ka-boom

This was a wedding present. One of my favorites, actually. It’s one of those casserole carrier things that can keep a hot dish hot (or cold) on the way to a potluck. I’ve used it more times than I can count.

Last week, I was rushing around, getting ready for our MOPS meeting, and I heard a pop.

More like an explosion.

It was the microwave insert for my casserole carrier. I was heating it up to keep my egg bake warm, and then, POOF.



The toddler was impressed. “LOUD!”

What does it mean when a gift you got for your wedding explodes? It has been almost twelve years, but still.

Thankfully, our marriage is in better shape than some of the gifts.

the one where I talk about sex

Cameras were everywhere on that first day of school. Parents hovered like the paparazzi, snapping photos and waving. And when the kids went in, the crowd dissolved into a mixture of tears and happy dances.

(I was one of the Moms doing a happy dance, by the way.)

As we walked home, I chatted with neighbor, who had taken the day off work to commemorate the day. Her husband is a stay-at-home Dad.

“What will you do with your day?” I asked. Both of her kids were in school all day for the first time.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said.

“You can go to lunch! You can take a nap! You can have loud sex during the day!” I joked.

“Now why would we want to do that?” She asked, as if I had suggested pulling her toenails out one at a time.

To keep romance alive. Because your husband looks good to a lot of bored housewives on this playground. Because you can. I think all of these things as we part ways.

In our sex-saturated culture, it seems that married sex is an oxymoron.

Chrysalis is hosting a conversation today on Marriage and Romance.

After eleven years of marriage, I’ve got a few things to say about romance and how it evolves and changes over the years, especially when children come along. But I’ll keep my advice short and sweet: one way to keep romance alive in your marriage is to have more sex.

(This is the part of my blog where I try to forget that my dad reads it. And my grandpa.)

But really. Next time your husband winks at you across the dinner table, don’t roll your eyes. Wink back. Marriage is not meant to be a miserable endeavor. Flirt. Have fun. Have sex. And see if the romance meter in your home rises.

Rule #297

If you're married to a photographer, always wear clothes that match. Always.

happy father's day

“Mom?” my child whispers into the too-early morning. I was up with him at two, and between a headache and way too many deep thoughts, couldn’t fall back asleep until four. I roll over and wake my husband.

“Can you help him?” I ask.

He climbs out of bed without complaint, and then it hits me.

“It’s Father’s Day. I just woke you up at five-thirty in the morning on father’s day so I could sleep in.”

“It’s okay, honey.” He tiptoes out of the room, closing our bedroom door behind him so I can go back to sleep.

This is just one of about two thousand reasons why he is such a great husband and father. Happy Father’s Day, honey!

And if you need a nap later today? I’m on it.

q-tips and marriage

A few days ago I was driving to the gym when my ear started feeling itchy, so I scratched it. Imagine my surprise when a huge glob of ear wax came out. And I do mean huge. (I sincerely apologize if you’re trying to eat lunch and read this at the same time.)

This got me thinking about my marriage. (I know, I am just romantic that way.)

Over the past few weeks, almost every time we get in the van to drive somewhere, Llama Papa and I end up frustrated with each other. For instance, Llama Papa says, “What do you think we should do for Spring break this year?”

“What?” I ask.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD DO FOR SPRING BREAK THIS YEAR?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

And I say, “What? What were you going to say? You never talk to me. Why don’t you ever talk to me?”

“I do talk to you, but you don’t listen.”

“I’m listening. Tell me!”

“What do you want to do for Spring break this year?”

“Would you please stop mumbling? I can’t understand you when you mumble.”

“Oh, never mind!”

I’m sure nobody reading this can relate.

Honestly, until a few days ago I chalked the whole thing up to Bad Communication in Marriage and started to wonder if maybe we needed some marriage counseling.

I am really good at being right. But like everyone else, I don’t know what I don’t know. I need to keep in mind that things are not always as they appear.

Sometimes we need marriage counseling. Other times, we just need a box of q-tips.

questions

Why does the barfing always start in the middle of the night?

It was eleven o’clock and Llama Papa and I had just settled into bed when we heard baby b. crying. Llama Papa jumped out of bed, “He doesn’t sound right,” he said.

And he wasn’t.

Which brings me to my next question: When we’re dating, why do we spend so much time going out for dinner and the movies? Why don’t we care for barfy children instead? Because, honestly, I can’t think of the last time Llama Papa and I went out for dinner by ourselves. But barfing kids? We’ve done that on a fairly consistent basis.

