Still to Come

Almost two weeks after the fact, I'm writing down some Mother's Day thoughts.
Yep, delinquent.
But let not my tardiness reflect any negativity of the day, though: it really was fantastic.

And, in a sticky-note for the heart, I reflected on just how lovely these passing years as a mommy are because, irrefutably, my babies are faster and faster becoming babies less and less. Still, there's such joy in my life as I relish the years of knowing there will be no more infants - only celebrating each new rite of passage, each great conversation that comes with the fruit of age.

I suppose "bittersweet" aptly describes the departure of the wee years in favor of their older counterparts. And, since we cannot stop the tick of the clock, what can we do but see the bliss in growing up? In looking ahead to great stories yet to be told?

That's what I ponder when I look at this shot:

Or this one.



Or even in the funny moments of this one.


(Well, it's real life, people.)

When the boys are taller than I and my girl becomes a bride; when degrees and mortgages become their normal and The Twilight Years become mine...will I look at these shots and feel then what I feel now? Will I remember how exceptional these moments are?

Will I forget that legacy started before me...

(thanks, Mom, for giving me Craig)

but doesn't end with me, either?

By far, mothering is the greatest privilege I'll have on this earth.
It's one I never imagined I'd pursue, let alone have in such abundance.

So, yeah, the years are passing quickly.
But the preciousness of my children's youths aren't contained in a number or a date.
They are emblazoned on their mother's heart...in carvings of memories spent treasuring gaps from missing teeth and holes in the knees of jeans. Of field trips and road trips, bunk beds and camp-outs. Of report cards and carpet picnics or tuck-ins and ticklings and the "Boos!" of chores.

These are some hard years. Some great years. But there's so much more to come.

I'm so thankful I'm their Mommy.
And I know the best is still to come.

That Just Sounds Good

With vacation in our sights at less than a month away - no, I haven't computed it to days quite yet. Yet. - I'm feeling the pull of detachment.

You know...that heady allure of checking out from the melee that is the everyday life called yours, mine, and ours? (Btw, the definition of melee is generally regarded to connote a fight within close quarters, totally disorganized and usually fairly aggressive in nature).

That's right...I'm talking about wrestling the 16 hours you're awake for control of your sanity and life longevity.

I was talking with Zee on the phone yesterday about leeching...the kind where the details and tidbits of the here and there end up depleting you to no lesser degree than the giant asteroids hurtling toward your longitude and latitude at any given present.

Now, I like my life: don't get me wrong. But, sometimes, the promise of the check-out doesn't just mean you're leaving the grocery aisles...sometimes, it means you're leaving the entire store of your hour-by-hour reality.

And, boys and girls...that just sounds good.

But the gifts aren't bad either...

Okay, I'm reposting this one because, like so many other Blogger subscribers I know, an entry has mysteriously dissipated into cyber air. But, since my entries are also what I bind into volumes for personal keepsakes, I'm publishing it...again.
Sorry for the headache...let's give Blogger our collective sigh of, "Ugh. You really wear me slick sometimes."

Happy, happy. Joy, joy.

     

Complete with a purple (fave color!) case, screen guard (forget about it, sticky children's fingers) and a reading light...so I don't keep the giver up at night anymore.

Been wanting one for a while: sayonara, backpacks of books on road trips!

Bee bought me dinner (um, hello love language); Jessica bought me a mug that perfectly matches the other two in my love mug stash (hey, did you do that on purpose?); and Micah & Becca created this gorgeous addition to said mug stash:

  
(both sides were necessary: the writing was just too cool)

And let us not overlook the bottom:



The girls set me up with some Amazon cash for loading that Kindle, and Zee passed on what has (endearingly) become our Life Group Girls Gift Giver...why do I love this bag so much? I dunno, but it's the bomb.

 

So 35 was about the day.
And the heart within that day.

This entry's more about the stuff of the day.
Which had a perfect heart behind it.
And I'd pick the heart every day and twice on Sunday, never doubt.

But the gifts aren't bad, either.

About the Stash

In my kitchen, I have tall cabinets.
They were customized.
Because they're so tall.

But I'm 5'1".
And, apparently, not that great at math.

So I keep a stash of mugs in a cabinet to the left of the refrigerator.
On a shelf low enough for me to reach.
These mugs are located across the kitchen from the "guest" vessels.
Which are placed a shelf higher and intended for use by one-time-ish guests who may come and go for a party or dinner event.

But the love mugs are special.
They're all gifts - offerings from a variety of givers living in the "I'm the cream of the human excellency crop" category - that I've hoarded away.
To be used by me and Craig...and any other treasured guest who knows that there is even such a thing as the love mugs.

Yeah, it's kind of become an urban legend at the Covak house.

Those who've heard about it (but, of course, never mentioned to me that they've heard about it) count my direction to the love mug stash after a request for coffee or tea as the ultimate symbol of "Ooo, ooo, I'm in!"

At others' homes, I know this acceptance is marked by helping clean the after-dinner dishes or the allowance of feet upon the coffee table, shoes inside the house, clothing from the closet, or coffee from the pot.

Me?

I've got the Love Mug stash.

I've been referring to it in the last few posts.
So, it occurred to me you may not know.

About the meaning of a love mug.
Or about the stash.

35

On May 3rd, I turned 35.

