The End...and...The Beginning

It's hard to believe we're at the end of another year. I've been looking back over this year and I've realized it's been a big one. A lot of changes, and also, a lot of growth.

I've realized that I'm really good at making excuses, and not always great at following through. I've learned that I don't have to please everyone. I learned that after moving into this little 1950's house over 3 years ago (while waiting for our home in Denver to sell), and thinking I would be living here only a few months, that it actually feels like home now, turquoise tiles and all, and I actually don't mind some of its awkward quirks because what matters more to me are the little heads sleeping across the hall from us upstairs and the fact that they wake up every morning, not thinking about what we don't have, but happy about what they do: a loving family, a safe place to live and hopefully, a fun and meaningful time with me everyday. I feel like the little things that used to drive me nuts about this place, are now like little badges on my sash of growing up that show something I've accomplished. The fact that we had to make our own king bed by buying two extra-long twin mattresses for the bedroom upstairs because our king bed wouldn't fit up the tight, twisted staircase, used to make me resent this place. It was like it represented what I didn't have, what I had left behind, a larger, roomier, newer home where I didn't have to think about something not fitting up the stairs, where my life and everything else seemed easy and great.  All I had to do was look around and see that everything worked, and everything was pretty nice. Three years later, I am glad I am breaking my ridiculous ideas of perfection. What I hadn't seen before, was that I was still a person with great potential in many ways, having made leaps in maturity from my college days, but still with a lot to learn, mostly about myself.  So now, this house is lovely to me. It's like me. It's getting old. (Ha ha.) It has cracks and weird sounds. It has lots of old things that if it had been mine three years ago, I would have wanted to update a lot of it, and fast. It has stains on the carpet, cracks in the tile, water damage, leaks, and a new problem as of yesterday: the heater doesn't stop. We have to turn the whole furnace off at night or the house will be over 80 degrees in the morning. It's times like this that I'm glad I have a landlord to call. Anyway, the house is like me in other ways, because it also shows signs of work completed, repair on the ceiling like lessons learned, painful moments that made me stronger, and still, holes cut for access to internal parts that were left open, to be filled in at a later date.  Since we've been here, this house has received a new refrigerator, some new wiring, a new toilet and lots of fresh paint on the walls. It's been getting better and it has the scars to prove it. I hope that with my internal scars, I only become better, a more compassionate, less selfish, more loving person than I used to be, less worried about what things look like and more worried about how they actually are.

That brings me to my latest thoughts about my blog and about next year. As I've been contemplating and reflecting on where my blog has taken me this past year, I'm so excited. I have received such positive feedback in the form of typed comments, emails, and you telling me in person how much you've enjoyed reading it. You, my readers, however few you may be, make this such a wonderful experience for me and I graciously thank you. I am grateful both to those I know in person, and to those of you who have surprised me over the blogging world and have reached out to me, only knowing me from this medium. Thank you! I have decided in order to best reflect where this blog is taking me personally, that I am going to change the name and focus from being on Resolutions, which obviously are hard for me to stick with anyway, to something in another direction that is relevant to me right now.  (The actual blog site address will remain the same, this just refers to the title on the top of the page that currently says "A Murrill Resolution".) I will announce the new changes when the new year is actually here! So please check back!

I'm going to leave you with a few photos and notes to bid farewell to 2011.

The boys got haircuts in December. Max hated it. The sucker helped. And I had to hold his hand.

At first I just took Max. 

Me: "Hi, sweet, loving sons. You make my life great."

Then I went back later and got Mason's done too. He did great.

Max tried out their video games.

Many suckers make happy boys.

A mid-December shot of my Christmas card wall this year, and to the right, is the infamous staircase.

My big Christmas present this year, was a new 2012 Honda Odyssey (our other van needed repairs beyond it's value and it happened to be December when we had to make a decision...this is not a precedent we are setting for gifts...ha ha) that I'm totally nervous to drive because I've never owned a new car before. After taking it to Kansas City for Chrismas it now has about 1400 miles on it. That's something I never thought I'd say. Seriously, I never thought I'd buy a new car. 

