Kitchen!!!!!

We hadn't planned to improving our kitchen anymore than we already had.  We'd painted the walls, torn out the crummy wood panel backsplash and put up some fancy tile. We thought we were done with renos while still in this townhome.  We asked a real estate agent and she said it wouldn't increase the value if we did anything else so we were happy, la fin.

This is what our kitchen looked like when we first bought it:

Oak cabinets, laminate counters, wood backsplash panels, green walls

 And the living space beside the kitchen (our family room)

After we painted the walls and put up the chalkboard paint:

When we thought we were done: new backsplash up:

Then we had a kitchen leak.  

A big one.

Floors came up, cabinets came down, counter came out and we were deciding if we should let insurance just put it all back in the way it came out...or make some improvements.

10 weeks later, approx 2000 dollars down, and after much hard work, sweat and more than enough tears....we have a new kitchen.

Cream paint on the walls, charcoal feature wall, new butcher block countertops-extended to make a little eating bar (installed professionally), cream paint on the cabinets, open shelves instead of one set of cabinets, new chairs from ikea, took down blinds and put up curtains, new flooring (vinyl), and new pictures to go in all the frames on the wall...

TA DA.

And we love it.  I mean, LOVE our new space.

Would I do it again?  Nope.  Okay, maybe.  However, now we are so blessed and so excited to share this space with people.  After being practically anti-social hermits, working late into the night (every night) we are ready to host, welcome, and invite others [YOU] into our home.  Even though it looks new and lovely, I'm kinda ready to scuff up the counters, splatter the walls with pancake batter, and get my mixer a' mixin again.  The dishwasher is humming (such a happy sound around here) and, well, here are some pictures:

Brothers

For the first time I really feel like I'm beginning to parent brothers instead of just sons.  I spend all day vigilantly separating, correcting, refereeing, debriefing, time-out(ing), and doing damage control with these two little ones.  

Toby, on his own, is quite content to play independently exploring his world and sucking on every little thing.  He is not easily excitable and seems to enjoy quiet, focused solitude where he is left to simply wander and figure things out.  

Silas, on his own, is more demanding wanting Mommy to watch and see and experience everything he does.  However, he can sometimes be counted on to play with his legos alone or is incredibly engaged and fun to do activities with.  

But (cause there is always a but), when these two boys are in the same room [which we have been forced to be due to our kitchen renos], here comes trouble.  Silas is ever in Toby's face grabbing his feet, bonking his head, pushing him over, taking his toys, commanding his attention, and telling him what to do.  This makes Toby cry and whine.  If it's not Silas instigating, then Toby is ever into Silas's toys.  Whenever Silas finally gets into something like making lego towers or the like, Toby is right there beside him eyeing the same toys, crawling on his lego, grabbing things, pushing them over- not to be thwarted or distracted from his main mission: get whatever Silas has.

When did these boys get like this?

I mean it's cute that they like to be together -right?  It's cute that Silas wants Toby to chase after him after he takes his walker- right?  It's cute that Silas likes to pin Toby like a pancake to hug and kiss him-right?  

Okay okay, it's not all bad.  It's cute that when I go to wake up Silas (with Toby in tow) Toby grins hugely and that Silas tries to make Toby laugh. 

But generally speaking,  why can't they just leave each other alone?  I can't really ever leave the two of them alone in a room for even. one. minute.  Peeing in privacy?  Nope.  Washing dishes in the bathroom?  Nope.  Running up the stairs to grab something? Nope.  

grrrrrrrrr.

Silas wasn't thrilled about this arrangement

Close behind at Silas' heels...

But they are definitely cute together and I pray that they will someday learn to play together. Nicely.

Precious, Sweet Toby

Almost 10 months.  Is it just me or does that seem like it's passed too quickly?  I cannot believe that my blue eyed baby is getting so close to a year old.  We are so blessed to have this content, sweet, kissable, curious,  precious life in our home.  

This stage with him is just so fun [makes me want another baby sooner!]  He is endlessly curious and is the fastest climber, crawler, explorer around.  I literally have to be constantly vigilant.  Not only would he be up the stairs before I could even say "stairs," - well, he'd be splashing his little chubby hand in that toilet bowl too!  

I cannot help but feel already sentimental at the thought that I'll be returning to work in two short months.  I don't want this stage to end!  I am endlessly kissing and hugging this little snuggly boy and he's happiest (or so I say) when he's around Mama.  

