A few nights ago, a huge storm rolled through our area. Lightening continually lit up the sky, thunder constantly rumbled, and the windows and roof echoed from the heavy rain. Heavy thunderstorms are an iconic part of Iowa summer. And I love them.
When I was a small girl, my parents would wake us up in the middle of the night (or at least what felt like the middle of the night to me, but was in reality more like 10 pm) when thunderstorms would come through. They would have a bowl of popcorn and blankets by the window ready. We would eat popcorn while my parents taught up how to count, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, to see how far away the storm was.
Now, when thunderstorms arrive, I get that same comfortable feeling of being next to my parents, wrapped in blankets and counting the time between flash and boom.
As it turns out, my boys don't share these feelings.
As the storm grew into the night, Bug and Monkey grew more anxious. They started whimpering as bedtime approached, fearful of the thought of going to bed as lightening continued to flash and thunder continued to growl. Bedtime came and then went without us being able to calm their fears. Despite the repetition that they were safe and storms were exciting and fun, the anxiety continued.
I then realized that they didn't have the same context as I did.
So I gave up on bedtime. I popped a large bowl of popcorn, wrapped my pajama-ed boys in thick blankets and sat one on each side of me in front of our living room window. The sky was bright with the constant flash of lightening. The windows and house shook from thunder. I showed the boys how to count, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, gauging the distance of the storm. We ate warm buttered popcorn as we exclaimed over the pattern of bright, branching lightening bolts.
By the time the popcorn was gone, and the time from flash to boom had increased to 5 Mississippi, the boys were sleepy and calmer. We carried them upstairs and tucked them in bed, happy for the time we spent together and a little proud that we had helped calm their fears.
The storm continued throughout the night.
When I woke up the next morning, I found both boys curled up on the floor by my bed. Maybe I wasn't quite as successful as I had originally thought.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Afternoon Ride
Happiness is...
An afternoon family bike ride.
Now that the weather is nicer and the daylight lasts longer, there is time for us to explore the bike trails. We pedal along the river, listening to the croak of the frogs and watching the flash of the red-wing blackbirds atop the high grasses.
We take time to stop and point out new birds, to watch rabbits cross the path, and admire the onslaught of summer flowers.
We never hurry, except down big hills, but then just for the pure fun of it. Our pace is just as lazy as the summer afternoon.
Go visit Leigh at Leigh vs. Laundry for 52 Weeks of Happiness and post a photo of something that makes you happy.
An afternoon family bike ride.
Now that the weather is nicer and the daylight lasts longer, there is time for us to explore the bike trails. We pedal along the river, listening to the croak of the frogs and watching the flash of the red-wing blackbirds atop the high grasses.
We take time to stop and point out new birds, to watch rabbits cross the path, and admire the onslaught of summer flowers.
We never hurry, except down big hills, but then just for the pure fun of it. Our pace is just as lazy as the summer afternoon.
Go visit Leigh at Leigh vs. Laundry for 52 Weeks of Happiness and post a photo of something that makes you happy.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
What It Says About Me: Bedside Table
We've all heard it. You can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse. And it's absolutely true. Take a look in my purse, and there is evidence of my job, my family, and where I've been.
I got thinking that it's not just a purse. You can tell a lot about a person by many things. So I thought I would explore some of the things that say a lot about me. I'll eventually get to the purse and its enlightening contents. However, I thought I would start with something else. Something a little less public. My bedside table. Or more accurately, what's on my bedside table.
Here it is...
Nothing fancy.
As to what's on it? Well, there is:
-alarm clock: somedays it feels like my life is all about the alarm clock.
-lamp: for the occasional novel reading in bed
-glasses: because it's bad to leave my contacts in at night (I would never!)
-nail clippers: because I do my own manicures.
-picture of Hubster and me: isn't it just so cute?
-little jewelry box: for the special pieces that I don't actually wear.
-perfume: so I can smell so pretty.
