Fresh Mommy Blog: August 2011

Still Going

There are currently about 900 miles of smoothed blacktop, rough cement and long curvy stretches of I-75 that swerve between the lush green tops of the southern Appalachians and bright orange cones that only mean one thing to a traveler, slower speeds... All left in the rear view mirror behind us. We left at six. In the morning. And haven't stopped yet, save some refueling for our gas tank and bellies.

I'm slowly pecking away at a keyboard that's bouncing around on my lap, my temporary office is in constant motion, so it'll be a quick post tonight. Actually, it'll be a post that some of you have read before. It's a post that reminds me of where I am today... On new adventures with the man who makes me smile right down to my marrow. Taking risks. Crossing bridges.

So enjoy this story, originally posted about three years ago...

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We woke to a gray sky and a mist that seemed to fill the air and our lungs. It wasn't unusual for this part of California, but it was not what I was used to... not yet. Even with the haze that seemed to hush over the city, I couldn't help but be excited to spend the day with my Christopher.

We stepped out the front doors of our temporary "home" and the fog kissed our cheeks. I wound my arm tightly around his, and we headed off for our journey.

We were headed to the Golden Gates... today was the day to visit The Bridge. I don't know what it is about bridges exactly. Driving over them doesn't seem to bother me, too much. I'm really not afraid that anything is going to happen either. It's just... walking on them... it makes me... dizzy. The height. Looking down to see the water moving below. The strong winds seem to be charged by the water. Dizzy.

I wasn't about to let him experience this alone though. It was something he wanted. He wanted to walk the bridge and was willing to go alone, but I wanted to experience this with him. I knew, while dizzying, it would be exhilarating.

It seemed only too soon that we arrived. The large arches weren't hidden in the murky cloud that seemed to cover everything else. I stopped for a moment. Not moving. It seemed to help. I could see that this slightly amused Christopher as he gave me a small sideways glance and smiled, winding my arm even tighter through his until I could feel his muscle squeeze my little arm. I pursed my lips.

I took a deep breathe and sighed, "Let's do it." Moving one foot in front of the other. Enjoying the scenery and not looking down. It was exhilarating, every step took us higher. The more we walked the larger the bridge became. Bikers, in full gear, flew past, joggers and tourists alike, all enjoying the breathtaking views.

As we approached the wide open spaces over the water below, far from either side, the wind took on a sweet howl.

Each time a large truck blew past me or a harsh wind came a little to strong, I would halt for a moment, frozen on my feet. Chris would get a sly grin on his face and pull me closer to his side. I knew I was safe... just dizzy.

Then the words came, "Wait here." And he was gone, off to the edge he darted, camera in hand. I closed my eyes and waited, and then felt completely silly. This was childish, of course I knew nothing was going to happen. So I opened my eyes, only to see him hanging over the edge. The place people go when, um, when they don't want to come back. I let out a gasp that I'm sure was a bit to loud and closed my eyes again, for a moment. Courage came over me and I found myself moving toward him, eyes open and focused.

"Great!" he said, "let's get some pictures of you at the edge." With that, he took my hand and gently lead me, I could hear the soft laughter in his throat.

It was a good thing that even in the haze there was still a brightness bouncing off the clouds and I could wear sunglasses. At least this way, I wouldn't feel so ridiculous if my eyes stayed closed the entire time I was near the edge. But, something happened. The breeze became gentle and brushed my face, seeming to take any dizziness with it. My eyes were open and admiring the view. I stood a bit taller now, more confident. I even looked down a couple of times, but decided not to push it.

I still stayed close to my other half, but for different reasons. We bantered and played. I still pretended not to watch when he would lean or play over the edge, but my eyes wouldn't leave his side.

With our steps in stride, now on solid ground, Christopher wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. In my ear, he whispered, "I'm proud of you, thank you." It rolled off his lips. My smile couldn't be contained. With that, the drops that were holding off in the never-ending gray overcast sky began to trickle, we laughed and ran for cover.

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a couple more

Hump Day Dump ~ It's Been a Busy Week

Welcome to our new tradition here on Fresh Mommy Blog... on Wednesdays, when I try to be wordless, I'm just going to dump the previous week's photos from my phone. A little piece of where we've been and what we've been up to. And the resulting collage? Well, I think it speaks so much more than I could. Welcome to my Hump Day Dump.

For more fabulous Wordless Wednesday memes, check out Supermom Alysha, 5 Minutes for Mom, Better in Bulk and Wordless Wednesday

Saying Goodbye to a Burnt Kitchen

"You should probably get some clothes on, our house will be full of firemen any minute." The words poured through my slightly upturned lips as I stood in the room our future children would stand to mix a batch of something sweet.

