Super-mom

Yesterday, as #1 and #2 were swimming in the pool happily, with various floatation devices (as neither of them actually “swims” yet), I was walking closely behind #3, weeding the gardens as I went. Suddenly, I hear #1’s worried voice calling her brother's name. I turn to see that his boogie board has flipped and landed upon his blonde little head, and he can’t touch. With reflexes of a mother of three, I turn and bound across the bricks and, at the edge of the pool, leap through the air, over #1 (as if flying), and land next to #2 in time to pull him up enough to take a deep breath and tell him what a marvelous job he was doing swimming toward the edge of the pool. I turn to see my eldest daughter with an amazed look on her gorgeous face, and she belts out, “That was AWESOME!!!” to which I reply, “It’s a good thing I work out!”

Later that day, #3 was pushing something along the floor that was three times her size and #1 confided in me that she thought her little sister might be a superhero. In all seriousness. And that at some future date, when #3 has matured some, we will recognize her specific powers.

That evening, I took #1 out for an ice cream cone after dinner, just the two of us. As we licked and watched the setting sun, my girl began to roll play… “I’m just sitting over here, looking at my flowers [turning around, sharply] Oh, no! Someone's in trouble! [Running and leaping] I’ll save you!”

She wouldn’t be quite so impressed with me if she saw me at the gym this morning. While on the front row of many machines and sweating people, I was working hard on the elliptical. I took a long swig of my water, and unfortunately, it went down the wrong pipe and I choked and a whole mouthful of water spewed across my machine and down my chin. Clumsy as I am, still, I recognize that, well; I was a superhero for a day.

Never, My Love

There’s this old song by The Association that I love. Every time I hear it, it reminds me of my relationship with my husband:



You ask me if there'll come a time
When I grow tired of you
Never my love
Never my love

You wonder if this heart of mine
Will lose its desire for you
Never my love
Never my love

What makes you think love will end
When you know that my whole life depends
On you

Never my love
Never my love

You say you fear I'll change my mind
And I won't require you
Never my love
Never my love

How can you think love will end
When I've asked you to spend your whole life
With me


Marriage can be trying, but there is nothing better than when you look at that person with new eyes. I know him so well. We’re coming up on our tenth anniversary, plus the two years that I was falling in love with him before we got married. I tend to let the daily routines take over, and stop thinking about what I love about this man. Then something will happen and I see him again. Really see him. My heart still melts when this happens. My belly still flutters.



It’s too bad that I don’t make sure these moments come more often. It’s sad that people lessen the greatness of marriage by thinking that the new kind of head-over-heels love is the only or best kind of love. There’s definitely something to be said for shared history and the depth of the long-lasting-forever kind of love. Yes, it has its ups and downs, but so does any relationship. I’m glad that I can predict reactions. I’m glad that when he gives me that one look in a crowd of people, I know what it means. I’m glad that I still want to call him a few times a day and that I miss him when he’s gone. I’m glad that I get to see him nurture our children and teach them lessons on important principles. I’m glad he’s a good example. I’m glad that when I’m frustrated he forgives me for being a jerk. I’m glad that when he’s a jerk, I recognize that it’s a temporary thing and I can look past it. I’m glad that I can listen to this song and think of my husband and no one else.

Breaking (eyeball) News

In an attempt to poke his own eyeball out, a guadian angel swooped in to save this boy's day. The doctor and I thought it was lacerated and there was a chance of surgery. Alas, it was just the illusion of broken blood vessels and blood clots bulging his eyeball into a crazy nasty mess. 24 hours later, the swelling within the eyeball has gone down, and he is as good as new. (Except when you're looking at him.)

can this count as journaling??

How do I know if I'm going to even like to blog? Is the first entry critical? hope not. I am an introvert, and I kind of like it that way. This is stepping out of my comfort zone, but maybe it will be good for me...we'll have to wait and see.