Images of Easter, part 2

tracing griffin's hand.

to create this lovely lily for the grandmas.

my handsome boys.

and my other handsome boy.

wes's deee-lectable cheesecake.

egg-dyeing, of course.

Images of Easter, part 1

mrs. pattycake's easter eggstravaganza.

the hunt.

buddies.

yummy.

seder dinner.

life.

a trip to the maple festival on a beautiful day.

fried dough. yummy.

tasting fresh maple syrup.

a visit with great grandpa.

and great grandma.

cute.

cuter.

Grieving.

In light of the recent tragic events in my hometown of Binghamton, I've opted to forego the regular Money Saving Monday feature to write what is on my heart.

This past summer, I sat in an airplane across the aisle from a woman who was clearly distraught. After spending several minutes wrestling over whether I should speak with her, I finally did. I leaned over the aisle and whispered that I didn't mean to pry, but did she need to talk?
She smiled grimly through her tears and shared with me that her mother was dying and that she was worried that she wasn't going to get there in time to say good-bye.

As she opened up to me about her story, the tears began to flow...both hers and mine. As she wept, I wept. Her pain was raw and, in that moment, what I had to offer in response was my grief. The affirmation that what she felt was real and valid, and she was not alone. I wanted to do more, but I had nothing more to give.

Last night, I attended the prayer vigil in remembrance of the 14 victims of this weekend's massacre. I saw your faces--the faces of the families of the victims. I marveled at the number of different hues of skin, all telling the story of your countries of origin: Haiti, China, Pakistan, Brazil, the Philippines, Vietnam, United States, and Iraq.

I watched you as you passed by and wished I had something to offer. Although it was only a glimpse, I had the sense that you have felt this kind of pain before. That this kind of horror was much more familiar to many of you than it should be.

But then, this time you are far from home. I tried to imagine how it must feel to experience such deep loss in a place that is not home. I wondered if you are longing for home now.

And I wept. All I had to offer in that moment was my grief. The affirmation that what you feel is real and valid. And that you are not alone.

In the middle of the onslaught on Friday, there was a low, long rumble of thunder. Strange for this time of year. But for me, it was a reminder that there is a God who grieves with you as well. He has a Son who has experienced deep agony in a place that is not His home. He is fully acquainted with grief. He affirms that what you feel is real and valid. He has felt it too.

And although I do not know you, I grieve with you. It is all that I have to offer in this moment. In this place that is not home, may you know that you are not alone.

My heart belongs to Wesley

ALERT: Let this be your warning if you are not into sweet and a little bit sappy. Read no further. There's something about these holidays that tweaks my sentimental bone. Couple that with the fact that I forgot to buy Wes a card this year...

Wesley,

This is our 8th Valentine's Day together. Our first Valentine's Day was only a few days after we had gotten engaged...after dating for only four months. (But that's a story for another time.) And our second was after having been married for 6 months.

I recall a conversation between the two of us that year about whether we should buy each other gifts or not. I won't reveal who thought what, except to say that one of us ended up in tears. And Valentine's Day has been fully and liberally celebrated every year since then.

I will admit that I do love celebrations and this has put a good deal of pressure on you as my husband. Especially since you have to deal with my precarious mixture of love for surprises and my never-ending nosy nature (which I prefer to call curious)...it's not easy surprising someone who always assumes that she is going to be surprised. You managed to pull a good one off the year of my 30th birthday, which was not easy considering I had surprised you the year before and so, of course would expect the same for me.

If I could go back in time and whisper into my naive little newlywed ears, I would have so much to say. I would reassure myself that there would be plenty of big celebrations and romantic gestures over the years to come. I would pat myself on the back for being honest about what was important to me.

But most importantly, I would say, "Just you wait, Kaley. You think it's the big things that matter. You will discover that it's the hundreds and thousands of simple gestures that show Wes's love for you."

Things like:
-getting me coffee every morning, just the way I like it
-putting toothpaste on my toothbrush for me at night
-getting up early with the kids so I can attempt to catch up on sleep (which is BIG in my book)
-laughing at me when I attempt to be funny
-still sounding excited to hear my voice when I call
-knowing just when I need a hug
-calling to make sure I don't need anything at the store before coming home
-actually enjoying watching endless hours of American Idol with me
-somehow summoning up enough energy to keep up with our boys when you get home at night
-getting up late last night after I had fallen sound asleep, so you could get this ready:

note the missing swedish fish--courtesy of a certain three year old

I love how you love me, Wes. It is a deep love that shows up in countless ways. You are a good man, an amazing father, and the love of my very blessed life.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Love,
Kaley

frogs and snails and puppy dog's tails...

