All's well that ends well

After a long, tough, emotionally draining week (for a number of reasons), I was looking forward to today. Not just because it's Friday; the day before the weekend. But also because I had some fun things on the docket for the day.

Plus, God blessed me with some little pieces of joy.

The morning got off to a rough start. I was awakened to the sound of some obnoxious beeping, which I soon discovered was Scott's alarm on his iTouch. (I just so hate... no... passionately dislike beeping alarms.)  I forgot he was meeting up with his buddies for coffee at 5:30. I laid there for a little while but considering it was so close to my alarm going off, I just decided to get up.

At 4:45.

I woke Jeffrey up at 5:50... knowing that this would likely be a challenge considering he finally whimpered himself to sleep around 9:45. And if you know anything about toddlers, you'd know that 8 hours is not enough sleep. They need closer to 12. Just sayin'.  So... yeah... You can see where this is leading already.

Immediately the whining began. There are few things that grate my nerves the way that whining does.

I had to literally hold him down to brush his teeth. That was fun. He cried (really loudly) all the way to our car, which pretty much echoed in the courtyard... which I'm sure our neighbors really enjoyed before sunrise.

He whined all the way to school.

He refused to get out of the car. I pulled the baby out and started walking toward the door. Jeffrey jumped out of the car, screaming thinking I was leaving him behind. He cried all the way into school.  Then, like magic, he perked up and all evidence of the little terror-toddler was gone.

Unfortunately, by this time, I was at my breaking point. Jeffrey's regular teacher was in the baby's classroom, so I used it as an opportunity to ask a few questions. She assured me that he has never had a tantrum at school and was pretty much shocked to hear that he was acting out in this way.  (Lovely to hear, really... I'm SO relieved that he's so happy and compliant while in her care. However....)

We started walking towards Jeffrey's class. The center director stopped us to say hi to Jeffrey. She asked me how I was.

Now... ladies, you know how this goes. When you're sleep deprived, stressed out, emotionally drained, and sad, what happens when someone asks you how you are?

Oh yeah.... She hit the cry button.  I completely lost it. Bawled my eyes out right there in her office.

So not cool.

But she felt my pain. So much so that she started tearing up. Through my tears, I explained to her what we've been dealing with these last few weeks and how it has just completely broken my heart. I can't stand seeing my babies this way. Never mind the disobedience and tantrums. It's just a symptom of a deeper problem - most likely due to the fact that I have, at best, two hours a day with him before it's bedtime. And, worse, those two hours are not really quality hours. As soon as I get home, my attention is on the baby. Jeffrey no longer has his own space and stuff. He can't tackle the baby (I protect her). He has to share with the baby. Everything is about the baby. He's kind of left on his own. It's no wonder he's acting out. Any attention is better than no attention. He's three. He doesn't have the words to express how he feels. He just knows that he needs mommy and he never has mommy's undivided attention.

And then God blessed me. Jeffrey, in his typical tender fashion, looked into my eyes and asked, "Mommy, why are you crying?"  All I could muster to say was, "Honey, I'll explain it to you someday."

She was incredibly gracious and sweet. She told me how she's been there, and how it was that much worse considering her profession. She encouraged me that this will, indeed, be a passing phase, and offered to find some resources for me about raising such a willful, stubborn boy.

Eyes now red and puffy, I thanked her for her time.

And then God blessed me again. On our way into Jeffrey's classroom, he came running up behind me, his arms around my waist, following my footsteps like a little train. Once in the classroom, he wouldn't let me go. He hugged and kissed me repeatedly, until I finally said, "K... Meet me at the window!"

This is the highlight of my weekday mornings. He runs to the window and waits for me to go outside and kiss him through the glass. He smiled his big toothy smile, kissed me through the glass, and waved excitedly. Oh, how I love this kid!

I got into my car... and cried for the next 10 miles.

And then God blessed me again. The sun was just coming up, casting a beautiful purplish glow over the entire Rocky Mountain range. Oh, my goodness.... What a sight to behold! I never get tired of that view driving into work. I just longed to be closer to them... To touch them... To experience them... To listen to them...

But instead, I hit the drive thru at Starbucks and ordered a grande nonfat pumpkin spice latte. Yum.

Once at work, I fired up Pandora and found my mellow.

