I'm thinking about doing something insane this next school year, and as with all leaps of faith, I'm pretty scared at the prospects of what I'm considering.
We have already decided to continue homeschooling with the Classical Conversations program. We love the structure yet flexibility of both Foundations, the first level and Essentials, the second, and plan to continue through the Challenge A and B levels. If you are considering homeschool as an option for your family, I highly recommend looking into Classical Conversations.
Here's where the crazy comes in.
The director of our area CC Foundations group is stepping down to start Challenge A for this same area. Her youngest is aging out of Foundations and CC needs someone new to take over. She approached me about the job, and I immediately said I wasn't interested... after politely giving her the most insane look possible. Why would she even consider me? We're fairly new to homeschooling, new to Classical Conversations, and new to Foundations- surely not qualified. I was interested only in tutoring for the 2014-15 school year.
It came up in casual conversation over the last several weeks with a few of the other moms, all of whom paid me the great compliment of saying they thought I would be a wonderful addition as director. Each encouraged me to at least consider the position. Despite my attempts to remain reserved and low-key this year, these women saw something in me, and without even realizing it, I caught myself mulling it over as I washed dishes this weekend. I set the glass in my hand down and gave Carlos a look of which I'm sure he is quite familiar. It was my crazy-idea eyes; the same ones that led to MOPS leadership. I think he laughed before I said anything at all. His support is, of course crucial, and as always, God bless him, freely given.
This isn't the first time God has caught my attention just like this, in the everyday monotony, but I'm always surprised when He calls on me. It often reminds me of Moses thinking Aaron would surely be better suited to saving God's chosen people from the grips of slavery. He couldn't see past his own imperfections to imagine he could possibly be the one to do God's bidding. I feel a little bit like that now. It's terrifying. I know I'm capable of fulfilling the obligations of director, but I'm worried I'm not up to it just yet. Sometimes it feels so much easier just to be a member of the crowd rather than the one to step forward, but I suppose we rarely remain happy inside the comfort of our own little box for too long and I know for a fact we miss out on great blessings.
Admitting I'm interested is only the first step. CC will have to approve, should I volunteer, followed by a great deal of training and prep. This is a very big decision for us and one we will most certainly not take lightly. Your prayers for clarity and sanity are greatly needed and appreciated as I make this decision with my family.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Winter Blues vs. Favorite Things
The winter has been hard and long this year. My spirit is ready for spring, and so is just about everyone I know. However, since "cold and dreary" has been thrust upon us yet again (though I have to admit I'm glad the white stuff was kind enough to stay away this round), I am composing a cheesy-yet-cheery list of my favorite things to shake the Winter Blues today.
1. The little giggles of children. First, because it is my favorite. On a bad day, there is absolutely nothing that can make me smile like when my boys get tickled about something (or nothing at all, as is mostly the case with Julian) and giggle uncontrollably. It is the purest sound of "happy" and should be listed in Roget's Thesaurus as a synonym for such.
2. The company of friends & family. My love language is "Quality Time," so no one should be surprised by my enjoyment of visiting with loved ones. I would take a messy house and constant chaos over hours and hours of "me-time" any day. What can I say? I'm a people person.
3. Music. Do I really need to explain this one? Music is magical, and therefore not something I could explain very well anyway. I love all (well... most) music, from a little bird's song to the twang of Scott Avett's banjo.
4. Foods that generally aren't considered healthy. This one has been a blessing and a curse, as my waistline can attest. Cupcakes, preferably red velvet immediately come to mind, as does Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream. I'm also very fond of cheese and chocolate. "May I have a helping of pure joy with a large side of calories and fat, please?"
5. A good, sweaty workout. Not something I can honestly say I've always appreciated, but after #4, I had to redeem myself! My health and weight loss journey has been a long time in the making. About 2 years ago, I weighed in over 200 lbs. While I'm not yet to my goal weight, I have dropped more than 35 lbs. and I am far stronger physically than ever before. I can tell you now- there is nothing quite like the feeling of muscles made of jello after a good, hard push-yourself in the gym!
6. Accomplishments. I am plagued by a terrible ritual of not finishing projects begun, and I'm sure I've referenced this nasty little habit before in my blog. I fight very hard to overcome this almost daily, and I've learned to greatly appreciate the pride of accomplishing most any task.
7. A good book & a comfy spot to read it. My love of books truly began when I set forth to remedy the problem referenced in #6. In desperation to finish anything, I made a rule- I would read a book and I would finish it. It was simple and short-term... and I had to start somewhere. That single accomplishment and the real-world-escape that book gave led me to another book, and then another, and voila!- a love of reading.
8. The sound of water. Raindrops falling. Waves crashing. Rivers and streams running. Snow melting. It would appear I just listed the tracks of a nature CD, I know, but I suppose they record it and sell it because others love it, too.
