I Lava You

Yeah, we went to Disney World last week.
Yeah, it was awesome.
I'll tell you about it sometime.

But for now... well, you see... I received a ukulele for Mother's Day... sooo...

Back off. I'm busy.

Maybe I'll play you a little ditty this summer and tell you about our trip.

For now, I've got to practice!

It's Coming

Summer has been the last thing on my mind... until a few days ago. It hit me like a ton of bricks (or a random hot humid day) that summer vacation is nearly here. So I'm making our summer plans. Here they are: have fun.

That's it. Fun.

I'm not signing up for a bunch of events and classes and camps. I signed C up for swim lessons. That's it. We'll visit Chris when he's at camp. We'll go to the beach. We'll play at the splashpad and meet up with friends from our neighborhood. I'm hoping to have friends over frequently to play and eat. I want a summer of kids in the pool and adults on the deck with a cold drink. I want an icebox cake in the fridge, watermelon running down people's chins, and Chris standing at the grill. That sounds like summer.

I want long days at the beach. Kids in the surf and on the slip n slide. More watermelon. More cook outs. Crab boils and croquet. Boat rides. Yes, summer days at the beach sound just fine.

I'm squirreling away new craft supplies and projects. We'll go to the library. Maybe we'll take a roadtrip.

Summer days are coming. I can't wait!

Ta-Da!

As Nils likes to say (about anything and everything of note), TA-DA!

Ladies and gents, we have a clubhouse (my term)/fort (Chris' term)/pirate ship (Carolena's)/sliiide! (Nils')!

We've been talking about building something for our kids since... well forever really. Even before having kids we talked about how we would one day build something for them to play on in the backyard.

This time last year we started really talking about it more and couldn't come to a consensus. Chris wanted to build a huge ship to the tune of like 4.7 million dollars. I wanted to find scrap supplies and build "a series of platforms" to the tune of roughly the cost of screws.

So we dropped the conversation and continued to think about it on our own. Then we went to a friend's house where we saw a small platform he'd built for his kid... and the light bulb finally went off. Chris was like, "ohhh NOW I see what you mean... why would you call that a 'platform?'"

And then our idea for "platforms" grew into "with a slide!" and "a deck underneath!" and extra room on the end so that "maybe one day we'll add on a swing!"

Very little conversation actually went into the finished product. Chris whipped up some plans (because he's awesome like that). I tossed in a few ideas (very few because he looked deep in thought and calculations).

I think all of the planning happened on Friday morning, and then Chris went to Home Depot, came home with a truck bed full of supplies, and we went to work!

I committed to the project as "the brawns" and dubbed Chris "the brains." As long as he gave me clear instructions I would just work. And... low and behold... it worked! No fighting went into the making of our clubhouse. I became a master at holding up boards while Chris attached them (helllo shoulders! yikes!) and then I became a master at using the drill as I attached more than half of the boards on that bad boy. Chris was in charge of measuring and cutting as that made me nervous. So, no fighting went into it, but plenty of blood and tears (there would have been sweat but the weather was a perfect Texas spring January day). The tears were Nils' (it's hard to be two) and the blood was mine as I once missed the screw and hit my finger with the drill. Eeeww.

Chris and I had a blast building something together, we have an awesome (insanely sturdy) clubhouse/fort/pirate ship/slliiiiide, the kids are giddy, and all is right with our backyard (for now!).

We finally got around to putting out the mailbox I found in Goodwill months ago and c has had just as much fun with that thing as she has the huge "pirate ship."

There were only two snafus along the way (well, besides drilling my finger which went by with a lot of blood and little to-do). Snafu one happened on Saturday morning when I awoke worried that the structure was too tall. We weren't home that day to work on it and when we came home I confessed my concern about the height. After some thinking and talking about the height (and consulting my bro-in-law), we Chris turned the entire thing on its side and cut off a foot from the bottom! Hercules! Hercules! We hadn't built the bottom deck yet if you are wondering how that was possible.

