A Late Birthday Celebration For My Husband

(if you didn’t read the content of that newspaper clipping you are totally missing the beginning of this blog)

We drove to Loveland first and I pulled into Dick’s.  I know this is sort of a copycat of what he did for me, but seriously, it was too good of an idea not to replicate! When we went to our very first Rockies game together, I realized how much my husband truly loves baseball. He loves baseball the way I love football, and just like Manning is “my boy”, Tulowitzki is Doug’s. So surprise number one commenced.

Then we drove on to Denver and checked into our hotel (which I pricelined and got a fabulous deal on)! We got settled in and I told Doug I was thinking about pizza and a movie, which he was totally down for.  That sort of ruined my next move because I expected him to be appalled! So I proceeded to tell him I forgot something in the car and ran out and got our dress clothes out of the trunk.  When I walked in and told him he had to change to go to where we were eating dinner, he totally guessed where I was taking him, that turd.

This is the view from our hotel room.

They thought so highly of their pillows that they gift wrapped them.

So even though he guessed it, off we went to Elway’s for his special birthday dinner. It was the best steak and prime rib either of us has ever had.  I highly recommend it next time you want to go out for a nice dinner. The booths are built up pretty high so it was the perfect intimate and romantic setting.  The food was amazing and they even surprised us with a special Happy Birthday cake for Douggie.

Every Meal There Starts With A Hot Mini-Loaf of Sourdough Bread

This fried calamari also came with tempura battered and fried mini corn and blue cheese stuffed green olives. To. Die. For.

The most giant wedge salad ever.

Doug's Prime Rib on the Left, My Sirloin on the Right and our Potatoes in the Center

This was a homemade ding dong!!! It was a total surprise to both of us, I was really pleased!

These were mini creme brulee spoons. Perfection.

After we stuffed ourselves, we went back to the hotel for a good night’s rest.  When we woke up the next day we went out for a delicious breakfast at one of our favorite breakfast restaurants in Denver.  Doug thought that the day was over but I had one more trick up my sleeve.

This was probably the best surprise of the whole weekend because he truly didn’t see it coming. We headed off for the ballpark and ended his birthday weekend in style.  I was concerned because the Rockies were off to a slow start, but we ended up winning the game 6-5 and all but one of our scores was a homerun! It turned out to be a very exciting game to watch.

On our way home, we stopped for dinner with some friends of ours and we were so excited to see everyone and catch up that I didn’t even get to take one picture!!

I know that Doug thought the weekend was a lot, probably even a little excessive, but he works so hard for our future and he deserved every second of it.  I told him next year we will probably be saving for a baby and he will be lucky to get Applebees so he might as well enjoy the lavish weekend while he can!  I hope he had as great of a time on his birthday weekend as I did. Maybe someday we will actually get to spend the real birthday together without doing a wedding! Here is to a lifetime of birthdays with the man I love!

Because I am Content

I swear I went to sleep on May 1^st and then I woke up and half of July was gone.  It went that fast. It’s amazing how life happens like that.  In the 12 weeks that I see in my rearview mirror, the blessings were abundant, and I took some advice out of my own page in life and lived so much in the moment that I don’t have many pictures to prove it. Instead, I have wonderful memories, belly laughs and words to catch you up.

The Hubs was given a great opportunity to learn the family business this summer, and while we are grateful for the opportunity, it has been very difficult to be separated from him. I make a conscience effort to thwart my complaining because I am aware there are women and families who give their husbands up for longer periods of time (and for far nobler causes) but what I have learned is that being away from his sucks. Royally.

Before he left we went to my first professional baseball game – it was such a blast.

We went to Miami to surprise our best friends. We have minimal pictures from the trip because we were too busy soaking up every second of life while we were there.

We attended my annual family reunion, which was dampened by many rain showers, but fun nonetheless.

The Hubs attended his annual Mayhem concert, and in doing so, fulfilled one of his long beloved friend traditions.

We both completed summer courses, successfully.

I take a weekly girl date (and it is quickly becoming my favorite day of the week).

I participate in a monthly book club.

I am shoving as many lunch dates in as possible while I still have the time before Fall semester resumes.

I have suffered from exhaustion, lack of sleep, emotional drainage, overpowering joy, unbelievable pleasure, and swift passing of time.  I was lamenting recently about the separation from my spouse and the swift passing of another summer when I decided to sit down on my couch and enjoy, for the first time in MONTHS, complete silence.

