A Thanksgiving to Remember

This was my first year to host Thanksgiving at my house. My first year to make every single dish and be responsible for the memory of the event for my family.
So, of course, I could blog about the fact that I started a small kitchen fire right out of the gate or the pain endured by my two fingers that believed they could pull a pan straight out of the oven.
The planning could be a blog to itself, but that would take away from the ten hours of complete enjoyment and fulfillment of seeing my daughter smile from ear to ear as we enjoyed her famous crust on the pies or the mischievous laugh of my nephew at the dinner table.
Sure, the turkey was an incredible achievement considering I had never even laid eyes on a thermometer, but the biggest achievement was the hours of peace, laughter, and most importantly...thankfulness. It was truly a Thanksgiving worth remembering.

Thankfulness

I am strong believer in having the spirit of thanksgiving.
None of us are guaranteed more than we have today, so it is important to value what you have in the moment.
I am thrilled to see my daughter adopting this truth in her own life. She says thank you a lot and talks openly about her blessings.
This past week, she lost a tooth.
She put the tooth under her pillow.
She woke up to find some cash.
She immediately goes to the stationary cabinet and grabs a piece of paper and a pen and writes this note..."Thank you, tooth fairy, I love you."
She hands me the note and goes back to her room.
Aside from laughing at her acknowledgment that I was the one who put the money under her pillow, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
Brian and I have taught thankfulness and for that I am noticeably, "thankful."

Can I do this?

I have never asked this question more than when I became a mother.
Labor, ouch this hurts...Can I do this?
Sleepless nights with a newborn...Can I do this?
Breastfeeding, 103 fever with the hardest chest ever...Can I do this?
First ER trip with a toddler and head trauma...Can I do this?
Oh, first day of preschool, tears rolling down my face...Can I do this?
First overnight stay with a friend...Can I do this?
The throw up, the homework, the squeezing a kid into dance tights, the long recitals, the endless amount of time coloring, the dress up, the books before bed, the baths, the veggie pushing campaign, the honesty talk, the boy talk, the skinned knees with no skin (yuck!), the tears over the bully at school, the accidental kicks with apologies, the cooking lessons that leave olive oil in the grout, the other messes...the list goes on and on, but leads to the latest one.
Can I really coach her basketball team?
Of course, I am wondering how I got myself in this mess, but even more perplexing is how I get myself into all the crazy messes I have found myself in since this little one was born.
As I am downloading drills and rules from the web, I am smiling at the little girl who always seems to pull me out of comfortable and give me something worth writing about.

Fireside with Parker

College was helpful, but I never remember taking a class on actually enjoying your life while surrounded by things to be afraid of in this world.
These lessons are best learned from less experienced professors, like Professor Parker, my little fireside buddy this weekend.
She taught me more in ten minutes than I have learned in the last year.
First of all, she was fearless around the fire. She knew it was there, she knew how to navigate around it, but she remained respectfully fearless. As she would grab for the marshmallows, she never thought, "what if I am not good enough to roast this marshmallow?" or worse, "I am going to get burned...put down the marshmallow and head for safety on the logs!"
Not Professor Parker. She felt through the leaves and brush for the marshmallow bag and pulled one by one out to see how completely in flames she could get it and laughing as it became a torch in the darkening sky. She was completely relaxed with having no idea if she was going to set the place ablaze. She roasted with confidence.
We should all take a lesson here and learn about the fire around us so that we can eliminate the fear and roast with laughter and a little less caution.
Parker didn't get burned. She didn't even have any ashes on her outfit. Absolutely no trace of any evidence that she had seriously torched a bunch of marshmallows and a stick. She went to bed completely unharmed with the memory of enjoying the bonfire more than the worried adults around her.
A little less worry and a little more fire...thank you, Professor Parker!