It's gotten a bit busy in this household now that Silas and Toby are like little magnets.  One is always in the others' way causing for some serious refereeing.  But I love watching how Toby has started dancing along to music, I love seeing his little "power stance" we call it (when he stands up in the middle of the room unassisted and just stands there, legs bent and wide), and love hearing his little giggle.  

He always has his little tongue pointing out or his lips sucked in while concentrating.  He is constantly grabbing and pulling hair, turning things over and over in his hands, and is the most wiggly little guy!  He is a good little eater and loves avocado and puffs.  He still is gummy mouthed- no teeth to be seen.

He is a sensitive sleeper meaning that he still wakes up sometimes in the night and doesn't transfer well, but he is generally a decent napper (napping twice a day).  

Love this little baby boy.

Here's some photos of his cute-ness:

(power stance!)

Never seen him happier than in mud and water (and clothes-less)

Into the neighbor's yard

"I'm a big kid too, right?  I can climb the playground?"

In my mouth

Loves climbing ALL over Momma

Love. Him.

Renos Continued

9 weeks and counting.  

No, I'm not pregnant.  That's how long it's been since I've had a sink, a dishwasher, cooking supplies, a family room, and a kitchen.  Unexpected kitchen leaks are not my cup of tea (or so I've found out).  

I think the 'idea' of making one's house better is great when you can prepare for it, plan it, do it in bite sized bits, and have some control over it.  However, due to insurance taking forever with their paperwork and other such delays, we are still yet without a kitchen [awaiting counters, plumbing, and we need to paint the lower cabinets].  

I've realized that my environment in chaos is the main part of this whole thing that is stressful.  I don't mind people in and out (it breaks up the day).  

I don't mind the cacophony of noises (what's more noise when I have two boys?)  I don't even mind, in some ways, the uncertainty of when the final end will be.  What I DO mind, and what has caused me the most angst, tears, and internal restlessness is the invasion of all that was in those two rooms into the rest of my home.

What do I mean? 

canning jars in my dresser drawers

toy bins in my fire place

glasses and plates on the landing halfway up my stairs

cookbooks in my bedside table

coffee table in our bedroom

and large intrusive pieces of furniture taking up desperately needed floor space for two active boys

Yuck.  Hurl.  I am a hater of clutter and chaos.

However, today, OH JOY today I said "enough is enough."  The room beside our kitchen that is essentially our family room/play room had become a storage room of uninstalled cabinets, our dishwasher and other such things.  Well, it was largely cleared out last night and so began a domino effect of greater and greater happiness.

I hadn't intended on doing it but as I started putting things back into the kitchen/family room it created such incredible pleasure that I kept going... I assembled ikea lamps, I put up newly hemmed curtains, I uncovered couches, rearranged toys and before I knew it I was purging and organizing and...

Dang.  It felt good.

For the remainder of the day, my finally toy-less living room (which had become our living space these last months) and my almost finished kitchen/family room kept capturing my eye.  I was floating around the house.  "Look how great those curtains look?!  Look how great that new rug looks in our living room!  Look!"

I know, I know.  It's just a room, with things in their intended places.  What's the big deal right?  Well, the joy it brought me just to see some chaos lifted made it pretty clear that my environment affects me.  It almost made me understand why people do renovations for fun.  

Almost.  

Not quite.

Let's just say, I'll be VERY appreciative of the final product. 

(Hopefully in 1 more week, please God, PLEASE)

Cousins = bliss.

Each morning here in Ontario I wake up the sound of Silas' little voice saying "I love Kellon. He's special."  I love watching Silas playing with his little cousins.  He is in love with his 6 year old cousin Kellon who is "super strong," according to Silas "he can even pick me up!"  He plays with baby dolls with Allie (the lone girl cousin on this side in a sea of 6 boy cousins) and loves jumping on the trampoline at Oma and Opa's house with Tayte and 'the guys' as he would say.  

Sun, lots of aunts and uncles to hold and play with him, cousins to run races with, fresh sliced watermelon and Godly examples of loving family.  Bliss.

I'm very grateful for this time away with Jason's family!

Queen of Woe

Polite conversation often begins with questions like, “how are you doing?” and “how has your summer been?”  The average person would say “great” or “not bad.” 

I’m not the average person. 

My response is often filled with the list of all that could have or did go wrong.  This summer is a perfect example of a perfect storm.  The endless list continues to grow of why it’s been so hard, so stressful, so awful, so frustrating, so angst ridden and so depleting. 

