store checkout stands AND even the small amount of time I have spent as a woman, a wife and a mother has taught me to truly believe that you never really know what someone else is going through until you walk a mile in their shoes, but all of this media buzz about marriage struggles leaves me incredibly disappointed, incredibly sad.
And amidst all of this disappointment and sadness I am a little bit frustrated. As I watched the show tonight I heard a redundant theme – “our kids are our priority” “we’ve changed and become two different people” “I just don’t know anymore”. Since when do we start buying into all of these lies? Don’t get me wrong, marriage is tough – really tough. We would all be lying if we said we never felt disconnected from our spouse – like we were going two different directions – like we have become two different people. That’s life; people change. But when we made our vows, when we said for better or for worse there was no exception for change – we didn’t commit as long as everything and everyone stayed the same. Further, is it any wonder that we are breeding a generation where half of marriages end in divorce if our priority is our kids and not our marriage?
I will never forget when I heard my pastor state that our relationship with Christ cannot be frozen in place. He said with each passing day we are either moving closer to God or we are moving further away. What a concept. And, I don’t think our marriages are really any different. Each day we are either working to build a stronger bond, to know our spouse more, to give more, to love more, to be more selfless, to serve more, to be more committed, to pray more, to meet more needs, to care more, to nurture more, or we simply are not. I am not saying it’s easy, because I know for a fact that it is not. I know that it’s tiring and it doesn’t always seem fair and sometimes it just feels like work. But, the truth is that it matters. Every single day it matter. The effort you put in and the effort you don’t put in matters.
I have only been at this marriage thing about 8 years but I have the feeling you can’t ever just go on auto-pilot because there are so many variables that life will throw at you. People change and life changes but that will never change the vows I made to Ross, the vows I made before God. It sounds lovely to say that my kids are my priority – and I don’t want to judge someone else’s priorities – but the way I see it, beyond a sound acknowledgment of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the very best thing I can give my children is an example of a strong marriage – a mommy and daddy that love each other and are committed to each other even – no, especially when things change. That is love and that is my priority.
So I write this as much for myself as I do to vent because it breaks my heart to watch someone concede, to watch someone else buy into lies that can so easily plant themselves in our heads and in our hearts. I am not immune; none of us are. So this is affirmation of my commitment. A post of rededication to the vows that I made so that when tough times come – and I know that they will – my own words and the grace of my Heavenly Father can help me re-focus. There are many things I can live without in this life, many dreams I am willing to concede but my marriage is not and will not be one of them.
Ahhh. Sorry for the rant but now I can go to sleep. Goodnight!
Now I am not gullible enough to assume I can believe even half of what I read or catch a glimpse of in magazines littering the grocery store checkout stands AND even the small amount of time I have spent as a woman, a wife and a mother has taught me to truly believe that you never really know what someone else is going through until you walk a mile in their shoes, but all of this media buzz about marriage struggles leaves me incredibly disappointed, incredibly sad.
And amidst all of this disappointment and sadness I am a little bit frustrated. As I watched the show tonight I heard a redundant theme – “our kids are our priority” “we’ve changed and become two different people” “I just don’t know anymore”. Since when do we start buying into all of these lies? Don’t get me wrong, marriage is tough – really tough. We would all be lying if we said we never felt disconnected from our spouse – like we were going two different directions – like we have become two different people. That’s life; people change. But when we made our vows, when we said for better or for worse there was no exception for change – we didn’t commit as long as everything and everyone stayed the same. Further, is it any wonder that we are breeding a generation where half of marriages end in divorce if our priority is our kids and not our marriage?
I will never forget when I heard my pastor state that our relationship with Christ cannot be frozen in place. He said with each passing day we are either moving closer to God or we are moving further away. What a concept. And, I don’t think our marriages are really any different. Each day we are either working to build a stronger bond, to know our spouse more, to give more, to love more, to be more selfless, to serve more, to be more committed, to pray more, to meet more needs, to care more, to nurture more, or we simply are not. I am not saying it’s easy, because I know for a fact that it is not. I know that it’s tiring and it doesn’t always seem fair and sometimes it just feels like work. But, the truth is that it matters. Every single day it matter. The effort you put in and the effort you don’t put in matters.