-pack of seeds: this should be actually be planted instead of just sitting on my nightstand.
-stack of library books: let's be honest. These will be due before I get through them. And besides, the last Harry Potter movie comes out in just over a month, so I need to start re-reading series.
There's a few other things: a small stack of student loan statements, a back massager that has been used maybe twice in the last five years, and some dust bunnies.
So what does this say about me? I like to think it says I love to read, I'm blind as a bat, I love pretty things, and I'm a fairly tidy person, even if I'm not a fan of dusting. What do you think?
On the other hand, this is Hubster's bedside table.
I don't think there is any explanation needed.
What does your bedside table say about you?
I got thinking that it's not just a purse. You can tell a lot about a person by many things. So I thought I would explore some of the things that say a lot about me. I'll eventually get to the purse and its enlightening contents. However, I thought I would start with something else. Something a little less public. My bedside table. Or more accurately, what's on my bedside table.
Here it is...
Nothing fancy.
As to what's on it? Well, there is:
-alarm clock: somedays it feels like my life is all about the alarm clock.
-lamp: for the occasional novel reading in bed
-glasses: because it's bad to leave my contacts in at night (I would never!)
-nail clippers: because I do my own manicures.
-picture of Hubster and me: isn't it just so cute?
-little jewelry box: for the special pieces that I don't actually wear.
-perfume: so I can smell so pretty.
-pack of seeds: this should be actually be planted instead of just sitting on my nightstand.
-stack of library books: let's be honest. These will be due before I get through them. And besides, the last Harry Potter movie comes out in just over a month, so I need to start re-reading series.
There's a few other things: a small stack of student loan statements, a back massager that has been used maybe twice in the last five years, and some dust bunnies.
So what does this say about me? I like to think it says I love to read, I'm blind as a bat, I love pretty things, and I'm a fairly tidy person, even if I'm not a fan of dusting. What do you think?
On the other hand, this is Hubster's bedside table.
I don't think there is any explanation needed.
What does your bedside table say about you?
Monday, June 6, 2011
Bridges of Madison County
I'm not talking about the book (which I read and didn't like) or the movie (which I haven't seen.)
I'm talking about the actual bridges of Madison County. Six historic covered bridges located in Madison County, Iowa.
I first fell in love with these bridges when I saw a sign along I-80 when we were moving here, indicating the exit for the bridges, long before I ever saw them.
When Hubster and I starting making plans for our 10 year anniversary, we initially had all sorts of plans. A weekend in Chicago, with fancy restaurants, shows, and a hotel with city views. A cabin at a lake in Minnesota. A bed and breakfast in Madison Country with the bridges. We quickly realized that a weekend away, just the two of us, was not going to happen. With no way to secure a babysitter for the boys for more than a few hours in an evening, two days sans children was impossible. But instead of feeling (too) sorry for ourselves and not doing anything, we decided that the children would just come with us.
We drove several hours to Winterset, Iowa, the small town that the bridges surround. The rest of the day was spent traveling dusty country back roads, following the crude map I had the best we could, making our way to each of the covered bridges.
This is the point where I attempt not to inundate you with photos. Because it turns out, I loved the bridges more than I imaging.
Despite the fact I haven't seen the movie and I didn't like the book, these bridges have a romantic air to the them. They make a person want to hold the hand of the person they love tightly, stroll quietly through each bridge, and then watch the water slip by underneath. Which is exactly what we did.
Along with hollering at our boys to please try not to fall off the bridge and for heaven's sake, stay out of the water!
Although most of the bridges have been renovated, many are still in their original locations and still have the original, now 100 year plus old wood planks making up the floor of each bridge. The floors have been worn down, until the knots in the wood stand higher than the surrounding wood, making me wonder how many other people in love have wandered across these bridges.
Along with the shape and the classic coloring, the thing I noticed quickly was the writing. At first, I thought it was simply vandalism. Then I realized that each bridge was acting as its own guest book. For the most part, the wood was densely covered in names and dates. But mingled in between (along with the occasional obscene graffiti) were messages. Messages of dreams coming true, of families traveling together, and of falling in love.