We dated for three years and asked each other important questions in the process. Neither of us took marriage lightly, and in many ways, we went in with our eyes wide open.

I expected to make sacrifices in marriage, I really did. But self-sacrifice is so much easier in theory, isn’t it? How can any of us know how we’ll handle barfing kids in the middle of the night? How can we predict life with little sleep, and the enormous grace that will be required in order to simply survive, much less, survive without being crabby at the people we love most?

When I think back to our courtship, I’m grateful for all of the fun memories we made. When we married, I knew Llama Papa well enough to know he was, and is, a man of integrity and godly character. What I didn’t know was that he was also a man willing to get up in the middle of the night and wash vomity sheets and rock a barfy baby.

And that, my friends, is what it’s all about.

the travel thing - WFMW

“How do you do it?”

I used to get asked this a lot. With three young children and a husband who constantly traveled, my tongue in cheek answer was, “Not very well.”

My husband no longer travels for work, but he was recently in Siberia for two weeks. He’s home again, thank the Lord, and we all survived just fine.

Here are a few survival tips:

Plan ahead. Make sure you take some time for yourself before your husband leaves. See a movie, go to Starbucks, whatever floats your boat. Schedule playdates for the kids. Trade babysitting with another Mom or hire a sitter once in awhile, for your own sanity. Making meatloaf? Lasagna? Sloppy Joes? Make extra and throw it in the freezer. You’ll have plenty of options for no-cook meals that don’t involve frozen pizza. (I’m not above serving my children frozen food once in awhile, but on an ongoing basis, it’s not good for anyone!)

Eat out. If you like to eat out and it’s not a stress on your family budget, do it. One of the things we found in the midst of our “travel days” was that my husband would come home tired after a long week, longing for a home-cooked meal and time with his family. On the other hand, I would be desperate to get out. Making sure we eat out a few times while he’s gone is a simple fix to this problem.

Stick to the routine. If your kids normally go to bed at seven, don’t keep them up until eight. Keep it simple and consistent.

Ask for help. If a friend calls and says, “Is there anything I can do to help?” say yes! Ask her to watch your kids for an hour or invite yourself over for dinner. At my house, dinnertime is the hardest time to be on my own. Often, we’ve been in the house together all afternoon, and sitting down at the table in the evening feels lonely. So call a friend! Find another Mom on her own for the dinner hour and invite her over for frozen pizza. And don’t clean up. Please, just leave all those toys right where they are. It will be a gift to her to know she is not alone.

Keep it positive. Don’t fall into the trap of self pity. Whether your husband is away on business or pleasure, own it yourself. I meet a lot of bitter, resentful Moms. I was one of them for awhile. Sit down with your spouse and negotiate. Rather than feel victimized, own the decisions you make together. If he travels constantly for work, let him know you need breaks and get them on the calendar. He can’t read your mind; you need to tell him exactly what you need. Looking at your calendar and seeing dates marked off for a weekend away or lunch with a friend can go a long way toward having a positive attitude.

Have fun. Sit down with your kids and play as much as you can. Remember those days before having kids when you thought about what it would be like to be a Mom? You didn’t think about the laundry and mopping the floor and vacuuming up goldfish, did you? I know I didn’t. Ignore the crunchy floor and sit down and play for awhile. Laugh a lot. It’s good for everybody.

Find support. Sometimes things fall apart. For this trip, I was doing fine until day ten. It all fell apart on day ten. Fortunately, we were already planning to go to Grandma’s house for supper. I dropped the kids off and left for awhile, then came back ready for round 2. If you need a break, find one. Don’t fall into the trap of yelling at your kids or overeating or drinking after everyone is in bed. Really. Lean into the support you have, create it if you don’t have it, and find a better way. There is a better way.

Does this post sound preachy? I’m not usually so preachy. If you need help finding support, please leave a comment or email me. I’ve been there.

For more tips, go to Rocks in my Dryer.

gearing up

The Llama Papa is getting ready for a trip to Russia. Siberia, to be exact. He’s going with the Slavic Gospel Association to work on this project. Now, you’re probably wondering why my husband would choose to go to Siberia in January. The short answer is that a good friend of his works at SGA, and he’s always wanted to join him on one of his trips.

