15 months of Hartley Lane

She 15 months of fabulous

Says:
-"lu you, ni-ni" sings it, before bedtime
- "ready, set, oooo"
- Dada
- Mama
- Baaalllll
- Dog
- Eat
- Bite
- ah done
- off
- Down
- shakes her head no
- "nooooo"
- wa-wa (water)

Wears:
- Size 12-18 month clothes
- Size 5 shoe
- Size 3 diaper
- weighs 20lbs

- 9 teeth: front 4, bottom 3, top right and bottom right molars

Loves
- mom, dad, Jovie, Ryker, Kip, Sydney
- Her three baby dolls
- being outside: will grab her shoes, go to the door and knock on it, and whimper until she gets out
- Loves putting on her green crocs, if she isn't wearing them, she carries them around
- Her blankie
- Strawberries, appples (whole, they are balls you can eat, you know!), milk, water
- climbing on the cough and beds and crashing into the pillows
- pointing to her body parts and then clapping when she gets the names right.  so far she knows - head, feet, hands, mouth, teeth, hair, belly
- Goes to the bathroom for a diaper change when we ask "are you stinky"
- Running outside, collecting rocks
- She loves to carry things around: dolls, dogs, balls, small toys.  She loves things in her hands.
- Puts necklaces on and off.  She loves necklaces
- The trampoline

Center mid

Driving home from the last game of fall 2015 soccer season, Ryker says:

“Center mid is a position with little fame.  In defense people cheer because you keep the ball from going in (the goal).  Forward you get the glory from scoring all the goals.  But the middle guy (midfield), they go unnoticed.”

Deep thoughts.

He further explains: “the middle guy works the hardest.  (They) run all over the field, and do ALL THE FREAKING HARD WORK.  All of it, for other people.  Seriously.”

And I felt for him.  In a deep, deep way.

We discussed that it is a team effort.  To get the ball down that big field and into the final destination – the right goal.  That the effort starts, and then builds, first goalie - then defense - then midfield - finally to forward.  Working together to win.

And they did.  U10 league champions.  Middle grin, my boy, at 8 years old.  Adorable.  

“But sometimes I just want to be the one, you know, who makes it (in the goal).”

I felt for him.  Honestly.  After a season of having a little sister who scored a ton of goals (Jovie)

And a little brother score 3 goals (1 in the wrong goal though!)

 he probably was just bummed.  Someday, maybe, he’ll get it.  That there is value in every position.  That sometimes, everyone feels like the centermid guy, sometimes forward, and sometimes defense.  It’s life.  But that you’ve got to just try your hardest in every position, because that is what makes you continually improve.

*****

As a mama, sometimes, most times, I feel like a center mid player.  The one who is the middle guy, working the hardest.  They run all over, and do ALL THE FREAKING HARD WORK.  All of it, for other people.  Seriously.”

 The constant hustle and bustle, behind the scenes work.  This work, that when done, often goes unnoticed.  But if undone, is very obvious.  For instance:

Food: grocery shopping, meal prep, lunch packing. 

Laundry: sorting, washing, folding

Bathrooms: keeping them clean, making sure we have necessities

Bookbags: packing lunches/waters, making sure schoolwork is done/signed.

All these things, when done keep our house functional.  But goodness, when I have a busy week, and the ball gets away, chaos.  Sheer chaos.

It can wear you down.  The constant doing of it all.  But life, as in the soccer game, the center mid can run and run.  But when they tire.  When they can’t dribble that ball up the field any longer, they make a smart move for the team, and pass the ball down the field, to the trusty forward, to help keep the game running in their favor.

I’m grateful for the gift of family.  For having a husband who is my teammate.  He’s there, without fail, most days, between 6 - 7pm.  When I’m worn and tired, he swoops in the door to wrangle kids – sometimes to soccer, sometimes just to finish showers/bath and tuck them in bed.  He takes over the ball, does some flashy juggling skills, and then with precision and perfection, he scores.  My day of working hard, trying to graciously dribble the ball up the field, to avoid making mistakes with these precious kiddos.  To be patient, and kind.  A full day of field running, and like that, in less than 20 minutes, he scores the goal at the end of the day.  Taking that limelight.  Their giggles as he tucks them in.  

But he’s not just the forward in our family.  He’s the defense too.  Willing to swoop in, and save the ball when I’m struggling.  Bringing home fountain soda, or just coming home so I can have a sanity run.  Yep, when the ball is about to go in our goal, he always saves it.  Just like in soccer, our family works best when everyone is in position.

I’m proud to be centermid.  I’m proud I have a stellar forward and defender to have my back.  I don’t need the limelight, (well, most of the time anyway).  The funny thing is, I’m sure my husband could easily say he feels like centermid too. 

It’s all perception. 

We’ve got this.  Always.

The little pig that built her house of straw...

I'm getting older because: I have a neck spasm/strain thing that has been driving me to take ibuprofen the past 2 weeks, totally abnormal.  It felt worse on my run this morning when pushing the girls in the bike trailer.

  

So we took a longer than usual stop at their favorite neighborhood pond.  

  

We played the big bad wolf per Jovie's request.  I had to be the big bad wolf, because Jovie likes to "be the piggies to gather up all the straws, sticks and bricks to build each of the piggies houses."  

  

Then I come by and huff, and puff, and blow the houses down.  My favorite part is scooping up the little piggies as they run away, 

 

then I kiss their little necks and fill up my love tank listening to them giggle.  That giggly moment, yep, it is more perfect than this sunrise picture during our pit stop.

