4th of July Minnesota Lake Trip

The Good Stuff - Omaha Edition

I love Omaha.  After being here for two years, I have fallen in love with my town.  I think it might be the best kept secret...which makes it even better. 

 Each June, Omaha hosts the College World Series.  You remember my trip last year, don't ya?  Yeah, well...we have decided this one is gonna be a tradition.  And we brought in recruits.  

The boys were pretty pumped and so were we.  Somehow we scored four of the only 50 seats that were in the shade in the whole park.  And thank the Lord, because it got pretty toasty.  

Rex is about to go to a really bad place that he goes to right before he passes out for a nap.  Please note my strategic seating arrangement.

Super fun showing the littles the traditions and rituals of a baseball game.  

Roanin just finished up his first tball season and so he really began to piece it all together.  He asked all kinds of questions and got all kinds of answers.  

My favorite part was how enthralled he got with the concept of stealing a base, which happened a ton in the game we were watching.  He was so inspired, that at his last tball game last week he announced in the car in route to the game that he would be "...sneaking a base today."  *sigh*

And so we let him binge eat to avoid the inevitable.

Love this little monkeybrain.

Shawn Juan worked his magic.  

The afternoon game was over and we drove home and dropped the kids with a sitter and headed out again, under much better circumstances than last time.  

must. take. selfie. of. the. two. of. us. on. every. date. night.

We met up with some friends we hadn't gotten to hang out with in forever.  Which translated into the boys making an attempt to watch baseball and Angela and I ignoring everything and chatting and drinking and chatting.

Oh, and, doing our own personal selfie photo shoot.  It got kinda obnoxious.  

So Omaha delivered some good baseball, better friends, and another night for the old record books.  

Bravo.

Huntin' Memories

Having little boys comes with certain rites of passage.  Manly things.  Stinky things.  Lots of poop jokes.  

So Roanin got a bow and arrow for his birthday and has been obsessed with it.  Shooting targets, shooting the wall, shooting us...ahem...needless to say he likes it.  He then got to thinking about other things he could shoot.  He camped out in the yard for hours trying to hunt a squirrel.  It didn't go well...turns out squirrels are quite fast and Roanin's aim is, well, not quite the best yet.  

Enter the man who makes all little boy rites of passage a reality: Dad.  Dad hooked up a turkey hunting trip for the two of them, no Rex and no Mommy, and Roanin was pumped.  Off they went...my baby who is becoming a boy and the man he idolizes.  It was kinda the best.  

This meant one thing on the home front:

Mommy and Rex weekend.  To say this made up for not being quite old enough for the hunting trip would be an understatement.  You see, Rexy loves his mommy.  He gives new meaning to the term "Momma's Boy."  We both kinda felt like we hit the lottery. 

We did a little museum.  And with no big brother to follow or no time constraint of where to be next, Rex reveled in leading me around and doing exactly what a three year old wants to do.

The fun didn't stop once we got home.  We made food together, went for a walk, explored some woods, played pretend and just soaked each other up.

This, of course, was exhausting.  And the icing on the cake was going to sleep together in Mommy's big bed without even changing clothes or washing off our custom makeup.  It was EPIC.

Before bed, we got an update from Man Camp.  Success.

Turns out Daddy was able to deliver not only the experience, but a little souvenir to bring home.  

Love a man that knows how to simultaneously handle a shotgun and a six year old.

Roanin learned how to find the turkey, make a responsible kill, clean the turkey (his favorite part may have been plucking about 100000000 feathers...but that is probably not the most manly detail so we will move on), and use every part of the animal they could.  We have turkey to eat all summer long.  My little man's recollection of the experience was priceless.  What a weekend...memories for all four of us that are sealed in the vault.  

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.