Our Little Tumble Bug

The joy our little 3 year old shows when faced with the realization that she gets to go to "Tumblebugs" is like nothing we've seen from the child.  Our local rec center contains a gymnastics room where she and I have taken classes and attended multiple birthday parties.  She runs around like a crazy horse and giggles with glee as she prances, jumps, hops, balances, swings, glides, climbs and bounces.  Naturally, we chose Tumblebugs as the destination for her 3rd birthday party.  She's been counting down the days (in her own warped view of time - everything is "last week.")  17 of her closest little people joined her for 1.5 hours of padded bliss. Dude ran around like a crazy chimp with his bud Brady too.  

As a little guy, the first two times Dude threw himself into this pit of foam he woke up with major eye infections.  Like he couldn't see out of his right eye it was so puffed out and freakish looking.  And during Dude's 5th birthday part here, a little friend had to be rescued from the depths of the foam.  Therefore, I'm not a fan of the infested pit of squishy germ trappers.  But Squirt loves it, as does Dude.  So I folded.  No eye infections thus far.  And everyone survived.

Oh the leaping child shooter.  My child is afraid of some things (like walking down the stairs unattended) but THIS?  No trepidation.  Let's do this people.

 Oh how I love this kid and his zest.

 Ridiculously edible.  

 Two of my very favorite preggers.  Due within two months of each other.  

 

If you live in the Denver area and are in search of a birthday party destination, give this one a go.  No stress, no mess and the parents can stay and play alongside their kids.  Easy shmeazy lemon squeezy, as Dude would say.

It was a weekend chock full of birthday goodness for the Vogel girls.  Friday was my annual birthday dinner at White Chocolate Grill with the Glassmans (sans kids of course).  The Filet Salad is my very favorite meal on the planet, so this is an event I eagerly anticipate, as does Linsy, who orders the same orgasmic menu item (sorry, it's THAT good).  Sunday I awoke to bagels and locks and fruit smoothies from my hubs, no notable change in behavior from my children (I had low expectations anyway), an incredibly moving church service where our new pastor was installed, a charming ladies lunch with 3 of my favorite women, a Broncos partaaaay with the Krom family and Maria and I hit the sack at 9:30pm.  Perfection.  Thanks to everyone who made me feel special and loved with outings, gifts, texts, cards, emails, random pop ins, etc.  35 feels pretty darn good already.  

 I'm holding what was a bottomless Mimosa.  The first of four.  Every birthday should include mimosas friends. 

This was my lunch candle.  Made a wish none-the-less!

35

Today I'm 35.  35 feels like a marker, more so than 31 through 34 did.  I still felt like a baby when I reached 30.  It didn't phase the part of my brain that analyzes age and maturity and all the things that go hand in hand.  35 feels significant.  Not just because my thighs are evolving into a different life form.  Life in general is more significant for the 35 year old me than it was for my 34 year old self.  I'm starting to feel a bit more present in myself as a friend, a mom, a wife, a Christian, a professional, a servant, a consumer and an individual.  More intentional maybe?  I have a relationship with myself these days and that's starting to change the way I see the world.

Gretchen Rubin's "The Happiness Project" is my current book of choice.  Each morning (the three I designate for working), I sit in my white, paint chipped rocking chair in the corner of my baby blue office and read.  Actual books.  With a highlighter in my right hand.  Gretchen grabbed me immediately.  She was "happy" in a blessed life that included a dreamy hubbie, two healthy kids, a fulfilling career, a fun city to exist in, healthy relationships etc.  But she questioned the quality of her "happy."  Was she living each day truly smiling at all she had surrounding her?  Was she grateful and sharing herself with the world?  Was she too negative and critical?  That resonated with me.  She says,

"One of my goals for the happiness project was to prepare for adversity - to develop the self-discipline and the mental habits to deal with a bad thing when it happened.  The time to start exercising, stop nagging and organize our digital photos was when everything was going smoothly.  I didn't want to wait for a crisis to remake my life."