Numero dos? Wellll as you can probably imagine Chris and I have different ideas as to what should happen with all of the leftover wood. Yesterday Chris and I dubbed our project "finished!" and while I gazed lovingly and thoughtfully at the pile of scrap, Chris was already walking into the backyard with the trashcan. Hmph. So we compromised. I gave Chris plans for two "planters" and he built two boxes. Free?! And we can put some cute plants in there?! Yes. Then I agreed to let him to throw away a bunch of stuff while he agreed to indulge me in sticking a bunch of very useful and awesome and "we paid for this already!" boards into the garage. You know, to sit next to the fence boards I salvaged from our new fence project two years ago... oops.

Man, speaking of things I've salvaged... I have four truck tires in our backyard right now. I had big plans for those tires like "sink them in the grass!" but it turns out they are too rubbery/springy for that, and "make alligators!" but none of our saws can cut through the metal in the tire (believe me I tried and tried), and now "uhh... tire swing?" crap.

I'm looking forward to hours and hours of fun in our improved backyard. Let the mint julep season begin!

I DID IT!

Last year I actually made a 2015 New Year Resolution.
And then even more surprisingly, as of this morning, it is now safe to officially say: I DID IT!
I went to 515am Bodypump and Bootcamp for the entirety of 2015.

I wish I'd thought to do a formal "before" photo back in January. It honestly just didn't occur to me. I knew that I would stick with it. I knew that it would be transformative. I just didn't think to take a before pic. Here's the best I've got:

December 2014

I was in pretty good shape this time last year. I was going to BodyPump twice a week and lifting a "normal" amount of weight for a female. At least I'm just guessing that was what an average female is lifting in Bodypump based on the fact that I was lifting around what every other female in my class was lifting.

Then for NY15 I resolved to not miss a work out. I was already going to 515am m/w BodyPump regularly and showing up for Friday bootcamp every once in a while so my resolution was to go to m/w BodyPump and Friday 515am Bootcamp. Every week. The only legitimate excuses were migraine or being out of town.

And then... I did it. I went. And I went. And I went. I missed a few summer bootcamps while I was on vacation (but sadly, not too many. note to self: go on vacation more). I missed a few classes along the way due to migraines (but thankfully only like one or two!). But overall... I didn't miss. I'm always there. I've practically worn a hole in the floor from the door to "my" spot. I've become a fixture in those classes. People I don't know know my name. The instructor sometimes talks to me during the class (like, in her microphone). When I do miss, people notice and asks where I was.

Weird, right?

But it's not weird anymore... it's now my normal. Which is weird.

So, one full year of working out. What's changed? Well, I'm a heck of a lot stronger. The resolution was simply to show up. But I found that I started focusing on getting stronger and competing against myself. I didn't want to just show up and then end 2015 where I started. I wanted to keep moving up in my weights. Bodypump is all about high reps for lean muscles rather than bulking up. So for instance we might do like 100 reps of different bicep curls. I think I've almost tripled my bicep weights from what I was lifting a year ago. Now when I look around I'm lifting what most of the men in the room are lifting. Meanwhile, bootcamp has driven me in such a way that my doctors are thrilled when they read my blood pressure numbers on their charts. People assume that I've lost weight. Interestingly, I haven't. I'm a Weight Watchers Lifetime Member so I know that I have lost exactly three pounds. I think I've dropped two pant sizes though. Can I just say "weird" again? Physically, I've just become a person who works out regularly, intensely, for an hour three times a week. And it feels great.

It's also been good for me emotionally. I like to say "it's cheaper than therapy!" even though it isn't since therapy would be free on our insurance. So... yeahhh... it is good for me though. There's something great about going to the gym three times a week where only two people know anything about me. I just sweat and work hard and make weird faces and talk to myself in the mirror (usually something to the tune of "oh just do it!" when I'm about to drop a heavy weight). It feels good to set small goals (like add a weight or run faster) and then accomplish them.

This morning right after my last workout of the year I asked Chris to take my picture (nothing like looking worse in your "after" photos, right?). I was pretty tempted to just upload a picture of Chris with his big bushy beard as my after photo. Ha! But I can't find one so I guess I'll just show you what I've been working on.

