Laundry Lessons

There is this thing that happens twice a year when I am doing laundry (and no I don't only do laundry twice a year, although Shawn would beg to differ) and last night it happened.  There I am, folding away like a good little housewife (this particular pile had been hanging out, clean, for about a week and a half but I digress....) when I realized it.  The content of this laundry basket included the magic load that signals the official change of the seasons.  You see, I was folding little sweatpants and long sleeve t-shirts alongside bathing suits and summer pjs.  I sorted through running pants and running shorts.  Thick winter socks and gloves mixed with tank tops.

I have noticed it maybe once or twice before, but this time it was a solid recognition.  The change.  The warm weather has finally replaced the winter, which held on a little too long this year.  We have dreamed about it, wished for it, hell...I think I even made a late night deal with the devil if he would just make the sun come out.  And suddenly, it is here.  Just like that.  And winter is a thing of the past...a memory.  And it is with this folding of the laundry that makes me aware of the sudden but real switch because our days are too busy living it to make the realization.

I love this bi-annual load of laundry.

It got me thinking that the same thing happens in many areas of my life.  Lately, I have found myself sorting out the different seasons of clothing of my life.  Packing some away for good, trying some on for the first time.  Trying on the skill of looking at friendship like a garden and only nurturing and watering the plants and not the weeds.  Really putting all of my quality energy and effort into the deep, sustaining friendships that feed my soul.  With that new skill...I have to pack away the need to rectify every single mishap with every single person and just be okay with letting some things go.  I have to let go of expectations and take hold of selecting people I can meet where they are at.

I have also put away the nature of my marriage where I questioned who I was and what I was getting and how everything related to me and have begun to relax into the concept of we.  I have been trying on and loving the idea of our unit and figuring out what it is getting, how everything relates to it and how it functions best.  I have figured out that I love it more than I could ever think about loving myself.  What a beautiful surprise.

I feel like I am in a transition of change with myself and the issue of family.  Sticking with the clothes analogy...I have finally gotten rid of my "fat pants" because I might have held onto them just a tish too long....worried that I might need them and too scared to give them up.  I am happily settled into this middle season where I seem to be in the just the right size.  I am secure, happy with the decisions I have made and that my little family has made together for each other.  I am well aware of the future though.  The pants that loom and I am not sure what style or size or if I will be ready to try them on.  With friends starting to comment on transitioning into a mindsets that involve caretaking for their parents and collaborating with siblings on how that transition will be made makes me a little bit scared.  What will my future look like?  How will I make those future pants fit?

My kids have transitioned before my eyes as well.  Physically, of course, they never cease to amaze me.  Two days ago I came into the boys' room to find Rex sitting in front of his chest of drawers with tears in his eyes and a stack of unfolded t-shirts tossed into a pile on the floor.  When I asked him what was wrong he told me he couldn't find anything to wear.  I asked him what was wrong with all of the shirts he had already looked at, and he picked the top one up and opened up the neck part and showed me the big 4T on the label.  Through fresh tears he told me none of his shirts said "3... like my years old."  Despite having two months of his third year left, it seems sometimes transitions can be rough for everyone.  Holding onto what is normal and comfortable.  What is known.  Grabbing onto and embracing what is in front...new, exciting and scary.

We are starting to slowly pack away our slow family weekends and unfold new ones full of tball, friend's birthday parties and trips.  We are giving away our little board books and have just started tackling Harry Potter for our nighttime reads.  Our velcro shoes are being replaced by ties...sport bottles are the new sippy cup.  Decisions about our kids are slowly evolving into decisions with our kids.

And just like my anticipation about summer when the winter was at its close, I am thrilled about all these changes and transitions.  It is like opening a gift you have been wishing for your whole life.  But mixed with that euphoria is a bittersweet pill of appreciation about the journey and nostalgia for the memories made along the way.  Folding up Roanin's thermals and putting them in a box for Rex makes me smile about all we did in this last season...what we learned, how we failed and how we succeeded.  And putting his little Hawaiian print trunks on the hook to dry reminds me to live and enjoy this current season because it will be the next one I pack away.

knock knock

knock, knock.

who's there?

obviously not me.