I have only been at this marriage thing about 8 years but I have the feeling you can’t ever just go on auto-pilot because there are so many variables that life will throw at you. People change and life changes but that will never change the vows I made to Ross, the vows I made before God. It sounds lovely to say that my kids are my priority – and I don’t want to judge someone else’s priorities – but the way I see it, beyond a sound acknowledgment of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the very best thing I can give my children is an example of a strong marriage – a mommy and daddy that love each other and are committed to each other even – no, especially when things change. That is love and that is my priority.
So I write this as much for myself as I do to vent because it breaks my heart to watch someone concede, to watch someone else buy into lies that can so easily plant themselves in our heads and in our hearts. I am not immune; none of us are. So this is affirmation of my commitment. A post of rededication to the vows that I made so that when tough times come – and I know that they will – my own words and the grace of my Heavenly Father can help me re-focus. There are many things I can live without in this life, many dreams I am willing to concede but my marriage is not and will not be one of them.
Ahhh. Sorry for the rant but now I can go to sleep. Goodnight!
A perfect weekend - almost
What makes for a great Memorial Day Weekend? Loads of sunshine and the relief of shade. Swimsuit clad kids covered in sunblock with sticky smiles and still stickier fingers evidencing a diet of smores, Cheetos and a dozen other sinful treats. A slip-n-slide, a kiddie pool, a trampoline, soccer balls and baseball bats. A rattle snake story and a campground on the river. Steaks on the barbie and shish kabobs, hot dogs and potato salad. A big, beautiful sunbrella. A cemetary turned into a glorious rainbow of colors. Cold pop and iced tea. Ice cream cake. A little time with friends, a lot of time with family. Unearthing old memories all while making new ones. It was a truly fabulous weekend of coming and going from one event to the next. The only bad part? When you forget your camera and don’t have a single shot to commemorate it. Grrr!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Redefining me
I always laugh when I think of what the “me” in high school would think of the “me” today. I doubt that me would even recognize this me, or if she did she would probably be laughing too – you know, in a, oh my gosh how did I become so weird sort of way. Of all my childhood hopes and aspirations none of them included raising a family in small town, USA. None of them included enjoying the simple pleasures of life – making my own baby food, canning fruit I picked myself, quilting, cake decorating.
I’m not sure exactly how or when I became so weird, it must be a process I guess. Shortly after getting married I remember sitting Ross down for a big goal setting session. Paper and pen in hand I intended to outline and detail our 1, 5, and 10 year goals, both corporate and individual. We noted our goals for finances, for major purchases, for trips and fun stuff – yes, I even outlined when I thought it would be appropriate for us to purchase the two labs that Ross is still waiting for. But it wasn’t until I proof-read our goals that it hit me – in a completely obligatory manner, “Oh my gosh, we have to have kids somewhere in here”. And as I see it, that may very well be the moment I started becoming weird.
For the most part I think I am okay with the weirdness (aka. Laura Ingalls Wilder tendencies) but this summer I have hit a whole new level of self-preservation (I’m not even sure if that’s the right word but we’ll just go with it, okay?). I started a garden. Oh horror of all horrors! Now please, I mean this with no offense to those avid gardeners among us, but this is just one road I was sure I wouldn’t go down. I have been perfectly happy with the peppers and broccoli that my local Safeway provides me and have never seen a reason to risk getting dirt under my fingernails AND on my knees to grow my own. I remember as recently as last year a friend from MOPS asking me if I garden and I quickly responded with, “nope, that’s not my thing, I’m not that girl.” Oh, but I am.
