Judd Squared

Yep, he's two! As of April 17th, 2010, Judsen Ames is now squared. We no longer have ginormous parties with a ton of crying little "cuties" ('cuz, really, they're not) with gift bags they just break or lose as they spread cake crumbs near and far. Instead, we keep these young ages more simple and mark the occasion as it comes...usually with good friends and a memorable day.

While it's true that Colorado Springs boasts roughly 325 days of sunshine per anum, we're apparently burning through about 20 of the remaining 40 in the month of April. So, though we'd planned to grill hamburgers and hot dogs for the little tots joining us, when Craig became soaked just trying to ignite the grill, we called it a day and brought the BBQ inside. Two families came over for dinner and, between the 3 of us, the kiddo bounty was plentiful - 11 in all!

The kids devoured cheese balls on dinosaur plates...

and devoured cake (store-bought with butter cream frosting, of course! If the kids decide they ever want some other version, I may have to protest.)

We lit his #2 candle for him

and sang "Happy Birthday" - he'd no idea what to make of that. So, in classic Judsen style, he just smiled and winked and went on merrily with life.

Afterward, he opened his gift from us...a Little People castle we'd been saving just for him...since Christmas even!

He plays with it non-stop, pulling on Bubba's sleeve every morning after breakfast chanting, "Cassle? Cassle? Cassle?"

The week's events were topped off with an annual checkup to Dr. McCaffrey who informed us Judd's head is in the 99th percentile (big surprise, there) and, at 20.5 pounds and 36 3/4", he's a strong 60th and 75 percentile, respectively, in body.

In other words, grow on, little man! 

We can't wait to see who you'll become!

The Story of Judsen

We can't explain Baby Judd. Yes, we do, in fact, know how babies are made. We have, in fact, had three of them. So we can, for sure, explain the biology of the process. Yet, we still can't explain Baby Judd.

Deciding to have a third child was a 2 1/2 year process for us that began with a two-sentence simple exchange...that created a great deal of tension. It went like this:

"I want to have another one."

"I don't."

Not rocket science, no. But the reverberations of the impasse sent us into orbit nonetheless.

We're not the first couple to reach this fork in the road, and I'm sure we won't be the last. But, boy...those were some tough conversations over 28 months.

Then Craig got sick. God changed his heart. Changed mine. And #3 was soon on the way.

Then our baby died.

We grieved. We were broken.
We were done.

Then when the miscarriage didn't progress, we were stumped. Now He seemed especially cruel. What was God doing? We opted to "let nature takes its course," which meant a potential 6-week progress; our doctor advised us to do our best to resume life (in all areas, if you know what I mean) and wait through the process. We went to Alaska...no way were we canceling that trip because our most beloved Jessi was marrying the love of her life. In returning to where our marriage began, we learned a thing or two - most importantly, I let the pain and anger of our child's passing go. But something physically was still wrong.

Upon our return home, I phoned my physician who ordered a blood test...and then immediately called that evening.
Me: "Covaks!"
Dr. W: "Hello. Ummmmm....you're pregnant. Over the top pregnant. As in checked it twice myself pregnant."
Me: Silence.
Dr. W: "Hello?"
Me: "Uhhhhh...."

So 9 months later, this little boy who shouldn't have been...well, was. 21" and 9 pounds 6 ozs of blond hair and blue eyes. Thick hands like Daddy's. Ears that stick out like mine (the only child who has 'em, btw). He's silly like Elijah and uber-smart like Grace. 

He's full of love: he'll "give you fist" or blow you a kiss or wrap little arms around you and just squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. 

He's a charmer and a flirt and, if you let him, he'll bring you to side of things in 3 seconds flat.
He's our last-born child. A gift. Then...and now.

All babies are miracles. 

All are made by God.

Their entire existence is somewhat mystical. 

But this one...this Covak...just can't be explained. And when our hearts closed to more children...even to the possibility...God sent Judsen to open our hearts again. To change our minds. To remind us that He is, indeed, the author and perfecter of life...whether you're ready to see it or not. 

That's the story of Judsen.

Water in a Box

Grief is a funny force. And make no mistake: it is a force. One that ebbs and flows, shifts and shimmies...at the behest of what, we fail to know. David Hames died three months ago; yet, still I find grief from his passing bubbling up, breaching the surface now and again. Most times, there is within my heart a box, of sorts. A compartment encroaching no neighbor, just sitting there hardening. Solidifying. And within it there is water.

Ever notice how much we use water metaphors to describe grief? When pelted by its force, we say it "comes in waves." When clutched by its pain, we say we're "drowning beneath it." To survive it, we are left struggling just to "keep our heads above the water." And let us not forget the evidence of grief: the salty streaks of often unspoken tears marking our faces, reminding us of loss. Yes, there is water in the box. The water is grief.

