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Six Flags

Over the weekend we went to Six Flags Over Texas. My in-laws got us season passes for Christmas last year, which, as it turns out, has turned out to be one of the best presents we've ever received.

Six Flags provides hours of entertainment, not just from the obvious rides and attractions, but the people watching couldn't be better. On our last visit we witnessed a group of about six teenage girls wearing matching sequined tops, cut off denim shorts, and white fur eskimo boots. It was 84 degrees that day. A much older creepy-uncle type man was standing with his dangerously young girlfriend at the airbrush t-shirt stand having a shirt made that said "I'm with douchebag."

I kid you not. These occurrences happened so frequently that day I had to wonder if we missed some sort of theme day.

Well, this weekend my father-in-law and his wife Cheryl came along with us to Six Flags. It was a nice day for them to spend with the kids. Since our kids are so young there are only about 10 or so rides for them. Nolan can ride a few more than that, but they are a bit bigger. Leah is still too short for most everything outside of the kids area and she's pretty hesitant to get on most of them anyway. She usually clings to my hip tightly and pulls herself away. On this day we were walking through the kids area and waiting in line for Nolan to get on one of his favorites, which is basically a smaller version of the Superman ride. If you aren't familiar, it raises you up and them drops you (slowly) at different increments. Nolan loves it. He giggles the whole way up and down.

I guess Leah was feeling particularly adventurous that day and she started to get upset that she couldn't get on this ride. She wiggled away from me and I tried to explain that she wasn't big enough yet but that we could ride something else. I pointed at the next closest ride which was a small version of the swings that goes around and around. It looked like a fairly harmless ride with no height requirement. To my surprise, in what has to be her first act of rebellion, she said yes. She nodded her head smuggly and we walked over to the ride and immediately on. I strapped her in and waited outside the gate.

She laughed with confidence as if to say, "I am going to ride the heck out of the swing and show you."

The operator turned the knob and the ride started going. Her tiny legs kicked back and forth and she cocked her head back with an easy laugh when suddenly her face changed and a look of panic/regret washed over her. The ride was getting faster and her expression quickly melted into terror. She cried for a good 3/4 of the 30 seconds she was on the swing. We cheered for her anyway. And she also didn't leave my arms for the rest of the day.

Nolan went on everything he was big enough for that day. His favorites were the roller coasters. Over the past few weeks it's been amazing watching him grow more and more comfortable with new rides and experiences. He's always been my cautious child. He approaches new things with a sense of apprehension and wants to assess his surroundings before jumping in. I never have to worry about him climbing on furniture or running off from me and getting lost in the store because he's too scared to do it. He likes routine. I spent hours a week talking him into wearing a different pair of shoes or trying to get him to watch a different move that's not E.T.

I waited in line with him for the mini mine train, one of the roller coasters that he can ride. I was prepared to hold onto him and coax him into looking up from the track as I had done before. I ran the scenario through my mind as we stepped forward through the line. We got to sit in the front of the train, so there wasn't another person in front of us to block the view of what was coming ahead. As soon as we buckled in the first thing Nolan did was shoot his hands in the air over his head. People were still getting seated so it was probably a good 3-5 minutes before we were even ready to go. I looked over at him and he had the biggest smile on his face. I'm not sure where he learned to put his hands up, or even why people do that. But he was excited and didn't have a care in the world. He absolutely glowed with happiness. My heart was so full at that moment.

So what does a parent do? I raised both of my hands up as high as I could too. As we cornered each turn and rounded the twists and dives I could only hear one thing and that was the sound of his giggle over the rumble of the ride and the noise of the park. When the ride ended he looked over at me and beamed with a smile from ear to ear. I am sure my face matched his.

This wasn't just a ride for me. It was the turning point on a much larger journey of parenthood. It was watching my child break through his limitations and the proof that he is capable of so much more than what he and I thought possible.

What's Happening, Yo?

Sometimes my phone is the best diary of my life. Herein case, an exhibit and commentary on the suburban life of a 20-something mom.

