Roller Coaster

I woke up this morning, hacking half a lung and wishing for just three hours more sleep.

It had been a roller coaster night - which is to say, normal. Because Corey is gone on a business trip and today is a day off school, I decried a Sleepover in Mom's Room last night, a treat the kids all love. When I went to bed, my floor was a mess of sleeping bags and damp heads and Legos and flashlights an blankets and Pinkalicious books and stuffed animals.

I love them so much, I thought. My heart is so full.

The view from the top of the hill is always breathtaking.

And then - the plunge. Because I was attacked by the Plague last week, I snuffled and sneezed and coughed half the night. Connor kept waking up to turn on the gas fireplace, which turned a room already heavy with the breath of four sleeping people, into a side room of Hades. At some point, Teyla woke up and crawled into bed with me. "Great, now I have to roll over and try to clear a path through the other nostril," I thought to myself. And then at 5:00 AM, Kieran woke in his room with his normal "Mama, Daddy, Mama, Daddy, Mama, Daddy!" cry. I shuffled back to bed with him, as I always do. He feel back asleep, as he always does, after fifteen minutes of restless thrashing.

He woke for good at 6:30, and I was not eager to greet the day.

Eventually, the ride started to even out. I brewed some tea, got the kids breakfast, folded some laundry. I even managed to spend a few minutes at my desk, sampling my way through my blog reader, which is something I haven't done for at least a month, maybe more.

I looked up and saw the kids playing happily together. Their sweet voices and faces warmed me and made the normal morning doldrums melt away.

I snapped a few pictures (naturally) and went back to blog reading.

Hill tops are lovely, aren't they?

"Mama! Kieran is getting in BIG TROUBLE!"

Teyla's voice was loud and insistent and very Big Sister.

"What's he doing, honey?" I called, already headed for the scene.

"He's making a BIG MESS with your SPICES!"

'Twas true. Kieran had liberally sprinkled a whole jar of Mrs. Dash around the kitchen, and he was working on the Lemon Pepper as I walked around the corner.

"Buddy! No-no!" I said, grabbing the bottles from his hand and trying, in vain, to brush spices off his chubby feet.

Whoosh.

I washed off Kieran's feet in the sink, waved along the rest of the kids who naturally came to survey the damage. ("Whoa, Natalie, you have to come see this!" shrieked Connor.")

Nothing to see here folks, move along, move along, please.

I got the Swiffer and spent ten minutes pushing salt-free seasoning into piles. Meanwhile, I guarantee you there was nothing salt-free about the seasoning in my mind. "Oh my word, can't I even sit at my desk for a few minutes and relax? Why must he always create a mess? Why can't he just play with his freakin' toys? Why must he always explore? I am so tired of cleaning up mess after mess after mess."

Loop-de-loop.

My brow furrowed to yesterday, when Kieran had managed to grab the diaper changing station off a cabinet and lotion up the carpet in his room while I had the audacity to eat breakfast. And then, when I was putting on make-up, he snuck into the other bathroom - thanks to a sibling who forgot to shut the door - and squeezed half a tube of pink princess toothpaste on the wall, the door, the countertop, the cabinet pulls and - most impressively - the little potty which was stored in the linen closet.

From Instagram

But, by the time I finished vacuuming the spices - and let's face it, they were all probably past their prime anyway; I haven't made anything with lemon pepper since we lived in San Diego - I could hear laughter coming from the bedroom.

I found the siblings engaged in a silly game of Lego war.

And I headed back up the hill.

It's a crazy ride, isn't it? Let's go again.

Why I Love Valentine's Day

I have always loved Valentine’s Day. It’s one of those sweet, little holidays that splash color and joy all over winter. Red and pink and purple. Glitter hearts. Chocolate and strawberries. I’ll channel my inner Ina Garten here and say, “What’s not to like about that?”