Isn't that the truth?  I'm at a point in life where God has handed me a slew of gifts, on a shiny silver platter. Do I know what to do with them?  Do I know how to be responsible with the gold in front of me?  My kids, my marriage, my relationships, my money, my time, my freedom, my voice?  Because I do realize that the gold might disappear or change with one phone call or one doctor visit.  All the gems life holds right now could evaporate tomorrow, so it's time to determine how I deal with the gems so I'll be able to tackle the dirt and grime life will inevitably bring.

My 35 is a transitional year for our family.  We're changing and evolving and learning, according to what we need as a unit of 4.  My new career path has kicked all this off, given the time I have to process our priorities and challenges.  Of course this looks different for every family, but through the past year's events and discoveries, life has taught us a few valuable lessons.  As a result, we're attempting lifestyle changes....not to say we'll succeed at them all, but we're giving it an honest go.

Goals (some lofty some not so much):
Eating healthier and with purpose (future blog post on this subject to come).
Spending less on things that mean less in the grander scheme. Spending more on experiences that mean something.
Praying and talking to God like he's a little troll that resides on our shoulder, because he does.
Instilling values of acting with a servant heart on a daily basis - both to our kids and ourselves.
Sitting on the floor with our kids and ignoring the mess.
Donating toys and "stuff" we don't use or need.
Getting rid of the glue that attaches our hands to our phones.
Reading and turning off the tube at night.
Talking - a lot.
Reading chapter books to Dude.  Dedicating the time he needs for daily OT exercises. Experimenting with natural supplements and things from God's earth in order to help him be the best Dude he can be.
Deeper breathing and less yelling.
Smiling at people.
Smiling at each other as a family and laughing like we mean it.

That's a list.  I know it.  But something tells me that if we can start pulling this stuff off, that whole "happiness" aspect that Gretchen talks about will fall right into place.  That's 35 for this Mama.  Life is new, life is good and I plan on monopolizing on that.  Or rather, learning how to monopolize on that.  Slowly, mind you.  With a whole lot of room for error.  

      

My New Normal

My career as a PR and Marketing professional concluded on December 19 at 12:30pm.  I was sent off with more love and admiration than I expected, which was touching on so many levels.  My food bank family was a steadfast part of my everyday for 7 years.  For that, I'll always be grateful.  This week Tuesday marked the beginning of my new normal - I should probably say the beginning of trying to decipher what my "new normal" will look like.  And feel like.  And sound like.  And taste like (I bought a crap load of new coffee flavors to start my day with).  Dude went back to school and Squirt will continue to go to day care 3 days per week.  And I'll dive in to this new routine of writing.  One baby step at a time. Like, teeny tiny baby steps.  My wise and uberly supportive confidants keep hammering those words into my overachieving, "get it done" brain.  What I hear them saying is......Take.  Your.  Time.  Breathe and let this life manifest in the way it's meant to.  Go easy on yourself and don't expect to move mountains on day 1.  Or even on day 60.  Or day 365 for that matter.  This isn't a small task for me.  I'm a doer and an organizer of anything that might possibly need one morsel of organizing.  This new normal is flowy and unpredictable.  I'm slowly learning to appreciate that and breathe through my days.   

A significant piece of starting this new routine was creating a space where my creative juices can explode. The basement desk, which looked like something you'd find in a cubicle in Office Space, wasn't going to aid in my creative process.  SO.....we did this.  We turned our guest bedroom upstairs into Mama's Haven.  The bedroom has been relocated to the basement, which is proving to be quite nice.  Especially since it'll put guests out of the midst of our intimate family biz.     

I spent a day painting the tan walls a baby baby blue.  Calming blue.  THEN I found my masterpiece.  This chest of drawers came from a farm in Nebraska where it was used to store farm tools.  One of the drawers is still labeled just that.  I knew I had to have it when I peered through the window at a local antique store. And I found a way to bring it home.  I'm rather crafty when it comes to using my Dutch money skills.  The rocking chair was a Craigslist special - $20.