I’m not sure exactly how or when I became so weird, it must be a process I guess. Shortly after getting married I remember sitting Ross down for a big goal setting session. Paper and pen in hand I intended to outline and detail our 1, 5, and 10 year goals, both corporate and individual. We noted our goals for finances, for major purchases, for trips and fun stuff – yes, I even outlined when I thought it would be appropriate for us to purchase the two labs that Ross is still waiting for. But it wasn’t until I proof-read our goals that it hit me – in a completely obligatory manner, “Oh my gosh, we have to have kids somewhere in here”. And as I see it, that may very well be the moment I started becoming weird.
For the most part I think I am okay with the weirdness (aka. Laura Ingalls Wilder tendencies) but this summer I have hit a whole new level of self-preservation (I’m not even sure if that’s the right word but we’ll just go with it, okay?). I started a garden. Oh horror of all horrors! Now please, I mean this with no offense to those avid gardeners among us, but this is just one road I was sure I wouldn’t go down. I have been perfectly happy with the peppers and broccoli that my local Safeway provides me and have never seen a reason to risk getting dirt under my fingernails AND on my knees to grow my own. I remember as recently as last year a friend from MOPS asking me if I garden and I quickly responded with, “nope, that’s not my thing, I’m not that girl.” Oh, but I am.
Part of me thinks that a certain degree of weirdness is just downright required for motherhood so I’ll just consider this all an effort to oblige my children – to teach them tolerance and acceptance and whatever else those modern psychologists think my kids need. But the truth is, I am having a blast learning new things - trying things I never thought I would try, exploring new interests and discovering ones I never knew I had. So, who cares if the high school me would be laughing – laugh away miss high school, but I’m the one with some awesome applesauce in the pantry and happy heads of romaine in the garden.
Meet my little organic garden. 4x8 raised bed. 20 pea plants, 16 beans & onions , 4 heads of lettuce, 4 tomatoes, 3 peppers, 3 cauliflower, zucchini, pumpkins, broccoli, strawberries, a few dozen carrots, cilantro and, hopefully, more herbs by tomorrow. Who knew weird could be so much fun!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Great Expectations...Part 2
So although our night with the dinosaurs wasn’t every thing I dreamed of and I was kind of bummed that the evening didn’t have half the magic that I planned for it to have, by the next morning I was resigned to being thankful for what it was – time with Tyler, time with Ross and – good, bad or otherwise – a memorable experience. Contrast that with the events and expectations of the next day….
Earlier in the week we had learned that Ross’s maternal grandmother was diagnosed with cancer again and the prognosis was not good. Since the doctors thought she would be with us at least a little while longer, on Friday (dinosaur day) Ross and I passed up a great deal on next-day airline tickets in favor of flying out a few weeks later. Unfortunately, Grandma’s health seemed to decline by the hour and on Saturday every single one of her 20 grandchildren, amongst other family, made the decision to converge on Edgerton, Minnesota by Monday– every single grandchild except Ross, that is. We quickly re-checked airline tickets but the great deal from yesterday had not only evaporated but was now triple the price, meaning over two grand to get our family there. After running through our options Ross decided it would be best for him to just make the 22 hour drive alone. It wasn’t a decision either of us were particularly happy with or excited about, it just seemed like the most reasonable option available.
Ross slowly collected his necessities in a suitcase and loaded up his truck while I woke Tyler from his nap so we could explain to him that Daddy was going to be leaving for a few days. And that was all it took. One child, short on sleep, woken abruptly and told his daddy was leaving him behind. It was the kind of meltdown that cuts straight to the heart of parents. Not the “buy me this now!” kind of meltdown, but the “I love my daddy more than anything and cannot bear to be left behind” kind. Our house immediately turned into a whirlwind of excitement as we made a quick change of plans and gave ourselves one hour to pack clothes and kids and hit the road.