I might have good reasons to complain.  After all, not everyone has to deal with chronic insomnia, a kitchen torn apart for more than 6 weeks, two very active and transitioning baby boys, and jam packed trips that didn’t go very well.

Here’s the thing: my own negativity is killing me and my relationships.

I’m royally sick of my complaining, my whining, my moaning and groaning.  I’m tired of my circumstances dictating my joy.  It seems to take so little for me to think that ‘today’ will be a disaster, a failure, another ‘worst case scenario.’  This Queen of woe has been catastrophizing for too long.  

So now what?  I’ve confessed.  I’m aware.  I am ready for change.  But how do I go from “look there’s one cloud in the sky it’s going to rain,” to “what a beautiful sunny day“[?] 

I’m sure it begins with gratitude.  I’m sure it begins with praise and thanksgiving.  I’m sure it begins with changing my negative thought processes.  But I’m awfully certain that I cannot change alone.  I need help daily, incrementally, to brick by brick remove this barrier to joy.

The weird thing is that I don’t remember always being this way.  Sure I’ve always been a bit of a worrier and am easily dramatic and prone to riding the waves of my emotions.  But I don’t remember always being so negative.  How did I get this way? 

Maybe it’s been the continuous supply of testing circumstances.  Maybe it’s been my health crises after health crises.  Maybe it’s been this journey into the jungles of motherhood.  No matter where or how this started, I am certain that I cannot continue on my current trajectory.  Even if there are good reasons to be on this path, I don't have good reasons to remain on it.

My relationship with my son is suffering, my heart is growing bitter and cold, and whatever God’s good plans for me are, I am sure that they are not this way.

 I am ready for joy.  To choose it.  To fight for it.  To wrestle with my thoughts and emotions.  To claim truth.  To see blessing.  

Clay

Remember when a few months back I said I was cleaning out my closets?  I was planning to go through old writings and fine tune them to post on this blog.  Did that happen?  Nope.  But that's okay, I'm starting now. I guess spring cleaning has become late summer cleaning.   

Here's something I wrote back in 2009.  I'll call this a "devotional writing."  They're just my reflections, my thoughts, my ramblings about God and me and the stuff in the middle.  

Critique all you want but I hope you'll be encouraged:

Is the value of most things in their utility?  The canyons and cliffs, the waterways and bright stars, do I appreciate their utility or their beauty?  

Is food [its flavor, the delight of the communion its consumption provides, its various ways of preparation and presentation] worthwhile only in is far as it is useful for my body?  No.  

But yet, that seems to be how I approach my life and God.  Do I value being ‘used by God’ more than my relationship with God himself?  Or do I truly believe that what I am able to accomplish is how my value is measured?  Oh how I need the value of my life to be redeemed from the dust of utility and instead be caught up daily in the love of Christ.

  It is Him alone who can transform my brokenness into wholeness, and it is His love alone that can rescue me from the slavery of worshiping this productivity idol.

I was reading in Isaiah 64 about how my righteous deeds are nothing but filthy rags before God anyways, and that I am like the autumn leaves, withering and falling, blown away in the wind.  I also read the well known line that, “I am the clay and you are the potter, I am formed by your hand” and again was reminded that there is little I can do for God.  

How silly of me to think that this life is about my performance.  Why do I measure the success of each day by productivity, or accomplishment?  

I was overwhelmed again by the knowledge of the great cavernous depth of my need for God’s grace.  I am not righteous, I am needy.  I am treacherous and ungodly.  I am a sinner: broken, bleeding, cracked and useless. I am that clay: a lump of hardened, dried, helpless, useless dirt.  

I dream of being a bowl to hold fruit or be a vase and hold flowers.  But the one thing, my perhaps only real accomplishment in this life might be just to hold still and surrender to the warmth of my maker’s hands. 

To remain, on that wheel, while he smoothes my rough edges and works in the oil of 
His love.  

Perhaps the point isn’t even what ‘function’ I will be able to perform after He works on me again.  Perhaps it is simply that He is making me into something beautiful so that His artistry can be revealed.  

After all, isn’t that what glorified really means?  That one day I will reflect the beauty of His redemption, His perfect work, His making this pile of clay into something from nothing? 

And so I will again invite His tender, firm hands upon me, "would You smooth out my anxieties and fears and saturate my bitter, envious, cracked self with the oil of Your love?  Help me let go of my desire to be functional and useful God, I just want to be loved and to reflect your love."