9. The moon & stars. A clear night in the middle of nowhere? Yes, please!
10. The perfect morning. Coffee is most definitely involved here, and it hasn't gone unnoticed that a good day usually starts when I rise before the kiddos do. It is, however, more about how I wake up as opposed to what happens when I do. (Although, certain happenings can most definitely get me up on the right side of the bed, while others are sure to be the day's downfall. )
So there it is, ten of my favorite things. It's no schnitzel with noodles, but I'm fairly certain Julie Andrews would be proud!
1. The little giggles of children. First, because it is my favorite. On a bad day, there is absolutely nothing that can make me smile like when my boys get tickled about something (or nothing at all, as is mostly the case with Julian) and giggle uncontrollably. It is the purest sound of "happy" and should be listed in Roget's Thesaurus as a synonym for such.
2. The company of friends & family. My love language is "Quality Time," so no one should be surprised by my enjoyment of visiting with loved ones. I would take a messy house and constant chaos over hours and hours of "me-time" any day. What can I say? I'm a people person.
3. Music. Do I really need to explain this one? Music is magical, and therefore not something I could explain very well anyway. I love all (well... most) music, from a little bird's song to the twang of Scott Avett's banjo.
4. Foods that generally aren't considered healthy. This one has been a blessing and a curse, as my waistline can attest. Cupcakes, preferably red velvet immediately come to mind, as does Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream. I'm also very fond of cheese and chocolate. "May I have a helping of pure joy with a large side of calories and fat, please?"
5. A good, sweaty workout. Not something I can honestly say I've always appreciated, but after #4, I had to redeem myself! My health and weight loss journey has been a long time in the making. About 2 years ago, I weighed in over 200 lbs. While I'm not yet to my goal weight, I have dropped more than 35 lbs. and I am far stronger physically than ever before. I can tell you now- there is nothing quite like the feeling of muscles made of jello after a good, hard push-yourself in the gym!
6. Accomplishments. I am plagued by a terrible ritual of not finishing projects begun, and I'm sure I've referenced this nasty little habit before in my blog. I fight very hard to overcome this almost daily, and I've learned to greatly appreciate the pride of accomplishing most any task.
7. A good book & a comfy spot to read it. My love of books truly began when I set forth to remedy the problem referenced in #6. In desperation to finish anything, I made a rule- I would read a book and I would finish it. It was simple and short-term... and I had to start somewhere. That single accomplishment and the real-world-escape that book gave led me to another book, and then another, and voila!- a love of reading.
8. The sound of water. Raindrops falling. Waves crashing. Rivers and streams running. Snow melting. It would appear I just listed the tracks of a nature CD, I know, but I suppose they record it and sell it because others love it, too.
9. The moon & stars. A clear night in the middle of nowhere? Yes, please!
10. The perfect morning. Coffee is most definitely involved here, and it hasn't gone unnoticed that a good day usually starts when I rise before the kiddos do. It is, however, more about how I wake up as opposed to what happens when I do. (Although, certain happenings can most definitely get me up on the right side of the bed, while others are sure to be the day's downfall. )
So there it is, ten of my favorite things. It's no schnitzel with noodles, but I'm fairly certain Julie Andrews would be proud!
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
A Tiny Little Light
Pardon the understatement of the year, but documenting a walk through a dark place is not easy. While I've read plenty of reflections of life's infamous difficulties, I haven't actually read too many blogs in which people share this part of the journey as it is happening. Not to go all "cliche" on you, but hindsight is 20/20 after all, and it is much easier, though I'm not saying it isn't difficult, to share from a perspective of joy and lessons learned. It's no secret I'm not there yet. Sadly, I don't have much else to give you at the moment but my wearisome walk, but my need to get it all out is strong. There will always be pieces I cannot yet share, whether because it is too personal or because it is not mine alone to share, but it is in the hopes of finding a healthy way out of darkness, and maybe being a little inspirational as I go that I continue to post.
The point is all to say (and reassure my loved ones) I am constantly in search of improvement; of a little light to draw me out of this funk I keep droning on about. It is with high hopes I tell you now, when I awoke this morning, I found my fight, my motivation to wiggle free of this unhappiness that has such a tight grip on me. I don't know what was different about today (and I hope I feel the same tomorrow), but I made a decision to not look at my children one more morning and be overwhelmed with the sadness of not providing a better form of myself for them.
Whether it is human nature, something genetic in me, or a learned behavior, laziness and complacency have always been some of my worst habits. Simply dwelling where I am is far too easy of a trap and one I've been known to fall into every now and then, but I absolutely refuse to be stuck here anymore. God has blessed me with many gifts and I have taken them, like a new toy a child doesn't want to use for fear of breaking it and kept them in their box. But toys bring the most joy when they're played with. So, too, should I find delight in my callings. I won't let fear, laziness, or a combination of both keep me from the many opportunities currently before me.