Tiny fingers make for most excellent hand holding.

DIY advent calendar, Christmas in full effect!

City sidewalks dressed in holiday style. (? I might have made those lyrics up)

Must. resist. biting. toes.

Sleep cuddles are my favorite.

I love his smile. It's gotta be worth millions... at least, a few million kisses.

Won't let go.

Shadow.

"Look mommy, Leah has tattoos just like you."

Getting crafty, well, as crafty as a type-A clean freak will get.

Socks on her hands... seems legit.

Boot weather!

Us on YHL. Famous... for like a second.

Word, J. Adler.

Stinker... Literally, he kind of stunk. I gave him a bath.

Dear Self

Dear self,

Remember that time in 11^th grade after school at that study session for math in that small classroom with just the teacher and a few other students? Remember when you were working through a problem and you could hear those two underclassmen girls whispering and one of them said your name and you had never met them before?

Remember how the teacher asked them if they needed something, and the girl said that you didn’t like them, which was funny because you didn’t even know the girls. That sure felt uneasy and isolating after that. And then you had to sit through the awful awkward silence in the room. They left before you did, which you were thankful for but you still don’t know why those girls said you didn’t like them or why they thought that you didn’t.

You’ve said it before on this blog that you’re a pretty private person. Sure, you like to crack jokes and can be loud sometimes (which most people seem to find charming), but when it comes to the personal stuff, you keep it to yourself. You’re also insecure, to a fault. You want people to like you. You like approval.

This makes it hard for you to make friends. Recently someone did something to you that hurt real bad. Whether they intended to or not, it made you super self-conscious and upset because they don’t like you. You guys have tons of mutual friends, online and in real life, and they made a conscious effort to cut you out. To be even more swell, the way it was brought to your attention must have cut even deeper. Ouch. You felt just as insecure and isolated as you did sitting in that classroom at LDHS. That pit in your stomach hasn’t stopped aching for like three weeks now. Geez.

The fact is, you need to get over yourself. In the grand scheme of things you have to ask yourself, “Does this really matter?” You know that you are not for everyone. Come’on, you crack crass jokes and have the maturity of a twelve year old! My goodness, you love dirty rap music and eating carbs in your underwear. People might have a hard time getting on board with that crazy train.

The old Stefanie would have cut them off and ran… or chased them like a puppy dog trying to convince them to please like you. They don’t matter. People will fail you. But the hard truth is, that not everyone is going to like you, but those that do matter do like you. So quit beating yourself up about these haterz.

“Haterz gonna hate.”

You can get caught up in thinking about how loved and appreciated everyone else seems to be. It’s easy to fall down that self-loathing rabbit hole and get lost. (It’s pretty familiar to you, isn’t it?) Just. Don’t. Besides, look at you, you are pretty amazing. You also have two littles that you need to think about modeling your behavior after. They don’t need to see you drawing horns on their heads, so you can quit daydreaming about that. You do need to teach them that it’s okay to be yourself. It’s okay to not be everyone’s favorite. It’s okay to love the shit out of whatever you want to and anybody that doesn’t approve can miss out on the party. Be fantastically authentic. Be you. Be awesome. 

Hugs and kisses,

Me

Different

You know, for a married couple Brian and I actually don’t share that much in common. That sure makes for interesting observations from people.

I’m short, he’s tall.

He’s skinny, I’m…. well, not.

I’m dramatic, he’s practical.

I’m loud, he’s reserved.

I like to buy pretty things, he likes to save each extra penny.

I’m quick to anger, and he’s rational down to his very core.

I’m a dreamer, he’s a realist.

He doesn’t bat an eye when I talk about moving to a farm in the country, or get a hare-brained idea to paint the bathroom at 11 p.m.

But for two people so drastically different, we share one thing and that’s our love.

Sure, our marriage has taken a beating. When times are tough and it feels like the whole world is against us, we know that no matter what we’ll be okay as long as we have each other.