Completing errands today required I start a movie in the van for Judsen. If all else fails, Cranium's Ark makes him happy every time. So in it slid with little thought or premeditation. But then I heard his voice, the remnant of a friend no more here. Perhaps our senses need the reminder - tangible evidence - of what once was, lest the water level in the box become too high, threatening to break the dam we hold so tightly in place. Maybe the dam needs to break now and then. Other times, maybe not. Today, the box found relief when, despite my initial and immediate sorrow, I smiled at the memory of a contagious laugh and silly red sneakers. Of a ukelele and master gamer of Blurt!. Of a crafter of words and writer of music. Of a father. A brother. A husband and a friend.

 Even after three months, I sometimes wrestle with the surreality of a friend who walked into a building moments before it fell on top of him. Then I talk with his wife and remember just how very real it is. Perhaps the box is organic. Mystical. Ebbing and flowing as the tides themselves, washing grief here and there as it heals a wound and strengthens a memory. I only know I smiled. And felt better. And knew that memory strong in the face of grief is also a powerful force, meandering and then honing as I brook no interference. It, too, is a force of reckoning.

Like water in a box.

I Sat in the Sun With a Winner

This is my 11th year teaching college English. As with so many roles in life, teaching necessitates much-needed boundaries - all the more so when you teach adults. See, when my kids (at 9 and 6) want to be "buddies" with their teachers, it's rather cute. Endearing. Not so when they're 19 or 26. That's just weird. And there are ethics to consider. And gender. And the appearance of impropriety and nepotism (the English teacher must foster vocab). Thus, I put some pretty firm borders in place with my students, always working to strike that delicate balance between "Yes, let's talk about whatever you need to succeed" and "I definitely don't want to hear about how your boyfriend dumped you."

It should come as a great surprise, then, (because it sure does to me) that a gal I know call friend was once a former student. See how God spins the world, opening our eyes to possibilities evermore? I'm giving a shout-out to Julie (she follows my blog, so I know she'll read this at some point). Everyone stop, please, and say, "Hey, Julie!"

Last Saturday, I met Julie for lunch where we sat on the outdoor patio and soaked up some sun. We hit all the biggies: marriage, parenting, friendships, sexual orientation, gender ethics, and where I got my oh-so-cute boyfriend-cut khakis...you know...typical girl talk. As I drove home, I wondered, "How come I'm friends with Julie? I've never so much as chatted socially over coffee with a student before, so what makes her so different from the herd?" Well, Julie...you're a gem in your own right, apart from any "herd" one would attempt to lump you. But, that aside, I heralded this epiphany: I don't think of Julie as a student. I once did, sure. But not anymore. She's a peer. A believer. A wife. A mother. A friend. A good thinker. A winner. A first.
She's clever and smart and makes me think about experiences I've never engaged. Relationships God hasn't brought me. Conundrums my plate has passed.

This is good friendship. God-given friendship. One that breaks borders, however strongly we seek to erect them. Don't get me wrong: boundaries are good. Sometimes right and even necessary. But Julie reminds me that boundaries against God are never good. Never right. Never necessary.

Being open to what - and whom - He has for us brings great blessings. Unexpected gifts.

Much like Julie. 

And outdoor patio lunches. 

And sitting in the sun with a winner.

Spring Getaway, Stops #4 & #5

Yes, sorry to say, we're still finishing this. But here goes the last lap...and we'll represent it with the best way to say a lot with few words: pictures.
We went to The Butterfly Pavilion -

we'd been there before, but three years or so ago. Still fun for older kids, by the way. And a mere $14 for our family to enjoy.
Experiencing Judd's wonder of the whole place was the best part...a favorite shared by all.

The best moments are when your children reach out and love each other...just because.

The kids took turns holding Rose, the Tarantula. She tickles. 

Seems a bit like a bummer job for poor Rosie, though. I can't hardly stand being hugged by someone I don't know...passed around for hours would most assuredly be a no-go.

Judsen required multiple trips to the starfish tank..."oooooooooo" was his continued response. Can you believe it's alive?! Crazy.

But boys and their endless zest for adventure and exploration are what allow them to become extraordinary leaders, skilled in resisting the bend of "what-if" pressures. Arranged marriages are open for discussion, if you've got a great little girl you're raising, by the way.

Craig took all the pics this time. I'm so thankful to get a rare shot like this one...truly in the moment....

of following Judsen as a tour guide to the world newly-realized. So love being a mommy...

because I get to have memories like this one.

