Forever in Sharpie

I was the guest contributor on Earth Monkey Moms last week. This is a blog set up to inspire, encourage and amuse other moms. The following is my post on their site, how exciting to be a part of this!

ENJOY!

I love scrap booking. I have boxes and boxes (ok baby wipe containers) filled with pictures to be one day glamorized on some beautiful paper for the entire world (and by that I mean myself and my reluctant husband) to ogle over.

I realized recently that no one really wants to look at other people’s scrap books, except of course to steal ideas for their own scrap booking enterprises. But for us moms, it feels good doesn’t it? As we look over all those pictures and our perfect little quotes and captions we feel an order to our chaos. Like somehow all the blood, sweat and tears (okay poop could really be added to this list) were worth it. When it’s all summed up on pretty paper it feels a little more manageable.

My scrap books don’t look like everyone else’s though. First of all I really use the word “scrap” literally, I don’t mean to be messy, or uneven, but really I don’t get breaks to go and put together my memories. So I break out the pictures, the glue (which isn’t even acid free…OH THE HORROR) and a Sharpie. Yep I said it, I write my captions with a Sharpie, and I don’t even use a pretty font.

I’m almost embarrassed to show other people my pages, but I suppose these pages are a representation of me, my life, and how I do life. It’s not that I’m lazy, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that my life is simple, it’s Sharpie simple.

I not only don’t like to share my pages because of my lack of elegantness or cuteness, but also because I record silly things. Sure my scrapbooks have the normal documentation: “Madi took 3 steps” and “Lilly said Mama” but I love to add the real stuff.

For example, when Madi first learned about binoculars, she called them “knockers” that’s in the book, as are; “Madison actually kicked me while I was holding her on the potty seat, as soon as I let her get up she peed all over me.” “Lilly put dog poop in her mouth today, I got it out before she swallowed any, but the look on her face was priceless.” Well you get the point, I’m not a bad mom, I’m just embracing the craziness.

I don’t have time to do pages all the time and I certainly don’t have the brain power to remember all the funny/annoying/cute things my kids and dogs have done, so I keep post it notes everywhere. When one of the kids does something “scrapbook worthy” (and you can tell my standards aren’t ridiculously high) I write it on a note, put the date and stick it to my journal. By the time I actually get to the scrap booking part I have close to 50 notes waiting to be memorialized forever in Sharpie.

I guess the point is this: life isn’t pretty…don’t NOT scrapbook your life because you don’t have the time to make it perfect on paper.

And imagine this… you’re dead and gone (sorry, reality) and your great, great grand kids are in the attic of the beach house you purchased and could never sell. Anyhow, they are playing dress up and find an old box full of scrapbooks. Imagine the look on their faces as they open it and see how life really was for you and your kids. Seeing your handwriting, forever in Sharpie marker. (I’m really trying to make myself feel better about this).

Everyone has those beautiful family pictures; I want the future to see their true roots, the mud on the face, uncombed hair, and saggy diaper reality. This is my everyday and that’s what I scrap. Sure the pretty pictures are nice, we aren’t cavemen after all, but the true representation of our lives is what I’m after.

So get some sticky notes and start documenting all the things that make you laugh and cry (most likely in 20 years they will ALL make you laugh). Get some Sharpie’s, some glue, and when you have time (ahahahaaaa) throw some pages together. Who cares what they look like, if you’re that worried about how they look tell yourself you’ll redo them when you’re retired (liar, just sayin').

Just get it done, your kids, grand kids and great grand kids will thank you, let me be clear, you’ll NEVER hear a “thank you” you’ll just know it’s there when your grand kids can tease their mom about putting dog poop in her mouth.


PS...anyone want to buy a house in the lovely beach town of Lincoln City? No? Darn.

Do you love me enough?

This past weekend I felt like I did at least of year’s worth of growing up. It was exhausting, humbling and an emotional roller coaster ride.

My Grandfather died, while I was in the room, talking to him. Right in front of my eyes he let go, I felt his soul leave; goose bumps covered my flesh, tears, panic and somewhere deep inside relief came over me.

I don’t do death, I haven’t for over 12 years, and sure death has come and been a part of my life, like everyone’s I suppose. But I have avoided it at all costs, due to my fear and an overwhelming need to protect myself.

On Thursday I got the call, Grandpa was sick, I told my mother that no, I wouldn’t be going to say goodbye. But sometime later that night I could hear my Grandfather’s voice asking, “Do you love me enough to be uncomfortable? Do you love me enough to let me go?” I course do, and so I drove, to what would be the most emotionally scary place in my life, to see my hero take his last breath, to tell my hero what he has meant to me, at first I didn’t think I was doing this for me, I told myself I was doing it for him, but now I understand that he was doing this for me. Him letting go in front of me was his last lesson for me: I was strong enough to get through it.

I’m still struggling with the visions of things I can’t un-see. I still have questions, but now I have a sense of peace, I know where my Grandpa is, and I know that death, while terrifying- is part of life, it is another birth into perhaps the greatest part of life.