I have always loved a level of solitude. I also love the order, the cleanliness, the near silent sounds and the familiar peace of my own home.  It’s one of the reasons I still don’t have a child. I’m not ready for that space to be disturbed. So when I got that space back, when the chaos settled down, when my heart started beating again in time with the second hand on my clock, I took a deep breath and realized that I am absolutely content. And what’s more, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being content. I want better things for my life, but I am thankful for the things I have. Most importantly though, and above all else, I have enormous amounts of faith in what is to come.

  

For My Grandpa

This week my grandfather survived his sixth, yes I said SIXTH, heart attack.  Medically speaking, it’s a miracle that with the restraints of the DNR, he made it through another episode at the ripe old age of 88.  Leroy is one tough son’of’a’buck.  He’s tired though, tired of this life, of growing old, of fighting his own body, of holding the legacy of this entire family on his shoulders.  Tired…tired he says and just ready to move from this life to the next, where his youthful good looks and capable body will be restored.

No one knows when the day will come that they will actually lose their grandparents.  Grandpa may have another 10 years in him for all we know, but he also very well may go to sleep tonight and not wake in the morning.

I have prepared myself for this moment for the past 5 years as his health has declined.  As I frequently write on this blog, I visit often and cherish every minute I spend with them, capturing pictures and writing down each new bit of information I learn.  Like about how he hot rodded on the top of the great wall of China in a Marine issued Jeep….

The thought of losing him in this life devastates me, and whenever the day does come that he slips to the next chapter, I will be the biggest ball of tears around. However, he has taught, he has loved, he has cherished, he has procured and cultivated and shaped his family into one of the strongest inheritances I have ever known.

So while I beg you to wait Grandpa, wait to see my first born, wait to see me publish a book, wait to see your first great-great grandchild, I know that those wishes are mine, not yours. Those wishes are selfish, not selfless. So because you taught me with all your might to be selfless, I will instead tell you that I STILL beg you stay, but in the same breath, I reassure you that if you must leave, do it knowing that you harvested a great many, wonderful people to carry on your heritage.

We’ve got this.

We will cry and our hearts will hurt and we will seek comfort in the knowledge and belief that families are forever. We will suffer immense loss. But because of you and what you have taught us…

We’ve got this.

For you, B

I remember moving to Laramie, I remember the horrification of a new high school so close to graduation and I remember feeling convinced that there was no chance I would make a lasting friendship, fit in or even enjoy this place.  The building was old.  The people were cliquish and my heart was broken over the new challenge in my life.

Laramie surprised me though.  I made acquaintances, I survived, I actually even THRIVED.  More surprising yet, I made friends.  Some that didn’t last and a few select handful that not only lasted, but became integral in my survival, key in my identity and necessary for my journey into adulthood.  Of those friends, I was a bridesmaid for one and two were bridesmaids for me.  Who knew, right?

Time and distance separated us – as is par for the course in life.  I stayed in this sleepy town while one of my best girls set out on a life for adventure, time in Florida, time back home and finally settling in a city far larger than this one a few hours south. She has been a rock in my life, we have nursed heartaches and cursed bad break-ups and danced late into the night and participated in crazy nights and endless fun shenanigans.  In fact, she was the last person I saw literally minutes before The Hubs got on one knee and the first call I made after my parents to shriek with delight about my new ring.

I have been blessed by her fierce loyalty and love her so, so much.  I smile and marvel at the pictures of us in formals for senior prom hanging side by side with the picture of us in formals – nearly a decade later – at my wedding.  I have a lot of great people in my corner, but through the many changes in my life, my stupid decisions, my good decisions, my tough decisions – she never faltered, she never left, she never judged.

I want great things for her. I want her happiness.  I miss her like crazy and I pray for her regularly.  This weekend, the love of her life proposed to her and they will began the crazy journey of planning a wedding, engagement parties, bridal showers, tuxedo shopping and dress fittings. I am thrilled for her. If anyone has worked harder and is more deserving of this, I don’t know them.

Happy Engagement, B.  I love you and I am so, so incredibly happy for you.