We sold the stiff desk and I found another antique piece that was born in the Midwest. I heart the scratches and dents all over him.  Hes been used and used well.  

 This chair is going to be seeing a lot of my bootie.  A whole lot.  

 My sweet son anointed my new space with the pet rock he crafted in Kindergarten.  He keeps me company.  The middle rock was given as a gift from a foundation I volunteer with.  It reads, "What in the world are you doing for heaven's sake?"  And the shiny heart is a precious gem from my old co-worker, Kaye.  It's also my phone screensaver.  These items bring smile and inspiration.

That's my Haven.  I love this space and I love that it's mine.  The kids treat it as such, which also makes my heart happy.  No legos or plastic fruit inside these walls.  The work that will come from my Haven?  The words are knocking at my teeth trying to get out, but I'm keeping a clenched jaw until I'm ready to verbally vomit. This week I started working on my writer's website, domain, email and organizing my thoughts around how to proceed.  It's forming.  I can feel it.  If you ask me what I do with my days, my answer will be simple.  I'm writing.  I'm creating.  I'm forming connections.  I'm unfolding.  Slowly but definitely surely.

Can I take a moment to tell you the depth of gratitude I feel toward my other half?  My Tim has supported me through this dreamy existence since day 1 and is a pillar of encouragement and calm. Thank you love. THIS is what it looks like to support your best friend in following their dreams.  I can hardly wait to do the same for you down the road.     

Are You Ready for This?

As you may have read in an earlier post, Santa brought Dude a volcano on Christmas morning.  His one earthly desire.  Santa was thrifty enough to find it at TJ Maxx for $7, which sweetened the deal.  When we got home from Chicago, that volcano (which was nearly confiscated at airport security due to the unlabeled powdery material), was the very first priority for our son.  So much so that we invited Brady to come over to witness the awesomeness.  Video documentation was the only way to truly bring you in, first hand, to the marvels that took place in our garage last Saturday.  See, don't look away for long, and be very amazed.  

Don't Forget...

If you don't live in Colorado, you might have already forgotten about an event that rocked our little community.  The media tends to blink through these moments.  They move on to the next dramatic, "news-worthy" world event so as to keep our attention and our interest in all things astonishing and horrifically mind boggling.  They veer away from stories that get stale and stories that lose their drama.  Let me assure you - there's nothing stale or non-dramatic about the aftermath of the school shooting that took place that Friday afternoon at Arapahoe High School.

We remember.  Especially today as the Arapahoe students and faculty are meeting for the first time since their safe place of learning, growth and community was violated.  Claire didn't survive that tragedy, despite the community's prayers, vigil's, thoughts, fundraisers and hopes.  We raised money. We lit up Christmas lights on our roofs spelling out "AHS." We put cups in chain link fences in support of AHS and Claire.  We hung signs in our car windows.  We prayed.  We smiled at each other and talked about the reality of the world we're now officially a part of.  Students shared stories of where they were that day when the gun fire began.  Parents shared stories of where they were when they heard about the gun fire.  And when they finally got word that their child was alive.  Not well, but alive.  This is all still fresh folks.  Not stale and still incredibly "newsworthy."  There's also a sense of hope and community that you haven't seen in your local news.  This community has banned together, at first for Claire and now for each other.  The Warriors are a strong body and if nothing else, this tragedy is proving that to them.    

I encourage you to keep the Arapahoe community in your mind, even if it's just in the back.  Think about them.  Pray for their piece of mind and their strength.  Consider what it's like for those kids and staff walking down the halls of their school today.  And tomorrow.  And next year.  Try to predict what you would do if it was your local school or heaven forbid, your kid.  You might have to sleep with them for the following weeks just so they can close their eyes. That's the case for our 16 year old babysitter.  You might have to hire a therapist to emotionally walk you through the scenes that are now ingrained in your mind.  You might have to be convinced that it's worth it to walk back into those halls and that fear is a reality that now needs to be squashed, somehow.  Fear is being squashed for those thousands of kids today.  The healing process is at infancy stages.      