When we decided to take a self-funded sabbatical and regroup as a family, we sat down and made a list of what we hoped to accomplish during this time off. The list includes household projects like cleaning out our basement and painting our bedroom, along with personal goals and dreams. My list includes things like completing a book proposal, going to Calvin college’s Festival of Faith in Writing, and going on a silent retreat led by Ruth Haley Barton. The Llama Papa’s list includes this trip to Russia, backpacking in Yosemite, and some classes to keep his job skills sharp. When school’s out for the noisy boys, we hope to do some traveling as a family. That’s on the list too.

I’m thrilled to see my husband go on this trip. As a young college student at Urbana, he felt a distinct call to missions. Not to go, but to send. When we began dating seriously, he shared this call with me, as it would affect our life together in a major area––our finances.

All these years he’s been sending, it’s exciting to see him go.

Will you join me in committing to pray for him while he’s away? He’ll be gone January 2 through the 14th. He’ll be helping on the camera crew, taking pictures with his fancy new camera. The trip schedule is grueling, with planes and trains and not much sleep. Please pray for endurance and good health and safe travels. And for God to show up. Pray especially for that.

Rome Ants

I’ve never been a flowers and chocolates kind of girl. Oh, maybe early on in our courtship a dozen red roses on Valentine’s Day made my heart go all aflutter. But let’s get real––ten years of marriage and three kids later, the only thing that consistently goes aflutter are my thighs.

But that doesn’t mean romance is dead. On the contrary, it runs stronger than ever through the Llama household. It just looks different.

Today, it looked like my husband cleaning out the garage in 28 degree weather so I can park my mini-van out of the snow and ice. He’s gearing up for a two-week missions trip to Russia, and he didn’t want me to have to scrape my van while he’s away.

That, my friends, is love.

reconnecting

“How did you do all of this alone?” my husband rolls over in bed to ask. Good question. The answers roll off the tip of my tongue: “You do what you have to”; “Not very well”; and “I honestly don’t know.”

What I do know is that I wake up happy and excited to get out of bed now. I don’t pull the covers over my head and wish it would all go away anymore. I feel connected to my spouse. I am enjoying our children. And this is a huge change for me.

Since my husband was laid off, we’ve taken some time to think and pray about our next steps. Thankfully, our finances are in good shape and we have this luxury of time. I didn’t realize how desperately we needed this time together until it was here.

And we’re thoroughly enjoying it.

We’re thinking through what it would look like to take a sabbatical. We’re setting some goals individually and as a family. We’re carefully planning and scrutinizing the financial ramifications of such an endeavor. And we’re excited for our future. I daresay I’m more excited for our future today than I was on our wedding day over ten years ago. And that, my friends, is some kind of miracle.

God is good.

discontent

It’s been a long week already, and it’s only Monday. My husband left early yesterday morning for a conference in Las Vegas, and I’ve been wallowing in self-pity ever since. Actually, the self-pity started on Saturday, but who’s keeping track?

I’m used to my husband being on-the-road. I’m a veteran of this lifestyle, and even see many positives to it. I’ve even started writing a book on how to maintain close family relationships when you’re frequently apart, but I keep putting it down again, convinced it’s impossible to do. Not the book writing, but the relationships.

I’ve got lots of good survival strategies. I know when to get out of the house and when to stay home. I don’t put my life on hold when my husband is gone. I’ve got people I can call when I need a break from the kids. I’ve got people I should call to get my mind off myself. But you know what? It all feels empty today. I’m not content. That’s the real problem—my own discontented spirit.

Do I trust that God is big enough today? Can I hand over my restlessness and trust that He knows what He’s doing with my life, right here, right now?

“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?...
Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 42:1-2, 5-6)

perfect ten

After juggling baby b. and getting home late last Tuesday night, I almost didn’t get on the plane on Wednesday. When I told my husband, “I don’t really want to go,” referring to our long-planned anniversary trip, he just looked at me: “You’ve got to be kidding me.” And so I went.

We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect trip. We took advantage of my husband’s frequent travel perks and upgraded to first class for the flight to Arizona. Let me just pause and say here that whoever said money can’t buy happiness never had much money, because, honey, flying first class is pure happy! (Though I suppose if you’re a miserable person in general, it wouldn’t make much difference.) Our four-door practical sedan rental car turned into a flashy red sports car when the rental agent found out it was our anniversary. How fun is that?