My coworker SHREEE! and I worked out together late morning. I had a good, healing sweat. (Oh, how I have missed taking out my frustrations in the gym!)

Rather than eat lunch, I ran to DSW and scored these little beauties:

New shoes have a healing quality about them, don't you think? And, bonus, they are closed toe and totally no open-toe shoe policy appropriate.  Hell to the yeah.

Dear Fire Chief: Never mind about the no open toe shoe portion of the dress code. I'm cool with it. Cuz, seriously, look at these shoes! I mean... they don't compare to my fabulous red suede pumps with peek-a-boo toes, but... these are pretty great.

At quittin' time (aka 5 o'clock pm, mountain standard time), SHREEE! and I agreed to meet for a drink. All well and good, only I was wearing the fire department polo. (Kinda not an ok thing to be wearing a fire department patch in a bar... It's an image thing.) So, oh darn, I guess I had to go buy a new shirt really quick. Which I did. And it's cute. And SHREEE! loved it... and my new shoes.... So, yeah... I strutted some new stuff.

And I had myself a Stella, y'all!

On my 40 minute commute home, I enjoyed some great tunes and watched the sun set over the Rockies. I just wish I had been in the middle of them, rather than admiring them from afar.

I arrived to an empty house. Another score. I did a quick clean up in the bedrooms, living room and kitchen. (I hate clutter and mess! So, yeah, just another opportunity for my anal retentive fix.)

The family arrived shortly after. Gotta hand it to the spousal unit. He took one for the team. He had the kids out running around for an hour and a half.  Eden was completely worn out. A big ol' bottle, some rocking and a few butt-pats and she was out.

The focus was now on Jeffrey. I have to admit, I was nervous. I just really didn't have it in me tonight to deal with another 2 hour tantrum.

He had our full, undivided attention.Wouldn't ya know it, he ate dinner without a fuss. He brushed his teeth without a fuss. He peed on the potty (like a big boy!) without a fuss. (Ok... we bribed him with gummy vitamins.)  It still took until 9:30 for him to finally fall asleep, but there wasn't a fit to speak of.

It's Friday. So... what else did we do? We enjoyed a Chicago pie and some suds... as we do every Friday night. It's a tradition that just simply cannot be broken.

And my spousal unit just handed me a Long Island Iced Tea. He loves me. He really loves me. (Actually, what he said was, "If you finish this, you'll feel like a new person."  He's right. And I'm not even a third through it. I love these things.)

Today didn't start well, but it ended pretty well. I'm enjoying my cocktail next to an open window with my mellow tunes rockin' on Pandora, Bose style, in the dark with only the light of a few candles and my computer screen. The spousal unit is... over there.  And I am over here.

I think I'll go over there.

The God of Cake

This may very well be one of the funniest blogs I've ever read. This particular post did not disappoint, especially considering the tantrums I've been dealing with this week. Maybe all he needs is cake? Hmmmmm.... I'll have to ponder that one.

Anyway, if you need a good laugh, read Hyperbole and a Half, The God of Cake. (Yes, just click on this link and it will magically take you there.)

Hysterical.

Hope

My new obsession: Pandora

I've created several radio stations, but my favorite - even more than Brandi Carlile and Jack Johnson - is my Jason Wade station. I love that I just have to enter in my artist of choice and Pandora finds other similar artists... If there is ever a "sound" that is mine, it's this one.  It defines my mood, and helps me to retreat into my thoughts and sort through all the craziness in my head.

Candles lit, the fresh evening chill caressing my shoulders through the open windows, a little inspiration by way of Merlot.... and the sounds of the silence that has finally fallen in my 3-year old's bedroom....

Stillness. 

I got to thinking about the relationship between the way I deal with my toddler now and  how his little soul develops. It sort of naturally led into thinking about the relationship I have with my mother.

Not feeling the need to rehash all of that, the thought I keep coming back to is how one day, something just clicked (thanks to a story and some great advice from my friend Catherine, who, by the way, is coming to visit me next weekend). I finally realized that she is not and never will be the mother I either want or need her to be. She just simply isn't capable. And then I thought... wow... She's just so... broken.  (Aren't we all in our own way?) And then I thought, ya know... Jesus loves her regardless. She is God's child just like you and me.