Whether we want to believe it or not, fear is now a part of our educational system.  Whether or not we let it dominate our thoughts and actions is another issue and one that needs to be tackled on an individual level.  I would imagine school administrators are now building lists of students to watch. Student who just might be capable of something like this.  That's gut-wrenching to me but I get it.  The gravity of the role of being a school administrator and teacher continues to increase.  As if their task of educating our children wasn't grave enough.  Add "protect them for physical harm" to the job description.  My appreciation for this group of professionals grows stronger each and every day.  

Once you see a legitimate "Lock Down" sign on your child's school door, fear hits disturbingly close to home.  Its taken time to process the details of what our teacher friends experienced, what neighborhood parents and students lived through and what the future holds for our school system.  I have to firmly cling to faith that God has his hand on our kids to aid in overcoming my fear of putting my Dude on the big yellow bus in the morning.  The reality is, he might not be safe and there's nothing I can do about that.  But I trust that our school team is doing everything in their power to ensure he is.  And I trust that God's hand in over them as they venture down that path of protection.  Think and pray.  That's my request.  

                 

How is She Three?

She's three today.  My baby.  My last baby (provided God agrees with our logic of one parent per child). Wasn't it yesterday that we giggled relentlessly over her overflowing chub rolls and edible cheeks?  Oh this little girl.  Her complexity has caused her mom and dad to fall hopelessly in love with her, over and over and over....where would we be without her charm and charisma?  Where would the world be really?  Happy birthday to our little pistol, diva, sweetness, angel, princess, feisty, charming not so baby like little girl.  You really are our sunshine.






Before these Squirtisms fade from our minds, I need to document the little things that make our THREE year old the full of life little lady she is....

She cocks her head, points her eye balls up to the sky and places her hand oh so deliberately on her hip. This pose doesn't last long as she burst into giggles, amused at her own antics.

"Uppee please."  Hands up in the air, eye balls locked onto ours.  This phrase comes out anytime you're near stairs.  Even our own.  Now she's settling for holding hands instead...about half the time.

The second Dude gets home from school, she dashes to his backpack to check the status of his lunch.  She then reports to us how much he ate.  Dude is onto this and yells at her to leave his lunch alone as soon as she makes the dash.  We've had to resort to telling her that it's not her business, all while overflowing with laughter inside.

She told me an elaborate story about Tristan "frowing up" at April's house the other day.  She told me where he did it, who was around, how he laid on the couch and didn't eat hot dogs for lunch.  She explained that his mommy was on her way to pick him up.  Turns out, the entire story was contrived.  Every detail.  As I learned the truth from April the little squirt looked at me from the corner of her right eye and said, "Mommy, are you so happy at me?"  We're in big trouble folks.

Babies are her current passion.  She changes their poop, puts them on the potty, scolds them, places them in time out, feeds them, rocks them, takes them for stroller rides, puts them down for naps...this goes on all day long.

Her current trademark centers around taping scraps of paper to the kitchen wall.  She has figured out how to tear tape off the roll and scrunch it up to where there's enough showing the stick to the paper.  She couldn't be more proud.  It's the most precious unsightly decor I've ever allowed in my house.

She made a purple candle at daycare that we lit once.  I promptly threw it away, which is common hat.  A couple days she was looking everywhere for her "cannle."  I told her I didn't know where it was and she looked me in the eye and said, "Mommy, you frow it away?"  Busted.

She has a deep, husky smokers laugh/chuckle that we hope never leaves.  The opposite of her brother's squeely giggle.

Mommy, we wessle?  Mommy, we wessle?  Mommy, we wessle?  Every day is a good day for wrestling.

Lately, whenever we're in public she is obsessed with whether or not we know the people she sees.  You can imagine how many times the question, "Mommy, we know dat lady?"  is asked in an average outing.

