The Contract

         I remember the first day I walked through the door of our home. It was the day we signed papers, closing the sale. I had not previously seen the house. Having sent my husband to West Virginia with a finely crafted list of homes I had looked at on Zillow. Thankfully, our realtor walked me through the home via FaceTime, however, until that day I had not actually crossed the threshold physically. I walked through the door and was overcome with emotion. My husband had just finished his fellowship, we had survived residency and fellowship, survived our years in the expensive city of Seattle, and this marked a new chapter in our lives. The very first thing I encountered was the magnificent fireplace. 

It rendered me speechless. In that first instant, years of family pictures in front of it crossed my mind. I saw visions of decorations lining the beautifully reclaimed barn wood mantel. I think I probably stood there for two minutes while years of visions of our family sitting around it crossed my mind. Last summer we built a fireplace and outdoor patio. 

We have spent countless nights by the fire, roasting marshmallows for s’mores, visiting with family and friends, taking in the majestic West Virginia sunsets, and making memories that will last me a lifetime.

I was taught in my youth that a home is anywhere you make it. This was our first family home. We have enjoyed amazing family moments here that we will be able to reminisce for years to come. Our family grew by one in this house, and we also gained a furry friend. So much laughter and love has transpired in this home. I walk around it saddened by the fact that we have to say goodbye to it. After five days on the market we got an offer on the house. We signed papers putting it under contract yesterday. Very soon another family will make this their home. I hope they love this house as much as we have. I hope they will create their own family memories here. I look forward to finding another house to make a home for our little family. We are now one step closer to our next great adventure.

Matters of the Heart ❤️

It has taken me a few days of reflection to be able to write this post and hopefully articulate it in a way that provides comfort and solace to those besides our family that our move affects. It is easy for me to write about what this move means and how it has and will affect our family. However, it is not lost upon us what this move will mean to the warriors, affectionately known to us as the heart kids, and their families. This decision was not easily made. We had numerous conversations about what this move would mean for our family and also for theirs.

When we first moved to West Virginia there was promise in our hearts to make a difference. We came with the humble intention of growing not only a program, but also the community. There were countless hurdles and challenges that were faced. Battles that were fought (mostly behind the scenes) but ultimately a war that was lost. It is not easy to be a change agent, even having the best interest at heart for the kids and their families. There is an old adage about raising children, that it takes a village, and the same can be said for the job my husband does. It takes a village. The job cannot rest on the shoulders of one individual. We leave knowing that my husband was not able to accomplish the goals he set for himself, however valuable lessons were learned along the way. Lessons, both professional and personal, that we will carry with us on our next chapter.

Every day he has come home this week, I have heard stories of him telling these precious families of our departure. It saddens me, what his leaving means for them. I hope they know that he gave everything he had for them. I hope they know how hard he fought for them. I hope they know that their presence in our lives has made a huge impact. And I hope they know that we will carry them in our hearts for the remainder of our lives. 

Picture Day

Today is picture day. Normally I love picture day. It usually includes picking out a nice shirt for my kids. Making sure their hair is combed and their teeth are shiny and bright. And a small talk from me that they have to keep their clothes clean and tucked in until the photo has been taken. Today however is a different kind of picture day. One that is quite frankly stressing me out. I have spent the last twenty-four hours cleaning, organizing and staging our home for pictures. We have a small window of time to get our home on the market and get it sold before our next great adventure begins. I find the cleaning and organizing easy compared to the task of keeping my little cherubs out of everything and not touch things until the pictures are complete. Now that feels almost impossible. On the bright side, it is almost time for the big production. Then we can resume life in our normal chaotic fashion. Well until we get a showing. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words however I need these photos to be worth a thousand and one. These will be the photos that will bring people to our home and if we’re lucky, buy it. These photos will be the ones that tell our story of our life here in this house. Will the magnificent fire place draw a buyer in like how it captured my heart the moment I saw it?

Will people see themselves sitting around it having conversations? Or like me, see years of family photos in front of it? Will they wander around and see all of our wonderful Amish furniture that we love so much and replace it with their own in their minds and how it will look in those spots?

Will they move through the rooms with ease and feel right at home? Will they be able to see and feel how much we loved it here and see how they will love it too? I hope so. I hope the pictures today turn out wonderful. I hope they say a thousand and one words. I hope that, once on the internet, they will draw buyers to us. And I hope that picture day will be over soon because if I have to tell my kids to put their toys away one more time…….to be continued 😂

Seasons of Change

I have a million things I need to get done right now but I have something on my heart tonight and felt like now was a good time to put it out there on the world wide web. The seasons are changing. I can feel it. Literally, my arthritis is screaming at me that the temperatures are changing. That, and when I drove my son to school yesterday morning, the fog was settled in the hills and made for a beautiful drive. One that I will miss. A lot. 