Now, let’s talk about expectations here. What exactly are your expectations when you have one hour to pack for a 4 day trip? How lovely do you expect 44 hours in the car to be? With a 4 year old? And a 10 month old? What about when 4 days turns into 9? You expect madness I tell you, absolute madness! You expect late nights and tired bums. Whining kids and tired parents. You expect too many stops at McDonald’s and everything to take longer than planned. You expect to have forgotten enough things to fill up an entire other suitcase. Whatever it is you expect, none of it exactly qualifies as a good time. Soon after hitting the road Tyler asked a question about this “vacation” we were on and I very carefully corrected him, “this is a roadtrip, Tyler, it should never, ever be confused with vacation”.
But the truth turned out to be quite the contrary. On a trip that was unplanned, unorganized, unbudgeted and probably a whole bunch of other “un” words, we actually got way more than we bargained for – more fun, more laughs, more memories, more smiles. Yes, there were late nights and plenty of forgotten items, but those hotel room hair dryers really aren’t half bad and with a little creativity we found there are a host of things in a hotel room that put our traditional bath toys to shame. What amazed me most was that, particularly for the kids, fun has nothing to do with cool bath toys or being organized anyway, it’s about doing something together. To them, home is family, home is us. And, as long as we were all together they were game for almost anything. The only time Tyler really cried on the whole trip was when we woke up in Missoula, Montana and told him, “Guess what, buddy, today we are going home”.
Most of all what I learned from this trip is that expectations are what you make of them. Sure it’s nice to plan and anticipate but there is so much value in learning to appreciate the situation, the moment, for what it is. They aren’t all perfect and they aren’t all pretty, but it’s life and each day offers an opportunity for us to enjoy, to learn, to grow. And even more, I have been blessed with 2 little people who are not only learning to enjoy their own moments as well, but carefully watching mommy to learn and understand how best to do just that. So, here’s to keeping expectations in perspective and doing my best to enjoy every curveball life throws at me. Hopefully, they won’t all involve a 3,000 mile roadtrip, but either way, I’m game.
Earlier in the week we had learned that Ross’s maternal grandmother was diagnosed with cancer again and the prognosis was not good. Since the doctors thought she would be with us at least a little while longer, on Friday (dinosaur day) Ross and I passed up a great deal on next-day airline tickets in favor of flying out a few weeks later. Unfortunately, Grandma’s health seemed to decline by the hour and on Saturday every single one of her 20 grandchildren, amongst other family, made the decision to converge on Edgerton, Minnesota by Monday– every single grandchild except Ross, that is. We quickly re-checked airline tickets but the great deal from yesterday had not only evaporated but was now triple the price, meaning over two grand to get our family there. After running through our options Ross decided it would be best for him to just make the 22 hour drive alone. It wasn’t a decision either of us were particularly happy with or excited about, it just seemed like the most reasonable option available.
Ross slowly collected his necessities in a suitcase and loaded up his truck while I woke Tyler from his nap so we could explain to him that Daddy was going to be leaving for a few days. And that was all it took. One child, short on sleep, woken abruptly and told his daddy was leaving him behind. It was the kind of meltdown that cuts straight to the heart of parents. Not the “buy me this now!” kind of meltdown, but the “I love my daddy more than anything and cannot bear to be left behind” kind. Our house immediately turned into a whirlwind of excitement as we made a quick change of plans and gave ourselves one hour to pack clothes and kids and hit the road.
Now, let’s talk about expectations here. What exactly are your expectations when you have one hour to pack for a 4 day trip? How lovely do you expect 44 hours in the car to be? With a 4 year old? And a 10 month old? What about when 4 days turns into 9? You expect madness I tell you, absolute madness! You expect late nights and tired bums. Whining kids and tired parents. You expect too many stops at McDonald’s and everything to take longer than planned. You expect to have forgotten enough things to fill up an entire other suitcase. Whatever it is you expect, none of it exactly qualifies as a good time. Soon after hitting the road Tyler asked a question about this “vacation” we were on and I very carefully corrected him, “this is a roadtrip, Tyler, it should never, ever be confused with vacation”.