For many, many years, I have collected thoughts and ideas with the ambitious dream of one day publishing a novel. Long shot? Maybe, but I have always wanted to write. In fact, my mind is constantly producing conversations and scenarios for beloved characters in novels I have yet to begin. I have gobs of notes for at least three different stories jotted on random slips of paper stashed in secret spaces around my house, all saved for "when I have more time." Well, I don't have any more time now than I've ever had, but I can't waste another second making promises to myself. It's a "now or never" kind of pursuit at this point... and I'm choosing now. Just a little writing a few days a week- nothing too overwhelming. It may take decades to finish, but progress is my goal. Besides, why not put all this emotional baggage to good use? We'll just call it a therapeutic journey for mending my bent and broken psyche. I have a sneaking suspicion that much of writing fiction comes out of life's little experiences anyway.
So there it is- a promise made to myself for the world to see. I'm counting on your accountability here, folks.
The point is all to say (and reassure my loved ones) I am constantly in search of improvement; of a little light to draw me out of this funk I keep droning on about. It is with high hopes I tell you now, when I awoke this morning, I found my fight, my motivation to wiggle free of this unhappiness that has such a tight grip on me. I don't know what was different about today (and I hope I feel the same tomorrow), but I made a decision to not look at my children one more morning and be overwhelmed with the sadness of not providing a better form of myself for them.
Whether it is human nature, something genetic in me, or a learned behavior, laziness and complacency have always been some of my worst habits. Simply dwelling where I am is far too easy of a trap and one I've been known to fall into every now and then, but I absolutely refuse to be stuck here anymore. God has blessed me with many gifts and I have taken them, like a new toy a child doesn't want to use for fear of breaking it and kept them in their box. But toys bring the most joy when they're played with. So, too, should I find delight in my callings. I won't let fear, laziness, or a combination of both keep me from the many opportunities currently before me.
For many, many years, I have collected thoughts and ideas with the ambitious dream of one day publishing a novel. Long shot? Maybe, but I have always wanted to write. In fact, my mind is constantly producing conversations and scenarios for beloved characters in novels I have yet to begin. I have gobs of notes for at least three different stories jotted on random slips of paper stashed in secret spaces around my house, all saved for "when I have more time." Well, I don't have any more time now than I've ever had, but I can't waste another second making promises to myself. It's a "now or never" kind of pursuit at this point... and I'm choosing now. Just a little writing a few days a week- nothing too overwhelming. It may take decades to finish, but progress is my goal. Besides, why not put all this emotional baggage to good use? We'll just call it a therapeutic journey for mending my bent and broken psyche. I have a sneaking suspicion that much of writing fiction comes out of life's little experiences anyway.
So there it is- a promise made to myself for the world to see. I'm counting on your accountability here, folks.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Hiding in Fredericksburg
All the schools and offices in the area have called for a "snow day" today, so I'm giving my kids a break from homeschool, too. We're a week ahead anyway and snow sounds like a good excuse to take a day off! So, I have a little time and thought I'd take a second shot at writing this blog entry. I started a week ago, but just couldn't get my thoughts together in the right words. Not sure I can today either, but it's clearly something that is still weighing on my heart and on my mind.
As I've said before, I am nomadic by nature, so being a military wife has worked well for me. I like change and I have always enjoyed moving (not the packing part, just to be clear). It's a chance to start over; to reinvent or build on who we are. It's not that I pretend to be something I'm not in a new place. On the contrary- I am always true to and real about who I am. Settling in new towns has simply given me the opportunity to nurture certain parts of who I am (people are multi-faceted after all) and to have a clean break with the things I should or want to leave behind. I am a very social person and have been known to overly involve myself and my family in activities outside of our home. This is an easy pool for a stay-at-home mother to drown in, though I'm not sure I could explain that to you if you don't understand what I mean. It is, however, always a balancing act between my family's needs and my own, and it is one of those things I will always have to work at. In any case, moving every few years helps these seasons of life begin and end neatly and naturally.
When our new orders came this past summer to move just a few hours north, I decided it was time to slow down. I am the woman who was not just a parent of a child involved in certain activities; I was the mother leading and participating. A mere year ago, I was in charge of childcare for MOPS with plans to coordinate the group the following year, leading Julian's Cub Scout Tiger Den, an active Senior Consultant in Thirty One, and a helper with our church's childrens choir in addition to many other less regular activities. Many of our week nights and weekends were spent running to extra curricular interests, mostly in opposite directions, and our family was no longer benefiting from these activities, but rather drifting apart. I rarely felt like we spent any time together, even in places where we were all present. A relocation was the perfect opportunity to refocus. And so I made a promise to Carlos and the boys- I wouldn't jump into anything right away when we settled in Fredericksburg.
Needless to say and quite uncharacteristically of me, I have found it far too easy to keep this promise. I'm beginning to see maybe I've even taken it too far in the other direction. After six months of living here, we have joined only our homeschool group and the local y, and I have limited our involvement even in these organizations. My problem isn't in being involved in only a few things. No, the problem comes when I admit I haven't truly invested in the lives of the people we have met, nor have I allowed them close enough to invest in us. We are, of course, friendly at school and I chat with the other mothers as the boys work and play, but it is only small talk. Beyond the doors of the church we meet at and the y, we keep to ourselves where these families are concerned. You see, I have found the process of making new friends to be exhausting this time around. I don't like the isolation I have created. In fact, the urge to get out is just as nagging as ever, but I just don't have the energy or the attitude to actively pursue new relationships. I'm afraid the social butterfly in me has flown away. Believe me, I know how dumb this sounds.
