Happy Valentines Day, everyone!
Love, Peyton
Friday, February 19, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Gingerbread Girl
I got a great amount of joy capturing the delight of my daughter as I chased her around the island in our kitchen a few days ago.
The game goes like this: I sneak up and rush at her from around the corner yelling "BOOOO!" At which point she screams in delight and runs the other way around the island as fast as she can.
I think the game above lasted almost 45 minutes. Yep - my knees were bruised - but so, so worth it. :)
The lower left-hand corner picture is my currently on my desktop. :)
The game goes like this: I sneak up and rush at her from around the corner yelling "BOOOO!" At which point she screams in delight and runs the other way around the island as fast as she can.
I think the game above lasted almost 45 minutes. Yep - my knees were bruised - but so, so worth it. :)
The lower left-hand corner picture is my currently on my desktop. :)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
She's My Child
This morning I was sitting on our living room floor, drinking the last of my coffee while watching speed skating. I gotta say: Peyton was kinda being a nuisance. (I say this in a loving way, though.)
She always wants to try what we have - doing this intense, chin-jut thing that is pretty cute... but then she moves closer, and closer until she's literally 2 inches from your face. Seriously? Oscar was more subtle.
So I thought I'd teach her that grown-up drinks aren't always yummy.
I handed her my pretty much empty mug with the words, "Okay you little mooch. Try this."
I barely held back on the "Bah-ha-ha!!"
She eagerly grabbed my coffee cup and took a swig of my coffee then grimaced.
"Sweet success!" I thought.
The little stinker grinned at me, said, "Ahhhhhh!!!!" and went back for another gulp.
Peyton: 1.
Mommy: 0.
She always wants to try what we have - doing this intense, chin-jut thing that is pretty cute... but then she moves closer, and closer until she's literally 2 inches from your face. Seriously? Oscar was more subtle.
So I thought I'd teach her that grown-up drinks aren't always yummy.
I handed her my pretty much empty mug with the words, "Okay you little mooch. Try this."
I barely held back on the "Bah-ha-ha!!"
She eagerly grabbed my coffee cup and took a swig of my coffee then grimaced.
"Sweet success!" I thought.
The little stinker grinned at me, said, "Ahhhhhh!!!!" and went back for another gulp.
Peyton: 1.
Mommy: 0.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Skiing Collage
Although I have no actual pictures from the hill, I think you can tell from our faces that we had a good time. :)
Friday, January 29, 2010
Ski Pants
Just over two years ago Kurt and I went up to Elk Ridge with Kiley, Jessica and our friends Graham and Chelsea for a couples retreat through their church.
It was a good weekend - but very emotional. We talked a lot about our recent loss and the acuteness of Autumn's death was severe having only buried her 2 months before.
There are only so many things to do in northern Saskatchewan in January: sledding, skating, and hot-tubing, being pretty much the limit. (I do not cross-country ski.) So we packed up the appropriate clothes for the outing when we left for the weekend.
The day we were going to go sledding, I pulled out my ski pants and tried to get them on without much thought. To my dismay, they didn't even go past my thighs.
It wasn't so much the fact that they didn't fit - as much as why they didn't fit. The weight gain, the discomfort, the agony of missing Autumn, and the seeming uselessness of it was more than I could handle. I locked myself in the bathroom and bawled my eyes out. I hated it - my situation, my body which had betrayed me, my weight... Everything was wrong. And there was no escape.
I walked that valley. The memory makes me kinda shiver... I hope I never feel such despair ever again. For this, I tell the Lord my fears, and leave it with Him. That's enough for me today.
But two years have passed, and my husband decided he wanted to go skiing for his 30th birthday (only a week later). He arranged for his parents to come babysit, and he and I are going to go for the day to a local ski hill and just be together. Like a couple. Imagine that! ;)
But skiing requires ski pants. And I haven't tried those suckers on since that day over 2 years ago. I know I've lost a lot of weight - but that feeling of shock and dismay was still pretty clear in my memory - not an easy thing to shake when it's so tied to the emotions of the time period.
So I took a deep breath and pulled them on. They not only fit, but they were lose enough to squat in comfortably. Yay! :)
It's funny how little things can bring it all back, though. I have a feeling the rest of my life will be filled with little nuances like that. A little PTSD of my own, I suppose...
I told someone the other day that the grief has faded from a hurricane - violent and all consuming - to a sun shower. It's still there persistently - but it's gentle - and the sun shines through. Some days the effects of the rain are more obvious - but my sense of joy has become more consistent.
I have peace.
Wow God.
Wow.
That's even better than the ski pants fitting again.
It was a good weekend - but very emotional. We talked a lot about our recent loss and the acuteness of Autumn's death was severe having only buried her 2 months before.
There are only so many things to do in northern Saskatchewan in January: sledding, skating, and hot-tubing, being pretty much the limit. (I do not cross-country ski.) So we packed up the appropriate clothes for the outing when we left for the weekend.