But the truth turned out to be quite the contrary. On a trip that was unplanned, unorganized, unbudgeted and probably a whole bunch of other “un” words, we actually got way more than we bargained for – more fun, more laughs, more memories, more smiles. Yes, there were late nights and plenty of forgotten items, but those hotel room hair dryers really aren’t half bad and with a little creativity we found there are a host of things in a hotel room that put our traditional bath toys to shame. What amazed me most was that, particularly for the kids, fun has nothing to do with cool bath toys or being organized anyway, it’s about doing something together. To them, home is family, home is us. And, as long as we were all together they were game for almost anything. The only time Tyler really cried on the whole trip was when we woke up in Missoula, Montana and told him, “Guess what, buddy, today we are going home”.
Most of all what I learned from this trip is that expectations are what you make of them. Sure it’s nice to plan and anticipate but there is so much value in learning to appreciate the situation, the moment, for what it is. They aren’t all perfect and they aren’t all pretty, but it’s life and each day offers an opportunity for us to enjoy, to learn, to grow. And even more, I have been blessed with 2 little people who are not only learning to enjoy their own moments as well, but carefully watching mommy to learn and understand how best to do just that. So, here’s to keeping expectations in perspective and doing my best to enjoy every curveball life throws at me. Hopefully, they won’t all involve a 3,000 mile roadtrip, but either way, I’m game.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Great Expectations....Part I
The older I get the more I am coming to realize that my enjoyment of life is highly dependent upon my expectations. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy life as much as the next person, maybe even more, but at the same time I have always known that I have pretty high expectations. I tend not to discriminate as to what I set expectations on – myself, my home, time, fun, anything really, but I am just beginning to understand the impact these very expectations have on my ability to enjoy life. The events of the past weeks have been a perfect of example of that.
April 28th had been noted on our calendar for months now. As soon as I read that Walking With Dinosaurs, the ultra-fabulous theatrical rendition of the BBC program, was coming to Yakima I quickly keyed my debit card number into the Ticketmaster website and scored three tickets to the prehistoric showdown. You see, dinosaurs are big in our house - really, really big. I am not sure exactly how Tyler became interested in them but for the last 9 months or so, which might as well be a lifetime in kid years, dinosaurs have been the favorite toys, books, placemats, puzzles, pajamas, t-shirts…you get the point. We know their names – well at least the ones mommy can pronounce, we take turns pretending to be them, and, of course, we had a dinosaur birthday party. So when we heard the mother of all dinosaur shows was going to be 45 minutes away from our home, even if it was going to set us back almost $80 for three of the cheap seats, we were going to be there.
Of course, there is an intrinsic amount of anticipation anytime you wait months for an event to occur, spend what you consider to be a fair amount of money to attend that event and are constantly reminded of its impending arrival through television commercials and newspapers advertisements, none of which are lost on an ever-alert 4 year old. But as if that anticipation weren’t enough, I tend to pile on the additional anticipatory expectations regarding what a wonderfully amazing time we are going to have or how much Tyler is going to love the show. I begin to envision how we will kick the night off with a super fun dinner out at a very special restaurant, all will be smiles during the show, we will leave with an armload of memorabilia and show souveniers and – if possible – even bigger smiles. Heck, there may even be music playing in the background on this perfect mommy-daddy-Tyler date night and those Hallmark movie producers may be sell-served to just start shooting this one now. Yup, nothing like great expectations.
In reality it went something like: last minute change in child care plans for Bailey, out the door late, Red Robin – too far out of the way, Applebees – 45 minute wait, so, slightly irritated, we conceded and downed burgers at Miner’s. With full stomachs and renewed confidence we arrived plenty early to claim our seats, only 3 rows shy of the ceiling where it must be 85 degrees and the bench seats put us all to close to perfect strangers who also appear, err smell, like they aren’t exactly enjoying the cozy climate either. As the show begins, we try to relax and really enjoy it when 15 minutes later some late-comers are blocking our view, whispering loudly and then approach us to tell us we are in their seats. What’s worse? They were right! So we begin the track back down the 362 stairs to the bottom of the arena and up the 365 stairs on the other side – all the while missing vital parts of the show. Now we, the get there early great expectations folks, get to appear to be the 20 minute late-comers, whispering excuse me as we squeeze between knees, block views and ignore dirty looks. Luckily we eventually find our real seats where we can now actually touch the ceiling in 89 degree comfort. Lovely. In the end it was a great show. Really, a great show. Not a Hallmark movie moment, but a memory that is a lot more like real life. And what makes it all worth it in the end? When your 4 year old, with every bit of sincerity exclaims, “Mommy, thank-you so much for getting us seats where I can see the very top of the brachiosaurus!” You’re welcome, Tyler, it was my pleasure.
