tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42032501586280994782024-03-18T15:37:50.532-07:00they call her mimiand this is the stuff she wants to remember...Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.comBlogger535125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-29080403422987736082016-12-16T22:37:00.000-08:002016-12-16T22:37:02.126-08:00My MomI haven't written about...<br />
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I can't even type it. I don't form the words in my head, let alone in my mouth or through my fingers. I play pretend. I push it down. I say it flippantly, but I don't really say it because I don't want to believe it. I can't believe it. It's not real. <br />
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There are plenty of words. Too many words, too many stories, too many things that my mom still needed people to know about her. Too many things she still needed to see. But none of the words I think to put here seem right. Not one story or a million will keep her here. <br />
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A year ago we were conspiring about surprising my sister for her birthday. There were hushed calls and secret plans. We flew to Chicago and stayed Christmas night so we could surprise Andria the next afternoon. My parent's room had huge windows spanning the corner. She pretended she was doing business at the desk. My kids laughed as she made fake calls. We surprised Andria and the boys. We colored. We ate at Panera. She had Butternut Squash Soup because she liked to try different things. We took silly goodbye pictures and she smiled the smile that lit up the room. She laughed her laugh. We flew home and she was so mad that she couldn't find a moment to slip out for a smoke. I didn't see her again until January. <br />
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How did I let that happen? How did I go so long between visits when we live so close. I didn't celebrate my birthday last year. I was a brat about it. We went to Huntsville, but I wouldn't celebrate. She wouldn't have it. My mom loves birthdays. She got me a sugar-free Marion Berry Pie because I was ridiculous about sugar at the time. She couldn't just let it pass this year, just like she never did growing up. She would save her vacation days and always take our birthdays off. Even when I was in college, she would come see me. The roads are awful between Dayton and Pullman in January. But she would come anyway. I would say to her, "can you believe your baby is 21!", or "30!", or "or 39!"<br />
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There was always too much time in between visits. I did see her for her birthday and again on Mother's Day. She sat on the porch while Tony and James put together a whirly-gig. We both took a picture of them working from opposite sides. Looking at the same scene from different points but still both feeling like it was the important moment to capture. It is the last picture I have of my mom being my mom.<br />
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Time is a funny thing. Birthdays like those mean you are grown, but I wasn't. I'm not.<br />
I still need my mom. Every single day I think to call her. Every single day I wonder if she knew how much she meant to me, even though we were often on opposite sides of view. I wonder if she knew that I know how alike we are even through our differences. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-13166167229520670212014-12-17T09:48:00.002-08:002014-12-17T09:55:33.062-08:00if I could write a song...It would be a song like Ed Sheeran and Amy Wadge wrote <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fe9iYkuMetk" target="_blank">Thinking Out Loud</a>. Have you ever listened to the words of that song? They are almost perfect.<br />
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I would put into words all of the happenstance that lead us to today. I would write about the way you make me feel that is a tangle of implosions and explosions and butterflies and kittens. I would sing it all throaty and beautiful while strumming a guitar. It would feel as perfect as a Friday full of the adventure of revealing in just being. I would sing about how you are the storyteller of our lives and how we all look forward to you relaying the world's happenings at dinner. It would be slow and warm and soothing, but then pick up for the chorus because you have a way of bringing the silly and lively to our party. <br />
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It would be quite the song. Can't you just hear it now?<br />
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Happy birthday Tony. We love you so much it <a href="http://mimi-b.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-love-to-tenth-degree.html" target="_blank">schmegal</a>s. </div>
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com102tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-54382173994202904562014-12-03T14:28:00.000-08:002014-12-03T14:28:44.127-08:00drummer boyNot the one from the song. <br />
The one who has gone in early to score a few extra credit points. <br />
The one who beats his clave. Or stick thingies. Cool stick things, but sticks nonetheless. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-91824547272186824442014-12-01T14:34:00.001-08:002014-12-01T14:34:56.647-08:00if I could turn back timeI don't really want to turn back time (I do hope that Cher song gets stuck in your head though, because having a song stuck in your head is annoying and funny and familiar and a very human thing to have happen, so yeah, I hope you're human).<br />
