Loved His Writing Today

It has been a WEEK! If life were really a grindstone, then my nose this week would be a nub (and based on the size of my schnoz, that's saying somethin'!). Last night, I sat with my husband and just had a good cry.

Ever need one of those? (Guys, I don't know what the parallel is for you...but let it never be said that I don't think you're entirely entitled to a good cry, too).

Weeks like these, nay - months like these - are the fieldstones of soul construction: you either prevail or perish, really. For me, success comes but one way: perspective. And heaps of perspective arrived on my doorstep yesterday.

But here's just one I'll share, one that especially lifted my spirits and reminded me: like a stalwart marker of life's most precious gifts, the sentiments of a child's heart can calm even the most tumultuous waters of life.

Thanks, Jamie (Elijah's first grade teacher and blog reader) for passing this email on:

Oh so today in writing we were using our vocab
words to make our writing more interesting. Here are the words:
concentrate, share, trust, splendid, concerned, member, fortunate. Here
is what E wrote:

I am really happy when I can concentrate on spelling so that I can be splendid at it.
I trust my friends when I share my toys.
I get concerned when my family gets sick.

I am fortunate to be a member of the Covak family.

Loved his writing today!!!!!!

Me, too, Jamie.
Me, too.

My Here and Now

"If I had portal..."

Did you know this is the beginning of most of my favorite sentences?

If I had a portal to South Carolina, I'd watch House with Amy, drinking a margarita while crunching on chips and "Who is Kaiser Salsa?"

If I had a portal to Alaska, I'd be watching It Happened One Night with Jessi, drinking caramel lattes, and gorging on chocolate and Moose's Tooth pizza.

If I had a portal to my childhood, I'd say, "Sustain. You make it in the end."

If I had a portal to college, I'd say, "You're right to choose Him. He is far better than your best mind could imagine."

If I had a portal to my wedding day, I'd say, "Memorize its beauty...and know the best is yet to come."

If I had a portal to heaven, I'd sit on my dad's knee.

And if I had a portal to the future, I'd close it.

I already have all the wishes of those portals.
I am blessed such connections have even existed.
Blessed generously.
Beyond measure.

So I don't need to see what's next.
I've got the best story already.
I've got my here and now.

For the Forever of It

Boys are hard. They were hard when I was 5. They were hard when I was 10. They were definitely hard when I was 16. And they're still hard - and I'm 34.

Of course, the reasons boys were hard at 5 were vastly different from those at 10.

And 16.
And 34.

Somewhere along the way, I went from "Why do they pull my hair?" to "Do they ever wash their hair?" to "What's with their obsession with long hair?"

Then I became a mother to a boy. And then another boy. And, still, I think boys are hard. For some mamas, this statement causes a shake of the head with a confused, "Whatdyamean?" For others, this statement provokes an "Amen!" from our collective mommys-to-boys gallery. If you're the former, you must teach me your secrets. If you're the latter, you must know you comfort me, for God said it ain't good to be alone.

Now, hear me: I love my boys. I love being their mother. They do, however, bring unique challenges that (much like mothering girls, I'll add) either readily click into the puzzle of your personality...or they don't. Boys are a bit like that for me: a mass of puzzle pieces requiring me to adapt even as they constantly grow and change.

And for that ride, I've been given two most excellent tickets.

On days when the shine dulls in the shadow cast by bickering, rowdiness, breakage, sass, and will superseding any imaginable definition you've ever before contrived - I look at my sons. Then and now.

My time with them is so short.
So precious.
So finite.

So hard.

They are my sons...
whom, with a mix of great joy and deep sorrow, I will one day give away.
They are boys - young risk-takers blazing a daredevil trail, leaving mud and giggles in their wake.

But they will fast become men.
Husbands.
Fathers.
Warriors.
Lovers.
Their risk-taking will become confidence, their trail will lead others.
And they will leave legacy in their wake.

And still they will be my sons.

Suddenly, hard doesn't seem so bad.
Doesn't seem so hard.
Not for this moment.
Not for the forever of it.

She Sure Does Love That Fish

Grace's last birthday marked her entry into "double digits." This is a big deal to a wee one leaving single digits, mind you. (I do believe the spark fades a skosh as 10 becomes 20, 30, 40...well, you get the idea).

So, our first-born is now 10 and, we all agreed: this called for one special gift.

Grace started out wanting a sea horse because, well, all horses are fantastic, don't you know - even when they live in the ocean?! In a shocking and (at moments) alarming display of her mother's genetic bearings, she began checking out stacks of books from the library and besieging Google with queries to discover, "Just how does one keep a pet sea horse?"

Answer? You don't. Apparently, they're harvested by pet shop suppliers and rarely live in captive tanks while the few that do seem to be plagued by infirmity and - I'm serious here - terrible bouts of depression. If you've met Grace, you'll know, then, that this was absolutely out of the question at the appearance of the word "harvested".

So what to do?

We got a fish.
Meet Noel.

She's a Black Moor Goldfish with telescope eyes. Grace went on a date with Daddy to pick out all the supplies - from the color of her tank lid to the gravel inside. Then we all went on a family outing...and she picked the precise fish she wanted.

Once home, fish and gear in hand, we started the setup process. Everyone took part in inaugurating her special friend into the fam.

Take note that she ended up with not one but two sea horses. Oh, thank you decorative fish tank accessories company.

Pouring in the water fascinated Judd.

Then Grace introduced Noel to her new home...and fed her for the first time.

Now, over a month later, Grace is still cleaning her tank weekly - it's more of a process than perhaps you think. But that water's always clear, and she could tell you that fish's personality - part and parcel complete with owner's commentary.

I love that girl.

And she sure does love that fish.

In This House

While Colorado temporarily (and sporatically - yuck!) logs hours in the icebox, two realizations have struck me: first, I STILL miss Alaska and, second, I'm so thankful for our house.

You know, my joke in our home is that, being as how I take no shine whatsoever to flowers or jewelery, Craig has had to come up with inventive and (alas) not-so-traditional gestures of love. Well, he's surely never failed. For instance, you may not know that he got me to uproot my entire life and move in with strangers in another state...without ever asking me to marry him until I got there. Or that he proposed and wed me in a mere 7.5 weeks. On Halloween. (Or, in deference to my beloved's preference, October 31st.) On December 21, 2000, he gifted me with a daughter. A mere three weeks before Thanksgiving 2003, I got a son. Judsen came just after Easter. He bought me a house for Christmas 2004. And in December 2007, he lived.

The best gift of all.

But all those memories, those stories, we've inscribed upon our house's gateposts in the intricate font of Love. On these days when we're tucked cozily inside these four walls, we giggle and wrestle and craft and eat. And drink cocoa. And quibble over who'll fold the laundry or pick up the living room. We play Nancy Drew or watch movies about horses. We have storytime and look at pictures of snow days passed...in this house where our story begins. As brothers and sister. As mother and father. As husband and wife. As friends for a lifetime.

As family.

Passing the hours in warmth from the cold.
With all we need.
In this house.