April 28th had been noted on our calendar for months now. As soon as I read that Walking With Dinosaurs, the ultra-fabulous theatrical rendition of the BBC program, was coming to Yakima I quickly keyed my debit card number into the Ticketmaster website and scored three tickets to the prehistoric showdown. You see, dinosaurs are big in our house - really, really big. I am not sure exactly how Tyler became interested in them but for the last 9 months or so, which might as well be a lifetime in kid years, dinosaurs have been the favorite toys, books, placemats, puzzles, pajamas, t-shirts…you get the point. We know their names – well at least the ones mommy can pronounce, we take turns pretending to be them, and, of course, we had a dinosaur birthday party. So when we heard the mother of all dinosaur shows was going to be 45 minutes away from our home, even if it was going to set us back almost $80 for three of the cheap seats, we were going to be there.
Of course, there is an intrinsic amount of anticipation anytime you wait months for an event to occur, spend what you consider to be a fair amount of money to attend that event and are constantly reminded of its impending arrival through television commercials and newspapers advertisements, none of which are lost on an ever-alert 4 year old. But as if that anticipation weren’t enough, I tend to pile on the additional anticipatory expectations regarding what a wonderfully amazing time we are going to have or how much Tyler is going to love the show. I begin to envision how we will kick the night off with a super fun dinner out at a very special restaurant, all will be smiles during the show, we will leave with an armload of memorabilia and show souveniers and – if possible – even bigger smiles. Heck, there may even be music playing in the background on this perfect mommy-daddy-Tyler date night and those Hallmark movie producers may be sell-served to just start shooting this one now. Yup, nothing like great expectations.
In reality it went something like: last minute change in child care plans for Bailey, out the door late, Red Robin – too far out of the way, Applebees – 45 minute wait, so, slightly irritated, we conceded and downed burgers at Miner’s. With full stomachs and renewed confidence we arrived plenty early to claim our seats, only 3 rows shy of the ceiling where it must be 85 degrees and the bench seats put us all to close to perfect strangers who also appear, err smell, like they aren’t exactly enjoying the cozy climate either. As the show begins, we try to relax and really enjoy it when 15 minutes later some late-comers are blocking our view, whispering loudly and then approach us to tell us we are in their seats. What’s worse? They were right! So we begin the track back down the 362 stairs to the bottom of the arena and up the 365 stairs on the other side – all the while missing vital parts of the show. Now we, the get there early great expectations folks, get to appear to be the 20 minute late-comers, whispering excuse me as we squeeze between knees, block views and ignore dirty looks. Luckily we eventually find our real seats where we can now actually touch the ceiling in 89 degree comfort. Lovely. In the end it was a great show. Really, a great show. Not a Hallmark movie moment, but a memory that is a lot more like real life. And what makes it all worth it in the end? When your 4 year old, with every bit of sincerity exclaims, “Mommy, thank-you so much for getting us seats where I can see the very top of the brachiosaurus!” You’re welcome, Tyler, it was my pleasure.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The UPS man delivers
Remember the package I was so anxiously waiting for in a post a couple of weeks ago? Any guesses as to what was in it? Laura, you are disqualified; you may not guess! Well, this is kind of fun so I’ll give you a hint. It was a birthday present from Ross. Nope, it’s not my birthday, but that is just kind of the way we do things around here.