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But I don't want to, turn back time, you know. I like time. I like the way things are turning out. I like that all of these experiences end up leading to the crazy that is right now. But all of that crazy leaves little time. And little energy too. But there are always pictures...<br />
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and for now, pictures will have to do.</div>
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-46534974502580624182014-11-17T14:24:00.001-08:002014-11-17T14:24:05.877-08:00The Bacharts love them some Disneyland...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-65025922955362333722014-10-24T13:23:00.001-07:002014-10-24T13:24:17.879-07:00when life turns crazy...you turn to a photo dump, because let's face it, my kids are cute, we do some pretty awesome things as a family and they are changing right before my eyes. I so want to preserve these memories but these memories sometimes get in the way of getting it all safely journaled here. <br />
But if that is the worst of my problems, I count myself pretty lucky. <br />
<br />
Here goes::: <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-90110399904116468532014-09-04T10:21:00.005-07:002014-09-04T10:21:57.831-07:00Aidan turned 13 and I loose all track of time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
He is amazing and difficult and has been 13 for 36 days but he is real forgiving too,<br />
and funny and really not funny at all because he is 13 and a whole lot smartassy, <br />
and lovey and does that head-nod-hey thing that boys do,<br />
and works hard but balances out with the required sleeping in and video game time, <br />
and is creative and destructive because he can't resist taking every single flipping pen apart in the whole entire world, <br />
and is learning to bite his tongue while smiling and showing respect and venting when he gets home<br />
and nerdy in the best possible way because you know mama loves a nerd anyway, <br />
and makes us proud every single day,<br />
and boy scout-y and lacrosse-y and computer program-y and big brother-y, <br />
and is a mini version of tony complete with old man impatience and big soft heart and eyelashes for days,<br />
and still plans to own a zoo some day but has a couple of plans to get the financing in order. <br />
And he is the love of my life. Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-85366276554987115342014-06-05T13:33:00.000-07:002014-06-05T13:33:36.708-07:00She's 11...My baby!<br />
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<br />
I love her the mostest of the hostess cream heart pie. Like for real. I can't help but smile like a fool when she walks into the room. Eleven looks good on her. She is Nadia through and through. Independent.<br />
Responsible.<br />
Perseverant.<br />
Joyful.<br />
Silly.<br />
Adventurous.<br />
Dynamic.<br />
Gracious.<br />
Loving.<br />
And still all about family and friends and furry loves of her life. And we are all about her. Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-88882796159693079482014-05-13T20:54:00.002-07:002014-05-13T20:54:26.574-07:00may we have many moreMay.<br />
A month of opportunity. It's almost like the month itself gives you permission. <br />
<br />
May we start an adventure? Why yes, you may!<br />
May we dream the big dreams? Certainly!<br />
May we fall in love? Absolutely!<br />
May we celebrate our anniversary? uh...no. At least not now.<br />
<br />
These fourteen years have given us plenty. That plenty includes children. Those children include responsibilities. <br />
<br />
And you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. If you had told me fourteen years ago that we would be running our kids to activities and getting up at ungodly hours just so we can talk to each other every morning and that we would fall asleep with our booties touching every night I don't think I would have imagined it all being so satisfying. <br />
<br />
I love you Tony. <br />
May we have another year of all of this? Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-75604133116977822302014-04-16T08:35:00.005-07:002014-04-16T08:35:34.831-07:00mr. bachart goes to washingtonthat was our hashtag, 'cause we are cool like that. <br />
<br />
Aidan didn't like it. He wanted #watowa or #monumoments but I said No. I am the adult so I get to pick the ridiculous hashtag. And that is how you parent in the 21st century. The end. <br />
<br />
Except it is not the end. It is only the beginning!! The beginning of our vacation pictures, that is! You can thank me later. <br />
<br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-68504678279923858082014-03-25T11:13:00.000-07:002014-03-25T11:13:51.816-07:00Margo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Look at that face? <br />
I mean, come on! Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-5251568378918129322014-03-25T11:10:00.000-07:002014-03-25T11:10:01.627-07:00sporty spiceI vow to stop saying we are not athletes. We, meaning Tony and I, are not big on organized sports, granted. It might be our reluctance for social interaction. It might be our reluctance to be told what to do. It might be our lack of coordination, but really, maybe, that it just me. Come to think of it, as long as it doesn't involve a ball Tony is a natural at things that require arms and legs moving in various directions. Like rollerblading. I gave Tony a pair for graduation, he slapped them on and rolled away down our bumpy sloped road like he had always had them on his feet. But I have to stop saying we are not athletes, because he are active. Is there an activlete? Or an althtive? Because what I mean is we get after it. We set little goals, do the work to get there and set some more. We stick to it. So really, isn't that what an athlete does?<br />