2015: the year of exercising.
Now I need something to keep me motivated for 2016. Uh oh... any ideas?

VIP: Nora(h) Smith

So remember when Kelly assigned me the task of naming people who have been largely influential in making me who I am today (obvious choices not included)?

I've got another one for you: Nora Smith. Hm... or does she spell her name with an "h"? I could get up and go get a yearbook from allll the way over there on the bookshelf... but... nah.

Nora(h) Smith was my religion teacher my sophomore year of high school. Yes, I said religion teacher. No, you aren't losing your mind. I went to catholic school. Roman Catholic that is, not catholic as in church universal.

But I digress.

Let's talk about Nora(h). I don't think Nora(h) actually liked me all that much. My friend Theresa and I were constantly getting in trouble in her class for things neither of us were guilty of doing. We would stare at one another dumbfounded and protest claiming our innocence while Nora(h) shut it down and instructed us to talk to her after class. To this day Theresa and I maintain that at some point Mrs. Smith got it into her head that T and I were the Regina Georges of the class and was confused as to which females in the room were actually riling up the masses. It was weird.

Again, I digress.

Here is what was truly awesome (and totally weird) about Nora(h): she owned (and probably still owns) like four outfits. She would wear the same four dresses and one or two pairs of shoes on rotation every single day. All year long. Every. Single. Day. All. Year. Long. I'm pretty sure it was four because I remember it wasn't enough to get through the whole week.

And she was really open about it. Wearing the same few dresses isn't a private thing. "I don't need more than this" she would say. I really looked up to her in that. Man, I wish I could get to that point. I am clearly much harder on clothes or buy much crappier quality though.

Still, I really don't own a lot of clothes. Well, "a lot" is relative I suppose. Let's see... all of my shoes fit into a single-row closet hanging thing. So that's what? Like 10-15 pairs or so. And all of my hanging clothes fit on a single bar in the closet. All of my folded clothes fit into the dresser with room to spare. I'm not down to a rotation of four dresses, but man, that's gospel. Take two pieces of clothes, Christ told the apostles: a tunic and a coat (Mark 6:8-9). Don't store up treasures on earth and stuff your dresser full of clothes you don't need... (Matthew 6:19-21). I'm working on it. I'm working on it. My desire to constantly rid my life of possessions is part being raised Treasure House, part Nora(h) Smith, and largely Casey self-imposed strict Gospel interpretation on possessions.

Why? Hmm... why, indeed. Well, for me, because I think American consumerism is a sickness. I don't think we possess our possessions. They possess us. I don't want to own anything I wouldn't be able to walk away from. I believe in tithing and in order to give generously I need to not spend spend spend on myself. If all that I have belongs to God and it is a question of how much I keep for myself... then I want to keep very little. I don't want to own a lot of clothes and spend a lot of money (relative term again) on myself when that's money I can (should) give to the Church. And what about the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31)? Ugh, I don't want to be "that guy" who has a closet full of clothes and shoes and *shit* while Lazarus lies at my gates naked.

But... didn't I just say I want some new boots? crap.

Someday that will be me. Four dresses. That's the goal. Thank you, Nora(h) for proving it can be done.

Nailed It

There are somethings in parenthood that I think are surprisingly easier than they sound. Giving medicine to a sick kid (they just suck it right down), dropping off a crying child somewhere (mine usually get over it before I'm out the door though), haircuts (I just cut it myself)... all of these things sound hard but (for me), most of the time, are easy.

And then there is the task of cutting fingernails.

With Nils, it's no big deal. He's happy to have his fingernails cut and sits mesmerized by the clicking nailclippers. Carolena is a different story.

It's not the actual cutting that is difficult - it's convincing her that they need to be cut. Once I convince her that it's time for a trim, cutting them is no big deal. But it usually takes a day or two of "hey, your nails are getting long..." before she will give in and let me cut them. There is also usually some light bribery of nail polishing involved.

