Only In Our Dreams

A few months ago I started a bedtime tradition of sorts, where before Dan & I turn off our lamps & kiss goodnight, we mutually agree on a location where we will be meeting that evening...in our dreams. I close my eyes, create the scene, and begin my dream in a magical place, my husband by my side and wait to see where my mind takes me. It might sound silly, but it's the most peaceful way to fall asleep I've ever come across, and since I'm a gal with an over-active imagination anyway, I relish in the process of picturing us romping around Greece, or drinking wine in Venice or soaking in the sun in Maui. It's exciting, adventurous and even more economical than the "staycation" craze we've all heard about. One of these days, I really ought to get myself some business cards with the title:

Nicole Dewig

Professional Dreamer & World Traveler, Extraordinaire

Inspiring & impressive, yes?

However truthfully, the reality of our non-travels can occasionally make me slightly depressed. I mean, there is no Greece or Venice or Maui in our REAL near future, and I'm sure that on a teacher's salary, traveling will have to be put on hold for many more years. But you know what they say; the mind is such a powerful instrument, that when it's experiencing something, it doesn't know the difference between being there in reality and being there in a dream.

Which practically means I freely travel the world- without even flying.

The Prodigies

With a bit more practice, some focused hard work and dedication, I think we'll have a new Donny & Marie Osmond on our hands. But I'll let you be the judge of that. Also, please note Ella's repeated squinting & forced smile at the camera, as she is preparing for what she thinks will be a bright flash for a still picture.What can I say? I take a lot of pictures of my kids.

Giddy

The other evening we took a family trip to the toy store so that Ben could utilize the birthday gift card he received to pick out something fabulous. This was the first time we'd taken a family trip to the toy store, and the process was more than overwhelming for the newly crowned four year old. Heck, I was even dizzy and disoriented. Perhaps it's because of all the chemically-ridden plastic toy objects stacked and shoved together in one space. Or maybe it's the endless aisles of STUFF everywhere, with not one employee in sight to be of assistance. Anyway, once I stopped and listened to myself directing him in the store, I realized how ridiculous I sounded: "Ben, hurry up. Let's find something to buy with your birthday money. What do you want? Look around, let's make a decision!"

I mean, honestly. The poor child walked around aimlessly, eyes as big as Buick hubcaps, stuck in the hypnotic trance of flashing, sound-making plastic toys each calling his name. How do you make a decision when every toy on the planet is there at your fingertips? By a slow process of elimination, we somehow managed to narrow it down to three candidates, and ultimately a new Star Wars something-or-other thing won the grand prize and came home with us.

Dan & I both got a kick out of the drive home. There was practically silence in the car as Ella sat sucking her thumb, and Ben held and silently worshiped the newest member of his family. After studying Ben in the rear-view mirror for a moment, Dan commented,  "Oh man, watching him I can totally remember as a kid getting a new toy, and on the ride home studying it, holding it, and the giddy anticipation of getting home so you can get it out of the box and play."

Me: "I know exactly what you mean, I did the very same thing as a kid, too. Except it wasn't ever toys that gave me a case of The Giddy's. It was shoes."

48 Months

Dear Ben,


Last week you turned a whopping four years old. This might not sound old to some people, but when you think of it in terms of months, 48 months seems like an eternity that we've somehow managed to keep you alive, safe, healthy, and mostly happy. That's also a lot of months that we've stumbled around, experimented with our rookie parenting skills (flashback age 14 months: "we should definitely be giving him whole milk for calcium," and then,  at 15 months: "whoopsies, whole milk makes him constipated. We should definitely NOT give him whole milk anymore", etc.), and because you don't know any different, you just go along with it. I'm sorry that in an effort to perfect our parenting, you've been subject to our methods of trial and error.


As I think over the last year that we've spent with you I'm forced to admit that it hasn't been the easiest year. Your third year on earth kicked our butts and was by far more difficult than two. Although in your defense, perhaps you think that me being 31 was far more difficult than 30. I think we both got smarter, and both seem to have a will of iron, and when we butt heads, things can get a little tense around here. Whoever coined the phrase, "terrible twos" obviously never met you, because being three meant you having so much more vocabulary and so many SPECIFIC IDEAS about the way things should be. I feel like I've just barely recovered from your birth, let alone the last 12 months of the three year old woes.


And yet, here we are. 48 months later.