Before I know it, Elijah will be a man, too. 

And I'll have pics like this one to render memory alive and heart walking.

Being Colorado in springtime, it didn't take long for the weather to turn, though. We left the morning sauna jungle of the butterflies and stepped into the afternoon tundra of snow flurries and wind. This called for game time and, since we so love board games at the Covak Cave, I purchased a new one for our trip. 

The classic Mouse Trap is an oldie but goodie. Ten bucks on sale at Target makes it a bestie. 

Here's the reason we have an engineer in the family, for Elijah put it best: "What the?????"

Could her smiles be any more priceless?

The next day marked our trip home. The days away, though short, were sweet and filled with big fun and bigger love - as all family memories should be. With our contented sighs and craving for a getaway replete (with our pocketbooks still intact), we moseyed on home with a happy farewell...see you in the fall!

Today Was a Good Day

When I die, I want just one line for my epitaph: She knew how to love.

This is my quest in life. For, if I can love...really love...then I will be a good wife. 

I will be a good mother. 

A good teacher. 

A good writer. 

A good neighbor. 

I will be a good friend.

Today, I received a rare and prized opportunity to love one of my three dearest friends. Just love her. I simply went where she needed me to go. No big deal. No broad stroke. But it eased her load. Her life. Her spirit. So she was blessed. Which then meant I was, too.

Today, I received the priceless news that another of my three dearest friends is renewed in mind, body, and spirit, re-armed to face life's harshness with her cup of love overflowing. By standing with her...just standing with her...through a season of great trial - agonizing and harsh - and speaking truth in love, she bore it. And has come through to the other side. No big deal. No broad stroke. But it eased her load. Her life. Her spirit. So she was blessed. Which then meant I was, too.

 Today, I got to love. And I got so much more in return.

Today was a good day.

Parenthood

Long, long ago (1989), in a galaxy far, far away (my childhood), there premiered an hysterical movie. Producer Brian Grazer and Director Ron Howard summed it up nicely with the affectionate title Parenthood. It's the story of the Buchman family - 4 children, their spouses, and their conglomeration of offspring...not to mention their eclectic approaches to parenting. If you haven't seen it (ever or recently), pick it up next time Redbox comes a'callin'. It's a load of laughs (but appropriate for big ears, only).

Well, NBC has remade it into an hour-long drama airing Tuesday nights. Production is still headed by the Grazer-Howard dream team (think Splash, A Beautiful Mind, Backdraft, Apollo 13, and The DaVinci Code) and, if you haven't tried it, you really should. I know, I know. Lots to watch and not enough time to do it. But this is a rare one that leaves you tearing up while laughing uproariously. You know...laughter-through-tears kind of emotion. This time, though, it's about the Braverman family.
 
Still 4 kids. Still their spouses (or lack thereof) and their conglomeration of offspring and parenting styles. But now it's about how the siblings relate and somehow find relationship while battling against (and sometimes because of) their separate issues with everything from birth order to profession to roles with Autism, infidelity, and dating in between. It's the sunny side of parenting, yes. But it's got the carefully-restrained dark half, too. Maybe the best way to sum up is through this analogy: in an effort to freshen its antiquated preview tagline of "Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode...", NBC is trying on new ones unique to every show's vibe. Affixed to Parenthood's end is the invitation, "The Braverman's would love to have you back again". Well, you feel it - they're major-dysfunctional but endearing. Relatable. And, despite their many issues, you find you want to get to know them better.

But at a safe distance. 

Like as a pretend-friend you visit in tv land when you're up for a family dinner

...without carrying the family baggage.

(btw, all links lead to clips or full episodes, for your viewing curiosity).

An Easter Story

Easter morning dawned sunny and bright, but church didn't beckon since we went Saturday night. 

Mommy was sick, just a coughin' away as the children rose early in expectation of the day.

First on the list was a yummy breakfast.

Then there were eggs they set out to find. 

Mom and Dad hid them and quickly they sought

the greens and the blues and the chocolates a lot.

They looked and they looked and a'plenty they found.

But Judsen found more interest in playing around. 

Then came the baskets with goodies galore...most sent from Grandma with just a few from the store.

Then over came Nana for a big Easter lunch. We smiled and giggled and ate ham and buns.

With Turtle Bars for our sweet and punch in our cups,

our noon fare was soon over...time for some hugs!!

We then turned to Jesus...the real Hero of the day,

and opened our eggs to hear His story play.

Each shell held a piece of the tale told today to remind us of sacrifice, provision, and power of the day.

While Mommy took in an afternoon nap, Nana and Daddy taught dominoes in a snap.