We’ve stood through job loss, death, sickness, financial hardship, and so much that was designed to destroy us, but we’re closer and stronger than ever before.

Being married to someone who battles depression can’t be easy. There are man times that I felt like I was floating out in deeper darker waters by myself only to be rescued by Brian. He’s my rock. He’s pulled me up when it felt like I was being swallowed by the deep darkness.

As the year closes, I’m thankful for my marriage. I’m thankful that I get to spend every single day with my very best friend. I’m thankful that my marriage gives me something to fight for and a reason to push back the suffocating darkness of depression. I’m thankful that we are so different.

I am thankful for this life.

Meeting Young House Love

The alternate title of this post could also be "Only Crazy People Take Children to a Book Signing," but I don't want to exaggerate the story. We had a great time meeting our favorite bloggers and fellow DIY enthusiasts, John and Sherry, at the Dallas West Elm for their book signing event.

We woke up early for a Saturday and hurried to get ourselves over to the store. My plan had been to leave by 8:30 to make the "30 minute" drive, because it always takes about 30 minutes to get to Dallas. Every time we go to Dallas it takes 30 MINUTES. Well, of course, that did not happen. We sat for 2.5 hours in traffic on a shut-down highway 635. Two kids don't do well sitting in a stopped car. There was lots of crying and screaming and that's just what was coming from the driver's seat. :)

Finally we made to West Elm to find a line wrapped around the building and lining the service road. The weather was nice though, and we took our spot at around 11:00 which was right when the signing was supposed to begin. Since we were standing right next to the road it was LOTS of fun wrangling kids away from the street. I pulled out every distraction possible. We sang, we danced... we cried a little bit more. Ha ha.

 In-line after about 45 minutes. Cookies being delivered! 

We had a good time though. The kids kept other people in line entertained. We talked to the people around us and met some people who just live down the street from us. Nice to get to know our neighbors! We exchanged information and agreed that we'd have to house crash each other for inspiration. 

Leah playing her role of "drunk baby."

  Don't they look sweet here? Another distraction. 

  Excuse the blurry photo. You can see someone's tiny hand grabbing for the adorable and absolutely delicious cookies that they handed out to everyone. 

Playing with new friends through the West Elm windows and only mildly annoying others. Win!

Finally, around 1:30 we got to the front of the line and it was our turn. I had this insane adorable idea to dress the kids in their Lowes and Home Depot kids aprons since we do everything as a family, including DIY and decorating projects. Our kids are always with us. I hope that they have many fond memories of growing up, including all of the awesome crazy adventures we have together like meeting John and Sherry, and painting furniture, or building shelves. We pride ourselves on raising future DIY junkies. 

John and Sherry were so sweet and nice, even to the cranky children and crazy parents who brought them. I brought along a little sign that I made to show our love and representation of Richmond since we share our hometown in common. I made a 3"x5" copy of it for them to sign so we could hang it on our gallery wall. It makes me smile every time to walk by it. 

It was a long but SUPER fun morning. Needless to say, the car ride home was a lot more enjoyable. 

Worth it.

TIMBER

 They greet me at the door every single day with bright smiles and sticky fingers. One right after the other, tiny arms grab my legs and I sweep each of them up in my arms to kiss them gently on the cheek. Leah squeezes her legs tighter around my waist as Nolan slides down my side.

I blow a kiss to Brian who’s standing in the kitchen working on dinner and then race off to the bedroom with the children right behind me. They explode with giggles as we crash on top of my unmade bed. Nolan pulls himself on top of the yellow comforter and I grab Leah who’s anxious to join us.

I tickle each bare belly and they laugh and laugh and laugh. I watch the crinkle of their noses and the beautiful way the lamp light shines through their blonde hair. We take turns crashing into the covers and yelling “TIMBER!!!!” It’s so silly, yet so fun, well, for the four and under crowd.