The day we were going to go sledding, I pulled out my ski pants and tried to get them on without much thought. To my dismay, they didn't even go past my thighs.
It wasn't so much the fact that they didn't fit - as much as why they didn't fit. The weight gain, the discomfort, the agony of missing Autumn, and the seeming uselessness of it was more than I could handle. I locked myself in the bathroom and bawled my eyes out. I hated it - my situation, my body which had betrayed me, my weight... Everything was wrong. And there was no escape.
I walked that valley. The memory makes me kinda shiver... I hope I never feel such despair ever again. For this, I tell the Lord my fears, and leave it with Him. That's enough for me today.
But two years have passed, and my husband decided he wanted to go skiing for his 30th birthday (only a week later). He arranged for his parents to come babysit, and he and I are going to go for the day to a local ski hill and just be together. Like a couple. Imagine that! ;)
But skiing requires ski pants. And I haven't tried those suckers on since that day over 2 years ago. I know I've lost a lot of weight - but that feeling of shock and dismay was still pretty clear in my memory - not an easy thing to shake when it's so tied to the emotions of the time period.
So I took a deep breath and pulled them on. They not only fit, but they were lose enough to squat in comfortably. Yay! :)
It's funny how little things can bring it all back, though. I have a feeling the rest of my life will be filled with little nuances like that. A little PTSD of my own, I suppose...
I told someone the other day that the grief has faded from a hurricane - violent and all consuming - to a sun shower. It's still there persistently - but it's gentle - and the sun shines through. Some days the effects of the rain are more obvious - but my sense of joy has become more consistent.
I have peace.
Wow God.
Wow.
That's even better than the ski pants fitting again.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Anticipation
I have to say that reading Julie's updates help make me a little-less queasy about the looooong plane ride we're going to be taking in... um... counting quickly.... 25 days.
I'm not going to Mexico - but all the "warm" shots are making me somewhat excited about going to visit the sun.
Thanks Julie! :)
I'm not going to Mexico - but all the "warm" shots are making me somewhat excited about going to visit the sun.
Thanks Julie! :)
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Dance
My blog-world-friend, Heather, posted this on her blog a few weeks back.
She was contemplating the strange existence of rejoicing while grieving when she wrote it - having had a newborn son after the death of her twin daughters. I was blown away by how well her story describes it, and asked permission to reprint it here.
She granted it. :)
--
I entered the auditorium, eager and ready. My hair was just so, my dress beautiful, my make-up perfect. Anticipation filled me as I walked through the door.
I spotted him across the floor. He was breathtakingly handsome. His suit fit perfectly, his smile was amazing, and although I was too far away to be sure … I just knew his smell would be heavenly. We hadn’t been introduced, but I knew his name, everyone did. He was Happiness – and I was about to dance with him.
As I took my first step onto the floor, a hand grabbed my arm. Alarmed I turned, only to find a complete stranger staring down at me. Not attractive in the least, this man wore soiled clothes and was frightening in his overbearing ways. He forced my hand in his, hissed out his name, and before I could speak, Loss and I were dancing – an awful, macabre version of what I had originally planned.
Loss swung me round and round. At each turn, I frantically looked for Happiness, hoping he would save me from this horrible mistake. I saw him in the distance, always with a multitude of new dance partners … I tried to call out, but found my voice was missing.
Over time, the dance became less frightening. Our moves were more coordinated, and I found that there was a certain familiarity to Loss that I couldn’t discount. I still longed to dance with Happiness, but he seemed unaware of my presence, and Loss, well, at least he was comfortable.
I watched as other girls entered the dance, eyes only for Happiness. Some managed to catch his eye, but others were caught up by others like Loss – Grief and Death among them. Although I knew they didn’t want to dance with their partners any more than me, I found I was able to teach them a few steps, show them how to make the most of this new and unfamiliar dance. Most of all, we were comforted to know that not every girl got Happiness, and were able to share in that together.
Resigned to my dance partner Loss, I was stunned when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned, nearly giddy with excitement to see Happiness offer me his hand. Without a look back, I left Loss alone on the floor.
To my surprise, I found dancing with Happiness was not exactly as I expected. He was wonderful no doubt, but the moves were new, the unfamiliar unsettling. Despite the awkwardness, I nestled into Happiness’s shoulder, drank in his smell, and let him lead me in this new dance. He was everything I had anticipated, and so much more. He overwhelmed me with his mere presence.
Before long, I felt as though Happiness and I had been dancing forever, Loss soundly put in his place. But as we rounded a bend in the dance floor, a familiar face loomed at me from the dark. With no time to resist, Loss claimed me for another dance.
Ever the gentleman, Happiness stepped to the side, unwilling to claim what Loss thought was rightfully his. He whispered in my ear that he wasn’t leaving forever, only gone for a short time. I clung to this as Loss and I again took to the floor.
As Loss led me across the room, I kept my eyes peeled for Happiness, longing for his return. Although familiar, Loss wasn’t any less appealing than when we first met. And I got the sinking feeling that he had been following Happiness and I around, waiting for his chance to reappear.