Okay, next hint, I picked it out. I mean really picked it out. I researched it, I compared competing products, I talked to friends and I knew exactly which one I wanted. And then, I began dropping hints. First of the “wow, that would be nice to have someday” sort and then a little of the “that would make a really nice birthday present” and then, finally, I resorted to the “I am pretty sure I cannot live another day without this so here is where to get it, this is how much it costs and if you just type your happy little debit card number right here you will be the most fabulous husband ever”….or something like that. Wow, that was a really terrible hint now wasn’t it?
Well, maybe I could just show you. Ready?
No, really are you ready?
Okay, next hint, I picked it out. I mean really picked it out. I researched it, I compared competing products, I talked to friends and I knew exactly which one I wanted. And then, I began dropping hints. First of the “wow, that would be nice to have someday” sort and then a little of the “that would make a really nice birthday present” and then, finally, I resorted to the “I am pretty sure I cannot live another day without this so here is where to get it, this is how much it costs and if you just type your happy little debit card number right here you will be the most fabulous husband ever”….or something like that. Wow, that was a really terrible hint now wasn’t it?
Well, maybe I could just show you. Ready?
No, really are you ready?
Tada! You like?
How about this one?
Nope, he didn’t get me flowers – I realize they look very much like the delightful blooms that are sprinkled around our front yard but I already had those. What Ross gave me was the ability to photograph them, and my kiddos, and Charlie the fish, and any other goofy thing my happy fingers want to record. He got me a Nikon D40 camera! Hooray for me; I might very well be the luckiest girl in the hole world right now. There is something about 2.5 pictures per second and a fabulous zoom lens that just makes my pulse jump.
I realize that having a fancy-shmancy camera comes with a bit of obligation to take nice photos. And, seeing as though I really have no skills and have now lost my “crappy camera” excuse I am feeling the pressure a bit, but I have time – not to mention a firm grip on the “auto” setting of my camera, for now. So you, my friend, get to watch me learn. I bought a book and I would like to take a class or two but for now the best experience will just be diving in and trying it out, so here is to doing just that.
Oh yes, and much to love to my ever-fabulous husband who is thoughtful, generous, and a very good listener.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Saying Good-bye
I am fully convinced that there will ever be few gifts in this life that are more precious and for which I more thankful for than the opportunity we had this past week - to say good-bye to Grandma Kooi. If it were up to me and my perfect plans, we wouldn’t have made it. Grandma was diagnosed a week and a half ago and told she may live a year, maybe a month. After checking flights and schedules we opted to wait a few weeks to see her but then for a variety of reasons we changed our minds and in an hour’s time packed clothes and kids and got on I-90 East to Edgerton, Minnesota. It was a very quick decision God knew all about and one Ross and I will never regret.
Ross and I have never lost a grandparent. The eight originals have been with us our entire lives and so as we drove we thought about what it meant to say good-bye. It’s amazing how we take the presence of the people in our lives, particularly the constants who have been there for years, for granted. While we understand mortality superficially, we somehow think because they have always been there, they always will be. But they won’t.
Particularly, we thought about Grandma Kooi - her fabulous personality, her chipper spirit, her great faith, her servant’s heart, her spry smile. How do you say good-bye to someone who holds so many places in your heart? We had never done this before and we were sad, a little scared and at a loss for words.
Most people don’t get the opportunity to say good-bye and I am forever grateful that we did. But even more than goodbye we were able to say thank-you. Thank-you for your prayers when we didn’t even know you were praying. Thank-you for aging with grace, never losing that smile that is permanently etched in so many minds. Thank-you for showing selflessness and serving others, near and far. Thank-you for choosing love, even when it wasn’t easy. Thank-you for loving Christ and living your life to show others what that means. Thank-you for raising a family that fears God, that supports one another, that knows how to have a good time. Thank-you for remembering how to laugh. Thank-you for baking. Thank-you for not only caring, but making sure we knew you did. Thank-you for being a woman of integrity, a servant who gave, a mother who served, an honorable wife, a loyal friend, and all the grandmother a grandchild could ever wish for.