I've missed you.

Hope to be back soon....

thirteen

 I have been married to this man for thirteen years.  Factor in that we dated for a year, were engaged for a year....and well basically we have been together FOREVER.  Sometimes when you have been with someone for well, FOREVER, things can get a little too easy.  Things can get a little too normal.   Things can get a little too busy.  A little too mundane.

Fortunately, Shawn is not a fan of the normal, busy, or mundane.  So for our big 13th, he planned a little surprise for his young bride (that's me!).  And surprise according to Shawn goes a little something like this:

He casually mentions one day that he wants to plan a little anniversary thing and to leave such and such weekend open.  I, being the control freak that I am, begin a firestorm of questions about what he is thinking and what's the plan and what should we do.  He answers none of these and we go on about our day.

Fast forward a week or so and he comes home from work with a gigantic grin on his face.  This is the grin he uses when he wants me to ask him what the grin is all about.  So I do.  He says "oh nothing."  Ten minutes go by.  He finds me in the kitchen and ramps the grin up even bigger and says "well...I want to tell you but I want it to be a surprise."  So I assure him that I want to know and he divulges the scoop and we get all giddy and jump up and down and kiss square on the mouth.

This is how we work.  He loves planning and researching and spoiling me.  I love surprises but I love the way he can't keep a surprise a surprise even more so I always let him ruin it.  It's kinda the best.

So we packed up our boys and a few clothes more appropriate for warmer weather.

The four of us jumped on a jet plane and flew to Scottsdale.

This is what was waiting for us.  Hello sunshine.

Shawn's parents live in Scottsdale and volunteered to keep the boys at their house while Shawn and I had our little adventure.  I am pretty sure the boys had a horrible time.

Wouldn't you say?

Meanwhile, Shawn and I did our best to shock and offend every person in AZ with our pasty white midwestern skin.  But we considered it a sport and even threw in some bloody marys for good measure.  

To say it was the best would be an understatement.  To say we needed it would be comical.  We needed it.  

I feel like the two of us do a pretty good job of keeping our relationship first and trying to keep it fresh and spontaneous and fun.  But there is only so much you can do in the span of meeting for lunch or date nights or the hour and a half we have after the kids are in bed before we both pass out.  

This vacation did what we can't do at home.  It gave us time.  It took away the pressure of having to be parents and workers and room-moms and friends and neighbors and housecleaners and remodelers and billpayers and short order cooks.  It gave us time to be a couple.  With four nights alone, we really were able to get into the real groove of relaxing and enjoying each other.

Sometimes in the day to day life we lead, I find myself wanting to embrace our marriage and our relationship but I often have a window of like 39 minutes to get it accomplished.  So we spend our date night trying to soak each other up but I am flooded with thoughts of if the babysitter is going to accidentally let the dog out or if the kids are going to let us sleep a little in the morning or who are we going to run into while we are out or do we need to pick up milk...blah blah blah blah.  

So we soaked each other up until there was no more to be soaked and then we tried a little harder.  We sat and didn't have to shove all the important discussions we need to have into a 45 minute dinner.  Sometimes we talked.  Sometimes we just sat.  Sometimes we napped.  Sometimes we read.  We belly laughed and I think I even cried a few times just for good measure and to keep it real.  

And it wasn't until I got back and finally slipped back into my normal life that I realized how much we needed it, because I found myself really missing him.  Even when he was just at work or fixing something outside.  I missed that connection we had just spent days nourishing and building and perfecting.  The good news?  It's easier, now, to find it more quickly on date nights and while watching a show together in the evening or even with a quick glance across the dinner table with two little monkeys chatting away because of it's new strength.  

Thank you for an amazing anniversary, Sweet Pea.  Thanks for always knowing what we need.  You are my best friend.