Our journey here in West Virginia is nearing an end. At the end of the year we will be relocating to a new area, though not completely unfamiliar. We are headed south, the deep south, Georgia to be exact. It is with mixed emotions that we make this leap. It was not an easy decision, but one that needed to be made. There are many reasons, both professional and personal, that surrounded this move but ultimately it is the right thing to do for our family and for my husband’s job. Over the next few months I will share our journey as we transition and continue to balance life on the edge of the scalpel…..

Full of Grace

I am not a graceful person. By nature, I am clumsy, heavy footed, and lack elegance. I grew up more of a "tom boy" finding things like fashion, make-up, and nail polish of little priority. I remember once listening to my dad talk about his kids and make the comment that he did not get a "girl" out of the bunch, as my sister is similarly natured to myself. As I have gotten older, I have an appreciation for "girly" things, as I like to hold an air of elegance to some degree, however it does not come naturally to me.
I remember the moment the doctor told us we had a girl. As mentioned in previous posts, gender is always a surprise for us until birth. And a surprise it was. Due to my previously mentioned nature, having a girl was not something I thought I could manage. I saw myself as a boy mom. God, however felt differently. And He is always right. I recall the moment my mom sat at my bedside the next morning gazing at this new little bundle

She told me she could not wait to go shopping now that we new the baby was a girl. The excitement in her eyes as she described frilly dresses and hair bows frightened me. The dresses came pouring in from family and friends. I had never seen so many. And pink, do not even get me started on everything that can be made pink. I took it in stride. At first our girl did not like bows in her hair and tights made her itch. As she grew into a toddling two year old things started to change. They were subtle changes but I noticed. A sudden interest in my necklaces, lotion and nail polish. We would go to the stores and we could not leave without a new chapstick or hair bow. And then one day I saw her twirling around the kitchen, hands stretched up in the air as she proclaimed, "look at me! I am a ballerina!" Shortly after the daily requests to go to ballet started. I was not surprised. I would sit and watch her all of the time and it seemed like ballet would be a natural thing she would gravitate towards. She has that natural graceful quality that her mother lacks. An inherent quality that ballerina's seem to carry easily. The way she holds herself and articulates herself, even at her young age, shows that she will enjoy the finer things in life. And so, last night was her first ballet lesson. At the dance studio they do not start ballet lessons until after their fourth birthday, for anatomical and maturity reasons. The dance instructor however, hearing about my little lady, said to bring her to class and she would see how she does. 

After class, I was informed that she did amazingly well. She listened intently, even better than some of the 4 and 5 year olds. She practiced and studied the teacher as she was being taught first position and arabesque, all terms I will need to learn quickly. And that she most certainly can come back for the remainder of the semester. As we drove home from her first lesson, she chattered non stop about her experience and excitedly called her dad to tell him all about it. She walked around the house last night like she was ten feet tall but did it in the most graceful, girly manner. I have no doubt that this season will provide us with much entertainment as she embarks down this new path. And honestly, I am loving every minute of it. 

I hate Scarlet.....

Well we managed to make it almost seven years without a trip to Urgent Care or the Emergency Department. That streak broken on Saturday morning when my big guy came downstairs upon waking, looking like the Michelin Man with a sunburn. He was burning up with a temperature of 105.2, covered in rash from head to toe and swollen beyond recognition. After a long morning spent at Urgent Care we went home with the diagnosis of Scarlet Fever. 

I honestly was unaware of the presence of Scarlet Fever that still existed, but boy have I been schooled in it in the past 48 hours. 

Those first 48 hours were really tough for him. Fighting incredibly high fever, chills, nausea, headaches, itching, you name it he struggled with it. There is an element of heartache seeing your children so very ill and feeling helpless. He could barely lift his head to drink anything the first 24 hours. That first night I slept with him, worried about the high temperatures and risk for seizures as well as the swelling in his throat. He could not get comfortable. He would cry telling me his whole body hurt and felt like he was on fire. With temperatures reaching so high I can imagine how awful he felt. All I could do was hug him and make sure I got his medication to him exactly when he could have the next dose. Yesterday he showed some signs of improvement, however we still struggled with high fevers. And last night, though not as tough, still managed to keep us awake for part of it with a lot of discomfort and fever. 

We went to his follow up appointment in Pediatrics Acute Care Clinic this morning. He looks a little better, although still puffy and swollen. The doctor was pleasantly surprised to see that he could answer questions with words instead of groans. He still looks like he has a painful sunburn, but the inflammation look has subsided. I think we made it over the hump thank God. The doctor said his fevers are trending down and now responding to medications; so she believes we got through the worst of it. I hope and pray we never have to go through something like this again. And I’ll be continuing to keep an extra close eye on the other two in the coming days. I do not hate much in this life, but I sure feel strongly about hating Scarlet……fever 😊

Lasting Memories

Today would have been his birthday. He would have been 85. He answered his last call on this Earth at the age of 66, on May 27, 2000. He went by many names. Some of which inappropriate to share in this post I am sure. However, to those of us that loved him the most he was Frenchy, Pop, and Grandpa. For 18 plus years I do not think there is a day that has gone by that I have not thought about him. He was the type of person who left his mark on many, many lives. A fact that was apparent on the day of his service. The pews of St. Mary’s church were lined with hundreds of people. And even still it could not hold all that came to pay their respects to a man that left this life fulfilled, albeit too early. 