It's rare if we go through a night without the quiet, creepy presence of Squirt standing next to my bedside. Her mere breathing is enough to cause me to sit straight up asking what's wrong.  Nothing.  Nothing is every wrong.  She just wants to say hi and requests a sleeping bag to be placed in her bed for the remainder of the night.  It can't START there mind you.  It's a 3:00am thing.  Tim and I fight over who is blessed to grant her the sleeping bag wish each night.

When Tim or I arrive home from errands or work, she dive bombs to the floor, wherever she happens to be at the time.  She hiding.  Which looks like a 2 year old, face down on the floor with her hands covering her eyes.  Bless her little heart that she believes this position creates an invisible status.  Although, sometimes Dude still believes this to be true too.

You would think that she would realize that we can catch her in the lie of "Did you flush the toilet?"  She hasn't quite figured that one out yet.

We can NOT put clothes on her anymore.  Socks, undies, pants, shoes...everything is under her jurisdiction.  I can still PICK the clothes...thank goodness.

My child will not finish a sweet, baked item.  She'll insist that she NEEDS it and will hand over the remains after she takes her two signature bites.  This will benefit her later in life.

Squirt's window of the car is clearly designated as HER window.  Dude is not allowed to even peer out of it without her scolding him.  I've had to pull over and explain to her that she owns nothing and only Mommy can tell Dude what he can and can't do.  I'll catch her giving him the hand as a secondary way to enforcing her rule.  Little pistol.

At bed time, she often instructs Tim and I to "go sleep" in her bed.  She packs her backpack and goes to work.  If we open our eyes we are scolded.  She reassures us that "she be back after work to pick you up" and comes in and out of the bedroom about 8 times to check on us before we have to end the game.  We adore this time with her little motherly self.

Dude built an awesome and rather impressive creation out of his gear set last week.  A couple days later she walked over to it, disassembled it, looks at him and says, "Me wreck it."  She then walked away with her head held high.  Uh huh. Trouble.  And lots of time outs.

The only time table she understand right now is "last week."  Everything we do is in relation to "last week."

Colors and numbers are posing a problem.  About 1/3rd of the time she can identify the correct color and count in order.  This has caused some concern for her parentals.  Until I realized that if M&M's are involved, she's spot on.  100%.  Uh huh.  Trouble.

Every morning she is allowed in bed with us at 6:30am.  She'll lay there in-between us without a peep for 45 minutes and will offer to scratch my back and face.  I eat.this.up.

Windy City Christmas Part II

Given the geographic locations of Tim's side of the family, it's a rare occasion to find us all in one country, let alone one house.  But we pulled it off this year!  Adam and Carin and their crew flew in from Bermuda, Dad hopped on a jet plane, Marc drove from Alabama and we all met at Nick and Caylei's house in Lincoln Park for a day.  There was certainly no lack of action, food, gifts or entertainment at our gathering.  The kids kept plenty busy in the decked out basement and the adults had the chance to catch up and indulge in anything your taste palette could possibly desire.  We had an awesome day and very much appreciated Nick and Caylei's generosity in hosting our rowdy bunch. 

Squirt and Pearl rival each other for personality, spunk and strong will.  I could sit and watch the two of them together all day long.

The highlight of the day was the Christmas sing-along.  A two person band joined us in leading our clan through an hour's worth of festive songs, complete with a plethora of musical instruments.  The kids went ape with the extra noise makers.  

Gift time was a free for all of holiday themed wrapping paper flying across the room, kids screaming as they discovered their name on boxes and adults lounging behind the chaos to avoid being trampled.

 Chase Dude is just three days older than Squirt.  We wish they could see more of each other!  

 Adam, Nick, Tim and Dad.  We wish this happened more too.  As different as they all are in personality and lifestyle (Bermuda, Chicago, Denver & Vegas), they're quite the group when they're all together.  Tim loved every minute of it.  

 

 Chase found an appropriate home for his new Frontier airplane.  

That wraps up Christmas 2013 for the Vogels.  Hope you had a blessed holiday and Happy New Year!