A week or so ago I screeched out when she accidentally scratched me, "yikes! you've got claws!" (a phrase she made up to say to Nils). She frowned at her nails for a minute, shrugged, apologized, and changed the conversation. I brought up her nails a few more times, warning her that it's time to cut them. Her (daily) response? "We'll cut them tomorrow."

Yeah, just like I'll give up coffee again tomorrow.

I finally realized something is up. So I plopped down next to her and asked, "Are you trying to grow your nails out long?"
"Yeahhh..." she sheepishly replied.
"Well," I told her, "most grown up women who have long nails... those are fake."
She giggled and glanced around the room as though looking for the hidden cameras. I had to be joking right? So I explained to her the concept of fake nails.
"I don't think your nails are going to get that long" I said, "I really think we need to keep them short so that you don't accidentally scratch other people."

And that was when she revealed to me what she's really up to...

She scrambled off the chair and grabbed a Highlight's magazine, quickly flipping to the page she wanted and handing it to me. "This is what I'm doing" she said. And handed me this:

Ah yes, that explains it. Of course. She's going for a Guinness World Record.

Peek A Boo!

Hey Little Blog... I see you there... I remember you...

kind of.

Ugh! Get off me! I've been busy, okay!

Doing this...

and this...

and of course...

Yesterday I started my first ever paper mache project (first ever! 30+ years without paper mache! how did that happen?!). So sorry to tell you this blog, but I fear you are going to feel the ramifications of that one while I spend my time covering everything in sight in wet newspaper... this could get caaarrrrrraaazzzyyyy. Seriously... how have I never done paper mache before? I now have visions of masks and four foot tall paper mache minion armies and a plethora of pinatas and... oh how the possibilities are endless!

Summer O Fun 2015 plows onward. Where did June go? And wait... what the hell... my eyes flick down to the right and see July TWELFTH? Time does in fact fly when one is having fun. Thus far my plan to have summer fun every single day continues. We haven't had nearly enough sno cones, but as kids do not start school until after Labor Day I think there is still plenty of time for that. My plan to invite friends over "all of the time this summer" has been somewhat unfruitful thus far, but mainly due to vacations and staples in heads (well, thankfully just the one... Carolena...), and I plan to reinstate the Summer of Parties Rule beginging again today.

Now, if you'll excuse me... children are sleeping and I have some wet newspaper to go drape across a balloon... PINATA!!

Simpy Symphonic

I found out yesterday morning that the Houston Symphony's summer series would play in Katy that same evening. And you know what I love about Chris? That I mentioned it to him and his response was, "have fun!"

He's not a "you're going tonight tonight?!" kind of husband. He's not a "you're leaving me home alone with the kids and I have to get them bathed and in bed by myself?!" kind of dad. He's not even a "who are you going with?" kind of guy. He's a "have a great time! Wish I could go too!" keeper of a dude. Those time when he is a whiner (sorry Chris) it's usually because he wants to go too and not because he wants to hold me back. I digress... the point is...

I went!

None of my friends were free, but I didn't really anticipate that anyone would respond to a 10am text inviting them to a symphony performance that night. But something about going to my first Weight Watcher's meeting was empowering in an "I do what I want" kind of way (yeah, like I needed more of that side to my personality). Or perhaps that's why I went to ww in the first place? Whatever, I feel a little like Mole lately, "The Mole never heard a word he was saying. Absorbed in the new life he was entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and dreamed long waking dreams." When I hear of something I want to do, I want to do it! So I do! And it's made life grand.

The Houston Symphony was ten minutes from my house. It was free. It was calling to me. So I threw on a summery outfit, tossed a good book in my purse, and headed out. I got there nice and early and grabbed a seat front row center.

I'm convinced that this is in fact not prime seating for the symphony, but figured, what the hell. When else will I ever get the chance to sit front center to view the Houston Symphony?!

It was fabulous of course. Beautiful. Powerful. Symphonic. During a Q&A with the conductor I learned that when a seat comes open in the Houston Symphony they entertain around 200 auditions. 200! for one seat! There are 89 members (most of them were there last night) and evidently, the words "symphony," "philharmonic," and "orchestra" are all synonyms. The conductor said that the three are interchangeable and assigned to a group by the founders. Good to know!