I don't mind being another year older; birthdays are a reminder to consider and embrace the good, the blessings. In fact, the "big number" birthdays (the ones on the 5's) prompt me to reflect even more on the myriad of ways I want to be better. Do better. But also to remind me of what I've kicked in the teeth; how I've said "No, thanks" to the junk and "Hel-lo, good lookin!'" to the opportunities.

35 is a big number birthday. And it was one of the best ever.

I started the day with cards: the first from my sweet son and daughter who burst into my bedroom caroling tidings for a merry day.
      
E drew us walking hand-in-hand.         Grace drew my favorite animal: yep, it's free-hand.

Wow! to both of these...they started my day perfectly.

At my bedside, my traveling husband had left a love letter.
And my beautiful friend, Amy, timed her card to arrive for my birthday: so I tore into it the morning of...to find a Bux card inside. Drink with Aim...yeaaaaa! (Miss you sweet friend: SC doesn't know how lucky it is!

There's nothing quite like getting mail in your box, just for you, just because you're special. No bill attached. No "reply by" deadline. Just a love note.
Now that's a gift.


(the Hot Tamales are from Zee...my fave candy. Good with honey-wheat pretzels, btw)

My mom phoned first thing (I thanked her for bringing me into the world). Zee called to sing me "Happy Birthday" and was quickly tailed by Bee...I so love the friends who love you so deeply they're actually silly. Silly! And every lyric held joy. Big smile.

Then I hit the gym. Every May 3rd- whether it's a regularly-scheduled sweat-it-out, burn-it-up day or not, I strap those sneakers on. One of my fave instructors taught my fave weights class; every year, she whispers this beautiful bday prayer wish dear to her family -  it taps the tear faucet every time. Got the birthday song - hip style - and worked out next to another beloved Amy...whose shoulder blades literally held me up at the end (what??!! It's ok, Amy gets it, don't ya' lady?)

At home, I checked the FB wall...where 113 messages found their way to my heart. Wow. As usual, I thanked each and every one because, put quite simply, why would I not? Thanks again to all who took a moment (through voicemail, email, FB, or card) to express a wish, a prayer, a memory, a thought of goodness...my ticker treasures every line.

Then it was a quiet time and cuddling with Judd before Mom came to Nana-sit...so I could meet the gals for some comida y margaritas! Thankfully, Bee and I shared the Daily Special...three sips was E-nough...Holy Triple Sec! (or was it the Peach Schnapps? Or the tequila?)


(from left) Jessica, Zee, and Bee

Along with another gem, Becca, these ladies closed the day with a blessing, a reminder of how I'm never alone but am fully understood...and treasured just as I am. No return receipt required. None desired.

These gals are the steady kind. They'll last forever, if you'll let 'em. Through thick and thin. Up and down. Stinky and perfume. Skinny and...well...post-baby. I admire them. I'm better with them than without them.

And they are a sample of others I'm blessed to know and mark in the same category - even though they live states and states away.

How, dear Father, did my pockets end up so full? How is it possible that my cup runs over so completely, so steadfastly?

Only You could provide all I need for all the life I need it...and leave me to relish it, celebrating the much I have in the year You've planned as

35.

A Week in Review

Last week is a happy black hole. I know, I know - usually the idiom "black hole" is a less-than-friendly metaphor for a treacherous foray into the abyss of yuck. For me, the black hole shows just how greatly I was blessed and busy and full and loved: it all went so quickly, so fully, I whipped through it in a blur.

The worst part? Craig being gone. Definitely. Always.

The best part? Well, the next few entries will cover that. But the overview is this: I've discovered a great recipe for a happy life (for me) is just 4 simple words...

balance
moderation
perspective
faith

I saw all of these last week when I...

• stood in the blustering Colorado winds (again) to watch my son run plays at football practice - and saw him turn and smile at my presence the whole time.
• celebrated a birthday with no less than the best folks on the planet - near and far- eating, drinking, laughing, and sending sentiments of love and warmth...some from miles away (future post).
  
• savored store-bought cake - because my mother-in-law knows there's nothing in my world quite like butter-cream frosting. Love that...and her.
• opened my door to my most-wished gift: a Kindle. Delivered on the actual day. By my husband. While he was in Nebraska. That's some superb planning (future post).
  
• chaperoned E's field trip to the zoo and "hurrayed" when he took my hand and said, "Mommy, you MUST sit by me on the bus!"
• welcomed my husband home with a home-cooked meal and hugs galore, praising God for his safety after flying on the day after such a tumultuous event in our nation's history (he flew out on May 2nd, the day after bin Laden's death).
• unwrapped the best gifts a girl could ask for - and found love inside each box (future post).

Until the posts appear, I sign off with just one thought:

the older I get, the more balance, moderation, perspective, and faith I want to have.
The more I have, the more I realize I am loved.
That we all matter, one to another.
That we are rich in gifts that far transcend this world.

I realize I am happy...proven by my week in review.

Candidly

When I take pictures, they're meh. You know, fairly posed. Nothing to see here.
I've got great subjects, though, so I might come out of the developing (aka digital window) with this in tow:

Or this:                                                     Or this:
                          

But when Craig takes pictures...well, they're much better than meh. He just snaps and snaps without much thought to the matter except to wait for a moment. An expression. A whisper in time. Then he clicks and clicks and clicks some more.

Until he gets shots like these...

  

 
...to mark the memories of hugs and giggles and hunting a few eggs in between.

Then it's back to the ho-hum when the lens finds me again...

...proving that Easter photos, much like life, offer turn out best when you capture the moment.

Candidly.