The Legacy of Musicians

How many times have you heard, "he/she has a heart for music?"
A lot.
But how many times have you heard, "he/she has a heart for the musician?"
Well, you've heard it here.
Last week I was reminded of my heart for musicians. I've grown up with them. As a little girl I danced around recording studios, packed up vans with speaker equipment and watched my dad drive away from banks angry because they wouldn't take a check from a musician.
My first love was a musician, my dad.
Who else could write a beautifully composed telegram and have the nerve to send it to a high school for a young lady to feel extra special on Valentine's Day?
My love of creative expression and explaining the moments of life came from him and his friends. Poetically they lived in the present. They taught me the beauty of living your life for the moments, not your 401K.
Watching my little girl dance to the same musician, Mark Bruner, as I danced to as a little girl warmed a place in my heart that has been chilled for awhile. My dad has been gone almost three years and I have spent those years lonesome for the joy of music he once brought to my life.
Whether it was picking up his guitar and creating a song on the spot about my toys or crazy cats or just dancing with me to the music on the stereo....he lived in the music with me.
Mark reminded me that even though I am tone deaf and can't play or sing a lick, I owe it to my daughter to bring her the beauty of the freedom in spending time with a beautiful group of people, musicians. It is her legacy.

Favorite Aunt?

There is this little boy that lives in Dallas that has stolen my heart and affirmed that yes, this girly gal, could have raised a boy.
My sister and her son, Cole, came in town last weekend. I hustled back from Kansas to see them. They were worth it!
When you are around a two and half year old all boy...you can't help but get a bit crazy. One of my favorite moments with him was our football wrestling match. He seemed to go from a hut to pinning me down like I was a his size. It started with a hut and ended with a spin, whack, jump and flop. I loved it.
Sure, I have been on Tylenol ever since, but it was fabulous to be a part of his imagination and actually feel like I was being an aunt worthy of a "favorite" title.
I will keep aspiring toward this goal as long as we both shall live.

Crazy Dog, Spider and Horse

Wouldn't be my life, if there wasn't some hysterical moments.
So, last week I kept a pretty busy schedule with Blended Love meetings, Eden's school schedule, my Bible Study class at church....etc., etc., etc. My life motto of living in the moment took a back seat to preparing for the next whatever.
But as usual, my reminder of keeping true to my belief, came in the form of another series of "crazy" moments.
The morning started off with not having my garage door opener and having to use the punch code on the garage. Like most moms, I can come and go about 10 to 20 times in a day, so having a garage door opener is not really a luxury, it is key to my expediency to deliver goods and/or people! Now, this morning I had an additional obstacle...our new neighborhood watch dog...due to my neighbor leaving a bowl of food and water on her front porch. Not suggested.
Well, this guy, I like to call him "Bob" because I call everyone "Bob" until I know their name, doesn't always recognize that I am the owner of my home. So, from time to time he will bark with all of his passion and concern for our block and try to keep me from feeling comfortable entering my home. Having dealt with that for three trips home already, I was extremely tired of trying to convince this security pup that I really paid the mortgage on this house, but this next trip into the house would be memorable for both Bob and me. Because this time, my car came screeching down the street going way faster than I should admit and obviously with a driver in hysterics. Why, you ask? Because this driver just had a spider fall off her eyelash and down her shirt and eventually onto her right hip. I WAS INCONSOLABLE.
As my door flies open with my pants around my ankle hobbling to the code with a barking dog at the driveway edge, I turn and scream, "I live here!"
Bob politely looks at me with a look of, "oh, well, you should have told me earlier."
Now, I have almost completely undressed from the code area to the mudroom and am now finding myself in front of a team of tournament golfers through our back windows. Embarrassing. I can only hope that they are experiencing a glare from the sun and cannot see into our home.
Relieved, yet traumatized, I am forced to re-enter the car, obviously in a new outfit, to pick up my child from school. As I am regaining my sense of calm I look over to our dear, sweet mini-horse farm that brings a smile each time I sit at the stop sign waiting to carry on with my chaos. Almost nostalgic to see these fairytale characters right here in the middle of town. Yet, not this afternoon. The brown one (another Bob) sits legs crossed over his boy parts with his front legs dragging him along for a bit of joy ride without a female horse. Looking right at me, he has no shame. I, however, am horrified. He has no idea that he has just shattered my perception of the mini-horse sweetness. Now replaced with an equivalent to humping dogs.
As I drive away from the scene of such inappropriate behavior, I am reminded that I have been brought back to the "moment" I so desired to return. I sigh and live in the present once again.