Our only saving grace from my anti-social antics has been old friends that happen to live in Fredericksburg; a family that already knows us well. They are one of the many reasons we chose to live here instead of closer to my husband's job in DC, second only to the cost of living. When we need a little fun, we call on them. It is not healthy to not have a bigger local support system though, and it certainly isn't fair to these family friends for us to become their burden and responsibility. I know they don't feel this way, but I'm worried it won't be long before they do.
So, what do I do?
Well, I have no immediate desire to crawl out of this isolated cave I've stumbled into. I wish I could tell you why. I'm not really looking for advice, but owning up to my depression (let's be honest and call a spade a spade here) seems to be the best place to start. Sharing this is far harder than you will ever know. No one likes to admit their faults and imperfections, especially not on the world wide web, but I'm clearly getting desperate for motivation to move on. I want better for my children, for my family, and for myself. My only hope is found in the will I still possess to make it better. For now, taking one day at a time is all I can promise and I hope in my next post I can share a more inspirational and encouraging side of myself.
P.S. If you see me on the streets of Fredericksburg, don't let me get away with small talk.
As I've said before, I am nomadic by nature, so being a military wife has worked well for me. I like change and I have always enjoyed moving (not the packing part, just to be clear). It's a chance to start over; to reinvent or build on who we are. It's not that I pretend to be something I'm not in a new place. On the contrary- I am always true to and real about who I am. Settling in new towns has simply given me the opportunity to nurture certain parts of who I am (people are multi-faceted after all) and to have a clean break with the things I should or want to leave behind. I am a very social person and have been known to overly involve myself and my family in activities outside of our home. This is an easy pool for a stay-at-home mother to drown in, though I'm not sure I could explain that to you if you don't understand what I mean. It is, however, always a balancing act between my family's needs and my own, and it is one of those things I will always have to work at. In any case, moving every few years helps these seasons of life begin and end neatly and naturally.
When our new orders came this past summer to move just a few hours north, I decided it was time to slow down. I am the woman who was not just a parent of a child involved in certain activities; I was the mother leading and participating. A mere year ago, I was in charge of childcare for MOPS with plans to coordinate the group the following year, leading Julian's Cub Scout Tiger Den, an active Senior Consultant in Thirty One, and a helper with our church's childrens choir in addition to many other less regular activities. Many of our week nights and weekends were spent running to extra curricular interests, mostly in opposite directions, and our family was no longer benefiting from these activities, but rather drifting apart. I rarely felt like we spent any time together, even in places where we were all present. A relocation was the perfect opportunity to refocus. And so I made a promise to Carlos and the boys- I wouldn't jump into anything right away when we settled in Fredericksburg.
Needless to say and quite uncharacteristically of me, I have found it far too easy to keep this promise. I'm beginning to see maybe I've even taken it too far in the other direction. After six months of living here, we have joined only our homeschool group and the local y, and I have limited our involvement even in these organizations. My problem isn't in being involved in only a few things. No, the problem comes when I admit I haven't truly invested in the lives of the people we have met, nor have I allowed them close enough to invest in us. We are, of course, friendly at school and I chat with the other mothers as the boys work and play, but it is only small talk. Beyond the doors of the church we meet at and the y, we keep to ourselves where these families are concerned. You see, I have found the process of making new friends to be exhausting this time around. I don't like the isolation I have created. In fact, the urge to get out is just as nagging as ever, but I just don't have the energy or the attitude to actively pursue new relationships. I'm afraid the social butterfly in me has flown away. Believe me, I know how dumb this sounds.
Our only saving grace from my anti-social antics has been old friends that happen to live in Fredericksburg; a family that already knows us well. They are one of the many reasons we chose to live here instead of closer to my husband's job in DC, second only to the cost of living. When we need a little fun, we call on them. It is not healthy to not have a bigger local support system though, and it certainly isn't fair to these family friends for us to become their burden and responsibility. I know they don't feel this way, but I'm worried it won't be long before they do.
So, what do I do?
Well, I have no immediate desire to crawl out of this isolated cave I've stumbled into. I wish I could tell you why. I'm not really looking for advice, but owning up to my depression (let's be honest and call a spade a spade here) seems to be the best place to start. Sharing this is far harder than you will ever know. No one likes to admit their faults and imperfections, especially not on the world wide web, but I'm clearly getting desperate for motivation to move on. I want better for my children, for my family, and for myself. My only hope is found in the will I still possess to make it better. For now, taking one day at a time is all I can promise and I hope in my next post I can share a more inspirational and encouraging side of myself.