Since I've always been terrible at the whole baby book entry thing, and since my memory consistently fails me, initially I wanted this blog to keep record of your hilarious everyday-isms. I wanted a place I could record & preserve memories and have something to look back on that would always simultaneously make me smile and cry. Because you do that to me, did you know? I can be so fed up and angry with you one minute, and then the next I'm practically in tears when you surprise me by cleaning your room or picking me flowers from the yard. There's so much to say about this last year, all the ways you've changed, so I thought I'd highlight some of my thoughts about YOU:

• You are incredibly passionate about...well, everything. I'm serious. Sometimes you are pretty much ruled by "the passions" (as I affectionately refer to them). I've honestly never seen a young child love so deeply, hurt so deeply, fear so deeply, rejoice so deeply. This makes for one intense little person, and though it comes with its TREMENDOUS challenges, I can honestly say that I cannot wait to see what you are going to do with your life, what you will choose to be when you grow up. You are going to be amazing, my little man. You are literally capable of anything.

• You love girls, especially brunettes. I thought this was something I didn't have to worry about for another 10 years or so, but there you go! Keeping me on my toes again! The object of your affection changes on a daily basis, but you do have a few favorites. I'm not really prepared to handle this yet, so usually I just downplay it an say things like, "Yes, Ben. She seems like she's a really special person who has a really kind heart." You adore your babysitter and since she's a student at the highschool where Daddy teaches, sometimes you just pull out the yearbook and find pictures of her and stare....for a long time. When you see a pretty girl, you will do anything within your power to get her attention. You already ignore me calling your name if there's a pretty girl in the room. I have a feeling this is not going away anytime soon, so I realize your dad & I should probably come up with a better strategy. But for now, I'm encouraging you to get some more guy friends. Trust me, girls are nothing but trouble.
• You absolutely love music of all kinds. From sitting for hours at the piano playing and singing your little heart out to rocking out in the living room mimicking John Mayer to impersonating your daddy conducting a choir, a good chunk of your day is devoted to music. This makes us giddy with delight.
• You recently fell in love with Star Wars. I'm sure this was inevitable, and although you've actually never SEEN one of the movies, you are a pro with the Light Saber. Your moves are quite impressive, really.

• You sort of stole one of Ella's baby dolls that she received after she was born and we haven't really had the heart to tell you who the rightful owner is. I don't know what it is about this little cloth squishy doll, but you love her and take care of her on a daily basis and sleep with her every night and feed her and put her down for naps and shush me when I'm being too loud for fear of waking the baby. Also, it should be noted that you named this baby girl all by yourself: Harry.
• You suffer terribly from eczema (that would be my genes, sorry about that). I'm so sorry, buddy. We're trying to do everything we can do make it more manageable, but your skin is splotched with itchy red patches and it just tears me up seeing you scratching or seeing the aftermath of blood on your sheets from you scratching in your sleep. It also breaks my heart when I hear you tell your peers things like, "That? Oh that's just my eczema. It's just dry skin. Mommy has to put hydro-cortisone ointment on it to make it better." 
• Christmas this last year was incredible. You really got it this year, and it made the holiday 1,000 times more exciting for Daddy & I. The magic of the season had you completely mystified and seeing the wonder in your eyes is something I'll never forget. For the first time, you actually willingly sat on Santa's lap AND held sissy's hand when she panicked. Seeing that big brother gesture of comforting Ella melted our hearts and made me realize that was probably one of many more instances to come where you would be there for your baby sister when she needed you. 

• In the fall, you'll be going to preschool two mornings a week for the very first time! If there's one thing I learned about your year as a three year old, it was KEEP THAT BOY BUSY! I'm hoping this is a wonderful change for both of us. I can't wait to see you thrive in that environment- you've practically begged for it, my little socialite. Once again, stay away from those girls. I mean it.
• Every now and then when I walk out of my room your big blue eyes light up and you say something like, "OH MOMMY! You look SO FANCY! You're pretty, Mommy!" I never know exactly what prompts that statement, but you have no idea how much it means to me. A compliment is a compliment, even from a three year old. Keep it up.

Mama loves you, and I am praying this year is full of tremendous growth, learning, curiosity, empowerment, laughter, and a whole heck of a lot of love. You will always be extra special to me because you are my first born; you made me a mommy! Let's make four really great okay? And be patient with mommy, it's really hard to be a parent.

We are trying so hard to do our best, but as I've said a million times: Parenting: it's the best thing I've ever done. But it's the hardest. 

My sweet boy, as hard as its been, you are the best thing I've ever done.


xoxoxo

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day, and I am enjoying some precious extra lounging time in my room, hanging out in my pj's while I can hear the sounds of Dan & Ben deep in breakfast preparations. It's so heartwarming to see them trying to make this day special for me, and because they know me so well, I'm assuming we'll be starting the morning off with coffee and pancakes. Or at least that's what I can gather from the sounds streaming from the kitchen. One of these days I'll post our favorite made-from-scratch pancake recipe, because if you had it in your recipe collection, you'd be wanting them at every possible chance, too. What could be better than warm, fluffy, light, buttermilk goodness with melted butter and strawberry spread on top? Oh my gosh, they need to hurry up with my pancakes. I've got a little puddle of drool collecting at the side of my mouth.