And traveling with my husband of ten years, I was reminded all over again why I fell in love with him in the first place. As we were driving around in our zippy sports car, looking for a good spot for lunch, we agreed that fast-food was strictly forbidden. We drove by a number of places before we saw it: Mariscos Chiuahua. “That’s it!” we shouted in unison. We are foodie soul-mates! Of course, while dining at the lovely Mariscos Chiuahua, I relied on my fading Spanish skills to discover that the people at the table next to us were probably saying, “Hey! Look at the white lady trying to choke down that octopus tostada! Ha!” Not really, but the tostada was an interesting culinary experience.

Our actual anniversary was unbelievably perfect. Well, except for lunch. Let’s just say that sushi in Sedona is a bad idea. Anyway, we took a beautiful early morning hike, had lunch, and napped. After using “points” for our hotel—the beautiful Hilton Resort and Spa—we were in the mood to splurge. And splurge we did! After our naps, we headed over to the spa for a couples massage. My husband was a good sport in going along with this, and he did enjoy it—though it pushed him right to the edge of his comfort zone.

After our massages, we had just enough time to dress up and make our reservation at Rene’s for dinner. After a few years of mostly The Patio, Applebees, and McDonalds, this was a genuine treat. Our table was right next to the live musician of the evening, Vibhas Kenozia. Oh, and did I mention the beautiful earrings my husband gave me for our anniversary? I had to ask, “Can we still afford a new fence?” And, yes, I would have returned them if the answer was no!

I could go on, but I fear this post is starting to sound like one of those happy Christmas letters where everything is Always Great. But, the truth is, everything isn’t always great. So much of life and marriage is hard. Really hard. And so we celebrate the magical, romantic moments; we make memories that will carry us through long afternoons at Chuck E. Cheese and long nights holding sick children. We take time to remember why we committed our lives to each other in the first place, and we give thanks to God for His many good gifts. And at the top of the list? A wonderful sister-in-law and brother-in-law, willing to love on our three boys while we were away, and Grandparents willing to pitch in with carpool and babysitting to make that fantastic slumber party possible. It is no small thing to be able to leave for days at a time, without a single worry about the children. God bless you, one and all! We owe you big time! ☺

waffles

Last night I was thinking about Valentine's Day, and I had a flashback to myself at twenty-one. Twenty-one was not a great year for me. A series of unfortunate events had beaten me down, and I was convinced that I was somewhat unlovable. On Valentine's Day, I found myself wandering through Target after work, unsure of what to do with myself on this lonely romantic holiday. That's when I saw it: the heart-shaped waffle maker. It was bright red and made four perfect little heart waffles. I stood there, suddenly weeping, staring at this frivolous household appliance. Would I ever have children to make heart-shaped waffles for? With a tee-shirt declaring, "Men are Scum," I doubted it. (I am not making this up.) The waffle maker represented everything I wanted: someone to love, security, nurturing.

Fast forward ffffftmmmth years to today. My heart and home are full of boys. I read the above story and feel a bit embarrassed to post it. I mean, really, a self-declared spinster at twenty-one? "Men are Scum" on a tee-shirt? Was that really me? But it was me. And the memory of it makes this Valentine's morning even sweeter. I still don't have that waffle maker, but I didn't let that stop me. I got out my cookie cutters and made cute heart-shaped M & M pancakes for the noisy boys. They were duly impressed with my culinary skills, and squealed over store-bought Valentines and a box of conversation hearts. "This is the best Valentine's Day ever!" Twin B declared.

And after opening a heart-felt valentine from my own sweetheart, I have to agree.

expectations

I have a love-hate relationship with my crockpot. When I’m making chili or soup, my crockpot is my friend. When I come home to a pot of chili, I’m in love. Suddenly, I want to make everything in my crockpot! So I search for new recipes and I try them…and…well, they never live up to my expectations.

When my husband and I were dating we read this book, “Too Close, Too Soon,” by Jim Tally and Bobbi Reed. It’s a great book and was a real help to us in managing our courtship. (Actually, I think my husband—then boyfriend—managed it. Remember the “Tallygraph” honey? Don’t you wish we still HAD time alone together? ☺ ) Anyway, one of the basic premises of the book was this: “unrealistic expectations can destroy the natural progression of a relationship.”

And that’s exactly the way it is between me and my crockpot. Yesterday I tried to cook a chicken in it, excited because I had a new recipe promising me a deli-like roasted chicken. Just crumple up foil in the bottom of the crockpot, rub your bird with olive oil, sprinkle with seasoned salt and let it cook on high for 4-5 hours. Sounds easy enough, right? That should have been my first clue. My second clue? I hate chicken cooked in a crockpot. The flavor is always bland and the texture is, well, it’s “crockpot-like.”