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So maybe there is hope for the Bachart Babies. You wouldn't look at us and say that we are a smooth bunch of people. Or graceful. Or maybe even coordinated. You would say that we are willing to try.<br />
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For his whole life long, Aidan has been reluctant to show what he knows until he really knows it, if that make sense. He didn't try walking. He studied it, and practiced on the sly and then one day when Tony asked him to hand over the remote, he just walked across the room. Same-same with reading. He couldn't bear the thought of sounding out words. He would read in his head, over and over until he knew he had it. Then boom. Hop on Pop! <br />
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But this Lacrosse thing? He is out there trying. You can still see him studying. You can see him shift his shoulders anticipating what he would do as he watches a play by play in his head. But he is out there too. He gets knocked around. He gets knocked down too. He gets whacked with sticks and stepped on. He's not ready to do the knocking or whacking quite yet, but he loves it. All of it. The coaches, the kids, the rules upon rules upon never-ending rules.<br />
<em>He is out there, and he loves it.</em> <br />
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I, however, have chewed my cuticles to nothingness.Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-51648771220686345862014-03-10T12:12:00.004-07:002014-03-11T09:00:01.377-07:00i'm coming home, i'm coming homeThat song from the Resurrection trailer played over and over in my head on Saturday. Half in part because of the road to Huntsville and half in part because of my Nani-B in the backseat. They both kept it on repeat for at least 40 of the 50 miles. <br />
That's what spring in Huntsville feels like, though...home.<br />
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Nadia's rendition includes something about raise the flag, mom, I'm coming home that I rather like. Her home is and has always been the bustling town of Pasco, but it is clear that she is most at home in her muck boots feeding two lambs at once or making a contraption out of fencing and what have yous. There is a theory about cultural genetics that says a way of life seems to be passed down through DNA. You <em>feel </em>your homeland, even if you have never been there.<br />
I wonder if there is something to that.<br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-57732168519724816642014-03-04T14:04:00.000-08:002014-03-04T14:04:11.014-08:00full speed ahead!We have this ebb and flow to our little life. I kinda like the flow but then again the ebb isn't so bad either. Right now it is about to get all ebb-on-crack which makes me simultaneously nervous-excited and nervous-scared. <br />
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But our little life is revving up to the ebb this time, instead of just throwing us into the thick of it. I spent a good 45 minutes today logging things into the calendar and trying to appreciate all of the stuff we have going on.<br />
<br />
Like last week. <br />
We had some stuffs going on. <br />
Nothing crazy, nothing too hectic, just stuffs.<br />
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Stuffs like the ten year anniversary of the dual language program. Normally this wouldn't have made the list but since both of my children volunteered to participate we made sure it was on the calendar. Nadia sang with her class and handed out fans that her classmates made. Aidan explained the concept of algebraic exponents like it was no big thing. Did I mention he did this in Spanish? I understood a handful of words but I am pretty sure it was awesome. And he is really handsome, so there is that. Here is a grainy picture from far away to show it. <br />
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Stuffs like my mom's birthday. She is 69. I didn't take even one picture but I did eat a bunch of Hawaiian Teriyaki and Russian Chocolate. She said she didn't want us to buy gifts so Tony pulled a fast one and made her an apron. I picked out the butterfly fabric so really I should get all of the credit. <br />
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Stuffs like introducing go-go-Gabby to Aidan and Nadia. They were amazed at how tiny she is and were floored when I told them that she has literally tripled in size. Again, no pictures. What was I thinking? <br />
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And stuffs like a lacrosse clinic. Aidan is in love. He started practice last night. Nadia wants to play too but since it is the same time as Girls on the Run she decided to wait until next year. Again, no pictures of Aidan all padded up or of us freezing our whatnots off. Nor did I get a picture of me rocking a sweet cat hat.<br />
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But I did get a picture of Tony doing this...<br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-16685607650589249092014-02-26T11:04:00.000-08:002014-02-26T11:06:15.458-08:00done//not done//but doneA friend posted a little something on FB about the sadness of knowing you have had your last child. <br />