P.S. If you see me on the streets of Fredericksburg, don't let me get away with small talk.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Caspian the Giant Saves Christmas
I'll admit it. I never thought I'd participate in anything as silly as the Elf on the Shelf tradition. Like ever. A little Christmas elf that magically moves every night and reports back to Santa? Really? The last thing I need is to add one more "to do" to my list, especially this time of year. And compete with Super Mom for the most creative elf appearance? Sounds like a fabulous way for me to ruin the Christmas spirit altogether by forgetting to move said elf and breaking my sons' little hearts. I mean, let's be honest- ain't nobody got time for that!
I've seen a few anti-elf posts on Facebook already this year. People sharing their thoughts on how obnoxious it all is, all sounding quite familiar to my previous feelings on the subject, although I was more worried about being able to keep up with it daily rather than being annoyed by someone else's decision to partake in this tradition.
Here's the thing. Last year, I was in a very different place, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why I'm always amazed at how life's circumstances can give you a very different perspective of everything, but so it is.
2013 has been a very big year for our family, the biggest event being the blessing of becoming an officer family in the U.S. Coast Guard. We were, of course, so excited and honored by my husband's promotion. It is a wonderful thing for our family, and he has worked so hard for this. The trouble is, with a promotion like this also comes the probability of an early move, often considered a curse of the military life. I don't typically mind a move. In fact, I was born for this nomadic lifestyle and I'm usually thrilled to find adventure in the change of scenery. But this time was different, and I'm not sure I've discovered why just yet. Really, we didn't move far, but the changes have affected me much more than I'm happy to admit. As a result, the joy I normally find in this time of year has been rather elusive. There is no Christmas music blaring in my home, as is the custom from early November through the first of January. Though I have purchased and wrapped most of our gifts for family and friends, I have done so with a grinch-like countenance. We carelessly disposed of our little Charlie Brown tree in our move this summer with no intention of replacing it. Our Nativity is still tucked away in its box. I have not even glanced at the super long list of Pinterest holiday ideas and crafts pinned just after Christmas last year to my "Must Do Holiday" board. I'm just not feeling it this year... and that's no way to celebrate the birth of our Savior.
Now, let me pause here to explain another military family truth. Many, if not all of our holidays and vacations are spent traveling to visit family. If the husband has time off and the kids have no school (though this aspect has changed since we began our homeschool journey), we squeeze in time with as many loved ones as we can possibly manage. The more we move, the more people we adopt as family, and the more we want to visit. It is a wonderful thing to have family and friends spread all over the country, (and please don't misunderstand- I wouldn't change this) but it is also a sacrifice. My children have only spent one Christmas Eve in their own beds, waking up Christmas morning in their own living room. We don't have those cool family traditions for December 24th and 25th (or the two weeks surrounding) because we never know where we will be. And don't get me started on what a logistical nightmare Santa can be! For the first time, this year our children have expressed a desire to be home for Christmas and questioned why we always had to be somewhere else. I didn't know what to say to them. I did, however, have an idea of how to make the season a little fun and to step out of this funk I seem to have led my family into.
I have a very talented friend who owns a little shop called the Burbs. She sells toys and collectibles, all made with her own two hands and lots of heart. One of her seasonal items is a quirky little elf. I followed her family's elf, Monroe and his crazy shenanigans last year, and thought one of these little guys could really bring some special memories to my boys. And so Caspian the Giant was created!
It is only the second week of December, and already Caspian has helped our family find Christmas. It was so sweet to see the expressions on the faces of my three boys when they awoke to find a beautiful 6-foot pre-lit Christmas tree awaiting the ornaments Caspian had dug out of the dark basement on only his second day with us. Some of these ornaments hadn't seen a tree in 10 years! The boys giggled when they read his note expressing slight irritation in our delay of decorating. Caspian even surprised our visiting friends with poppers and silly string in celebration of reaching the half-way mark in their daddy's deployment. He brought Christian balloons and a little gift on his birthday (because having a December birthday is always tough). With every little act of Christmas fun, the bah-humbugs are replaced with holiday bliss.
His gestures are not always a big to do and they can be rather mischievous sometimes, but I don't mind giving Caspian credit for the deeds he has done. Having him around has truly been more fun than I could've imagined an elf being. It's been the best addition to our Christmas traditions this year; one we can easily do here at home, or on the road visiting friends and family. I'm creating memories for my children- happy, joy-filled fun, and what in life is better than that?
I'm certainly not saying that having an elf is necessary for every family or that our elf antics supercede the real meaning of Christmas. I simply wanted to offer another perspective to those who see the Christmas Elf as an annoyance or as a competition.
Here are some pictures of Caspian's adventures so far in the Ortiz house:
I've seen a few anti-elf posts on Facebook already this year. People sharing their thoughts on how obnoxious it all is, all sounding quite familiar to my previous feelings on the subject, although I was more worried about being able to keep up with it daily rather than being annoyed by someone else's decision to partake in this tradition.