But this isn't entirely about pancakes today (though, admittedly, it's a highlight). It's about Mother's Day, about my own Mother, actually.

I was thinking about her this morning as I was laying there completely guilt-free and relaxed. Because she & I are so close, it's easy to brag and honor her on this special day for all that she does for me at this state in my life. Her care & help with my children is simply invaluable, and her input and wisdom in my life as a mother and friend is one of the greatest gifts I can think of. But the more challenging task, simply because of my faulty memory, is to think and remember what she was like when my siblings & I were very young- how did she do things, namely raise FOUR CHILDREN? What would she tell us? How did she handle all the moods and hormones and arguing and limit testing?  What were her hopes for us when we were children? What was the most important message she wanted to give us?

And then a wonderful memory came back to me, and I promptly got the chills and realized that I already carry in my heart one of the important messages from her.

My mother was committed to making sure we knew, with absolute certainty, that we were loved. Unconditionally. No matter what we did or were capable of doing, she made sure we knew that she would always love us. I can remember driving with her, and from the back seat precariously trying to think of the most awful thing I could do that would surely be grounds for terminating a mother's love. What if I stole something? "I would still love you," she'd reply. She didn't even need to think about it. What if I punched my brother in the face? "I would still love you," she'd repeat. Hmmm. What if I KILLED SOMEONE? Surely a mother can't love a child if they've just committed murder! "Honey, I would be very, very, very disappointed in you. And I would be sad, and my heart would be broken. But I would still love you, just as much as before." What a tremendously wonderful gift; a child who is loved unconditionally really doesn't need much more, do they?

See, Mom? Some of it soaked in and stayed with me! Sometimes I was actually listening!

Mom, thank you for giving us such a healthy, grounded upbringing and for your commitment to showing us unconditional love. Thank you for instigating my love for pancakes. Thank you for being the reason I fell in love with cooking. Thank you for letting me take "mental health days" when I was in school. Thank you for making up "Jammy Parties" (and since I've passed this down to my children, I'm sure someday they'll thank you for it, too). Thank you for modeling a beautiful marriage. Thank you for being a master listener and nurturer. Thank you for for always being my "safe place". Thank you for being so connected to me both times I gave birth; for holding my hands (and legs) and feeling every contraction with me, giving me a strength I didn't know was possible. Thank you for always packing us healthy lunches. Thank you for wanting to protect us in an effort to preserve our innocence. Thank you for always finding me humorous; I love the sound of your laugh, so I will always try to draw it out of you.

My son has just informed me that my pancakes are ready, and I'm looking at him thinking two things: 1) this is music to my ears, and 2) I could not be the mother that I am to my son & daughter without the example and legacy you've left for me, Mom.

Thank you. I love you!

The "C" Word

Image via Wikipedia

The C word for the day is Camping. Eww, gross, what were YOU thinking I meant?

Anyway. Let me go ahead and paint the picture, because that's what I do best.

When I first met my husband, I quickly learned that he was a Mountain Man. He sported flannel shirts & a goatee, could build his own fire from scratch, owned rock climbing shoes (is this how one refers to them?), owned outdoorsy backpacks and hiking gear, had a R.E.I. club membership, the whole nine yards. Which is kind of hot in a mysterious getting-to-know-you type of way. He grew up in the wilderness of Evergreen, Colorado, and though sometimes I'm guilty of embellishing, this time I'm really not using the term "wilderness" loosely. Like, there were elk and bears and deer and wolves and unicorns (okay maybe that part was embellished) roaming his property on any given day, and his darling soon-to-be 80 year old father has the photos to prove it (HI HUGH!). Not only did he live in the wilderness, but he somehow still found the need, nay, the DESIRE to be a camping man in his free time. Which meant he would leave his own backyard wilderness just to hike into the wilderness of his local mountain. Funny, right? This perplexes me, because don't people usually crave the green grass on the other side? And by green grass, I mean urban life? Wouldn't it make sense for him to "vacation" by way of hiking into the city of Denver and do the touristy thing? With zero wilderness or picturesque objects in sight?

No, not this man. I swear he and Bear Grylls come from the same blood lines.

Anyway, I clearly remember the day very early on in our relationship when he asked me the big question: had I ever been camping before? Mostly I remember it because he asked with the most optimistically hopeful eyes I'd ever seen, and I immediately panicked. Have I ever been camping? Um, yes? YES! Of course! Who hasn't been camping? I mean, EVERYONE has gone camping at some point or another, right???