Oh have I felt that. It is often present. I was just talking with my sister about it last week. I am one to think in numbers and find myself often thinking my baby is 10, my oldest is encroaching on teenagehood. Next year both of my <a href="http://mimi-b.blogspot.com/2010/11/thankful-series-part-2.html" target="_blank">babies</a> will be heading to school at 7:40 and will be just across the street in their not so little middle school. I <a href="http://mimi-b.blogspot.com/2012/12/older-is-fun-too.html" target="_blank">miss their littleness</a> every day and wish for more time with them in their perfect for snuggling bodies filled with wild and humongous dreams. I am full with <a href="http://mimi-b.blogspot.com/2010/11/wouldnt-have-it-any-other-way.html" target="_blank">love of who they are</a> and where they are and the stage they are in, but that longing for a perfectly curled up child in the crook of my arm is never that far off. <br />
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I told my bff when I was snuggling her itty bitty baby that I wanted to put her little body inside my skin. She gets me and she loves me so she did not immediately dial 9-1-1. And when I say it I know it sounds totally crazy but I miss that feeling of a little one so close to me, you know? And if you catch me on a good day it is probably because there are moments when I feel like I have this mothering thing down and I want a do over. At least until the next stage hits and I have to figure it all out again...but...<br />
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We are done. There is no going back. We have the family that is meant to be and I wouldn't change it one little bit. So instead I borrow babies. But just cute ones, and snuggly ones, to get my fix. And ones that belong to friamly because I don't need any calls to the nut house when I say things like I could just eat these babies up. Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-27730521542457464862014-02-19T10:16:00.002-08:002014-02-19T10:26:18.182-08:00from where I sitThere is a dirty window clad in horrible dirty blinds with sun streaming through to my left. I can hear the wind howling, just like it has been- and will be- for days. I just finished my second cup of coffee. That is a rarity. Usually I stick to one on the weekdays but I am dragging. <em>Wah Wah Wah</em>. Who isn't? That's the name of February's game, am I right?<br />
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But the sun makes me start planning and plotting and dreaming of long summer mornings. I gotta pull back though. I want to make sure I enjoy what February has to offer. Like random game nights. Will I lose my coolness status if I admit Settlers of Catan is weirdly fun? And the MCT for the last time? I will miss it (a little). It is the season of school projects. At the Bachart house we have a good time (mostly) of researching and powerpointing and video embedding. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">old campers, including Sienna, Nadia and MacKenzie</td></tr>
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I am trying to strike that balance between dreaming of days to come and living it the moment, but I don't think I am very convincing.<br />
My scale is tilted to the planning and plotting. Windy February days are made for laying out our spring and summer plans and perfect for looking forward, if only to the weekend, don't you think?<br />
<br />Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-8657145942524590562014-02-10T10:17:00.000-08:002014-02-10T10:17:44.253-08:00girl of mineThere was this moment where I looked down the line of concert goers to see if she was loving this. She's a mover and a feeler. If music strikes her, she can't help it. She has been known to dance right there in the check out line without a care. But she is growing older and mindful of people around her and of damn social norms. You could see it in her. She wanted to dance and she wanted to sing as familiar songs resonated with her. But she settled for swaying because she was surrounded by the fuddy duddy middle aged fans who were content to sit and clap politely.<br />
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She turned, smiled and I melted. <br />
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During the last few songs we sat next to each other and held hands. I joked about one performer's constipated expressions and she shook her head but giggled anyway. She loves me even though I am inappropriate. <br />
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<a href="http://www.mindygledhill.com/" target="_blank">Mindy Gledhill</a> wrapped up the night with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4AWRHBHDVlQ" target="_blank">Anchor</a>. Before the encore at least, which was perfect because I needed that double encore to mop up my tears. That song gets me, because this girl of mine gets me. <br />
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And that finger there in the right corner? That's <a href="http://prpakakjo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Karen's</a>. She gets me too. </div>
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-66099758112913260962014-02-07T16:16:00.003-08:002014-02-07T16:16:36.867-08:00oh there you are!you sparkly wonder, you! <br />
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you certainly took your time, didn't you? <br />
but you came in beautifully. fluffy and just enough for a two hour delay with a side of sunshine. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-26353636494630443552014-01-28T06:12:00.002-08:002014-01-28T06:12:21.317-08:00how we do thingsI don't really know how we do things. Things just kinda roll from one day to the next, picking up speed as time tends to do during life. Sure we plan. We are planners! We plan and plan and plan and then real life happens and it all turns out just fine in any way. But we do things.<br />