After the covered bridges, we continued to spend time exploring the roads of Madison County. As it turns out, there is more to the area than 140 year old bridges.
There were towers to climb,
stone bridges to stroll over,
mazes to explore,
and rolling Iowa country scenery to take in.
We spent a beautiful day driving through the heartland, tightly holding hands, falling more in love with Iowa, more in love with the bridges of Madison County, and more in love with each other.
I'm talking about the actual bridges of Madison County. Six historic covered bridges located in Madison County, Iowa.
I first fell in love with these bridges when I saw a sign along I-80 when we were moving here, indicating the exit for the bridges, long before I ever saw them.
When Hubster and I starting making plans for our 10 year anniversary, we initially had all sorts of plans. A weekend in Chicago, with fancy restaurants, shows, and a hotel with city views. A cabin at a lake in Minnesota. A bed and breakfast in Madison Country with the bridges. We quickly realized that a weekend away, just the two of us, was not going to happen. With no way to secure a babysitter for the boys for more than a few hours in an evening, two days sans children was impossible. But instead of feeling (too) sorry for ourselves and not doing anything, we decided that the children would just come with us.
We drove several hours to Winterset, Iowa, the small town that the bridges surround. The rest of the day was spent traveling dusty country back roads, following the crude map I had the best we could, making our way to each of the covered bridges.
This is the point where I attempt not to inundate you with photos. Because it turns out, I loved the bridges more than I imaging.
Despite the fact I haven't seen the movie and I didn't like the book, these bridges have a romantic air to the them. They make a person want to hold the hand of the person they love tightly, stroll quietly through each bridge, and then watch the water slip by underneath. Which is exactly what we did.
Along with hollering at our boys to please try not to fall off the bridge and for heaven's sake, stay out of the water!
Although most of the bridges have been renovated, many are still in their original locations and still have the original, now 100 year plus old wood planks making up the floor of each bridge. The floors have been worn down, until the knots in the wood stand higher than the surrounding wood, making me wonder how many other people in love have wandered across these bridges.
Along with the shape and the classic coloring, the thing I noticed quickly was the writing. At first, I thought it was simply vandalism. Then I realized that each bridge was acting as its own guest book. For the most part, the wood was densely covered in names and dates. But mingled in between (along with the occasional obscene graffiti) were messages. Messages of dreams coming true, of families traveling together, and of falling in love.
After the covered bridges, we continued to spend time exploring the roads of Madison County. As it turns out, there is more to the area than 140 year old bridges.
There were towers to climb,
stone bridges to stroll over,
mazes to explore,
and rolling Iowa country scenery to take in.
We spent a beautiful day driving through the heartland, tightly holding hands, falling more in love with Iowa, more in love with the bridges of Madison County, and more in love with each other.
Monday, May 30, 2011
A Little Celebration
Monkey graduated preschool last week.
It sounds just a little bit ridiculous when I actually say it. The only primary education graduation I remember was high school. Now there are preschool, kindergarten, elementary, junior high, and high school graduation. In a way, it feels a little like the practice of giving every kid who plays sports a trophy, the losing team as well as the winning. That after too many trophies, they just don't mean anything. Maybe that will end up being the case.
However, watching my little Monkey, in his darling handmade paper-bowl-and-construction paper hat, walk up and get his "certificate of completion," it didn't feel overdone and silly. It felt like a moment to celebrate the year that has gone by. A moment to celebrate how much he has learned. And a moment to grieve, just a little, how fast the year has gone by and how much he has grown.
This preschool has been a good thing. Located on a farm, he spent his preschool days feeding animals, having pony rides, planting gardens, watching chicks grow to chickens. It's not every preschool that sends home notes that say, "Please don't send your child to school in flip flops. It makes it very hard for them to climb fences."