I laid down for a second and sank deeper into the mattress with every bounce when a little hand grabbed me shirt and yanks it higher. Not long after I was met with a cold wet raspberry on my exposed stomach. I couldn’t help but laugh. A finger traced the now faint silver lines on my abdomen, forever imperfect marks left from pregnancy. Then again, a second wet raspberry higher other side from the other child. In an overdramatic show I wiggled around in the messy sheets and hugged my children tightly. And again the room filled with laughter.

My body isn’t perfect, but it made these two amazing people.

I am not perfect. I am not home enough, I lose my temper, I don’t cook or clean enough, and I can’t always be there to protect them. I am not always the mom I want to be. But to them, I am perfect. 

 

Homemade Holiday Week 1: Magic Custard Pie

Not too long ago I was flipping through my copy of Real Simple magazine when I came across an article about holiday pies. I studied the pages and read over each recipe. There is something wonderful about holiday desserts, especially pie. Pie just isn’t something that you make just because. No sir, leave that to cookies and cakes. Pie is special.

I’m not a great baker, though. I can make a decent “homemade” apple pie, complete with store-bought crust. I’ve made a total of maybe three pies, in my whole life. But as our family gets bigger and older, I wanted to start certain traditions to enjoy each year. Both Brian and I had lots of traditions growing up and we both treasure those memories. And I do love to eat, so the idea to make one pie a week during the holiday season (November – December) was born! That’s EIGHT different pies.

I dog-eared the article and tucked away my Real Simple magazine and went off to find a nice pie recipe to start with. I figured I should start with something easy that I couldn’t foul up too terribly. I have a Pinterest board that’s dedicated to food, like, legit food I want to get in my belly, so I started there. I found this easy recipe for Custard Pie, and it looked easy enough and definitely delicious. I love custard-based desserts, they are not too sweet, but just perfect.

Sunday was a busy day, but I gathered up my supplies and mixed them according to the directions (*my “blender” was really a magic bullet, which worked fine!). It smelled yummy, and I only briefly panicked that it would end up a runny mess before I popped it in the oven.

About 70 minutes later I pulled her out steaming with the most glorious sweet milky scent waiffing off to golden crust. I set her on the kitchen counter to cool and then moved her to the fridge for about an hour longer.

After a quick dinner I couldn’t wait to dig in. My knife sliced through the light filling and cut right through to the glass dish. I wedged a piece out of the pie plate and served myself with a cup of hot chai tea.

The first bite absolutely melted in my mouth. The top was slightly firm, and the crust was just right. It reminded me of a Sunday afternoon. Like a dessert you’d have after a big southern comfort feast with family. In fact, if I could rename this recipe, it would be called Sunday Afternoon Custard Pie, or maybe Absofreakinglutelyamazing Custard Pie. It’s a toss up.

I called Brian over for him to try my first creation and he gobbled up a giant slice of his own. I’d definitely call it a win! I read that you can add a few more ingredients and the recipe makes a great bread pudding, my favorite dessert! I’ll try that soon too.

A day later, I find myself craving that pie as I sit at my work desk. I’m pretty proud of myself for trying something new and it boosted my confidence to attempt a more complex recipe next week. I’ve narrowed it down to a few choices. I only wish that we had more people to share the pie with. I guess now is a great time to start getting to know the neighbors.

Ending

I dropped the kids off for their last day of preschool at Twin Oaks. The excitement in their voices as we walked inside was the same as it always was. We said hello to their teachers and I signed my initials next to each of their names on the roster. I didn’t look them in the eye for fear that the tears would come. I dropped their bags in their classrooms and glanced around at the tiny gray tables, multi-colored miniature chairs, and the folders with their names each carefully marked. We have really great memories here.

It’s hard being a working mom. It’s hard to leave every day for an office when someone else is caring for your children. You learn to trust them though, like family, with your most precious possessions. My kids thrived at their preschool. Leah learned to talk in sentences, Nolan writes his name and quotes bible verses. They LOVE their school. They love their teachers.