Well, "see the Houston Symphony perform" wasn't on my 2015 to-do list, but it should have been. Best summer ever continues and it's only June 10th! Wednesday, what adventures will you bring?

City Museum!

I've traveled to Jamaica, Canada, Belize, Norway, France, Spain, England, and Italy. I've been to 23 states and plan to hit all fifty - hopefully I'll make that goal sooner rather than later. I mention this to give context when I say that last week we went to St. Louis' City Museum and to quote Tommy Boy, "I swear I've seen a lot of cool stuff in my life... but that... was... AWESOME."
There is no way to fully describe how cool City Museum is. You really just have to go experience it. I can't wait to go back. I loved St. Louis. I plan to go back when our kids are older and we can explore the city a little deeper and stay up late for a baseball game. I would guess when we return we will plan for two days in City Museum. It's like the Magic Kingdom of St. Louis: we'll have to go early in the vacation because by the end we'll be ready to go back again.
City Museum... holy mackerel... so, as far as I could tell, pretty much anything there is fair game for an adventure. It isn't really a "museum" per se. It's a playground, fun house, mad house adventure into wonderland. Unless it explicitly said, "do not climb on" - you could climb it. A small hole in the wall might lead to a passageway. Sometimes I would find an entry way and realize I was too big to find where it led. I keep saying there were things like cages on the ceilings, but they weren't really cages:

 Do you see Chris in the picture above?

Perhaps cages" is the exact term for this. The ceilings were covered in these metal mazes and when you found an entryway you could just go up and crawl around. Eventually you would find a slide to get back out.

A tunnel would have a door in it that would lead to another tunnel. A hole in the floor would turn out to be a slide to the floor below... or perhaps the slide was longer than anticipated and you were going down more than one story. Chris went down a 10 story slide!
The record-holding world's largest pencil and world's largest pair of underwear reside there, which both turned out to be a "huge!" source of entertainment for Carolena.

There is a school bus hanging off the rooftop of this eleven story building...

that you can get in just to give your mother a heart attack...

Everywhere we looked there was something exciting to do. Slides, giant legos, huge chalkboard walls, a circus (yes, really), a kid-sized train that Carolena rode at least three times. Everything there was exciting and cool. And if it wasn't... then you just kept walking until you found something else that was.

While we were eating a pile of cheese fries someone crawling through a tunnel beneath our table reached out and grabbed my foot. Even having been warned by Chris to watch my feet, I let out a huge screech and jumped a mile. Moments later a gangly kid came and gave a giggling confession that it was he who had grabbed my foot. He was adorably proud. I'm glad my immediate reaction was to pull my leg away and scream so loudly.

There was more to do there than could be done in a day. We saw a one-woman circus performance (during which Carolena whispered to me, "I'm going to do that when I'm a grown up!"), and I got to run in a huge hamster wheel. In my humble opinion, I was amazingly good at it so let's add that to my resume when I return to the work force. Too bad we didn't get video or photo of that accomplishment. We ran around on skate park ramps,

rode a ferris wheel that overlooked the city (on top of the 14 story building!),

and generally ran amok.

 Did you spot Chris and Carolena in the photo above?

 City Museum, you are awesome. See you again in a few years!

Rocky Ridge and the Kansas Prairie

From Laura Ingalls Wilder's Letter to a Child February 1947:

"The Little House books are stories of long ago.

 The way we live and your schools are much different now,

so many changes have made living and learning easier.

 But the real things haven't changed.

 It is still best to be honest and truthful;

 to make the most of what we have;

 to be happy with simple pleasures

 and to be cheerful and to have courage when things go wrong."

Just Hanging Around

This morning was like any other morning while we did our usual push to get out of the door and into the car. I was laden down with a nap mat under one arm, bags strewn across the other, and a baby on my hip. I hit the garage door opener with my shoulder, and as it began to rise I tossed all the bags and began to put Nils in his car seat. This is typically when Carolena's door opens and I see her climbing in on her side of the car. Instead, this morning, I heard her scream, "Mooommmyyyyy!!!"