#ThrowBackThursday

There is this thing on Instagram that is trending lately – “Throw Back Thursday” – with all sorts of different hash tags…#tbt #throwbackthursday #throwbackthurs….and the list goes on and on.  I dabble in this weekly tradition, but more like on a monthly basis.  It seems to always be quite the affair when I #tbt.  I think the problem is I take it too seriously.  I can’t just throwback to a picture of my wedding or my childhood without being immersed by the memories of the day, the smells of the day, and the emotions of my heart in that moment of my existence.

See? I told you I take it too seriously.

Today, I sought out this picture with a specific purpose for my trip to memory lane.  I love my baby brother.  He is so busy and I really am so proud of the man he is, the career he is building himself, the character he develops daily and the incredible living of life he is doing. It’s just that…this growing up thing…it leaves less and less time for spontaneous softball games.  It robs us from the privilege of sharing a roof, or even sharing the same town.  Adulthood stole the spontaneity of backyard BBQ and late-night arm wrestling.  The double digits took away the lava (carpet) and rocks (pillows) of our living room.  Adolescence took away the adoration of one another and was replaced briefly with football, girls, trucks, video games, motorcycles...and college developed us into such independent beings.

Growing up was necessary. I never wish to be a child again (or that awkward teenager, that sucks). Hardships and blessings strengthened the bond my baby brother and I share, and maturing brought those lessons to us.  Adulthood gifted us with the experience under our belts to cultivate fierce loyalty and unconditional love.

My heart never hurts for these things.  It is the circle of life, it is what we do, we grow into adults with the hope that someday we will make valuable contributions to our families, to our society, to this world.  To say I long for those years when we were in one another’s back pockets would be a disservice to where we have gone in our lives: worlds apart, both exponentially happy with the lives we have created, strong, smart, independent, well-educated, kind, learned, compassionate individuals.  I won’t discredit these lives we both worked so hard for.

What I will do instead is say that on this “Throw Back Thursday,” my heart finds peace in the memories of a simpler time.  A time before being grown-up ruled our decision making, a time before we knew how big the world was, a time of immense laughter, flower planting, name carving, Mario Kart racing, gun shooting, hiking, mountain driving, movie watching, careless road tripping, pool-playing, softball throwing. A time of reckless abandon, impulsive decision-making and memory-creating youth. That time…that time overflows my buckets and the juices of life runneth over.

Be The Change

Is anyone as devastated as I am over the Oscar Pestorius story?  I cried every time that man raced this summer and he seemed like such an incredible human being.  The media is even having trouble finding people who will say a bad thing about him – even the victim’s agent said he was a charming, great guy.  What a hot mess.  He was such an inspiration for so many people.  I’m holding onto that whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing, but it isn’t looking good.  What is this world coming to?

On that note – I am going to get back to the quote I have up there.  Yesterday I was heartbroken over the news (AGAIN).  Basically, all the news ever does is make me sad. I should quit watching it or reading it.  Death, gambling, natural disasters, cop-killing ex-cops…it’s all just petrifyingly horrible.  I was scheduled for an afternoon practicum in a 7^th/8^th grade classroom.  It might seem like something that should be easy as pie for me, but when all your experience and training is at an upper/honors secondary level, middle school is terrifying!!  Then add the sad news I read on my lunch hour and I went to my practicum feeling broken and sad.

I was supposed to sit quietly at the back of the classroom and observe, make notes about how to handle the classroom, absorb teaching methods I would want to use in my own classroom someday, that sort of thing.  So there I sat, when my host teacher asked me if I could do them a favor and transcribe for a student with a broken arm. I of course obliged immediately and as the teacher led me to the computer lab, I received an explanation on the student and notification that the student was moderately special needs.

My palms got sweaty and I started to panic on the inside.  My specialty is poetry and modern YAL.  What could I possible offer a special education child in middle school? I felt all wrong for the job and ill equipped to be trusted with it.  I tuned back in post-panic to hear my host teacher finishing their instructions with, “….and since you’re specialty is English, if you manage to get to two paragraphs with the student, please help the student understand sentence structure, grammar and punctuation through questions instead of straight instruction.”  Good gracious, the student and I were doomed.