Hee hee. Hee.

Not so much.

Except if you count making tents out of blankets and chairs in the living room with your siblings and then sleeping there for the night. Because that kind of camping I've TOTALLY done, like a thousand times.

But I was pretty sure he meant a different kind of camping. Shoot.

I remember trying to read into the question, desperately trying to see if for him, this was a deal-breaker or not. Because I really liked this guy. A whole lot. In fact, I knew we were going to get married and have babies and a hyperactive dog once he could stop being a commitment-phobe, but what if my entire future happiness was dependent upon this one teeny little thing? Who would've guessed that camping would be so crucial to my future?

So I told him yes. Because the truth is, I've been camping half a time. As in .5. Or if fractions are your thing, 1/2.

The memory is a bit hazy, but I recall my parents packing us up in the 1976 Buick station wagon (a car that I still rocked in high school, practically making me the coolest girl on campus), making the trip to some sort of foreign campsite where my parents fumbled with setting up a tent and we all tried to act like we knew what we were doing, but really we were grumpy and miserable and confused. I recall a hefty dose of familial tension. At the time, my sister was just a baby, and she crawled over us all night long while we tried to sleep. I had a large, pointy boulder underneath my sweet little head for a pillow. Around the bedtime hour, we quickly learned of some nearby drunken campers who got a bit out of hand, so our nighttime lullaby was the sweet tune of belligerent drunks receiving a police escort out of the campgrounds. In the midst of this chaos, one of their cars ran over their "boombox" music player and smashed it to pieces. It was painfully loud and I think I heard them utter more 4 letter words than I'd ever heard in my sheltered life.

So....I haven't exactly had a burning desire to do THAT again.

Which is why I must be CRAZY for agreeing to go camping in about a month! WITH MY KIDS IN TOW. Not only am I clueless about how to prepare/what to expect when camping, I am now dragging my poor innocent children along with me. (Full disclosure: it's only for a weekend, and we are going with other families, and some of these people are practically professional campers. So that helps a little, but then again they aren't the ones responsible for packing up our entire life and fitting it into our car.) My only safety net was the confidence I had in Dan with his camping history & knowledge. However, when I mentioned this to him, he scoffed and said, "Babe, I know how to camp like a single guy. But I have no idea how to camp with kids as a family."

Super.

But because I'm a gal who believes in conquering one's fears (except if the fear involves snakes), I've decided to face this dead on and make note of my camping fears. Let's approach this in list format, shall we?

"Reasons I Am Terrified To Go Camping, Let Alone Go Camping With Children":

1. What if the smell of campfire and spilled beer never washes off my body & skin (and sleeping bag!)?
2. What if the wine runs dry?
3. How many times can a person really eat hot dogs for a meal???
4. Snakes. All types.
5. My children thrive in their routine. Routine of their own beds and their own 4 walls. What if my kids never go to sleep and this trip turns into a 48 hour rave, family style?
6. What the heck are we supposed to DO all day? Sit? Talk? Drink? I don't understand.
7. B.O. and armpit hair stubble. There, I said it.
8. They say camping is an excellent way to test a relationship. WHAT IF WE DON'T PASS THE TEST?
9. Bugs.
10. Battling the elements. I don't care much for battles in general, let alone battles that involve the elements.

That's all I've got for now, but I'm sure as the time draws closer, I'll have dozens more. If you have the answers to my fears or my questions, please comment and help a sister out. Seriously, it just might be my only hope for surviving. That and the stockpile of wine we'll be carting around.

Premonition

Image by Extra Ketchup via Flickr

Does anyone else have the sneaky suspicion that Google will soon have complete world domination? What? Just me?

Well people, just remember. You heard it here first.

And just so I have this in writing for future reference and proof, let me add that I think if somehow the worlds of Google and Apple collided (Gapple? Apoogle?), they'd probably have supremacy to lasso the moon AND Mars. Just you watch; I'm rarely wrong about this stuff. (example, I called the unfortunate divorce of Tom Cruise & Nicole Kidman YEARS before it happened. And Jon & Kate Plus 8? Please! I predicted a train wreck the moment I laid eyes on that haircut.)

P.S. Dear Google: if you're looking for a hard-working part time employee who can work from the comfort of her home, preferably in the comfort of her pj's, then I'm your gal. Especially if a company iPhone and data plan are included in the benefits package. Have your people call my people and we'll negotiate. But of course, I understand if you're too busy brainstorming ways to merge with Apple and therefore unable to contact me in the immediate future.