Glancing up I expected to find the girl who cried wolf staring at a bug or perhaps unwilling to pass by a frog. Instead, I saw her hanging like a monkey from the now raised garage door.

I wonder how long she's been thinking about that. Did it only occur to her this morning to grab a hold and ride it? Did she grab on as whim? Or has she been plotting that for some time? Either scenario seems to fit my Carolena.

It was hilarious. And terrifying. And hilarious. And terrifying.

Luckily, she was scared out of her mind and cried enough that a scolding was pretty unnecessary. I told her that garage doors are very dangerous and that (true story) our garage door killed my cat when I was a little girl.

People, this is why I drink.

I wonder if the garage door would hold my weight...

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let It Shine

As I recently confessed, I'm in the discernment process of what to do with my love for writing. Don't you love that phrase, "the discernment process"? It gives the impression that I am meeting regularly with a spiritual adviser, working diligently behind closed doors, and having discussions with an editor.

I could let you go on believing that is what my discernment process looks like.

Oh, who am I kidding? No one believes that! Anything that orderly isn't part of my world. To me, it merely means that I've been writing and teaching (intermediately) for the last six years (six years!) and over that time have found that I love love love to write and teach. So, who cares? What should I do about that?

With some encouragement from others, I've decided (for now at least) that I am going to start working on some small group curriculum and devotionals. I've had numerous requests for such work over the last few years and have decided it's time to start more actively pursuing that. So, step one: write, write, write. What comes after that? I have a few ideas. First I'd better concentrate on writing. And writing. And writing.

I thought about (and even started penning) a book but have quickly discovered that my Slytherin tenancies are just too pronounced. I need to add good into the world and not humor at the expense of others. Although, that cookie monster story really is priceless isn't it?

So, wish me luck! If you need me at 5am I'll either be working out or right here in front of the old laptop. Typing away with a cup of boring decaf tea nearby my cute new houseplant and yummy smelling candle from Kel.

Bookish

Sometimes I think about writing a book. In fact, I have a few different Word documents hanging out on the old laptop. And I work on them and wonder to myself... what would people want to read from me? Anything? Nothing? Motherhood musings? Theology? Both?

And then I think, aw screw it. This is a lot of work. And I go visit my dear old friend Google and look at pictures like this:

Seriously though. If any of you people want me to ever get something published you are going to have to stop being so shy and start commenting on my blog. Publicists care about that stuff. I know you are out there... I can see how many people read my blog. Hi shhhyyy little readers. It's okay. Come on out...

Oh, and tell your friends.

Or don't. I might never finish any of this and just keep hanging out drinking iced tea with my good friend Google. And that lemur. He's hilarious.

Breakfast of Champions

At the end of the Q&A with astronaut Col. Chris Hadfield last night, a woman in the front asked him, "What, if anything, is left on your bucket list?" And Chris' response was phenomenal. I wish I'd recorded it, but lacking that ability, here is my best paraphrasing of what he said:

"I don't believe in bucket lists. I mean, the mere idea of a bucket list seems like a millstone dragging around someone's neck. Who wants to walk around with a mainly empty bucket all of the time? It would be like going trick or treating and having a bucket with like three pieces of candy in it the whole time. Depressing.

I choose to live my life in such a way that I celebrate all of the victories. I got out of bed this morning and thought to myself, "Hey, good job! You got out of bed today! I win!" I looked out the window and the sun was shining and it wasn't snowing. Another win. I sat down to my favorite breakfast of Cheerios and skim milk (henceforth to be known in the Duncan household as "The Chris Hadfield Special"). By the time it was 9 am I felt like I had already had a great day. I'd already won.

I don't want to be the person who lives each day going, "Aw man, I'm awful, I haven't even climbed Everest yet." I'm going to take every victory no matter how small and consider each one a "win." Who wants to base their success on whether or not they've been to Machu Picchu yet? 

So, to answer your question, sure, there are more things I want to do. Long-term goals. But I don't base my happiness or self worth on whether or not I accomplish them."