I think it was the crumpled up bits of foil that threw me for a loop. Why would someone go to the trouble of publishing a recipe that specified CRUMPLED UP FOIL if it didn’t make a difference? It’s all about expectations.

travel advice needed

My husband and I will celebrate our 10th anniversary in April and plan to take a trip, just the two of us. The only question is: where to go? I vote for Paris. My husband wants to go to Washington D.C. I am not making this up. In his defense, he travels constantly for work, so he's less excited about a long plane trip than I am. (Heck, sitting on a plane going anywhere without my children sounds like heaven!)

Anybody have any good recommendations for us?

a good night's sleep

Yesterday, my honey and I went on a date. A real, live, no-kids-not-even-the-baby date. (And as a bonus, the boys LOVE the new sitter we tried out!) But back to my date. Even after almost ten years of marriage, my husband is still my favorite person to hang around with. And hang around we did! We did some shopping for the noisy boys' birthday, and then bought our Christmas gift to eachother--new sheets and pillows. We had agreed to forego gifts under the tree for eachother so we'd be able to take advantage of the post-Christmas sales and treat ourselves to some really fine bedding. It's been way too long since we replaced our bedding. Could it be...ten years? Quite possibly. So we splurged. Sheets, pillowcases, new feather pillows, the works! In the end, we spent $500 on this stuff. And that's with everything half off! But that 600-thread count egyptian cotton...it doesn't get any better than that.

Okay, and since I've come right out with that obscene number, why is it that you can buy a flat sheet on sale for $99 and the pillowcase to match costs $60?

And why is it that we spend all week trying to have a conversation in between interruptions from the children, and as soon as we're in the van alone, neither of us have anything to say? Isn't that weird? Does this happen to anyone else? Of course, the silence didn't last long...not with me in the van!

Merry Christmas, honey! And thanks for the great date! ;-)

Who me? Crabby?

"It is better to live alone in the desert than with a crabby, complaining wife." Proverbs 21:19

Are there days when my huband longs for the desert? I fear it may be so. Especially these past few days. My husband is frequently away on business, which poses obvious challenges to our family--to stay close, even when daddy's on the road. But the lesser-known challenge is that of "re-entry." Let me explain.

While my dear husband is away, I'm home holding down the fort. I take care of our three children, our house, and whatever else needs taking care of. I pretty much run the show, and when things go wrong, I have only myself to blame. Enter dear husband. Suddenly, he's involved, which is what I want, but it's hard to give up control over everything. Do I WANT to feed the kids breakfast every day? Of course not. But do I get crabby when he makes french toast and uses every pan and bowl we own to do it? You bet I do. Because I'm a control freak. No, make that Control Freak. You would think the twins would have cured me, but I'm afraid the control monster still rears its ugly head every now and then. I am working on this. And I'm learning, oh so slowly, to trust God. To really trust, not just say I do.

Oh God, help me to be the best of who you created me to be, overflowing with grace and kindness for all who cross my path and enter my home. Attune my heart to the needs of those around me, especially those of my husband and children. Let me be slow to blame and quick to forgive. And on this Eve of Christmas Eve, may our home shine brightly with the love of Christ.

An Unexpected Gift

Today is trash day. Can I just tell you how much I hate trash day? Hauling smelly garbage to the curb in this damp, cold weather ranks at the top of my “least favorite” chores (and, trust me, there are many).

But today, a gift. My husband is home for trash day. He wasn’t supposed to be home. He was supposed to be in Ohio. After a grueling day trying to catch a pushed-back flight from Milwaukee, he finally gave up and drove to O’hare, hoping to catch the second leg of his flight to Ohio. The plane at O’hare sat on the runway for several hours before the flight was cancelled. So my weary husband drove home late last night and crawled into bed with me. (He did call me on his way home so I wouldn’t completely freak out!) What a gift!

Today is trash day. And I don’t have to take out the trash. This is a gift beyond compare. I’m sorry my husband has to miss an important meeting today, but just a little bit sorry. More than that, I am grateful. And on this cold, dreary morning that I don’t have to take out the trash, I am happy. New diamond earrings couldn’t make me happier. Well, maybe a little bit happier. But not much.