Grandma Kooi wasn’t really even my Grandma, she was Ross’s. But that didn’t matter to me and I don’t think it mattered to her either. She loved easily and she was easy to love. She was amazing in life – a joy, a treasure - but she has been even more exemplary in death. Even as her days were ending she chose to teach her children, her grandchildren and all those who loved her yet one more lesson. She taught us how to know your Savior with complete confidence, to stare at death fearlessly, to rest assured in the very faith she lived for – all this a final and lasting gift she purposely chose to give. She was dignified in both life and death and my life is changed because I knew her, was apart of her family, a witness to her bravery.
This morning Grandma Kooi met Jesus. Only a week ago she dined with every one of her 6 children, 20 grandchildren and dozens of great-grandchildren. In the days that followed she was able to tell each and every one of them exactly what they meant to her and they did the same. Her time here came to an end quickly and painlessly with all four of her daughters at her side as she took her last breath. Grandma Kooi honored God her entire life and God chose to honor her in death.
It is not easy to say good-bye to such a beautiful woman, a woman I aspire to be. I have been blessed to see what God can do with a single life. So even as we cry, in our hearts we smile because it could not have ended more beautifully and we have no doubts about where Grandma is right now. I could not ask for anything more.
Ross and I have never lost a grandparent. The eight originals have been with us our entire lives and so as we drove we thought about what it meant to say good-bye. It’s amazing how we take the presence of the people in our lives, particularly the constants who have been there for years, for granted. While we understand mortality superficially, we somehow think because they have always been there, they always will be. But they won’t.
Particularly, we thought about Grandma Kooi - her fabulous personality, her chipper spirit, her great faith, her servant’s heart, her spry smile. How do you say good-bye to someone who holds so many places in your heart? We had never done this before and we were sad, a little scared and at a loss for words.
Most people don’t get the opportunity to say good-bye and I am forever grateful that we did. But even more than goodbye we were able to say thank-you. Thank-you for your prayers when we didn’t even know you were praying. Thank-you for aging with grace, never losing that smile that is permanently etched in so many minds. Thank-you for showing selflessness and serving others, near and far. Thank-you for choosing love, even when it wasn’t easy. Thank-you for loving Christ and living your life to show others what that means. Thank-you for raising a family that fears God, that supports one another, that knows how to have a good time. Thank-you for remembering how to laugh. Thank-you for baking. Thank-you for not only caring, but making sure we knew you did. Thank-you for being a woman of integrity, a servant who gave, a mother who served, an honorable wife, a loyal friend, and all the grandmother a grandchild could ever wish for.
Grandma Kooi wasn’t really even my Grandma, she was Ross’s. But that didn’t matter to me and I don’t think it mattered to her either. She loved easily and she was easy to love. She was amazing in life – a joy, a treasure - but she has been even more exemplary in death. Even as her days were ending she chose to teach her children, her grandchildren and all those who loved her yet one more lesson. She taught us how to know your Savior with complete confidence, to stare at death fearlessly, to rest assured in the very faith she lived for – all this a final and lasting gift she purposely chose to give. She was dignified in both life and death and my life is changed because I knew her, was apart of her family, a witness to her bravery.
This morning Grandma Kooi met Jesus. Only a week ago she dined with every one of her 6 children, 20 grandchildren and dozens of great-grandchildren. In the days that followed she was able to tell each and every one of them exactly what they meant to her and they did the same. Her time here came to an end quickly and painlessly with all four of her daughters at her side as she took her last breath. Grandma Kooi honored God her entire life and God chose to honor her in death.
It is not easy to say good-bye to such a beautiful woman, a woman I aspire to be. I have been blessed to see what God can do with a single life. So even as we cry, in our hearts we smile because it could not have ended more beautifully and we have no doubts about where Grandma is right now. I could not ask for anything more.
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