I am honored that my Grandfather let go of his last grasp in this world while I was present, he was always so in control, a real patriarch. He would never want anyone to be uncomfortable in his presence, unless it was of course for their own good. And so I am humbled.

This is more of a diary entry than a blog, I suppose, somehow just writing these jumbled thoughts and emotions feels better than keeping them in my exhausted brain.

At this point I could be asking God why, but after that distinct moment I have my why. I know what myself and every other person in the room confirmed to me, he wasn’t gone; there was a very real presence of his soul, his being, with us. I guess a lot of people may think I’m crazy, or just trying to make myself feel better, but my faith has only grown stronger since this has happened. If I’m wrong and there is no God, then nothing will happen when I leave this earth, if I’m right then I know I will be in his presence and my grandfather’s, that’s an insurance policy I can’t refuse.

Grandpa, I’m so thankful for all of the lessons you taught me, most of all I’m so thankful for every single breath we shared.

“Life should not be measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

Treasure Hunting

When it’s a sunny day on the coast or anywhere for that matter one of my favorite things to do is Geocache. For those who haven’t explored geocaching on their own, think treasure hunting with a GPS unit. Once you go to geocaching.com enter in your zip code and find a list of geocaches, you simply enter the longitude/latitude coordinates or waypoint into a GPS unit and you’re on your way.

Not only does geocaching get me out and into nature but it takes me places I haven’t been, or to places I have been but never truly appreciated in the past. Once you find your way, using your GPS unit, you look for the cache, which is usually some sort of metal ammo container or plastic weather proof tub, inside will be a log book to document your find and some nick naks of some sort, the rule of the game is to take something and leave something for someone else to take. It’s not only an awesome way to get out into nature, but a great way to get rid of unwanted small toys that you find yourself stepping on in the middle of the night, I have a basket on my junk drawer for such toys, that once the silent screaming and cursing is done I toss the offending toy into. I say silent because no pain is great enough to wake the kids and have to start the bedtime process over again.

Since I love geocaching so much I decided to start a geocaching journal, I feel very much like “Indiana Jones” when I write in my journal, it’s leather bound and has a cool design on the front, it’s something I picture the girls finding in the attic when I die, and of course since they would love geocaching too I would hope that they would go to all the places documented in the journal, heck maybe by then they could teleport there, but frankly I think that would diminish the value of a good treasure hunt, indeed the real treasure is the journey. I started this journal ages ago and have logged many caches over the years, so I thought I would share one of those entries with you.

From the journal:

July 17, 2008. CACHE NAME: Sied Creek. WAYPOINT: N44’57.700/ W124’00.293.

CLUES: West of sign.

We are new to Lincoln City; figured breaking out the GPS unit would be the easiest way to find some cool locations in this windy city. We quickly realize that driving and trying to read a hand held GPS unit is not wise and also can cause many arguments. Shauna takes over on navigation, David drives, and Madi is cheerfully holding her prize that she will leave behind for someone else after we find this cache. We know the general location of the cache, somewhere around Devil’s Lake. We quickly realize as we drive that Devil’s Lake is much bigger than we realized. We enter a park and follow the GPS unit, we unload Madi and get her bundled up, even in July it’s cold and chilly here. David is asking me questions; I am stumbling over rocks and actually walk into a garbage can as I’m too focused on the GPS unit in my hand. We wind our way up a path and come to a breath taking view of the lake, tall trees surround us, and the smell of camp fire is in the air. It’s really quite something. We search and search, we find one sign, and look to the west, nothing. After an hour we are all frustrated, and David takes over on the GPS unit, he quickly realizes that I’m way off and that while on the screen of the unit we are only an inch away we are really a mile away. MY BAD.

So we eat lunch at the small park we found, and take a lovely break before loading up and having David navigate and drive us. Within 5 minutes we are at a large sign that reads “Sied Creek” Damn he’s good! Once there we searched for about 20 minutes, there was a small trail, we followed it for some time, then decided the cache couldn’t be that far back into the brush, we went back to the sign and searched under some big trees, under the largest of trees was a pile of rocks, I decided to dig. It paid off quickly I found a small green lock box, the cache had been placed by Lincoln City Parks and Recreation. The rule in geocaching is to take something and leave something; we let Madi choose her treasure. She chose a small novelty bottle of bubbles from someone’s wedding; “Mark & Jenny” were printed on the outside. I thought this to be very sweet and hope that Mark and Jenny are still together. We left a map of Cedar Breaks National Park, Utah it was still in the truck from our last hiking trip there, we had all our favorite sites marked on it, I hoped that someone would find it useful and maybe even go to some of our spots.

We had a wonderful time today, the area was beautiful, I learned a lot about our new GPS unit, and Madi had fun, which is all that matters. We do want to go back to this area sometime soon to see if Parks and Rec will continue to clear the trails that lead through this awesome area.