Maybe because my Mom did such a great job of making Valentine’s a fun, family day, I never got weighed down with the romantic implications of the day. As a teenager, I was uber-aware of the couples around me and the swoony music and the candlelight dinners. And there were Valentine’s Days celebrated by Corey and me in our pre-kid years that involved dinners next to crashing waves and fondue chocolate in dark, cushy booths.

But mostly, Valentine’s Day to me isn’t a chance to get love – it’s a chance to show love. I don’t really care if it’s reciprocated. I relish the chance to make heart-shaped butter cookies with pink frosting and serve them to my kids after school – just to see them smile. I love helping them make Valentine cards for their cousins and their friends at school – because glittery hearts and silly sayings are simple and sweet ways to love others.

I don’t really care if Corey gets me a card or if the kids make me a gift. It’s not about me. It’s about my chance to show them how much I love them, on a day largely bereft of expectations or pressure.

Valentine’s Day is just pure, sweet joy.

Heart for Orphans

Do you have a heart for orphans? Do you have a blog? Then I bet my last Christmas cookie you've written about it. (Not that you want my last Christmas cookie, because good grief, it's almost Valentine's.) (On the other hand, they are double-iced mint fudge brownies, and they are killer.)

I want to read your best material. I want to weep with you, laugh with you, nod my head in understanding. I want to partner with you as you tell the world that these little ones are worth the pain, worth the sacrifice, worth the fight. And maybe, I'd like to share your vision with the world with the new series Hearts for Orphan's debuting today on the Christian Alliance for Orphans blog.

I am so excited and eager to launch this project, which has been in the works since the Orphan Summit last May. It's a chance for me to shine a spotlight on some of the fantastic posts about orphan care that I come across in my reader. I'm eager to share many of you with a wider audience and connect people who have similar burdens.

Will you click over to the CAFO blog today and read the inaugural post? It's a phenomenal piece written by Missy at It's Almost Naptime entitled "Am I A Hero?" and I guarantee it will rock your world with her signature passion, authenticity and humor. (And if you read it when it was originally posted at her place last fall, I also guarantee that it's even better the second time around.)

And then, will you do me a favor? When you read a blog post that speaks boldly of orphan care - in any form, be it adoption, foster care, or global care initiatives - will you email me the link? Even - maybe especially - if it's your own? After all, I have only two sets of eyes and limited hours in the day. I need help to find the best stuff out there. I can be found at kellyatlovewell-at-gmail-dot-com.

Thank you so much for sharing in my passion and my joy.

A Bud on the Tree

I keep thinking it's spring.

Our winter has been so wimpy. The sun is flexing its muscles. The crust of snow is disappearing. Last week, I swear I heard a song bird.

Problem is, it's only February 9. Even if an early spring is inevitable this year, it's not happening next week. Even though it feels tantalizing close, I still have to wait.

--

A few weeks ago, I looked around at the chaos in my house -- Kieran balanced precariously on a chair, Teyla playing dolls with her hair askew, Natalie drawing next to the dirty dishes, Connor playing Legos and following me around like a puppy, asking, "Mom, you know what? Mom, you know what?" - and my heart almost exploded. Simultaneously, I thought, "I AM SO BLESSED! I LOVE MY LIFE!" and "OH MY WORD, WILL I EVER HAVE A MOMENT TO MYSELF AGAIN? I AM LOSING MY EVER LOVIN' MIND!"

I know we all feel this crazy tension. It's inherent to parenting in the 21st century. But lately, for me, it feels like it's been tightened to the breaking point. I have never been so in love with my family, never so thankful, never so aware of how much I love each and every stage my kids are in. At the same time, I have never wanted a break more, I have never felt so itchy at their constant desire to be with me. A few weeks ago, when I was feeling especially stretched, I pushed Kieran and Teyla out of my bedroom and shut the door in their crying faces and tried-not-to-scream, "Mommy needs a few minutes ALONE!"

I know, in just a few years, they will all be in school, and I will have more time than I'll know what to do with. (And if you know that's not true, don't tell me. Let me have my dream.) It will change even this year. Teyla will start preschool in the fall, which means I'll be down to one child three mornings a week.