After the little graduation ceremony, we wandered the farm, taking pictures of Monkey with all the animals.
Then it was time to go and leave preschool behind us. We have are off to kindergarten and all that excitement. I have a feeling, much as Winnie-the-Pooh must have, that "an adventure is about to begin."
It sounds just a little bit ridiculous when I actually say it. The only primary education graduation I remember was high school. Now there are preschool, kindergarten, elementary, junior high, and high school graduation. In a way, it feels a little like the practice of giving every kid who plays sports a trophy, the losing team as well as the winning. That after too many trophies, they just don't mean anything. Maybe that will end up being the case.
However, watching my little Monkey, in his darling handmade paper-bowl-and-construction paper hat, walk up and get his "certificate of completion," it didn't feel overdone and silly. It felt like a moment to celebrate the year that has gone by. A moment to celebrate how much he has learned. And a moment to grieve, just a little, how fast the year has gone by and how much he has grown.
This preschool has been a good thing. Located on a farm, he spent his preschool days feeding animals, having pony rides, planting gardens, watching chicks grow to chickens. It's not every preschool that sends home notes that say, "Please don't send your child to school in flip flops. It makes it very hard for them to climb fences."
After the little graduation ceremony, we wandered the farm, taking pictures of Monkey with all the animals.
Then it was time to go and leave preschool behind us. We have are off to kindergarten and all that excitement. I have a feeling, much as Winnie-the-Pooh must have, that "an adventure is about to begin."
Thursday, May 26, 2011
"I wasn't going to easy. I was going for you."
Rewind 10 years.
Back before this blog was created, back before I even knew was blogging was. Back before we moved to Iowa. Back before I had started residency, back before I was even sure I was going to do medicine. Back before dental school and medical school, back before college even. Back before our first home, before we owned a single decent piece of furniture between the two of us. Back before our house was filled with toys, back before we even had children.
Rewind 10 years, and I was just 19 years old. And I was about to make the decision that led to everything I listed above. Basically, the decision that lead to nearly everything good in my life.
Rewind 10 years, and Hubster and I were getting married.
Who would have thought that at just 19 years of age, I would have actually made such a good decision?
Who would have known that the man who stood at the end of the aisle was not only going to be my best friend, but give me the courage to make my dreams come true? And when I was too scared to follow my dreams, would hold my hand and walk beside me on the path towards them?
I didn't. Despite the fact I knew I wanted to be married to Hubster, and walked up that aisle towards him unafraid and excited, I naively thought that what I was getting was a husband.
I didn't just realize all the things he would be.
A shoulder to cry on. A cheering section. A safe place. The father to my children. The call to my bluff. The calm to my storm. The one to catch the loose ends. The one to pick up the pieces. The one to build what I imagined.
Rewind 10 years, and I naively thought this whole thing would be easy. Nothing has been easy. Every moment has been difficult, as we've worked hard to create this life for us. Nothing has been easy, but it's been wonderful every moment. I wouldn't change a thing.
In my husband's own words, as I apologized for him having to be the calm, catch the loose ends, and pick up the pieces, as I apologized that things weren't easy, he said the words that I still hear every day.
I wasn't going for easy. I was going for you.
Back before this blog was created, back before I even knew was blogging was. Back before we moved to Iowa. Back before I had started residency, back before I was even sure I was going to do medicine. Back before dental school and medical school, back before college even. Back before our first home, before we owned a single decent piece of furniture between the two of us. Back before our house was filled with toys, back before we even had children.
Rewind 10 years, and I was just 19 years old. And I was about to make the decision that led to everything I listed above. Basically, the decision that lead to nearly everything good in my life.
Rewind 10 years, and Hubster and I were getting married.
Who would have thought that at just 19 years of age, I would have actually made such a good decision?
Who would have known that the man who stood at the end of the aisle was not only going to be my best friend, but give me the courage to make my dreams come true? And when I was too scared to follow my dreams, would hold my hand and walk beside me on the path towards them?