He stood in the middle of the charred kitchen in disbelief and shot me an incredulous glance at my statement. Laughter was the only thing that could follow. Well, that and some fulfilling of these new wifely duties by taking extra special care of the burn on his arm. Plus it was my fault. The fire that is.

It was only four short weeks since we said those magical words that would join us as one for the rest of our lives and we were still high on tropical paradise fumes from the honeymoon. Our guests were set to arrive in just under an hour, and I had everything in the kitchen under control. The juiciest cuts of chicken, seasoned with a bit of Tequila and lime, were beginning their marathon in the oven, the fresh salsa was diced and stirred and waiting on the table, the avocados were mashed and splashed with fresh juices of lemon and lime and mixed with the rest of my secret ingredients for the best guacamole. Ever. There was just one more thing. Something new I wanted to try. Fried plantains.

I didn't have a great frying pan, but that wouldn't stop me. I wanted to give them that perfectly sugared glaze. I poured some fresh oil in the pan, slid the glass lid over and turned up the heat.

I felt him behind me, his hands grazed the small of my back as he leaned in to kiss my neck. It was just a quick hello and goodbye as he made his way up to the shower. With a cool flick of my finger, I turned up the radio.

By the time I remembered about the pan on the stove, I lifted the lid and before I could even realize what was happening the entire range seemed to have been swallowed in a sea of fire. I tried to squelch the flames in the pan, but couldn't seem to get close enough to get the lid back over the epicenter and in a feeble attempt, let the lid fall to it's demise as it crashed down over the fire and broke into pieces in the flames. "Great."

I did what any smart, self-respecting wife would do and ran screaming up the stairs and bust through the door into the bathroom where my hero was mid-wash with a pile of suds in his hair.

"THERE'S A FIRE IN THE KITCHEN!!" I yelled, as though the shower would keep him from hearing me though I was just inches from his face.

He peeked out through the foamy suds and asked, "Then why are you in here?!"

"I can't put it out." And I ran back to the kitchen to stand lost in a blaze of shock and horror. No sooner had I made it back to the kitchen and he was there on my heels, dripping wet. By now the fury was even larger and creeping up to the cabinets surrounding the stove.

"Where's the lid?!" He asked as I pointed to the shattered heap of glass sticking this way and that out of the frying pan.

"Where's the baking soda?!" Was the next question and I pointed to the cupboard about to be consumed in the dancing flickers, one that couldn't be reached without certain pain.

He reached out for the pan handle and in one smooth, quick motion raced the pan to the sink to pour the burning oil down the drain. And it worked, but not before a few of the flames danced their way onto his arm, and in a cry of pain he tipped the pan in the direction of the sink. Oil splashed across the rest of the kitchen leaving a speckled coat on the cupboards and large flames ripping through the kitchen in it's wake. I heard a shriek and when I looked down my hands had already dialed 9-1-1 as I prepared to yell into the receiver that our kitchen was on fire... only then did I realize the shriek I heard came from me.

With music blasting through our radio, the smoke alarm screaming behind me and the sound of fire engine's making there way down the nearest main street, the fire soon consumed every bit of oil that had splashed through our kitchen and miraculously began to dissipate. We patted out the last remnants with his wet towel and stood there, in the middle of our kitchen, waiting.

My groom did manage to clothe himself just in time for the two howling red trucks to pull up, dumping out firemen, and one firewoman, to rush to our rescue. They inspected the house, finished bandaging my hero's throbbing arm and gave us a few sideways glances... all while our dinner guests waited outside.

I don't think we've laughed through a dinner as hard as we laughed through this one. And in my husband's case, it was laughing and wincing.

But it's memories like this that have been flooding my mind as we've been packing the last dish from our still slightly scarred cupboards.

And memories of a pajama clad, blankie toting Aliyah as she's ready for bed and waiting for a bottle... on our tile floor before the late night decision for a hardwood floor remodel.

And many messy rounds of cooking.

The remembrance of wearing my newborn, slung close to my chest, while stirring a pot of something savory.

And many snuggly Christmas mornings.

As I take the last of our appliances off of our counter and slide them between thin walls of cardboard, I think of all the times my little miss independent sat up there to make herself a sandwich or help mix up a batch of cookies. And while I'll miss this place where she's grown up, where we've begun to write the long and beautiful pages of her life, I'm so excited for the new chapter we're about to write.

Sunday Citar~ Friend

It's Sunday again that means it's time for one of my favorite things... Sunday Citar!!