But as desperate as I am for time to stand still, I am straining for a change of seasons. I don't need spring in all its glory, yet. I just need a cracked window, a bud on the tree, a whiff of earth.

My desperation is pushing me to look for babysitters who can watch Kieran and Teyla for a few hours each week, so I can have consistent time to myself. And I think it's working. Today, I have a sweet teenage girl here (which is why you are reading this) and thanks to the magic of Facebook, I've found a few girls at a neighboring college who are open to working up a schedule with me.

The idea of having an afternoon each week when I'm not on duty, when I can do whatever I want without worrying about cutting up apples/negotiating a fight/pulling Kieran off the counter? I'm so giddy, I can hardly sit still.

--

Do you smell that? I think spring is on its way.

Pinterest: I finally get it

I'm not sure I should admit this. After all, I did save every issue of Martha Stewart Living for a decade just because the pictures were so pretty.

But in the beginning, I didn't get Pinterest.

I heard the buzz in social media circles last spring. I read Megan's oh-so-good tutorial. I snagged an invite. And I started pinning.

First impression? I loved the pictures. I'm visual. It was an overload of gorgeous. But I didn't really understand how to use it. "So I re-pin things that I like, so my followers and friends, most of whom are the same people, can see another pin of the same thing?"

Like I said, I didn't get it.

So my Pinterest account languished.

I didn't stop checking in with Pinterest, occasionally. (I should add: Half the time I tried to log in, the site was down. For all of its popularity - maybe because of all its popularity - Pinterest is one of the wonkier sites on the World Wide Web.) And slowly, I started to see potential.

I found fun crafts to do with my kids. I drooled over nooks in dream kitchens. I discovered amazing new school lunch ideas.

Then, one day, I got a Pottery Barn catalog in the mail. Now you have to understand - Pottery Barn is the undoing of me. I hardly ever buy anything, but if I had to define my style, it would be Pottery Barn to the core. (And don't even get me started on Pottery Barn Kids. I die.)

Normally, when I get a Pottery Barn catalog in the mail, I save it for months and pour over my favorite pictures and imagine how I can steal incorporate some of their style details in my own home.

But this time - light bulb! Instead of keeping the paper catalog, I Pinned my favorite designs.

Source: potterybarnkids.com via Kelly on Pinterest

Source: potterybarnkids.com via Kelly on Pinterest

Not only did this allow me to keep the photos in a place where I was more likely to see them everyday, but it enabled me to start a visual record of my style. Already, I've started to see trends pop up in my collection. For example, in the desk photos above, I see a stream of old-school-with-new-style chairs, fun-but-smart organization and scads of color. These are all things I've already started incorporating in the kids' homework area.

New worlds opened up to me. What if, instead of clipping that recipe, I Pinned it? What if, instead of Googling "gifts for teachers," I just searched Pinterest?

Suddenly, Pinterest was more than a source of inspiration. It became my virtual file cabinet. I've always clipped articles and pictures and ideas for "future use." But using Pinterest is so much easier that keeping a physical file folder.

Plus, with Pinterest, I get to share my favorite ideas/designs/recipes/crafts with my friends -- and they get to share theirs with me. The social media aspect of Pinterest turns a fun idea into a great one.

Maybe best of all, because I check Pinterest every day, I'm more likely to actually follow-through on the ideas instead of collecting them for "future use." Case in point: A few weeks ago, I found this (free!) Valentine's printables.

Source: triciarennea.blogspot.com via Kelly on Pinterest

Within days, I had this hanging over my fireplace mantle.

I simply printed the banner on card stock, added a few purple pennants made from my scrapbook paper stash to better match my Valentine's Day decor, taped the triangles to some string I found in the garage and - viola.

Instant beauty. Instant happy. And easy!

Now if someone could just explain Spotify to me.... I don't get it.

I'm kellyatlovewell on Pinterest. If you need an invite, let me know! I'd love to see you there!

Unaware

Our house has three bathrooms, and right now, every one of them is being used for nighttime bathing.