My heart breaks for my kids, but it also hurts for the staff at the school. It’s not their fault that the school is closing, and they have so much love for the children that I can’t imagine this being any easier on them. Pictures come in daily recounting the adventures of the kid’s day with the staff. The kids will miss them. I will miss them, too.

Through so much uncertainty, I’ve been confident that our family would weather the storm and come out in the end just fine. Most recently we rejoiced in Brian’s new job, and celebrated what we thought was a change in the tide that would be, for lack of a better word, easier. But this chapter of change and uneasiness wasn’t quite over and I would be lying if I said that my mind is totally at ease that we can shelve that chapter for good. I don’t know. I know our dear friends at preschool will be missed. We wish them well, and will always look back fondly on the memories we made here.

 Our past brought us to here, so we must be thankful for the hardship, the pain, the struggles we had. But I know that we’ll be just fine.

We’re all going to be just fine.

Seasons

 The air has cooled in that way Texas does all crisp-y and suddenly. Yesterday it was 86 and today it’s 56, but that’s just how seasons do in these parts, abruptly and pretty much without notice.

I took a walk yesterday with my boy and we kicked through the few yellowed maple leaves that had decorated the sidewalk. The temperatures actually started dropping yesterday, and I caught myself getting giddy about the summer season ending. I thought about how much of this past six months has been one giant season of life change for our little family and here we are at a literal change of seasons.

Seasons come and seasons go, and life keeps on going. And you know what? Normally, I couldn’t be more thankful for that. Usually I have an incredibly short attention span, ready to jump to the next thing and leave behind the old. I have grand dreams of picking up and moving somewhere new just because a place gets familiar, and I shun familiarity. I would crave change, not wanting to get too close or comfortable. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I’m finally growing up, but after the past six months, I’m ready for things to stay the same for a little while. Perhaps that season of life is over.

Brian and I both changed jobs multiple times, our kids changed schools, family was sick or in need, our financial situation changed, we found ourselves in and out of uncertainty, and we experienced pretty much every. single. emotion. (So many emotions!) We fought, every single day, together to make it through. We were tested. We were tempted. We struggled. We were completely broken. We resolved to make it work. It wasn’t easy. But through this season of change God has been there with us and I’m confident in saying that He’s the one that delivered us through those very rough times.

(Even as I write this, Matt Redman’s song “Never Once” is playing, the lyrics “Never once did I ever walk alone.” Just perfect.)

Looking back, I’m thankful for those changes for getting us to where we are today. And I’m hopeful for this next season and what could be in store for the Ritz crew. We’re going to bundle up though, never know what the adventure will lead us through.  

Growing Up

I turn the big 3-0 in less than six months. It should be no surprise that I love my birthday, it's the celebration of my most favorite thing in the whole wide world... me!

I think 30 is going to be awesome, at least all of my friends who have already entered that stage of life seem to agree that it definitely kicks 20's ass and I had some pretty good times in my 20's, especially my late 20's. I really think that I'm one of those people that gets better with age, like I'm growing into my personality. Or maybe I just care a whole lot less than I used to, who knows.

I feel like life is getting better. I worked a whole lot through college, met cool people, met some not so cool people, and then rushed to graduate right before marriage. Then finding a job, then getting pregnant, building a house, more jobs, being financially broke, losing people we love, and then having a second kid, being a little less financially broke, and finally starting to get our shit together. That's pretty much makes up a nine year marathon from age 20-29.

It's nice to be on this side. Secure in myself, finding friends that I actually like, raising children, being married for longer than not, having people like me for me, and not really giving a damn about those who don't. I guess I'm just saying that my 29 year old self could make a really awesome "It Gets Better" video for my sixteen year old self. I never knew that watching my two babies sleeping could ever bring me more joy than a shopping spree at Nordstrom or a few bottles of wine.

That is the best.

Oh, and I'm still learning things! Just a few weeks ago I cooked using the outside grill for the first time. That's a very big thing. My husband keeps trying to teach me how to mow the lawn. No way, sir. Not going to happen. I can't be all that independent yet, but who knows once I turn 30!