Here's where we all share a quote or two... a favorite, a new find, a laugh inducing or tear inducing quote you love this week. (Citar = to quote in Spanish)

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend.
~Albert Camus

Today, layered perfectly between some last-minute errands, packing a few more boxes and making a growing pile of stale clothes clean and fresh was the sweet and sticky center that was my niece's birthday party. Her first.

And after she thoroughly massaged her very first birthday cake into a muddy mess and laughed her way through the frosting, my son found his friend. They were first womb buddies as us mamas were pregnant together and delivered less than a month a part, and have seen each other every week since. Though these two completely ignore each other's presence just about as often as they enjoy each other's company, but they get each other. In a swarm of bigger, faster, louder kids they gravitate away from the pack... together. Sometimes one leads and the other follows, usually for only a moment, and more often than not, they seek each other out, if not for much more than an awkward hug and a kiss.

A bond of friendship.

Cute, adorable, odd, year-and-a-half old friendship.

And yes, he's giving her a flower.

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I would love to have you join the Sunday Citar inspiration and have all of us come to your blog to read what quotes inspire you! Simply write your own post on your blog, link within your post to my blog, and sign up with the linky below, leaving your name and the link directly to your Sunday Citar post. Just click here if any of that sounds confusing. There you'll be able to get the complete rundown, as well as learn how to link back to my blog if you don't already know how. Take a moment a visit at least three of the participants around you... you'll be glad you did!

Together

We backed our way out of Nana and Papa's drive, and the car lurched forward onto the quiet streets under the soft light of a few street lamps. My side ached. It wasn't from missing my two littles whom we'd been separated from for the past few days or from having another night without them. They were buckled safely into their seats behind us, grinning and waving "hi" every time I turned to gaze at them.

The pain came from the center console pressing into my ribs as I leaned over precariously to reach into the backseat. When I did, my littlest grabbed my finger and wouldn't let go. So there I sat for the drive home, fingers happily intertwined with his, ribs rubbing on the leather worn surface of the console and a fair headed babe grinning ear to ear.

We were home, together, and he's held on tight ever since.

Here are some deets on his outfit today...

Striped Hoode Tee: Zara Kids

Orange Trousers: Zara Kids

Gray Woven Utility Shirt: Children's Place

Sandals: Payless

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There were some great link-ups with this week's Hump Day Dump (still Wordless Wednesday, we're just dumping some of our phone or iPod photos into a post and letting them tell the story for us)! I still have a few to browse through, but it's been so much fun. Click over and take a look... we'd love to have you join in next Wednesday too!

I like this place

Today I dreamt of two happy little souls frolicking in that place where a cotton-splashed cerulean sky meets the slow and tranquil warmth that the teal waters of the Gulf bring to a beach of white floured sand. I like that place.

This past week, my husband and I have been scouring our soon-to-be new hometown for a place we can bring our family to, a place we will soon call home. We've been navigating the narrow paths between what can we afford? and what will feel comfortable to us all?, and finding the place that balances the two just right hasn't been easy.

So today, while we waited for returned calls, a meeting and the acceptance of a couple of offers, we crossed a bridge dividing our new stomping grounds and a beautiful island... and explored.

As the angled cables came into view, I reached into the backseat, retrieved my camera to set up a few shots. Out of habit, I flipped the side open ready to see the smooth black edge of a CF card... but this time it revealed an empty memory card slot. So I slipped back into my dream and decided that the memories from today would be well burned into my mind... and maybe I'd sneak in a few photos on my phone as well.

I miss my little ones. I miss the ruckus an evening bath can bring, with water splashing this way and that, heads bobbing in and out of sudsy peaks and squeals echoing through the tiled walls. I miss the quiet contentment of a morning cuddle with two very bedheaded yawning babes.

It will be worth it. A few days of missing them will be made up with the salty breeze of many afternoons spent in this same place where a long stretch of coast stood and watched dolphins dancing on the horizon... literally. For a solid ten minutes our gazes were all locked in one place, while I heard el delfîn shouted out by an amber haired little boy and another threw bread into the waves in hopes of feeding their new friend.

I like this place.

All photos used in this post were taken with an iPhone 4, with no filters used.

Hump Day Dump

Eighteen Months

It's the new thing, like white polish adorning squared short nails and fedoras atop ombre locks as a fashion statement or cake rolled into balls and smoothed with icing into cute little shapes on a stick as a baking trend... blogging from the sky.

I sit, 29 rows back and arms close to my side less part of me slides into seat A or C's space, adding state lines to the space between me and my sweet little year-and-a-half year old and big sister at 30,000 feet. And I miss them.

I miss how his bright, cerulean moons squint as he smiles and the fish lipped kisses he closes his eyes to lean in and give me. I miss the caress of his hand along my arm as he lulls himself to sleep, laying across my lap with long legs spilling over the edge trying to find their place and we somehow manage to find a comfortable spot nestled somewhere in the crook of my arm.