The boys (the Philistines, as Corey calls them) are splashing together in one tub. In the other two bathrooms, the showers are running for the girls.

Teyla is in the master bathroom, around the corner from my desk. She can't see me, but I can see her, because of a mirror on our dresser. She is dancing under the falling water, reaching her arms up to touch the stream, laughing as the spray chokes out her song. Streams fall from her pony tails - which I leave in 90% of the time now, because I am so over detangling her curly hair - and she is completely unaware of herself.

That kind of freedom mesmerizes me. It's beauty, through and through.

Sunday morning, our pastor taught on the passage in John where the Pharisees fling an adulteress as Jesus' feet. She has been caught in the act, and yes, that means exactly what you think. This woman, she is really just a pawn. The Pharisees aren't bringing her to Jesus to get his input. They are trying to trap him into saying something which they can use against him.

My heart always beats wild at this story. I have played that woman on stage many times. Many. To the point where a part of her lives in my soul. I imagine the crowd jeering, the men haughty. The terror. The embarrassment. The shame. Exposed publicly in your worst sin. Naked. She must have laid, cowering, at Jesus' feet, shaking violently, hiding her face, waiting for the stones to fall.

But Jesus, in a move that is classic Jesus, doesn't answer her accusers about whether or not she deserves death. He simply bends down and writes in the sand. The crowd badgers him for an answer. He rises and says the line almost everyone knows, even if you aren't a believer: "Let him who is without sin throw the first stone."

The text says that, one by one, the men slink away. When they are gone, Jesus - the only one in the crowd who has never sinned, the only one qualified to throw a stone - simply asks, "Who condemns you?"

"No one, Lord."

"Neither do I. Go and sin no more."

I don't know what happened to the woman after that. But in my mind, she did exactly what Jesus prescribed. She went home and probably took a bath and maybe, if Jesus words sank in deep enough, she was naked without shame, for the first time in a long time.

Maybe she even danced under the stream of water, completely unaware of herself.

Free.

Linking up with Heather's Just Write today.

Snow or the Lack Thereof

I probably need to stop talking to my sister on the phone. And maybe phase out quick conversations with other moms at school.

Because they are stealing my best material.

I tell my funny, quirky, who-would-have-thunk stories to them, and then when I sit down to write for the blog (if I sit down and write for the blog), I'm all pensive.

For the love of laughter. I keep saying this, but I promise: I am NOT this serious in real life. Let's just chat, shall we?

Let me do the first thing Midwesterners do if we sit down for coffee -- we talk weather. And this winter has left us with no end of details to discuss, because hello -- winter hasn't really arrived. We had a brown Christmas, we've been above freezing for much of January and we haven't had a plowable snowfall since December 4.

But today, hallelujah, it's snowing!

About freakin' time. If we're lucky, we'll get enough to cover the grass completely. But I'm not holding my breath.

Keep in mind, this pitiful excuse for a winter follows last winter, which was the third snowiest winter in history for Minnesota. This time last year, almost 60 inches of snow had fallen already.

Here. Let me show you a few pictures I took last winter, shortly after we moved into our new house.

The snow drifts outside the kids' school last year.

Our backyard.

Our front walk.

Our neighborhood.

So. Pretty. I almost want to swoon over those photos.

And this year? We haven't even gotten 12 inches of snow. Total. And most of that has come in dribs and drabs and then has melted within 24 hours. It's depressing.

If you'd really like to be on Irony Patrol, consider that Seattle got six inches of snow this week. And I didn't want to move there because I didn't want to leave my snow.

(AP Photo, Elaine Thompson)

Don't you love that photo? The people of Seattle's Queen Anne's neighborhood converting the street into a giant sledding hill. That, right there, is why I love snow.

Snow is magic. It calls to the kid in us and gives us an excuse to indulge the spontaneous and silly. Throw snowballs, make a snow angel, whoop it up on a sled that inevitably spills you into a snowdrift. It's allowable. Heck, it's encouraged.

Mr. Snowman, bring me some snow.