Here's the thing. Last year, I was in a very different place, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why I'm always amazed at how life's circumstances can give you a very different perspective of everything, but so it is.
2013 has been a very big year for our family, the biggest event being the blessing of becoming an officer family in the U.S. Coast Guard. We were, of course, so excited and honored by my husband's promotion. It is a wonderful thing for our family, and he has worked so hard for this. The trouble is, with a promotion like this also comes the probability of an early move, often considered a curse of the military life. I don't typically mind a move. In fact, I was born for this nomadic lifestyle and I'm usually thrilled to find adventure in the change of scenery. But this time was different, and I'm not sure I've discovered why just yet. Really, we didn't move far, but the changes have affected me much more than I'm happy to admit. As a result, the joy I normally find in this time of year has been rather elusive. There is no Christmas music blaring in my home, as is the custom from early November through the first of January. Though I have purchased and wrapped most of our gifts for family and friends, I have done so with a grinch-like countenance. We carelessly disposed of our little Charlie Brown tree in our move this summer with no intention of replacing it. Our Nativity is still tucked away in its box. I have not even glanced at the super long list of Pinterest holiday ideas and crafts pinned just after Christmas last year to my "Must Do Holiday" board. I'm just not feeling it this year... and that's no way to celebrate the birth of our Savior.
Now, let me pause here to explain another military family truth. Many, if not all of our holidays and vacations are spent traveling to visit family. If the husband has time off and the kids have no school (though this aspect has changed since we began our homeschool journey), we squeeze in time with as many loved ones as we can possibly manage. The more we move, the more people we adopt as family, and the more we want to visit. It is a wonderful thing to have family and friends spread all over the country, (and please don't misunderstand- I wouldn't change this) but it is also a sacrifice. My children have only spent one Christmas Eve in their own beds, waking up Christmas morning in their own living room. We don't have those cool family traditions for December 24th and 25th (or the two weeks surrounding) because we never know where we will be. And don't get me started on what a logistical nightmare Santa can be! For the first time, this year our children have expressed a desire to be home for Christmas and questioned why we always had to be somewhere else. I didn't know what to say to them. I did, however, have an idea of how to make the season a little fun and to step out of this funk I seem to have led my family into.
I have a very talented friend who owns a little shop called the Burbs. She sells toys and collectibles, all made with her own two hands and lots of heart. One of her seasonal items is a quirky little elf. I followed her family's elf, Monroe and his crazy shenanigans last year, and thought one of these little guys could really bring some special memories to my boys. And so Caspian the Giant was created!
It is only the second week of December, and already Caspian has helped our family find Christmas. It was so sweet to see the expressions on the faces of my three boys when they awoke to find a beautiful 6-foot pre-lit Christmas tree awaiting the ornaments Caspian had dug out of the dark basement on only his second day with us. Some of these ornaments hadn't seen a tree in 10 years! The boys giggled when they read his note expressing slight irritation in our delay of decorating. Caspian even surprised our visiting friends with poppers and silly string in celebration of reaching the half-way mark in their daddy's deployment. He brought Christian balloons and a little gift on his birthday (because having a December birthday is always tough). With every little act of Christmas fun, the bah-humbugs are replaced with holiday bliss.
His gestures are not always a big to do and they can be rather mischievous sometimes, but I don't mind giving Caspian credit for the deeds he has done. Having him around has truly been more fun than I could've imagined an elf being. It's been the best addition to our Christmas traditions this year; one we can easily do here at home, or on the road visiting friends and family. I'm creating memories for my children- happy, joy-filled fun, and what in life is better than that?
I'm certainly not saying that having an elf is necessary for every family or that our elf antics supercede the real meaning of Christmas. I simply wanted to offer another perspective to those who see the Christmas Elf as an annoyance or as a competition.
Here are some pictures of Caspian's adventures so far in the Ortiz house:
Caspian needed a bit of sugar to get him going and he got into the candy bowl on the first night.
Caspian was a little irritated that we hadn't decorated yet, and actually provided us with a tree!
A reunion with all his friends from the Burbs.
A friendly game of Five Card Spud.
Attempting to decorate a bit more.
A celebration for half-way through friends' deployment.
A snowball fight with the Cat.
Happy birthday, Christian!
Christmas Hangman with the Christmas Little People
Caught him watching Despicable Me 2, a gift he brought for the boys.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
File Under "When I have More Time"
I guess it's been awhile, huh?
A brief moment on Facebook led me to the blog of a friend today and for just a moment as I scrolled through her frequent updates I thought, "This is cool! I should start a blog. Wait- I have a blog. A very neglected and probably now removed from blogger blog!"
I rushed right over and discovered just how long it had been- like over a year and a half! Not surprisingly, blogger had updated its format (but not deleted me!) and my Little Wonders wore the neglect poorly with its warped template like makeup smeared after a good cry. My dashboard showed several unfinished drafts of updates never posted, clearly displaying one of my worst traits; a habit of rarely finishing a project begun.