He spent two plus decades in the Navy, finally retiring as Chief Petty Officer. He served tours in Vietnam and Korea. He earned a bronze star with a combat ‘V’ for valor in Vietnam with numerous other accolades and honors during his lengthy career. He spent the rest of his days in construction. Always known to be a hard worker and not quitting until the job was done. An ideal he also set for his family. 

He set high standards. Sometimes they felt impossible to live up to but ultimately, they made us better for it. I went to him often during times of struggle. He could give the kind of life advice and guidance that was not partial but full of wisdom and life experience. He would tell you like it is, not afraid to hurt your feelings but made sure you knew he loved you. I often reflect on his words, to this day, when faced with challenges. He was a jokester. But more than that he was a storyteller. Boy could he tell some whoppers. He was strong, stubborn and ornery. He loved his family fiercely and had a good heart.

And man could he play the harmonica. Some of my favorite memories of him are sitting around the fire listening to him play his harmonica and sing his songs. He always seemed bigger than life. A personality unique to him. He was a character and a friend to many. He could be in conflict with someone and by the end of the encounter they would both be laughing. As he would walk away you could see the confusion on the other persons face like, “wait a minute what just happened? I was supposed to be mad at you!” That was the kind of person he was. 

I wish he was still around. There have been many times in my life when I thought, “what would grandpa tell me?” I wish he could see my little family, as I know he would love my kids so much. Instead though I am grateful for my lasting memories of him. Moments in life I treasure. Advice I have never forgotten and expectations that I constantly try to live up to, even today. Happy Birthday Grandpa! We love and miss you always ❤️

Teach. Love. Inspire.

Teachers. People who work tireless and endless hours, often unappreciated, trying to make a difference and educate those they instruct. I have had some pretty outstanding teachers in my life. Teachers who made me curious, who inspired me, who pushed me to my potential. Teachers hold a special place in my heart. Lord knows I could not do the job they do, and I spent my working days covered in blood, amniotic fluid and many other bodily fluids while being screamed at for epidurals. In all seriousness though, teachers are amazing human beings. And the great ones will stay with you forever having left their mark in your life. 

            Last year the ENTIRE state of West Virginia’s teachers went on strike. Fifty-five counties of teachers banded together and said enough is enough. West Virginia teachers are amongst the lowest paid teachers in the nation, something I could not even imagine. My son’s school is amazing. We love Ridgedale Elementary and we love the teachers. My son spent almost three weeks at home due to the strike last year. And you know what, that was ok, because those teachers deserved more. 

            Recently the teachers in my hometown in Washington state went on strike, delaying the start of the school year for them. Some of them are teachers I had, though most of them retired now. One of my friends wrote a beautiful post about her father, a teacher. He was one of my most memorable teachers in high school. She wrote about his sacrifices, his love for his job and his devotion to teach. That was obvious to those of us who were his students. One of my swim coaches was another influential teacher in my life. He pushed us, hard. He did not tolerate nonsense and he made sure we knew it. I am pretty sure I did my fair share of pushing his buttons, but it was all in good fun (love you Coach haha). It was because of amazing teachers that I went through the ‘Running Start’ program my Junior and Senior year of high school. A program that took me to the community college and provided me with the opportunity for free college education and credit hours. Without the encouragement of those influential teachers and my family I may not have even tried to do that. 

            Most of the time I see positive comments and support for teachers. However, there is always the frustrated, discouraged parents that want their kids back in school. I get it. I know it’s tough managing childcare, or having to do school work with your kids while they are out (that is what my son’s school required) but I ask you to think about these teachers. Think about the fact that they are with your children more than you are during the school year. And the fact that they often stay after hours making lessons plans, grading homework, etc. Often times teachers are responsible for the supplies they need for their classroom. If they don’t get enough donated where do you think the money comes from for their supplies? After school programs, who do you think volunteers or is asked to participate, coach, etc? TEACHERS. 

Teachers do not have glorious jobs. Let’s be honest, you’ve seen your kids having meltdowns, tantrums, etc from time to time (or in some cases more so). You know how challenging it can be when you are dealing with that. Now put yourself in a teachers shoes and endure that every day for eight or nine months out of the year. If every class is roughly 20-25 students, and every kid is allowed a bad day a month, that means that teacher is dealing with a bad day with at least one student EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. How would you handle it if your child was having meltdowns and tantrums EVERY. SINGLE. DAY? You’d probably ship them off to their grandparent’s house for the weekend and say ‘see ya Sunday!’ I know I would! 

Teachers are vital to our society. They answer a calling that a lot of us have no desire to. People say, ‘well they knew what they were signing up for when they went to school to be a teacher.’ Yes, you are correct. Like all of us, we know what we are getting into when we choose our respective career fields. Does that mean we do not want to be fairly compensated for our time and efforts? No. Support your teachers. Stand with them. Stand behind them. Because at the end of the day they are the ones who educate your child.