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Aidan goes on campouts for scouts. They are amazing. He gets to see and do things and face challenges that we can't provide in our little home. But it leaves us a little wobbly when one of our four is not here. So even when we plan for things and there are activities that fill the day we always end up feeling kind of lost. <br />
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So we wander. <br />
And we talk about important life events. <br />
And sometimes we grumble because it is cold and it is hard.<br />
And sometimes we huff and we puff and that wobbly feeling and that lost feeling get all kerfuffled and lead us to some hard conversations. <br />
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But then we get there. <br />
This time there was the top of Badger and a better understanding of how we do things together and as individuals. But we do, we get there. And we have come to this understanding that we can do this hard stuff and that we are in it together and then the phone rings. <br />
Aidan is home. We all smile and we rally and we run down that blasted hill to pick him up. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-40760719104099184782014-01-22T20:25:00.002-08:002014-01-22T20:25:21.959-08:00slap 37 candles on it and call it a dayToday was a good day to wake up. Yesterday suuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkkkked. <br />
But today is my birthday so I just put on my happy face and felt the love. <br />
And do I ever. I had so many kind words and well wishes and surprises from friends and family. Thank you to all of you...and you know who you are. <br />
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37. <br />
I think it is going to be a good year. <br />
a good year, but yet another bad picture. Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-35827050165424360882014-01-21T06:20:00.003-08:002014-01-21T06:20:43.600-08:00walk this way<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Badger Mountain</td></tr>
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The time has come in our little life when our kids no longer think it is fun to go grocery shopping. They prefer to spend that hour in togethery-togetherness here at home exchanging a quick set of calisthenics and folding a load of laundry for mindcraft. So that means that Tony and I spend our hour of togethery-togetherness with a run through Costco and usually a quick stop at Winco. Sometimes we stretch our hour with a hike up Badger first. We talk and we plan and we dream and we negotiate about our little life. We flirt and sometimes we reminisce about how THIS all came to be. Often we count our lucky stars, except it is lucky tumbleweeds out there, because we have each other and we have our kids. But sometimes we get in these deep conversations about the world and ethics and religion and politics and policy. It gets all intense and impassioned and sweaty because we are hiking after all. Then it hits me. This is why I first fell for Tony! It's not like I forgot, really. And it's not like I don't know why I love him today. I can easily rattle off the hundreds of reasons why, but it gets fuzzy when I try to remember why I first fell for him. It was a bazillion years ago, after all, and we were friends for so long before.<br />
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When we walk this way it is easy to remember. I get this strain in my chest when I think of it. Like a fullness that is about to break loose and I realize that it is hope. Hope that someday my children will find the person that gets all up in their head like this. <br />
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-57985642805648780322014-01-19T14:14:00.001-08:002014-01-19T14:14:42.003-08:00enjoying the littlenessI like this kid of mine. She is pretty fantastic all the way around. <br />
She is a little ball of awesome, really. <br />
Emphasis on the awesome and emphasis on the little. <br />
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I realized just how little while I was trolling the instagram. You know that thing you do when you have time to kill and no brain power to apply it usefully? "oh, that's a cute picture. Oh, that's a funny comment that person said about that cute picture, let's see what they are posting. Oooooo more funnies. I like funnies. Funnies make me smile. Hmm. I know that kid. Oooo and their friend that commented there. and click, click, click, click" lost in the instagram world and quickly realizing that ten year olds are not like ten year olds I remember. <br />
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Except I do remember. Some of those ten year olds of my ancient past were just like these ten year olds. Primping and polished and batting their eyelashes and wearing the clothes of 15 year olds. They didn't have the duckface but they had the alluring eyes down pat. And of course, I looked at the ten year olds of yesteryear with a bit of curiosity and probably a little envy that I wasn't cool like that. And worry too. Worry that maybe I wouldn't ever catch up.<br />
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But my Nani is still little. She is little and perfectly Nani, with her tea parties and her babies and her not caring about her hair or who is watching while she dances and sings and is her silly self. <br />
