The day started out well. I was so excited with my backpack filled with silly Valentines ready to hand out to my classmates. I was wearing a purple shirt with hearts all over it in honor of the "holiday". I was sitting happily on the bus with thoughts of hearts and candy in my head and all of a sudden I threw up all over myself. Oh, sad day. I got to the school and had to change into some spare clothes from the office and now instead of my beautiful heart shirt I was wearing an ugly green boys t-shirt while I waited for my mom to come get me. You would think that would ruin a persons view of Valentines from that day on, but not me...I knew there was still good in it. Anyhow...back to the first reason I love February...my birthday.
This Sunday I turn 35. As I mentioned before, I'm not sure how I feel about this. I don't know why it seems like such a big one to me. Why "mid-thirties" sounds just a smidgen worse than early thirties. Maybe because it sounds kinda old...I remember being in my early twenties and thinking 35 sounded ancient. And, then just a hop, skip and a jump later, I'm there. Maybe it's because for the last few years whenever I went to my Doctor for a check-up she would say "Everything is great...we don't need to do anything more right now. When you're 35 we like to start doing some more tests but you've got awhile before that" And, now here I am. Maybe it's because these damn grey hairs are getting harder and harder to ignore. I fear professional hair dyeing is in my near future and I'll have to get a second job to afford this "luxury". (Funny how in my mid-twenties the once a month hair salon trip to touch up highlights seemed so much fun.) I think the main reason I am not fully embracing this mid thirties thing is because it means my babies are also getting a year older soon. When I think about wanting to go back in time it is not my college years I want to re-live (although they were a riot), it's the time of holding a tiny newborn in my arms for the very first time. I know those times were exhausting and it is easier to look back and only remember the fond memories of it.
I remember the peacefulness of rocking a baby to sleep in the middle of the night. Not falling asleep sitting up in a chair and waking quickly feeling relieved that I hadn't dropped the baby on the floor.
I remember taking a stroll to the park with a newborn in the stroller and a toddler following behind on a lovely afternoon. Not the hungry newborn scream and the toddler tantrum that happened when we stayed ten minutes too long.
I remember the feeling so proud when Matt would get home and I had successfully gotten dinner on the table and two kids to nap at the same time. Not the fact that the house was a wreck and I was in the same pj's I'd had on when he left in the morning.
Those are the times I want to go back to...I want to freeze my babies in time, not myself. Those were yummy times...
|Look at those cheeks on Layla...you just wanted to squeeze them|
Last I checked I can't stop time so I guess I just have to try to age gracefully. This is the side I feel okay with. Life is really good and each year continues to get better so I am excited for what this new year will bring. If my sister has taught me anything this year, it is how truly precious each day can be. How you never, ever know what the next day will bring. How one day you can be super mom running the world and the next your world is rocked and you are in a hospital bed not knowing you are about to embark on the biggest fight of your life. And, when babies get older it's still pretty great. When they can hug ya, and say I love you and leave adorable little notes on their door because they don't want you to come in...
|Ava was in birthday gift making mode and didn't want me to see.|
The week has been good. Complete with a night of birthday drinks and looooong conversations with my sister one evening. As well as pizza night with the family, always a favorite at this household. We make all sorts of pizzas, but this night we decided to go with our old standby. The Yippie...
I stumbled upon this combination of garlic stuffed green olives and artichoke hearts one random pizza night and it was a hit. It is simply the yummiest combination...so good it needed a name. After a little thought I came up with the yippie. It's kind of what I consider myself and our lifestyle. It's hippie and yuppie combined. Taking only the best attributes of each. Hippie in that we like to grow our own food, recylce, use re-usable bags at the store, try to stay away from chemicals in cleaning and body products, etc. But not in the wear Birkenstocks and not shave your legs way. And, yuppie in the get dressed up and go to a fancy schmancy restaurant and eat small portions of well made food paired with the right wine way. But, not the drive a Range Rover and spend hundreds on shoes or handbags way. (Although, I would totally drive a Range Rover if someone, like, gave me one and told me I had to.) And, with all that the Yippie was named. I use my pizza sauce and dough recipe from here and then sprinkle with a hearty dose of mozzarella cheese and top with the artichoke hearts and garlic stuffed green olives. Bake at 400-degrees until crust is done and cheese is bubbly. Oh, so good.
I've also been thinking this week about trying to do a little more fundraising for my sister. We were pretty successful with it this summer and now with the talks of her leaving I started thinking about it again. Thinking of a "Get Her the Heck out of Freakin Montana and to a Bigger Hospital" type fundraiser. Although, that may be a little too long to put on fundraising type stuff. Maybe I'll just stick with "Hope, Love and Funds for Kori" Lots of thoughts in my head about this...I'll keep you posted.
Happy Thursday to ya.