I didn't. Despite the fact I knew I wanted to be married to Hubster, and walked up that aisle towards him unafraid and excited, I naively thought that what I was getting was a husband.
I didn't just realize all the things he would be.
A shoulder to cry on. A cheering section. A safe place. The father to my children. The call to my bluff. The calm to my storm. The one to catch the loose ends. The one to pick up the pieces. The one to build what I imagined.
Rewind 10 years, and I naively thought this whole thing would be easy. Nothing has been easy. Every moment has been difficult, as we've worked hard to create this life for us. Nothing has been easy, but it's been wonderful every moment. I wouldn't change a thing.
In my husband's own words, as I apologized for him having to be the calm, catch the loose ends, and pick up the pieces, as I apologized that things weren't easy, he said the words that I still hear every day.
I wasn't going for easy. I was going for you.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
At least my kids think I'm cool
It's something that's been happening for a while now. I've been slowly becoming uncool.
When I first got married, a friend of mine said that we needed to go out, before I lost all sense of style. I scoffed, sure that would never happen. I had always been pretty trendy. I've been convincing myself that I haven't lost my sense of cool.
After all, I read books that are on the Best Seller's list, I keep an eye on what colors are in style, and I know what vlogs and Twitter are.
And I've always been a cool mom. I still wear make-up, I know the difference between Transformers and Bakugan. I don't own mommy jeans. I wasn't loosing my touch.
But lately, I've been getting a sense that maybe, just maybe I'm not as cool as I thought I was.
Let me share the evidence:
-I text in full sentences, spelling all my words out and using punctuation.
-I don't have a Twitter account (I only ever claimed to know about it.)
-We were going to go see a movie and had no idea what was even in theaters.
-I've never heard a single Justin Bieber song.
-When fellow bloggers post about music, I have not heard of most of the groups.
-I'm a two spacer.
-I feel more comfortable listening to 80s music than to top 40.
-I don't own a smart phone.
-I can't bring myself to wear a maxi dress.
-I'd rather stay home and watch Food Network than go out.
It's slowly happening. I'm becoming uncool. I'm not sure there is much I can do about it. I have no interest in The Bachelorette, wedge sandals, or teen pop stars. There may not be much I can go to regain my once trendy self, but I can do my best to convince my children that Back to the Future and vintage U2 are trendy. The good thing is that right now, they are young enough to believe me.
Up next, a mini van and a scrunchie.
When I first got married, a friend of mine said that we needed to go out, before I lost all sense of style. I scoffed, sure that would never happen. I had always been pretty trendy. I've been convincing myself that I haven't lost my sense of cool.
After all, I read books that are on the Best Seller's list, I keep an eye on what colors are in style, and I know what vlogs and Twitter are.
And I've always been a cool mom. I still wear make-up, I know the difference between Transformers and Bakugan. I don't own mommy jeans. I wasn't loosing my touch.
But lately, I've been getting a sense that maybe, just maybe I'm not as cool as I thought I was.
Let me share the evidence:
-I text in full sentences, spelling all my words out and using punctuation.
-I don't have a Twitter account (I only ever claimed to know about it.)
-We were going to go see a movie and had no idea what was even in theaters.
-I've never heard a single Justin Bieber song.
-When fellow bloggers post about music, I have not heard of most of the groups.
-I'm a two spacer.
-I feel more comfortable listening to 80s music than to top 40.
-I don't own a smart phone.
-I can't bring myself to wear a maxi dress.
-I'd rather stay home and watch Food Network than go out.
It's slowly happening. I'm becoming uncool. I'm not sure there is much I can do about it. I have no interest in The Bachelorette, wedge sandals, or teen pop stars. There may not be much I can go to regain my once trendy self, but I can do my best to convince my children that Back to the Future and vintage U2 are trendy. The good thing is that right now, they are young enough to believe me.
Up next, a mini van and a scrunchie.
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