When I finally got that, it just opened up a whole new meaning of hope to me.  Do I think she'll ever change? Not likely. I mentioned this in a previous post, but I had to mourn the loss of my mother - in a very similar way as if she had passed. Once I mourned her loss, letting go of my idea of who she should be, I was able to see her. I mean, really see her in the same light that God sees her. 

She is broken. There is no question about that. She's bitter. She's deeply sad and troubled. I don't believe for one second that she wanted to be this way. (Who would?) Life's circumstances helped form this in her. Sure, she has a choice in this, but... ya know, when someone is that broken, it almost becomes a place of comfort. It's too far out of their realm of possibility that life could be any different. Why risk reaching for something different when you've basically been taught that you're a big piece of crap your whole life?

Wanna know the Good News?

There's hope that she will one day see Jesus, who clearly has been pursuing her for several years.

Hope.

The hope that maybe someday we can be mother and daughter. The hope that she will one day experience the freedom that Christ offers so freely.  The hope that maybe she'll finally feel loved and accepted, unconditionally.  The hope that she'll experience joy.  The hope that one day, the chains will be gone, she's been set free! Hallelujah! (Oh, Dear Lord, I pray may it be so!)

Is there any greater hope than the hope that is in Jesus? The hope of a life everlasting... The hope of living in the Kingdom - not just in Heaven in some afterlife, but here on earth.

Here.

Now.

Today.

Forever.

It matters not your circumstances, your brokenness, pain, sorrow, addictions, guilt, oppression. Christ offers hope. Hope in His promises. Hope in His Holy Word. Hope in His justice. Hope in His tenderness. Hope in His steadfastness.  Hope in walking in His footsteps.

Out of hope, I believe, joy naturally follows.  Praise God that I learned (and continue to learn) this lesson. Had it not been for hope, I would never have made it this far. (These last couple of years were doozies.) But in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, there was the hope that Jesus would show up. You (I) get to the point where you just live expectantly. As if Jesus just does show up... That's the Kingdom, folks. Here for the taking. A free gift.

A gift of hope.

The value of a friend

Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.

John 15:13

Friends. They're few and far between. 

I miss this friend:

Michelle & me out for a day of pampering
just a few days before I left Oregon.

And this friend:

Melissa & me - my best friend
from Montana

And this friend:



Heather & me - my friend of 35 years
(since I was 2 years old)



And these friends:



Our Friday Night Bible Study (aka "BS")
Dale & Susan, Dave & Karen, Wes & Mickey
Fridays just aren't the same without them.

These are just a few of the precious few who I allow into the inner-inner-me. (Others of you... far away and local... you know who you are.)

These are (some of) the people I trust with all my pieces - some whole, some tattered and broken, some healed but scarred. These are the people who know my junk, and yet still find me somewhat lovable. They don't judge. They don't condemn. They don't get angry when I disagree. They challenge and stretch me. (Proverbs 27:17: "As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.")  They sometimes have to strain to understand me. They encourage and support me. They laugh with me (and sometimes at me). They've shared my pain, my joy, my sorrow, my guilt, my disappointment, my excitement...  They've prayed with me, and prayed for me when I didn't have the strength. They've kicked me in the pants when I was feeling sorry for myself. They've been through the trenches with me. (Proverbs 17:17: "A friend loves at all times, And a brother is born for adversity.")

They've seen me at my best.

They've seen me at my worst.

They've given me room to find my way, and allowed me to hold on to their belt loops when I've lost my way. When I've hurt them, they accepted my apology. If I ask for their feedback (and sometimes when I don't), they are honest with me (sometimes brutally so). (Proverbs 27:6: "Faithful are the wounds of a friend, But the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.")  If they were angry with me, they didn't spew my secrets out of spite.  (Proverbs 17:9: "He who covers a transgression seeks love, But he who repeats a matter separates friends.") 

They never required me to fit a certain mold. They require nothing. 

They know me.

Beautiful, beautiful friendship. 

I'm sorry to say, there have been times in my life when I haven't been such a good friend. In some cases, the friendship deepened. In some cases, I was left in the dust. I probably deserved that. And there have been times when I wasn't healthy enough in my own skin to be much of a friend. Either way, I'm grateful for the journey. It's another life lesson that makes us all the more wise.

