Why I shower

Remember awhile back when I swore off showers because of this and this and this and this? Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe giving them unparented time on their own is really the secret to unleashing a creativity that my over-parenting thwarts?

I was showering.

Cora found my camera.

And this picture was born.I love everything about it. The fact that Cora accidentally shifted the focus from the self-portrait Claire was narcissisticly showing off, to my naked, counter top perched daughter was icing on the cake.

So here's to 2010: the year of the shower perhaps?

It actually was quite merry!

If you ignore the puking.And the caved in gingerbread house.And the Christmas tree that was completely dead a full week before Christmas (I swear that is not how the tree decorations looked in the beginning. I'm no Martha, but I have a few more skills than that. But you see, when a tree doesn't suck up a drip of water-even if you beg and plead in your harshest tone for it to do so to keep from breaking the hearts of two little tree obsessed girls- and all of the bristles harden and all of the branches sag, all of your lights/ornaments/garland shift to whereeverthehecktheywant. It makes for some lovely pictures Christmas morning. I mean if that ain't the prettiest backdrop you ever did see...).And the broken car (That is not supposed to be broken because it is a Toyota. And we bought a fancy Toyota so it wouldn't break. But broke it did).

And the water that seeped under the driveway, froze, expanded and caused thousands of dollars worth of damage to the concrete.

Yep, ignore all of that and we had a very merry Christmas. Really we did. Oddly in spite of all the bahumbugness, we were feeling the season of perpetual hope. Because how can you not when you see this:
Or this:Or this:Or this:Especially this:We have had a wonderful Christmas and have been repeatedly reminded how blessed we are. Here's hoping your Christmas was as jolly (although slightly less eventful) as ours.

Dear Procrastination,

Although this letter pains me to write, it must be done. I'm breaking up with you. I have to put it simply so there is no way you can misunderstand. It's over.

But man did we have a good run in 2009.

Remember that time when we were going to finish decorating Claire's room and finish painting Cora's. What were we thinking? Or what about that time we had that wild idea to slurp this little blog into a book for posterity's sake. Right, like that was gonna happen. Or my favorite was when we decided to organize the closet in the master bedroom. Man, we are such an awesome team. We accomplish so little together. Ah, those were some good times.

Now this shouldn't come as a surprise to you, as we have never been exclusive. I have always had a little crush on Motivation (although we both know how out of my league he is). So I ask that you please respect this decision and do not attempt to contact me again. Don't call. Don't write. Don't even mail the letter you write tomorrow in six months, once you have finally purchased a stamp, assuming I will be ready to take you back. Not gonna happen this time.

And no tears. Tears create messes (and we both know how long that will take you to clean up). Another eager, unaware soul will snatch you up in a heartbeat and I will become a distant memory (you would of course have pictures to document our time together if we had ever gotten around to uploading and organizing all of the 2009 photo folders).

We will always have the memories of what could have been.

Fondly,
Amber

ps. When January 15th-ish rolls around and I am pounding on your door, begging you to come back to me, please ignore me. And promptly re-read this letter.

The half that is better

It was Mark's birthday on Monday. He wanted a good steak (which obviously meant I would not be cooking it). So steak he received.

Truth be told, he deserves much more than just steak. This family survives because of him. He swears otherwise, but he is the glue. He brings balance to this family. And strength.
Plus, I'm a sucker for a man in uniform.
And a man who will dress up if I beg enough.
And a man who loves his babies.
And who is not afraid to show it.
And I can't get enough of a man who can build a tree house with his own two hands (although it looked much sturdier 15 years ago).
Or start a fire (even if it is a tiny one on command, so his little ones can roast some marshmallows).Or conquer a few mountains.
And a few massive rock slabs too.

He is pretty amazing. And I'm a lucky girl.

And there is no one I would rather be navigating this madness with.

Happy Birthday babe. Heaps of love.

-Hopper

Giddy

You see this book:This is a book written by a friend and former boss, Mark Griffin. It arrived on my doorstep yesterday, fresh from the printer. It is a solid book. It chronicles the history of the Philmont Training Center. The very training center that changed my life. The place I met my husband. The inspiration for this post.

And this 2 page spread in that very same book makes me want to jump up and down, flail my arms and do some rendition of the dance of joy (please don't watch, as I am sure it might get awkward). Because those are MY words. In print. As in, published in a book. That will sit on a shelf. That people can purchase.

I realize it is not MY book. And I realize it is ONLY 2-ish pages. But those are my pages. And you can't wipe this ridiculous grin off my face if you tried.

Just be

About a year ago I posted this. It sounded like a very doable New Year's Resolution. It wasn't. I am dumber. 12 months later and I am certain of it. Not for lack of trying, but for lack of retaining. I guess I was just not cut out to be an intelligent adult. I'm not upset about that. I'm coming to terms with it. But what I am upset about is not keeping my resolution.

The point of a New Year's Resolution is to motivate us to better ourselves. So why do they always make me feel inadequate and pathetic. Perhaps if I would actually stick to them and follow through, the resulting feelings would be quite different. But this year I just don't feel like setting myself up for failure. So I am taking a preemptive strike. I am making an early resolution for the new year: to NOT make a New Year's Resolution.

My resolution for 2010 is to just be. Be content just being me. Who I am. Right now. I am all about trying to better yourself and not becoming complacent or lazy, but 2010 will be a year of acceptance. I think in our haste to improve our lives, we forget to cherish who we are and what we have at this exact moment. We are always trying to move forward, be better, progress. Nothing wrong with that. But I get caught up in that and I forget, and this is as cliche as it comes, to live in the moment.

So no trying to be thinner, no longing to be wiser, no attempts to become richer. No desire to keep a cleaner house, to be a better cook, to learn a new skill. I don't want to better at anything. I want to look at myself in the mirror, my life as it is right this very second and I just want to be.

And this may very well be the hardest resolution of my life.