Kind of cheesy I know, but we did have fun, and like I said the real treasure is in the journey, looking back on this now I remember feeling so frustrated at my GPS skills, or lack thereof, but David swooped in and got us back on track, I think that’s good for both of us. I also think it’s great that Madi gets to explore with us, to places none of us have been, but will hopefully continue to go to in the future. These are my real treasures, the memories of the breeze on my face, watching Madi dig through bushes, even running into that garbage can. The best is always unearthing the treasure, even though there are only trinkets inside it is very fulfilling…like I said very Indiana Jones.

Indiana Bones Schober

Indiana is a German shorthaired pointer, a hunting dog. We’ve had the pleasure of his presence for ten years now. Our journey with Indi started when Dave and I bought our first house in Eugene. We couldn’t afford the breed so we put in a request at the local humane society, “If a GSP comes in, please hold him for us.” We weren’t hopeful at first, they are very expensive dogs, but one spring when we came back from a trip to Mexico there was a message on the answering machine telling us that our second “adopted son” was waiting for us at the humane society. We quickly loaded our dog Yogi into the car and headed to meet his new brother.

Indiana is a strange dog, and as I continue to get to know him I find more and more strange things about him. For starters he’s a talker, not a barker but a moaner, a growler and a whimperer. He cries the moment he is left alone, scratch the sweet spot on his neck and he growls with frightening delight. The first night at our house he jumped on the couch and cuddled to my feet, when I began petting him he growled so ferociously that Dave threw him off the couch, afraid he was going to attack me. It wasn’t until we saw this “talking” more and more that we realized that was his way of saying, “Oh I like that, give me more!”

The name Indiana was given to him by his previous owner, but his middle name Bones was given to him by our then 2 year old nephew, Ben. We took Indiana to introduce him to the family and Ben and Indi chased each other for hours, Ben calling out “Indiana Bones” as he ran behind him, we quickly fell in love with the name, especially since Ben had thought of it, and have eagerly embraced it since that day.

Indiana is a crazy dog, he’s old and cranky, but the moment he sees the reflection of a light or the shimmer of glitter he is suddenly 2 years old again. He can jump over 10 feet in the air when encouraged with a flashlight chase along the wall, and he can curl up into the tiniest, ball when snuggled against my feet, under the covers at night. He’s one of those personalities that you never get used to, that are always surprising you and making you laugh.

For example, since we moved Lilly into Madi’s room every night when Dave and I go to bed we walk in and check on the girls, Indi has taken it upon himself to do the same, he sniffs each one of them before coming in and climbing under our covers. The smallest noise from either of them and he is up in a jiff to check things out, and heaven forbid someone he doesn’t trust come between him and his girls; he will protect them to the death.

Last night we had a huge thunderstorm here, I always dread them and fireworks because of the panic it puts in Indi, but last night he was under the covers at our feet and a huge flash of lightning with thunder booming behind it, woke us all up. Indi freaks out, jumps up (still under the covers) and jumps off the bed, looking like a short fat ghost as he tried to figure out which way was which, covered and now tangled in our comforter. He knew he wanted to get to the girls, but couldn’t figure out how to. He wrestled and barked in that comforter for what seemed like ages as we tried to calm him (and shut him up so that the girls would go back to sleep). After finally freeing him he ran into the girls’ room, sniffed them both and planted himself in-between Madi’s bed and the crib. He was clearly terrified, but his natural instinct was to protect them. It amazed me. With every boom of thunder he shook and whined, but his rear end stayed planted in their room, ready to strike if he needed to.

This dog that sounds so ferocious lets Madi play doctor on him, standing still as she listens to his heart, and wraps the blood pressure cuff around his ankle. She dresses him in dress up clothes and forces him to sit at her small table and have tea parties. He is an amazing creature, so patient, calm and interested in her. Indiana is her best friend, it’s a wonderful thought, warms my heart, but as the new year approaches and I realize he will be turning 12 years old, my heart aches for the fear that soon his time with our family may be coming to an end. He’s getting old, his joints hurt, he sleeps most of the time now, he’s developing fatty growths all over which have to be removed annually now, and his face is quickly being consumed by grey hair.

I’m learning to embrace every day with Indiana, it is so apparent to me that his time is limited. It also makes me appreciate the fact that none of us are guaranteed anything, we don’t really know if we have another 24 hours on this earth. When I think of this I wonder why God only allows dogs to live 12-16 years. They are simply the best animal on the face of the planet, and maybe I guess that could be the reason, they have so much to teach us humans, and dealing with our ridiculousness must get exhausting as they see us do the same things, make the same mistakes over and over, only to forgive us over and over. They are so wonderful, and so as a tribute to Indiana, whom I pray has at least 5 more years with us….

Dear Lord, please help me be the person Indiana thinks I am, surely with enough practice I will deserve even a fraction of the love he has unconditionally given over the last decade. Amen.