It’s how I measure progress now, amidst the fog. In teeny tiny grains of success. A few weeks ago, I had my ‘first day I got to where I was going without crying all my makeup off’. That was a nice one. Not that it happens every time, but it’s infuriating to wake up crying. To start your day off crying and tell yourself “Suck it up. You’ve got things to do today.” So you take a deep breath and your wash your face and you try to apply just enough makeup to hide a little of the damage. Usually, it looks so bad when you’re done you cry again, have to wash it off, and start over. You finish the best you can, get in the car, and think you’re ready. You can conquer the day. Then you cry all that makeup off and end up a swollen, smeary, splotchy mess by the time you get to where you’re going.

I made it through a church service for the first time in 8 months without getting so upset I had to leave. (I have sat through a few others, sporadically, but cried a rather embarrassing amount. Just because I was sitting in a place that leaving would have caused more of a scene than staying still and crying). Not the good crying, the all ‘I’m so in touch with God’ crying. But unhappy, angry, bitter crying.

That is not how I want to feel in church. I do want to feel in touch with God. Or reflective about myself, what the message means to me, or comforted, or enlightened, or…something.

I didn’t feel any of those today. Not really. But I didn’t feel (too) unhappy or bitter. Mostly, I felt neutral. Like an observer. But that’s better than it was.

I was able to pray some. As I stood there (unmoved) looking over a huge room full of people, most of them completely into the worship that was going on, I started thinking. I figure at least one other person in that room today had to feel how I felt last week. And all the weeks before that. That somewhere in that room, there was a person that was so hurt and broken, so desperate for some comfort or healing or change that they were willing to stand there among other people, alone in a room of many. That they think every week “Surely this week something will be said to change my heart, to change their heart” and leave feeling worse than they came. That they will debate if it’s more embarrassing to sit there and cry as quiet as you can, or to get up and walk out with the tears streaming down their face.

So I prayed for that person. That they might have some comfort from whatever it is they are suffering.

The first (sort of) unselfish thought I’ve been able to have during church in awhile. I didn’t leave feeling worse than when I came in. I made it through.

It’s been two months since I wrote anything on here. I try to keep what I write here positive and uplifting. A chronicle of the great things that are happening with my family, mostly with my kids, who are growing up too fast.

It’s been two months of pretty intense misery. This painful, emotional, crushing, ripping apart of my soul. The six months prior to that had been no cakewalk either.

What do you say when what you have to say isn’t so nice. When it’s all dark and depressing and tiptoes into that ‘airing your dirty laundry on the internet’ space. I guess I say nothing. I’ve written, privately. It’s just not fit for public consumption.

Usually, I end every December with a reflection of the past year. A review of my goals, my resolutions. A hard look at where I need to improve, how I want to be better. The things that were great, that I want to keep doing, and the new things I want to achieve in the new year.

But I don’t want to do that this year. I’ve struggled with it, and wrestled with it, and come to the conclusion that I’m just plain not going to reflect. I’m not going to do it. I’m still in the midst of this pain, I don’t have clear perspective or vision, and I’m just not going to torture myself by dwelling on a past that I can (right now) see no point to. I know there is one, and I’ll see it one day. But January 2012 is not that day.

How do you figure out your goals when you can’t even reflect on what you’ve done? When quite honestly, you can’t even remember much of what’s happened as it’s covered in a fog of pain? When you have no desire to even look up those goals your wrote down a year ago, have no clue what they are, but a vague suspicion that they went to the wayside right about mid-april?

I’m sticking with some very simple ones that are the only things that have been positive for me as of late.

More prayer. I pray a LOT, constantly some days. But for the most part, I get through the days easier when I remember to do it before I get out of bed in the morning. When the first thing I do before I even open my eyes is beg God for help, strength, and clarity.

Send cards. I got one birthday card this year, from some dear friends. They’ve done more for me that that card could ever encompass, but that one card, for a day that felt very less than special, it meant a lot. If it meant that much to me, surely it means something to others. So my goal is to make sure I send cards to family. I do pretty well with the children, but not so good with the adults. I hope to be better at that this year. I may not be able to afford a gift. But I can afford a card.

That’s all. I want to be all positive and loft and make goals about being happy, or happier at the end of last year. But I think I’ll be doing well to make it through alive.

She draws faces on them, she gives them names, she plays with them and talks to them.

And when they pop, she mourns. Like her puppy got run over or her best friend moved away.

She’s not similarly bothered when they get left lying around until their heads are shrunken little sacks with their faces unrecognizable. When I have to cut them apart and throw them away, she’s okay.

But if they pop, she’s devastated. It’s her friend, and she loves it. It was special to her. She cries and cries and is heartbroken, until she is promised a new balloon.

At which time the emotional roller coaster will begin again.

This was Jordan’s 3rd trip.  Celia’s as well, but since she was an infant the first two times she went (8 months and 9 months) then she didn’t remember any of it.

Last time we went in July and then again in August. It was unbearably hot. Especially when you’re carrying around an infant most of the day, trying to keep up with an 8 year old. Stopping only to nurse your hot sweaty infant against your hot sweaty self.