I still have a few things left on my 30 under 30 list that I really need to take care of, including learning how to surf, get sewing lessons, a random acts of kindness day, and decorate a fancy cake.

I intend to squeeze every bit of goodness left of my 20's and I hope you'll stay along for the ride.

Have a little faith

Wow, the last month has been a tumultuous time for us. To recap, we went on a super nice vacation to California where we spent time at the beach, played at Disneyland, ventured through Yosemite, explored San Francisco, and discovered the amazing views along the coast.

Then we came home and I lost my job two days later.

That sucked. But as much as it sucked, it was a blessing. I hated that job. If ever there was a place that sucked the very life from its employees, it would be there. The timing, obviously, wasn't great. But even among the emotional distress, I never once panicked that we would not survive. Even through the tears, failing never was an option.

God has impeccable timing. I was unemployed for a total of two days. In those two days I was able to resolve a lot in my heart, including my desires. I realized that as much as I would LOVE to stay home with my children full time, I am able to bring so much more to our family by working. My children are thriving in the preschool program they are in, and God has given me peace with that.

The timing allowed for me to take three weeks off from working. It was the most glorious three weeks of my life. I had been running on steam for the longest time with less and less sleep and more and more stress, it was so nice to just breathe. I slept, watched television in the middle of the day, sat on the couch and ate as much ice cream in my underwear as I wanted, and did whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted. I needed that "me" time.

Our family went away to visit my parents for six glorious days in Virginia. We did so much. We loved so much.

I am thankful that I lost my job. I am thankful for my faith in God that pulled me out of the dark times, and there were definitely dark times. My mind is so capable of the very ugly, ugly, ugly. I am thankful for the friends who texted inspiration and kind words when I needed it, laughed with me, and celebrated with me. I am thankful for my husband who stood by me and encouraged me and who loves me.

I am thankful for my new job that I started this week. I am happy. AND I'm so thankful for that.

one, two, three, FOUR!

My first born turned FOUR yesterday. The amusement and joy of watching a child grow into their own person is the most amazing and awesome experience of a lifetime. In four short years, this kid has completely captivated my heart and consumes my soul with love.
WOW, four.
Here's the obligatory "mom blogger" info:
Height: 37.5"
Weight: 28lbs.
Likes: Nutella sandwiches, cars, airplanes, "daddy's cars" (a.k.a. Ford Mustangs), playing outside, splashing at the pool and splash parks, fruit snacks, ice cream sandwiches, taking walks in our neighborhood, play hide and seek.
Dislikes: Getting dirty, sitting still, washing his hair.
Favorite food: Nutella sandwiches
Favorite movie: Cars 2
Favorite toy: "daddy's car"
Best buddies: Chris, Grayson, Chase, Leah.

Dear Nolan,

Happy birthday, buddy! Mommy and daddy are so proud of you and love you with our whole heart for your whole life. Your presence in our house is a blessing, and it's an honor to parent you. You light up a room whenever you enter. Everyone talks about how friendly you are, always saying "hi" and smiling. Those big brown eyes welcome strangers and friends wherever you go.
You definitely have your own personality, and are very determined to do things on your terms. (I don't know where you could have possibly gotten that from!) You like what you like and you do what you want without apologizing for it. I love your confidence! I pray that you'll always listen to yourself and do what is right, so obey your mama now. :)
Getting you to do what I need you to do is sometimes a challenge, like sitting down for dinner. I still can't believe a child of mine can refuse to eat! But then again, you did wake up yesterday morning and asked where your presents were. That pretty much erased any doubt I might have had.
You're in preschool now! You can count and spell, and quote memory versus and your little mind amazes me. You love your sister, always giving her hugs, and sometimes I even catch you sharing your toys with her! I hope that friendship never fades you two always remain close.
Mommy and daddy are very excited what this year has in store for us as we get ready for KINDERGARTEN. Oh my, heart!
I love more than words can say.
xoxo,
Mama