I absolutely adore having boys. I really can't picture it any other way.

Griffin is a true Daddy's boy and if there is ever an option between doing something with Daddy or with Mommy, Daddy wins out every time. Usually this does not bother me because I get large doses of Griffin-time all day long.

But lately, I've tried to picture what my relationship with my boys will look like in the future. I've found myself wondering if a boy's need for his mommy just starts phasing out at some point. And when does that process begin? To be honest, I'm not sure I like the thought of the switchover from Mommy to just "Mom". I'm not even sure I know how to be just "Mom".

Then this took place:

Yesterday, Griffin and I were having a discussion over lunch about who is in charge. He's pretty sure that he is. I assured him that he is not and will not be until he's much older like Mommy and Daddy.

"Are you older?" he asked. "Does that mean you are going to die?"

What?! I thought.

"Oh, honey....not for a long, long, long, long time. You don't need to worry about that, ok?" Then returned to my sandwich thinking that the discussion was over.

It was then that I noticed the quivering lip.

"Griffin, what's wrong?"

"I don't want you to die! Who's going to be my mommy?" And then tears.

Followed by reassuring hugs and a rephrasing of what a long, long, long, long time means (I had forgotten that in his eyes, that's how long he has to stay in his bed during rest time.) And just as quickly, the tears were wiped away and it was back to making roaring sounds and playing games with his lunch.

And that was it. It was all that I needed. Just when I thought I was being phased out, a brief, open window to the reality in my little boy's heart will fuel this mommy's heart for a long, long, long, long time.

these are a few of my favorite things

i've been thinking about 2008 and it always amazes me all that takes place in one year. just thought i would share a few of my favorite things from this past year:

PLACE TO PLAY:

dorchester park, whitney point, ny

BLOG POST:

Goodbye, Novelty




NEW HOBBY:

couponing!

MINISTRY EVENT:

30 hour famine
you helped me raise over $700!

FAMILY MEMORY:

the hill family stay-cation

BOOK:

ADVENTURE:

disney world--8 months pregnant!


MILESTONE:

potty training!

PICTURE:

never mind wes's look of confusion in the background.
i absolutely love how this picture capture's griffin's personality.

MOMENT:

august 29, 12:51 am

**Sidenote: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your words of encouragement, wisdom, and empathy on my last post. I was hesitant to share my vulnerable state in this forum, but I am so grateful I did. There were still tears over this past week (occasionally they were Lincoln's), but they were mixed with a new perspective on my circumstances that was refreshing and helped me keep going. Oh...and I should add that Lincoln is sleeping much better and even slept through the night a couple nights ago! Hope is a beautiful thing. =)

Post of Love for Megan

As promised, I am dedicating this entire post to my cousin Megan.

Megan is my childhood best friend. Most of my favorite childhood memories contain her in some way.

At our Uncle Clayton's cottage

This past week, I had the joy of visiting Megan in her beautiful home in Pennsylvania. How odd to find ourselves in the role of mom to kids that are the age we were when we first began to play together.

Visiting Meg at her home

As I visited her gorgeous home that she and her husband have worked hard to create, I was also struck by how much hasn't changed about my lifelong friend. Megan has always been fun and energetic and has more organizational skills in her little pinky than I have in every ounce of my body. I am often amazed at how everything she does seems to be done with excellence.

When we were young, even our play was done in a high quality fashion. Megan would spend hours preparing the books and materials that we would need to play library like it was the real deal. She and her family created the most amazing play kitchen nestled in the woods next to their house. And you've never gone sledding if you haven't taken a ride down her sledding hill.

I love the memories that we share from our childhood. But I am also grateful that in spite of the twists and turns our lives have taken, we always seem to pick up easily where we left off. Megan lovingly planned beautiful showers for both my wedding and the birth of Griffin. She agreed to be in my wedding, even though she was 8 months pregnant. And now, she's going to run a 10 mile race with me in May. Right, Meg?

Dancing at my wedding (with her 8 month pregnant belly between us)

And so, thank you, Meg. Not only for helping me with my Christmas list, but for your friendship that has lasted a lifetime. I miss our days of the secret society of MEKK and writing long letters to each other and playing softball at the civic association and making 'old movies' in your camper. But just because we no longer 'play' house, doesn't mean we can't still have fun, right?

Here's to lots more memories--wanna go sledding?

Thankful

I'm thankful for a son who is thankful for this:

I'm also thankful for:

Happy Birthday, Wes.
You light up our world with your love for us.
We love you.

Kaley and your boys