Yep, this morning was destined to be magical.  Morning run, picture perfect setting complete with a sunrise breakfast.  Don't mark me as golden star mom, I run for my sanity and the breakfast was totally just two sippy cups of milk, some strawberries and dry cheerios in a bag.  But it was magic for them.  All was just so perfect.    

But then Jovie got the story all wrong and built the stick house first, which made her "just so frustrated."  That dramatic 4-year-old-girl sort of frustrated.  Then she was irritated because Hartley kept trying to run away before it was time for the piggies to run away.  Finally, the worst happened: Jovie was pretending to be the pig that built her house out of straw.  She had it all set, I came over and I huffed and puffed, and then smelled the awful aroma of dog poop…and realized her straw house was a house built of more than just straw…and she cried, well screamed really, like a crazy kid scream, and among her screaming about how she "builded the most terrible house ever, ever, EVER" she realized that this terribleness was on her hands too.

Two screaming girls, one "with dog pooped hands," a bike trailer, a neck spasm, and two miles from home.  

And I laughed.  

Because that was all I could do.  

And Jovie screamed louder.   

Which lead me to go knock on a random stranger's door.  It would be one thing to be able to just sneak on over by their garage door and use their hose without being noticed at 7:45am, but in our current situation, discreet was absolutely not possible.  The homeowner, well she stood at her door, in her bath robe, stunned.  There I was, dancing around trying to keep a grip on the wiggly 15 month who was trying to escape and loudly fussing about not wanting to be held.  In between Hartley's loud protests of not wanting to be held, and Jovie crying about her "poopy hands" I introduce myself and ask her if we could use some of her soap and her hose.  Jovie cried while telling her "I need ta wash my hands mega bad a cause I made a straw dog-pooped house."  She laughed, then apologized for laughing, and said "sure looks like you've got your hands full, and like she's got herself into a rather shitty situation."  I laughed at her comment, and completely agreed.  

Jovie made a mean face at me.  

We used her soap, and hose to remedy the situation.  

Jovie "doesn't want to build anymore piggy houses never again." 

Processing

I went to the doctor today.  What started as an appointment to "just establish care"with a primary care physician ended with encouragement to go pamper myself, two referrals, and two prescriptions.

The physician I chose as my primary care doctor, is also one of the physicians I collaborate with.  In Mississippi, nurse practitioners are required by law to have a collaborating physician they can call if any questions arise, and to have monthly meetings with to do chart reviews and discuss anything.  So yeah, maybe a weird scenario to choose to see her, as my primary care physician given our work-life…but when in small town, MS, my options for healthcare is limited.  Really, though, I do adore her both as a physician, and as a woman…which is why I chose her, even with the weird factor.

Anyway, she said:

"you look sad, and worn.  But you have that hopeful kind of sad to your eyes.  The kind that takes time, faith, and encouragement. The kind of tired that only a mama of 4, could understand."  

What started as an appointment to discuss thyroid issues ended up being...a lot more.

So I left, with a pocketful of encouragement.  Then went to get my haircut instead of rushing straight home to get the girls.  An hour for just me, this NEVER happens.

I believe, in general, when a woman cuts her hair, she is ready to change her world.  I wasn't ready for big change, just subtle.  This haircut, after all, wasn't planned.  It was a spur of the moment, gifted haircut that went…awry.  And for the first time, in a while, I cried.  Like the ugly cry, that you just can't stop.  I've been attempting to grow out my hair, the past year after I chopped it in one of those "I'm needing a fresh change" moments about this time last year.  I've hated the short length on my thick/wavy hair since.  I told her to trim the dead ends and leave the length.  She said okay.  But then she got to talking, and…

"oh shit."

I look up.  She grabbed scissors instead of those thinning ones.  A huge chunk, in the front, gone.  No salvaging that.

She felt worse than I did.

She promised to fix it, she did.  She didn't charge me, but I still paid.

Then I cried in the car.

It's just hair.  It'll grow back.  But it was that one thing, that finally let my emotions free.  And for the first time, in a year, I felt like I could breath again.

I've had a rough last few...years, really.  If I'm being totally honest.  It has been easier to be quiet here, instead of typing out the feelings of truth.  We all like to paint a picture, make it beautiful and shiny, and avoid the struggles we hide.

Looking at the big picture of my life, it isn't this huge, grand, terrible story.  In fact, I have a good, good life.  I know this to be true.  But as the person living it, grand is how it seems and feels, sometime.  Most days, actually.  Grand and amazing.  Grand and overwhelming.  Sometimes the grandness of it all is just, a lot.  Too much.

Mid life crisis: maybe. 

Overly emotional: absolutely.

Without going into my huge life saga, I'll just say, this haircut was exactly what I needed.

I'm processing, and continuing to better myself.  To be better for them, for my Mr., for us.  This phase, I'll get over it. Eventually the regret, sorrow, resentment, fear, loss - it will pass.  I know this to be true, because I still have hope, love, promise, and determination….and those things outweigh all the negativity.  As is the way of life, this valley will eventually become a peak soon.

The hair.  It will improve too

Fall Football

When fall arrives, finally.  So, so good.

And when your 6 year old gets behind the camera:

Instructions for this photo from Kip: "mom, give thumbs up."  Kip thinks that the pointer finger up in the air is "thumbs up"

They played most of the day.

 She giggled running around the yard, chasing her "puppet shadow" as Jovie calls it.  She had the hugest smile just running up and down the slight hills in the yard.

 One of my favorite 3 from the day:

 He was SO very proud of himself for being able to catch it so well.  His look when he caught the ball, just too much cuteness.