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I wonder if she takes her time being ten then eleven will be easier? Like, if she learns all of the ten year old stuff then she will be stronger for it. I know she has to grow up, and I honestly I can't wait to watch it all happen, but I am so very happy she is staying little for as long as she can. </div>
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-22359715282187926992014-01-15T05:59:00.003-08:002014-01-15T06:00:37.307-08:00ah january...Hey, uh, January? Can I have a moment?<br />
<br />
Boring, little 'ol, looooooooonnnnngggggg January.<br />
Normally I rally for you. Since my beginning is in January and all, I feel like we should be buds. Childhood friends maybe? Normally we are.<br />
<br />
But this time you are just tedious. And really confusing. I'm sorry. I know the truth can be painful, but you are dragging on and all "whoa is me" and "I can't make up my ever loving mind if I want to be winter, or spring or fall" with your wind gusts and gloomy skies and sunshine and near 60 degree temperatures. You are supposed to be a month of wonderful new beginnings. New routines. New get-my-act-togethers, but you are just plain wonky. I want to love you, I do. I want to feel your hopeful, clean slate, organized, fresh faced attitude. I want to be your champion like years past, but frankly, all I feel is a rush to push you out of the way. Maybe we could mellow out for the second half of the month? What do you say?<br />
<br />
I'm in if you are.<br />
<br />
XO, <br />
Mel<br />
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ps I've included some pictures of the kids. They think your crazy ways this year are awesome. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-84498239676642287172014-01-14T06:06:00.001-08:002014-01-14T06:06:15.427-08:00what if we did?What if we just quit? The rat race, the rules, the have to's, the obligations. What if we just left?<br />
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I had to move my car from one parking lot to another so for an efficient after school (or training rather) getaway. Teachers, you may feel me on this one. Anytime my students sit in class going about their student-y business without me tethered to them if feels eerie. You don't simply walk out of the building during school hours without your chickadees in tow from 7:57 to 2:37. And you most certainly don't have a moment to yourself. And this day I had 15 whole minutes to drive the two minute loop around the parking lot. I felt lost; buoyant maybe? I attend a lot of meetings and trainings, more than most teachers (I must be really stupid or something), and I still can't shake this feeling that I'm doing something scandalous when I breech that door. I feel like someone is going to grab me by the ID and haul me to the principal.<br />
<br />
As I edged out onto the street, this rush came over me. It was this kind of pull straight from my guts. My heart raced. I don't mean metaphorically either. I mean I could <em>feel it</em> pick up speed right there in my throat. I couldn't look left to the school, my eyes locked on the road ahead and I was filled with this liquid excitement. What if I just went straight instead? <br />
<br />
What if I just bailed my kids out of school, grabbed gas and Tony on the way out of town and just left? What if we quit our jobs and sold our house and packed up what we need and just did the nomad thing for a while? The journey would be our school and the communities we pass through would be our teachers. Education on the road! Learning on the fly! The kids would be fine with their life experiences and a little math tutoring on the side!<br />
<br />
What if we didn't have a plan? or a mortgage? or a calendar?<br />
<br />
Or what if we did? What if instead of setting out, we settled in? What if we made a plan and started a business so we could work from home? I could be mom and he could be pop to our own little ...I don't know what. It gets a little fuzzy here, doesn't it? <br />
What would we do? What could we do? <br />
<br />
And then I came to the red stop light. Poof. Reality and responsibility forced my hand to my left blinker. <br />
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Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4203250158628099478.post-65646418085914554672014-01-03T13:55:00.002-08:002014-01-03T13:55:39.046-08:00good morning sunshineWe haven't had sunshine in a bit. Or maybe we have and I haven't noticed. Not that I have been hiding. We have spent this last lovely week here and there with friends and snuggled up at home in front of the fire. I have just made a conscious effort to ignore everything outside of our little bubble. <br />
I struggle to find the right word for it. <br />
perfect? no. Nothing is ever perfect, but this has been close.<br />
relaxing? not really. But not stressful by any means and that is something.<br />
satisfying maybe? ya. Maybe that is it. nourishing too. And eventful without any real events.<br />
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It has been this little bubble of satisfaction.<br />
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I'm not big on resolutions, mostly because I am indecisive and have commitment issues when it comes to setting goals. I do hope that I put the bubble back up when I feel like we need a little time out from the world. I hope 2014 is eventful but not over planned. And nourishing for our bodies, our minds and our hearts. and brings loads of sunshine, that kind of sunshine that comes from the satisfaction of focusing on the people in our bubble. <br />
<br />
So yeah. 2014, gimme some of that. Pretty please? <br />
Melaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03450905649966670631noreply@blogger.com1