A bit more tricky than anyone thought, the game ended later with only one player left in the lot.

Each year we remember how He came to set free

you and your friends and my family and me.

We recall what we looked like in 2009

 and marvel at how He's changed us in just a year's time...

We're bigger and smarter and a bit more like Him, 

and celebrated Jesus and the cross with a grin.

The End.

Cold Cut

How long is a cold allowed to linger before you wrench it out of your ailing body, take it out to the backyard, and beat the crap out of it?

(Can I say "crap"? Did I offend you?)

I need to feel better soon.

Spring Getaway, Stop #3

My children are ducks. One started out timid, but fast found her fins.

Another is a wild child who only acts shy. (This is true everywhere, not just in the pool.)


Judsen will jump right off the edge and into the deep end if you shift your gaze for even one nanosecond. Then he'll giggle at your frenzied scooping and screeching of fear. Marine maniac.

Thus, we cannot stay in a hotel that does not house a pool. Cannot. It's always the stop they ask about the most. 

Repeatedly. 

It's also the stop that gives us great shots like this one

to remind us years from now of how little they once were. And of how precious they'll always be.

From 2 to 6 to 26

This is what Elijah looked like at age 2. He's cute, right?

I miss his ample curls and stout little body. But the dimples are still there and that "Joker" grin that spreads from ear to ear remains his most memorable feature.

But he's not so little anymore. At 6, his curls have given way to wave, and his body has stretched and strengthened. Of course, he's changing in more ways than just the physical: he reads whole books now and puts his own sheets on the bed and rides a two-wheeler like a speed-demon. But on Saturday, April 3rd ("Easter Eve"), he grew in the best way there is. The most important way, I'd say.

On Saturday, Elijah asked Jesus into his heart. Now, I know some reading this don't believe in God. Don't think it's important to wonder about the afterlife or question whether we are, in fact, all alone. I get that. I respect that. But, at our house, there simply is no other more important decision than the one to follow Jesus Christ all your days. While parents differ in approaches, Craig and I choose to provide the information through word and deed. We share what it means to be saved and, when they're old enough to understand, we talk about our own decisions to accept Christ in 1992 and 1994, respectively. Then, when they're ready, we believe our kids will ask how it all works...particular to each one's heart.

Saturday was Elijah's time.

Driving home from church, Grace asked me what was my favorite part of Easter. I told her. This began a conversation about Jesus' sacrifice and how we believe Easter is about more than eggs and bunnies and candy (though those are all fun, too). Now, Grace made her choice in 2007, so she's had 3 "Jesus Birthdays", as we call them. Elijah knows this, but has never asked much more about it. Then, out of nowhere from the back of the minivan comes this question: "So what do you have to do to be saved?" Daddy took over from there, and the exchange continued the rest of the way home. But as we pulled into the garage and the door closed behind us, I knew for sure it was his time. His turn. His choice. So I asked him, "Bubba, do you want to ask Jesus into your heart? Do you want to be saved?"

Pause.

"Yes. I do."

He came up to the front of the van, we laid our hands on him, hugged him, and Craig led him through a prayer. 

I cried. 

Then I explained to Elijah's confused expression that girls cry when they're happy. He shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "K." Yeah, bud, it confuses me, too. 

But the best part of that moment was seeing Grace cry, too. She was happy, as she told him, because she knows he'll be in heaven, too. So they'll always get to play together and "someday hang out with Jesus." 

Of course, that made me cry more. 

Still happy though. 

Here's our son today.

No, he's not 2 anymore. But he's not a man yet, either. And each year, on April 3rd, we'll celebrate his decision with angel food cake not just to remind him that it's a reason to celebrate...though it surely is. But also to remind him that every year is a new year, a fresh chance to renew that choice and to live it for a lifetime. 

Someday, he won't be 6. He will be a man. He'll have a job, a wife, maybe some kids, too. Who knows? He may even have a minivan (or the future version of it) of his own. But from 2 to 6 to 26, he'll come to remember that moment when he asked, when he prayed. 

And became someone new. 

I believe he'll remember how much his parents loved him. 

How we treasured him. 

How his sister embraced him....

and how Jesus saved Him.

The Definition of Motherhood

Motherhood: (noun) syns. genius, doctor, teacher, negotiator, engineer, cuddler, comforter, CEO, CFE, and vice-president, master-planner, organizer, housekeeper, washerwoman, chauffeur, gardener, head cook, chief bottlewasher, decorator, writer, sister, daughter, wife, and friend. (to name a few for us)

All well and good.

But how do you know you've really arrived?

You look for a parking spot next to the cart return while everyone else is trying to avoid it.

Then you're a mom.