Thankfully, within minutes, Happiness reappeared. I gratefully let go of Loss, and while his grip was strong, Happiness’s was stronger. Again wrapped in his arms, I let all thoughts of Loss disappear. Happiness whispered, “you’re mine” in my ear.
As I snuggled in, I was dismayed to see a familiar figure lurking behind my hero. A deep sigh escaped me as I realized that while Happiness had claimed me as his own, Loss would never disappear. And as a gentleman, Happiness would let him have a dance – occasionally yes, but a dance none the less.
And I then knew, us three – myself, Loss and Happiness – we would forever be locked in our strange, three-way dance.
--
I think what struck me most was the part about loss becoming familiar - not appealing at all - but almost comfortable.
I have learned - and am continuing to learn - to live with the permanent loss of my firstborn child. I no longer try to escape the grief when it comes... but settle in and dance until Happiness finds me again.
I know there are a lot of other women out there who can relate to this story as well. I hope it blesses you like it did for me.
Thank you so, so much Heather. :)
She was contemplating the strange existence of rejoicing while grieving when she wrote it - having had a newborn son after the death of her twin daughters. I was blown away by how well her story describes it, and asked permission to reprint it here.
She granted it. :)
--
I entered the auditorium, eager and ready. My hair was just so, my dress beautiful, my make-up perfect. Anticipation filled me as I walked through the door.
I spotted him across the floor. He was breathtakingly handsome. His suit fit perfectly, his smile was amazing, and although I was too far away to be sure … I just knew his smell would be heavenly. We hadn’t been introduced, but I knew his name, everyone did. He was Happiness – and I was about to dance with him.
As I took my first step onto the floor, a hand grabbed my arm. Alarmed I turned, only to find a complete stranger staring down at me. Not attractive in the least, this man wore soiled clothes and was frightening in his overbearing ways. He forced my hand in his, hissed out his name, and before I could speak, Loss and I were dancing – an awful, macabre version of what I had originally planned.
Loss swung me round and round. At each turn, I frantically looked for Happiness, hoping he would save me from this horrible mistake. I saw him in the distance, always with a multitude of new dance partners … I tried to call out, but found my voice was missing.
Over time, the dance became less frightening. Our moves were more coordinated, and I found that there was a certain familiarity to Loss that I couldn’t discount. I still longed to dance with Happiness, but he seemed unaware of my presence, and Loss, well, at least he was comfortable.
I watched as other girls entered the dance, eyes only for Happiness. Some managed to catch his eye, but others were caught up by others like Loss – Grief and Death among them. Although I knew they didn’t want to dance with their partners any more than me, I found I was able to teach them a few steps, show them how to make the most of this new and unfamiliar dance. Most of all, we were comforted to know that not every girl got Happiness, and were able to share in that together.
Resigned to my dance partner Loss, I was stunned when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned, nearly giddy with excitement to see Happiness offer me his hand. Without a look back, I left Loss alone on the floor.
To my surprise, I found dancing with Happiness was not exactly as I expected. He was wonderful no doubt, but the moves were new, the unfamiliar unsettling. Despite the awkwardness, I nestled into Happiness’s shoulder, drank in his smell, and let him lead me in this new dance. He was everything I had anticipated, and so much more. He overwhelmed me with his mere presence.
Before long, I felt as though Happiness and I had been dancing forever, Loss soundly put in his place. But as we rounded a bend in the dance floor, a familiar face loomed at me from the dark. With no time to resist, Loss claimed me for another dance.
Ever the gentleman, Happiness stepped to the side, unwilling to claim what Loss thought was rightfully his. He whispered in my ear that he wasn’t leaving forever, only gone for a short time. I clung to this as Loss and I again took to the floor.
As Loss led me across the room, I kept my eyes peeled for Happiness, longing for his return. Although familiar, Loss wasn’t any less appealing than when we first met. And I got the sinking feeling that he had been following Happiness and I around, waiting for his chance to reappear.
Thankfully, within minutes, Happiness reappeared. I gratefully let go of Loss, and while his grip was strong, Happiness’s was stronger. Again wrapped in his arms, I let all thoughts of Loss disappear. Happiness whispered, “you’re mine” in my ear.
As I snuggled in, I was dismayed to see a familiar figure lurking behind my hero. A deep sigh escaped me as I realized that while Happiness had claimed me as his own, Loss would never disappear. And as a gentleman, Happiness would let him have a dance – occasionally yes, but a dance none the less.
And I then knew, us three – myself, Loss and Happiness – we would forever be locked in our strange, three-way dance.
--
I think what struck me most was the part about loss becoming familiar - not appealing at all - but almost comfortable.
I have learned - and am continuing to learn - to live with the permanent loss of my firstborn child. I no longer try to escape the grief when it comes... but settle in and dance until Happiness finds me again.
I know there are a lot of other women out there who can relate to this story as well. I hope it blesses you like it did for me.
Thank you so, so much Heather. :)
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