This time, we went in December. We brought some jeans and hoodies thinking that it was Florida, surely that would be enough. We even packed our swimsuits and planned to spend some afternoons in the pool.

And it was COLD. Record-breaking, damp, windy, COLD. We weren’t exactly prepared for it, and since we stayed on Disney property and used Disney transportation (an experience I really do recommend), we couldn’t exactly dash down to Walmart and buy warmer clothes. So we bought some (very spendy) Disney hats and gloves, and extra hoodie for everyone…and wore all of our clothes. Like, we layered almost all of the clothes we packed under our outer clothes and tried our best to keep warm.

Despite the cold, we had a great time!

Someone was always very excited to get to the next fun thing:

It’s a small (and mind numbingly repetitive) world:

Of course, we had to see the big afternoon parade:

I loved the dancer’s hair. I want it. Then it was pointed out to me that they were all wigs and would probably never look that good in real life. A girl can still dream though.

Celia’s favorite part….characters!

Jordan’s favorite part:

They rode lots of rides:

Celia even rode her first roller coaster. She was terrified, but she went on Goofy’s roller coaster, then on Big Thunder Mountain.

I’ve never given up calling her my little Celia Bird, because it just fits her so well.  Light and delicate, beautiful, flitting from one thing to another, chirping out bits and pieces of interesting things.

Lately, I call her that more often.  She has a friend whose dad calls her by a nickname, and Celia noticed.  She SO wanted a special nickname.  I pointed out that she already HAD one, and have made an effort to use it more.

She has many nicknames.  Her friends call her CeCe at school. Some call her just Cec.  That one always cracks me up because it comes out like ‘ceese’ and the double entredre of using it like ‘cease’ when I need her to stop something is hilarious to me.

But more and more she is my little Celia Bird, and she has some hilarious things to say.

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In regards to a strange cat on the porch one morning:

“Let me get my robe on!  I know how to speak cat language.  I’ll go out and ask her to please leave.”

(she did indeed go out and chase the stray cat off, meowing for all she was worth)

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“I’m not a fan of those bears that eat people.”

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“Dad!  You remember that splinter I used to have?  Mom says she thinks it’s not a splinter but a WARP!”

A warp?

“Yeah!  I’ve got a warp on my foot!”

Do you mean wart?

“Yeah.  A warp!”

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She has also spent a lot of time decorating the house.  Yesterday she told me that she was making it ‘all halloweeny’ and that she was ‘spookifying the place’.  She then gave me badges (kitty stickers) that I apparently earned.  One badge was a ‘making it through your daughter decorating for halloween’ and the other was ‘making it through your daughter putting together a Tinkerbell costume’.

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I’m just glad she’s setting the bar low and all I have to do is make it through!

Celia in particular is ALL about the babies.  She loves holding them, and watching them get all their baby stuff.  Diaper changes and baths and naps.  We’re both in agreement that babies are pretty awesome.

(yes, i totally posed that poor baby in a laundry basket for the cuteness of the picture. in my defense, she didn’t seem to mind. such a sweet, easygoing little thing!)

Just look at that squishy baby cuteness!!

(but pardon my bad pictures. i’m no photographer!)

But Allen still ranks up there for most fun for her.  Babies, cute as they are, just can’t play yet.  I was kind of worried that they wouldn’t play well because of the age difference, but from the very second that we set foot in Alabama for our summer visit, Celia and Allen were fast friends.

During his nap, all Celia would say is “Is it time for Allen to get up yet?”.  When Allen got up in the morning, he wanted to know right away where CeCe was.  And they played all day long.

We got to go pick peaches together:

And go to the pool together:

Try to drown grandma together:

(while Jordan was less than enthusiastic about the peach picking, he loved the pool. especially since he could convince uncle craig to jump off really high dives with him. once. he could only convince him to do that once. ditto on the crazy slides)

And we got to experience the Botanical Gardens together:

This is my favorite pic. Celia was furious when she discovered that we would NOT be swimming in the asian water garden. They had other water play exhibits, but this was not one of them:

From the very first day of school, it was all she cared about.  Learning to read, or write, or anything like that…eh, okay.  But she devoted her life to crossing the big monkey bars at recess. She was successful (and managed to learn all that other stuff too) and now when we’re out, she searches out the highest, biggest monkey bars she can find.

Everyone must stop what they are doing and watch her as she crosses.

When she reaches the other side, it’s not enough to drop to the ground. She’s got to slide down the pole too.

Jordan has his own skill set that he’s been working on. Generally, it’s playing xbox, minecraft, or texting. But he has spent a lot of time on his bike this summer, and thinks he’s a total daredevil with no hands on the bike:

That’s his new bike. His first ‘major’ purchase. He took all of his birthday money, shopped around, and found a bike that he likes a lot, and bought it. He also bought himself some biking gloves. To me, that bike looks huge. But he’ll be able to use it for a very long time.

This time, there was no rain, but it was quite a bit colder than we thought it would be when leaving the house, so we weren’t all that appropriately dressed.