I have lost a lot of "friends" in my life - especially the last 3 or 4 years. (Maybe due to one of the reasons I mentioned above.) I've had to learn to be much more discerning with whom I share my life. One thing I can tell you is without my friends (my "Willage"), I'd be a miserable, lonely person. I need the community, the fellowship, the accountability.

I don't take friendships lightly.

I'm incredibly grateful for the friends I have. They are few and far between.

So, forgive me if I'm cautious. I just tread lightly these days.

And if I share my life with you, it's because I trust you. Please don't misuse that.

God created us to be in communion with one another - and with Him. We weren't meant to go through life alone. Luckily, there's a Friend closer than a brother. I can tell you from experience, any earthly friendship pales in comparison. 

You are My friends if you do whatever I command you.

John 15:14

Music for memories

Kids are finally in bed, hopefully to remain and eventually drift off to sleep. Sitting in the dark, save the glow of the computer screen and a few flickers of candlelight, a glass of Merlot, and Brandi Carlile radio on Pandora....  These are the moments I look forward to every evening. The only way this gets sweeter would be to add another glass of (better) wine and some great conversation.... and maybe a breath mint or fifteen.

So random.

Ever hear a song that takes you back to a moment in time? A place? A person?

Ever smell something that reminds you of someone - even when you're somewhere far, far away?

Ever close your eyes and just cherish a memory?

Ever look up at the night sky and wonder who else is looking at that very same star?

Ever wish you could just step out of your life for a few moments and rewind to another time just to make it last a little longer?

I love my quiet evenings (when they are, in fact, quiet). I love listening to some chill music and reminiscing. Remembering a weekend at a mountain cabin, making breakfast at 4:00 in the morning and playing cards until midnight because there was no television, radio or telephone.  Remembering the smell of the air after a fresh rain.  Remembering the stillness in the early morning after a good snow.  Remembering the smell of my dad, the warmth and refuge of his hugs and the tickle of his beard on my face.  Remembering a sunset. Remembering a sunrise. Remembering a conversation that saw both. Remembering the yearning for another just like it.  Remembering a look, a smile. Remembering a comfortable silence. Remembering the excitement of a first embrace. Remembering the peacefulness of a familiar one.

Little nuggets of a life's journey.

So many wonderful snapshots that I hold close to my heart. Some are shared. Some are for me alone. Some are humorous. Some are painful. Some are both.

But they all are weaved into the tapestry of my mind and only a song, a smell, a memory-reach away.

I'm grateful for memories and for the experiences that create them.

One year ago...



My big ol' belly.

 One year ago, I was miserable. I was humongously large, hot, tired, and ready to give birth to my second baby. It was a Saturday, and I was doing all I could to keep my mind off of the fact that I had been having contractions for 3 weeks and dilated to 3 cm, but baby just refused to let go. I wasn't overdue... In fact, this was her actual due date, but considering my first came 3 weeks early, I was sort of expecting another early arrival.

After shopping all day at various places, including World Market, where I picked up some Marsala sauce for dinner, we finally decided to go to the evening service at church. I was determined to pray and worship this baby out of me!

I ran into a bazillion people who casually commented, "No baby, yet, huh?"  Uh, no. Dang it.

It was just another worship service, saving the fact that the only thing on my mind was managing to get this baby out of me. I figured if I could go into labor during worship, that was the perfect scenario. But, alas, church service ended, and I was still without even a hint of baby's arrival.

We headed home, where I proceeded to cook up a big ol' batch of Marsala, which is a spicy Indian dish... Uh, huh... You see what's about to happen, right?



I love this shot - says so much.

 Marsala consumed, Jeffrey in bed, and Scott on the opposite chair teaching his online classes, I was sprawled out on the couch, constantly changing positions due to terrible sciatica, forcing myself to stay awake because I just so wanted this baby to come. After flipping through channels, and finally landing on some show that I don't even remember, I decided that once this show was over, I was going to bed.

It was about 10:40, and I was sitting through another commercial break arguing with myself about going to bed when I felt this sudden **pop** and a rush of fluid....



This is one of my favorite pictures. Jeffrey's little personality just shines!



I knew exactly what had happened, so I jumped up (as much as a 9 month pregnant woman can) and waddled off to the bathroom. I yelled to Scott, "Um... Honey! I think my water just broke!" 