It's strange how 18 months can seem like such a small little blip on life's radar, and yet, I can't remember life without his bubbly, dramatic presence in the mix. I live for his laughing fits and have cried through his pained tears. I smile at the bond the two little souls that were formed in my womb have created between themselves, the one that made me a mama being a little mama in the making and her shadow... and their loves warms me.

Plane's decending, a red battery light is blinking at me and I'm ready to stretch my legs, my neck and my heart around this new city that my family will very soon be calling home. Just a few days and instead of the sleek lines of a silver laptop warming my legs, it'll be the sleepy body of my year-and-a-half-year-old as I rock him to dreamland and caress his wispy golden strands and try and find that one perfect little curl at the nape of his neck.

You can read through the whole series, including the first year's month-by-month here.

Sunday Citar~ Laughter

It's Sunday again that means it's time for one of my favorite things... Sunday Citar!!

Here's where we all share a quote or two... a favorite, a new find, a laugh inducing or tear inducing quote you love this week. (Citar = to quote in Spanish)

"A good time to laugh is any time you can."
~Linda Ellerbee

The car pulled into the drive with a bump, bump, bump... and it was there we waited under the torrent of a quickly fading rainstorm. It was just a few moments really, but it made such a big metamorphosis to our day. The morning was riddled with changing plans, things that didn't work out, an emotional mama that was closer to tears than to laughter and a baby that felt the same. But it only took a few short moments, a handful of carefully crafted seconds and some going-with-the-flow minutes to change our tune.

I heard the happy beat thumping quietly in the background and I impulsively reached to turn it up, my finger grazing the dial tentatively at first and then a quick twist let the music permeate the cabin. The corners of my mouth began turning upward and I noticed little hands begin to move their way into the air in the backseat. Within seconds I was facing the backseat, my knees craftily crouched into the worn leather of my seat and arms flailing to the thump, thump, thump. I guess the music permeated more than the cabin and soon we were all bobbing up and down... until thump, and this time it was more than the downbeat of a kickdrum. It was my head, ON THE CEILING of the car. Dramatically I shrieked, OWWWWW, and grabbed my head as I fell, laughing my way onto the center console, caught by the reverberating roar from the two littles watching from their perch in the backseat.

So what did we do? We reenacted it over, and over, and over.

It was the beginning to the rest of a great day.

In case you'd like to laugh yourself, and get a glimpse of what our backseat looked like... here's a recently caught-on-film, similar laughing fit.

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Why We're Here

It rained... hard.

For the first part of the day, the day we'd been planning, making phone calls for, designing for, picking up supplies for, gathering sponsors for, spent the morning under a gray sky setting up a park for... the clouds gave way to smooth blanketing shower. Within moments umbrellas canopied people all across the lawn in an attempt to fight the downpour. And still? We were all soaked.

And not one drop that fell from the steel sky or one strand of rain-soaked hair dampened anyone's spirits. No, in fact, we danced.

I even heard that one big fat check and mark was made on someone's bucket list for the line item Dancing in the rain.

We knew why we were there.

By the way, the sea of blue shirts worn by 100 volunteers was amazing.

Some other little guys decided to dance in the rain as well... and bounce.

Recognize our grillers from this engagement shoot? Big hearts, I tell you.

For every adventurous little soul that smiled after picking out a new backpack filled with supplies for their first or second, even fourth or fifth year of school.

For every mama who thanked us knowing one more worry was crossed off the list, one more burden was tossed to the side.

We knew why we were there.

For all the littles that clung to their new gifts and rummaged through their bags to find the good stuff.

For every parent that cried because they couldn't afford all the things necessary to start the year off on their own.

We knew why we were there.

For all the people that gave up their Saturday to paint smiley faces on sticky little cheeks, that moderated spontaneous wrestling matches in the bounce house and directed pint sized wet bodies off the big blow up slide before big brother came down.

For all the savory bags of fresh-popped popcorn handed out to drooling recipients and teams volleying for the title win.

We knew why we were there.

For every rumbling tummy that received a chocolate or strawberry covered scoop.

For every little heart that will remember they are loved when they feel alone at some point in a classroom full of kids.

We knew why we were there.

Spiderman made an appearance as well.

My man didn't do so bad at volleying himself. Jump, baby, jump.

When you know why you're here, all the unexpected "what's" don't matter.

And so it was this day. The "unexpecteds" just added to the days memorable status. I can see a group sitting around a coffee table swirling a drink of something good and laughing through tales of "remember when..." And this day? It's sure to be a part of it.