The plan was to wear swimsuits and old clothes, and swim, play, and slide in the river.  I changed into my (slightly longer, therefor slightly warmer) shorts about 3 seconds after getting out of the car and found one of Celia’s hoodies to wear (it’s a stretch, but it works in a pinch).

Celia took off what little clothing she had on, once again content to be in her swimsuit no matter the temperature.

She also decided that the swing would be the best place to eat lunch, instead of joining the rest of us at the picnic table.

Audra is a very small park, but the kids hadn’t visited it yet, so I thought this would be a good time.  I learned to swim there, and remembered it being fun.

We set off down the ‘Cave Trail’.  It’s not really a cave, just a neat overhang.  My family was not too fond of it though.

The sign isn’t too comforting to start the trail off:

But the walkway was well kept, if crooked.

We also got to see some neat mushrooms along the trail:

We walked down the trail along the river for a short ways until we found a sunny spot. There really weren’t many people there, so we didn’t have to look far for a nice on the river to ourselves.

Pretty much everyone (except Celia) had decided that there would be no swimming, it was just too cold. Once we got there though, everyone but me decided to go in. They were just going to wade, but I warned them that the rocks are slippery. To wade means you’re probably going to slip and get wet all over.

Jordan wanted to try to scramble up onto the highest rocks. I discouraged that.

Celia decided she’s rather crawl on the slippery rocks than try to walk.

It was REALLY cold.

But they were determined to swim.

We didn’t stay at that spot for long…we discovered that our sunscreen had fallen out of the backpack and decided to retrace our steps until we found it. Somehow, it slipped out while we were on the walkway. Jordan went down and around to get it.

We stopped at another swimming area and they swim until their lips turned blue. I laid on a towel on the sunny rock and read a book. We decided it would be good to come back when it was REALLY hot outside.

It was warm, but overcast as we got ready to leave the house. The weather forecast said less than a 30% chance of rain, so we decided it was worth the risk. As we got closer and closer to the park (and higher up in the mountains) it got more and more dark. By the time we got there, it was all out raining.

We decided to stay at the lower lake (it’s bigger, but for fishing only, no swimming) since it has a pavilion right on it. I figured the kids could fish and play while the moms sat out of the rain.

The first thing we noticed when we stepped out of the car was it was about 10 degrees cooler than anyone had dressed for. About 64.

We all wrapped up in towels (except for Celia, who was very happy to be in her swimsuit, no matter the temperature) and the kids played.

They got muddy (especially Celia). One friend lost a shoe in the mud, and Jordan sank up to his mid-calf rescuing it. The kids were all sure it was ‘quick sand!’ but really, it was just super gross mud.

They fished a little, but didn’t catch anything with either our fake worms or pepperoni (the camp store was closed, so no real bait that day).

They explored the outhouse and decided it was too gross to use….but just gross enough to run up to, peek in the door, and run away screaming.

Then they found the merry go round. I’m not sure why we thought it would be a good idea to let wet, muddy, kids play on a spinning piece of slippery metal, but luckily, no one sustained major injuries.

Not everyone was so fond of the thunder:

And we were freezing, so we only stayed about 2 hours, but it still wasn’t a half bad day.

Because of the extra people. Every day I have at least two (sometimes three or four) extra people following me around. Demanding that I not only keep the whole cooking and cleaning shindig under control, but also that I instantly be able to produce ‘fun’ at the drop of a hat. It starts in the morning, before they are even fully conscious. They’ll crack one eye open, hunt me down, and in voices laden with expectation ask “What are we going to do today???”

Because of the extra food. All the extra people around here consume lots of extra food. When they are in school all day, they can’t drink an entire gallon of orange juice on the sly, before I even get a chance to use a drop of it to make my daily smoothie.

Because it’s hot. Thus begins my daily dance to avoid running the air conditioner. See, we’re those crazy people that don’t have central air. Old home and all that jazz. We do have a massive window unit, for which I’m very grateful when the temps climb above 90. I have a love/hate relationship with it though. I do love to be cool and comfortable. But it’s loud, and silence is more precious than gold to me. I love fresh breezy air, and it pushes out mass quantities very cold, but ‘canned’ smelling air. Also, the very second I turn the thing on, I’m pretty sure I can hear the electric meter laughing at me.

Because of the laundry. All the extra laundry. You would think in a season where one wears LESS clothing than any other, I would have less laundry. This is not the case. One of these extra little people running around has a problem with wanting to wear 14 outfits in one day (interspersed with periods of complete nakedness). Add to that the beach towels and swim suits and blankets for sitting on outside, and the mountain of laundry gets a notation on topographical maps.

Because of the itchiness. I’m super popular in the summertime. It’s a little known fact. Popular with the bugs. They love me. And I tend to get weird rashes, hives, and reactions anyway, so the heat just does lovely things with that. Currently, I have something on my arm that looks like the ursa minor, and a new bite (or hive, or otherwise curious small itchy patch) appears about every hour. At this rate, I’ll be able to teach an astronomy course on my arm by the end of the week.