It certainly isn't that we haven't been busy. Quite the contrary, though much of what we've done may not have been as exciting as other, more organized and super duper trendy blogs brag about. It's not that I haven't had the itch to write either. I always have plenty to say- just ask the hubs! Luckily, fixing a template isn't cosmetic surgery! The eternally pending drafts, however, will sadly remain unpublished for the time being, some never to be (because I can't remember what my point was) and others "to be" later (ha ha- I know what you're thinking).
SO... I leave you now, with an updated look and a promise to return with something interesting to write.
How about a picture of the cutest almost-3-year-old around these parts to tide you over? Here he is, helping mommy with laundry today...
SO... I leave you now, with an updated look and a promise to return with something interesting to write.
How about a picture of the cutest almost-3-year-old around these parts to tide you over? Here he is, helping mommy with laundry today...
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Thirteenth Christmas
As submitted to James Avery Craftmen's Facebook "Christmas Memories" Contest on November 24, 2010:
I know many people whose favorite seasons are fall and winter, mostly because of the holidays and the joy they bring. I am no different, but this time of year marks a very special anniversary for me that has really carved the seasons of fall and winter deep into my heart.
Thirteen years ago, I was pregnant at the young age of 18 and due to deliver a baby boy in December. It was a very difficult time for me. It was an unplanned pregnancy for my boyfriend, Carlos and me, and we knew we had big decisions in our very near future. We had just graduated high school and my dreams of college were quickly slipping away. I desperately wanted to be a mother to this baby I loved so much, but I knew that babies could not survive on love alone. We decided it would be foolish not to consider adoption. Still, we struggled with the choice- how do you choose a family that is right for your baby? It wasn’t long before that question was answered.
Lisa was my aunt’s sister-in-law. She and her husband, Al were awaiting the arrival of a baby girl they were to adopt in the summer of 1997, but when the baby was born, the mother changed her mind and the adoption fell through. They were heart-broken. I had just shared my pregnancy news with my mother when I was told of their story. In their sorrow, I heard the gentle whisper of the Lord; this was the loving couple He had created for my son. I wish that I could tell you it was a moment of joy, but I was truly overwhelmed with sadness for I finally understood that he was not meant to be my son, though he would always be just that in my heart. I pushed through my sadness and shared my revelation with Carlos. He agreed and we shared our decision with our families and Lisa and Al. They were over the moon, but cautious – their scars were still healing from the last baby they gave their hearts to. I included them in as much of the pregnancy as I could, but I made sure to treasure the moments that remained with my sweet baby boy. As the leaves of fall began to change and the temperature gradually cooled, I would often visit the neighborhood park and sit quietly beside the pond with my arms tightly wrapped around my belly, as though I could keep him there forever. I would whisper all my hopes and dreams to him, and he always seemed to stir at just the right time, as if to acknowledge my love for him. I spent much of the fall lost in these precious moments, but they passed far too quickly. The minutes turned to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. As the mild Texas winter came, so did our baby boy. On December 8, 1997, Zach was born.
It was an emotional day; the proverbial rollercoaster of elation and fear and sorrow. I had been so anxious to meet him, but the excitement was over shadowed by my fear; it felt like the beginning of the end. Amidst a roomful of people, the nurse placed him in my arms and all the world faded away along with my sadness. It was just the two of us. I knew our time was short, but how could I be sad with this beautiful child, this gift from God in my arms? He was absolutely perfect and I knew the Lord had great plans for him though I would watch from a distance.
The days that followed passed very quickly and before I knew it, the day had come for me to go home. I chose not to see him the morning I left. I wasn’t sure I could say goodbye, though at the time, I thought I would see him soon and often. It was a verbal arrangement made between Lisa, Al, and I. We would see them as I always had, at occasional family dinners, graduations, and weddings. Unfortunately, life seldom goes according to plan.
Christmas came and went, the saddest I had ever had. And then another and another. I learned to live with a giant whole in my heart. Carlos and I married in May of 2002. Still, we had not seen Zach and heard very little about him. He was doing well, we knew, and even had a sister now, Lydia who was also adopted and the same age as Zach, but it was all second-hand information. Following Zach’s birth and adoption, Lisa grew very distant and withdrew from all contact. All we could do was give her space. I thought for sure it was temporary, but years went by and we were always told the time wasn’t right. We could only wait. I clung to mementos from his birth and a few precious pictures I had collected from random places over the years. These and the daily prayers of my hopeful heart were all I had.
Twelve falls have come and gone, followed in the usual way by winter, and many things have changed. We have since been blessed with the birth of three more boys, and are living far from our home state of Texas as a Coast Guard family. But no matter where I had been, when September rolled around and the trees began to change, I had always found a quiet place in God’s wondrous world to send my whispers out hoping they would stir his heart as they had before.
God never leaves prayers unanswered or promises un-kept.