I sat down in the chair at the computer and typed the exact words the student spoke to me.  The student was fantastic and funny and sweet.  It’s true; there was a prevalent learning disability.  As I typed the words exactly as the student spoke them to me, I fought the urge to edit, revise and change what the student said to fit my idea of “perfect English.”  When we reached two paragraphs, I started to ask the student questions about the information that had been portrayed to me and if the proper language was used to get the point across in a clear and concise way.  The student started to struggle and get frustrated.  I started to falter (after all, there was a voice in my head telling me the whole time this was not where my training lies).

In a miraculous moment of clarity, the idea floated into my head to try asking the student to simply read back the script to me.  As the student and I took it one sentence at a time, I watched a miracle unfold before my very eyes.  I watched this student stumble and hesitate over the words that were incorrect.  I watched the student pause when they saw a word that didn’t fit and in the student’s eyes, I saw that they KNEW the mistakes that had been made.  Through painstakingly slow progress and thought processes, the student was able to identify and correctly revise the paragraphs we had written.

When the student felt it was as polished as it was going to get, they requested I print it out so that they could show it to their group members for changes and revision.  As the student dashed out of the room I thought to myself that these paragraphs were nowhere near perfect in my eyes, but for this special spirit, they were impeccably written.  In a matter of minutes, this very special student ran back into the computer lab with their broken arm and jumped for joy, exclaiming to me, “They said it was perfect and I don’t need to change anything!”  In that moment, my heart melted.  The fullness in my heart that I felt at the student’s joy will forever be a defining moment in my life.

The truth is, I am still not trained or equipped to deal with special education children. I never will be, it’s not where my education lies.  However, this experience opened my eyes to supporting a full inclusion classroom…or not supporting it depending on the circumstance – at least when the day comes, my decision can be based on actual experience and not something I read from a text book.

The truth is, my desire to teach at a higher education level instead of younger children still outweighs any other teaching desire in my heart, but at least now I know that if I ever teach middle school, I will be able to relate to the students and pull this moment from my rolodex of life experiences to try to be more compassionate and understating.

The truth is, even if just for an hour in my day, I WAS the change I want to see in this world.

There is Always Hope

We live in hard world full of people who control so much of our lives and understand so little of what we truly do and go through on a daily basis.  I strive to have a good heart and be a good person with a smart enough balance that I don’t end up hurt or too trusting.  I lose faith in humanity almost daily.  The news depresses me, my job (while I am so, so, so grateful to have one) presents challenges daily and my life, while generally all around good, goes through hard days. Everyone experiences this. It is living, it is existing, it is being right here, right now.

What makes it all worth it? Everyone has their own definition. Your faith. Your family. Your happiness.  For me, what makes it all worth it, is hope.  Hope for a better future, hope that I can become a better person and hope that not all people are really all that bad.

They aren’t.

I witnessed a truly random act of kindness the other day.  The person who gave this act of kindness chose to remain anonymous and did it with no desire for recognition or reward.  While eating out at a restaurant the other night, I watched a person on their way out the door walk by a table full of young men in their fatigues, clearly members of our military.  In a spontaneous moment, the person leaving the restaurant tracked down the waitress and told her that they would like to pay the bill for these young men.

The waitress hesitated and said, “Are you sure? It’s kind of a lot! Do you know them?!”

The good citizen replied, “Yes I am sure, and no, I do not know them, but I know what they do.”

When the waitress discreetly appeared with the bill for the person to sign, she shook the person’s hand and said, “That is just the sweetest thing I have ever seen anyone do, I just want to shake your hand and thank you so much.”

The person paying the bill for the soldiers quietly replied, “They sacrifice for my freedom, they are the reason I have a job and can even have the privilege of buying them dinner.  Please do not make a big deal out of this. Please do not tell them WHO paid for their dinner. Please just tell them I said, ‘Thank You.’”

The bill payer then walked quietly out of the restaurant to their vehicle and drove away.  You will never know that person’s name.  The soldiers will never know who bought them dinner.  The waitress may well never lay eyes on the person’s hand that they shook in awe over such a nice thing to do.

But me? I know who that person was and I could pick them out on the street if our paths were to cross. I never would though, I will respect that person’s privacy and hold in my heart the joy I saw at the young men craning their necks looking out the window trying to identify the stranger who showered them with gratitude and kindness. I will also remember how much joy I saw in that completely random moment of love.

And I will keep my faith in humanity.

And I will remember that it is all worth it.

That there is always hope.