There was a long pause... followed by, "Are you sure?"

Seriously? Men sometimes say the dumbest things. As if I wouldn't know this. As if my sitting in a massive puddle isn't the first clue.

I responded, "Yes, I'm sure."

Scott already had my bag in the car, the car started, and his coat on by the time I walked out of the bathroom, and was practically hyperventilating, apparently very excited about having a baby soon. Why I was so calm, I don't know, but rest assured, I was excited too.

True to Matkovich form, some hilarious things happened both on the way to the birthing center and during labor.  Most of which may be way TMI. Here are some punchlines. (If you want to know the whole joke, just ask.)

1.  "Just say, 'Vindaloo!'
2.  "My boat doesn't lie."
3.  Me:  Giggling...
     Nurse (from behind door): "What's so funny?"
     Me:  More giggling... pause... "VINDALOO!"
4.  "Ever had a broken face?"
5.  "Where's your boat?"
     "It's speeding for shore!"
6.  "Um... I need to push."
7.  "Don't push!"
8.  Doc running in... "Ok, PUSH!"
9.  Scott on phone with Mamasan, "Is that Kyra crying?"

It was 3 hours and 18 minutes (just 1 hour and 18 minutes past her due date), from the moment my water broke to the moment I was holding a precious little gift in my arms. The picture-perfect birth. Hardly any pain. Just a tiny bit of discomfort for the last 45 minutes. An amazing experience. (You can read more about it under The Arrival of a Wigglebean.)

A perfectly healthy 9 pound, 3 ounce baby girl:  Eden Noelle...

A day and a half later, we were home with our new darling baby, and introduced her to her big brother. He fell in love the instant he saw her, and he's been her biggest fan ever since.

Our little Eden is one year old today. She's beautiful, curious, cautious and snuggly. The first year of her life has been a whirlwind of change, but she weathered through it all like a champ.

To my dearest Eden on her first birthday:

I'm so proud of you, baby girl. May God shine His light on you, show you favor, and bless you beyond words. May your life be a reflection of His goodness and grace. Happy birthday, Wigglebean!
All my love,
Mommy

I love meat

After a long, LONG... really long day of dealing with my 3-year old's sudden, dramatic personality change (I'm convinced someone stole my sweet, angelic child and replaced him with a demon), and the added bonus of a chilly rain, I just needed... something.

What I'm really craving is a vacation sans children. But since that is not a feasible option, that leaves me wanting... meat.

Look at these things. Awww, schyeah. Beautiful. Delicious. Yum.  

Nothing that a thick, juicy, marbled steak can't fix, as far as I'm concerned.

If I really had my way, these would have been accompanied by mashed 'tators and a pint of Guiness.  But, if you must know, these bad boys didn't even hit the stove until about 9:30 and we just didn't have it in us to do anything else... except make a tall, stiff drink after the last, tasty morsel of heavenly Angus rested comfortably in our tummies.

The perfect recipe for steak: let come to room temperature, and give a nice rub down of olive oil, salt and pepper, then sear on the stove top in a very hot pan on each side for just a couple of minutes to seal in the juiciness. Finish off in the broiler, just 3-4 minutes on either side. Finally, let rest for a good 5 minutes before cutting in so that the juices have time to redistribute. (If you cut into a freshly cooked steak, all the juices will run out on to the plate... You can't want that.)

Perfection.

Yes, I'm a bit of a food snob. But, I think everyone should be. Why eat something that is mediocre at best, or ... **shiver** worse. I enjoy eating quite a bit. It's not just the food... Although I love flavors and textures and colors and aromas...  It's the experience of the meal that I love. It means something. A moment in time. A snapshot of life. A relationship. A conversation. A feeling. A celebration. A mourning. A memory. An old friendship. A new friendship. A warm greeting. A sad goodbye.

Even when it comes to my fall-back bring-to-work lunch of PB&J, it's made with only the best ingredients; organic nothing-added peanut butter, fresh fruit spread (no sugar added) and wheat uber-fibered up bread. Delicious.

I love meat. We don't eat red meat very often, probably less than once every other week. But, oh, do I crave it. Mmm, mmm, mmmMMMMMM!

I was very happy to have a big ol' plate full this evening. Hit the spot.