Now, another fall and winter come, but our thirteenth Christmas will not be spent without Zach or his sister, Lydia. Following the tragic loss of their mother to an inoperable brain tumor this September, we were reunited with Zach and his family. I cannot understand the need for the loss of Lisa, but as God so often does, he has created new hope from the ashes of this tragedy. Lisa has left a new hole that will never be filled, but together, Al, Carlos, and I are redefining a family for our children with a special place for everyone, surrounded in love and grounded in faith. It’s an exciting new chapter in our lives and the first of many Christmases in which we will count our many blessings and cherish each moment we have together.
The Thirteenth Christmas
I know many people whose favorite seasons are fall and winter, mostly because of the holidays and the joy they bring. I am no different, but this time of year marks a very special anniversary for me that has really carved the seasons of fall and winter deep into my heart.
Thirteen years ago, I was pregnant at the young age of 18 and due to deliver a baby boy in December. It was a very difficult time for me. It was an unplanned pregnancy for my boyfriend, Carlos and me, and we knew we had big decisions in our very near future. We had just graduated high school and my dreams of college were quickly slipping away. I desperately wanted to be a mother to this baby I loved so much, but I knew that babies could not survive on love alone. We decided it would be foolish not to consider adoption. Still, we struggled with the choice- how do you choose a family that is right for your baby? It wasn’t long before that question was answered.
Lisa was my aunt’s sister-in-law. She and her husband, Al were awaiting the arrival of a baby girl they were to adopt in the summer of 1997, but when the baby was born, the mother changed her mind and the adoption fell through. They were heart-broken. I had just shared my pregnancy news with my mother when I was told of their story. In their sorrow, I heard the gentle whisper of the Lord; this was the loving couple He had created for my son. I wish that I could tell you it was a moment of joy, but I was truly overwhelmed with sadness for I finally understood that he was not meant to be my son, though he would always be just that in my heart. I pushed through my sadness and shared my revelation with Carlos. He agreed and we shared our decision with our families and Lisa and Al. They were over the moon, but cautious – their scars were still healing from the last baby they gave their hearts to. I included them in as much of the pregnancy as I could, but I made sure to treasure the moments that remained with my sweet baby boy. As the leaves of fall began to change and the temperature gradually cooled, I would often visit the neighborhood park and sit quietly beside the pond with my arms tightly wrapped around my belly, as though I could keep him there forever. I would whisper all my hopes and dreams to him, and he always seemed to stir at just the right time, as if to acknowledge my love for him. I spent much of the fall lost in these precious moments, but they passed far too quickly. The minutes turned to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks. As the mild Texas winter came, so did our baby boy. On December 8, 1997, Zach was born.
It was an emotional day; the proverbial rollercoaster of elation and fear and sorrow. I had been so anxious to meet him, but the excitement was over shadowed by my fear; it felt like the beginning of the end. Amidst a roomful of people, the nurse placed him in my arms and all the world faded away along with my sadness. It was just the two of us. I knew our time was short, but how could I be sad with this beautiful child, this gift from God in my arms? He was absolutely perfect and I knew the Lord had great plans for him though I would watch from a distance.
The days that followed passed very quickly and before I knew it, the day had come for me to go home. I chose not to see him the morning I left. I wasn’t sure I could say goodbye, though at the time, I thought I would see him soon and often. It was a verbal arrangement made between Lisa, Al, and I. We would see them as I always had, at occasional family dinners, graduations, and weddings. Unfortunately, life seldom goes according to plan.
Christmas came and went, the saddest I had ever had. And then another and another. I learned to live with a giant whole in my heart. Carlos and I married in May of 2002. Still, we had not seen Zach and heard very little about him. He was doing well, we knew, and even had a sister now, Lydia who was also adopted and the same age as Zach, but it was all second-hand information. Following Zach’s birth and adoption, Lisa grew very distant and withdrew from all contact. All we could do was give her space. I thought for sure it was temporary, but years went by and we were always told the time wasn’t right. We could only wait. I clung to mementos from his birth and a few precious pictures I had collected from random places over the years. These and the daily prayers of my hopeful heart were all I had.
Twelve falls have come and gone, followed in the usual way by winter, and many things have changed. We have since been blessed with the birth of three more boys, and are living far from our home state of Texas as a Coast Guard family. But no matter where I had been, when September rolled around and the trees began to change, I had always found a quiet place in God’s wondrous world to send my whispers out hoping they would stir his heart as they had before.
God never leaves prayers unanswered or promises un-kept.
Now, another fall and winter come, but our thirteenth Christmas will not be spent without Zach or his sister, Lydia. Following the tragic loss of their mother to an inoperable brain tumor this September, we were reunited with Zach and his family. I cannot understand the need for the loss of Lisa, but as God so often does, he has created new hope from the ashes of this tragedy. Lisa has left a new hole that will never be filled, but together, Al, Carlos, and I are redefining a family for our children with a special place for everyone, surrounded in love and grounded in faith. It’s an exciting new chapter in our lives and the first of many Christmases in which we will count our many blessings and cherish each moment we have together.
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