Something else you will probably see more of in my blog next year, are the fruits of my obsession/hobby of getting good deals on clothing. My friend Kelsey, is awesome at putting creative, fashionable and affordable outfits together. I'm not that good at the whole picture, but I have a hobby of finding great deals so I don't think I'll be able to resist sharing an item or two. This time though, I'll go ahead with the whole outfit. In the picture below (with my new van, yay, and a little nervous twitch) here's the run-down:

Dress: H&M - $20

Belt: Banana Republic - $15

Purple Tights: Banana Republic - Gift from my mother-in-law

Jacket: Vintage Goodwill (from college, doing the news broadcast on Blue Mountain Television) - $7

Shoes: Steve Madden, also Goodwill

The boys in their Christmas best with Papa, Mike's Dad.

The older cousins...just missing baby Kiki.

Mike (on the right) and his brother Mark, getting some after-Christmas deals down at the Plaza in Kansas City, MO. Another moment of note for us this year, is that Mike accepted the position of CFO at one of the Adventist hospitals here in the Chicago area. He's been at it since August and is enjoying it.

I hope you've each had a wonderful holiday season so far.  If I don't talk to you before then, Happy New Year!

A Day To Remember

I feel like it's time I at least give an update of where I've been the last few weeks.

For Thanksgiving, we drove about 13 hours to North Carolina to see Mark, Steph and the girls. It was like we'd never been apart. The kids played in the back yard while the adults watched football, shopped and of course cooked. Steph and I got crafty and decided we were natural born stampers. It was very low-key and relaxing. Just what we needed. We got to see our friends Brandon and Maria Nudd and family. We miss them a lot, too. We drove home on Sunday.

That next Thursday, Mike got a call that his grandpa had been admitted to the hospital and things weren't looking good. The Murrill's are a very close family and upon hearing the news, we gladly dropped everything to hop in the van and make the 9 or 10 hour drive to Kansas City. It shouldn't take us that long, but with the kids, it always does. We arrived late Friday night and snuck into Mike's parents house to get to bed. Mike's brother Mark and his daughter Monroe were driving up from North Carolina and weren't far behind. We spent the whole day Saturday at the hospital with the family. Mike's Uncle Roger had come in from Denver. You can probably guess that it was a very emotional time. We cried. We talked to Grandpa, who was able to let us know he heard us. We sobbed. I watched Grandpa's sons and grandson's hearts break as they told him they loved him. It was very hard. While so much sadness and sorrow was felt in that room as we waited for the inevitable to happen, I couldn't help but see something incredibly beautiful. This man had more than memories and accomplishments to his credit. He had a legacy that will live on for generations to come, a life and story of hope, of love and acceptance, of believing in one's self, and the ultimate faith in God. My husband cried as he told the family how this man made him proud to be a Murrill. In fact, Grandpa Murrill was the first family member I met of Mike's. It was in Florida, over 10 years ago, when he was doing an internship at a hospital for the summer. I remember when we drove up to their house and Grandpa came out from the garage with a big smile on his face, always happy to see Mike, in whom he felt so much pride, and excited to meet me, the girl he had heard so much about. He loved people. He made you feel warm and comfortable. I remember after that visit, where we played karems and ate some of Grandma's delicious food, Mike told me that Grandpa really liked me. He said, "My grandma likes you a lot too, but Grandpa, he really likes you." I remember wondering what I could have possibly done to make him like me so much, of course I don't think it was anything I did, I think that was who he was. And it never changed. He always made you feel good about yourself.

Grandpa took his last breath around 5am on that Monday morning. We were filled with a lot sadness, and melancholy, but also some relief that he was resting peacefully. Monday we drove home. We were tired, but so glad we had been a part of those moments. So glad we could be together as a family and support Grandma and each other during this time.

I hadn't been feeling good, so I went to the doctor Tuesday afternoon. Sure enough, the doctor said I was sicker than she had first thought and that I probably wasn't telling her how bad I really felt. She said I had a sinus infection, an ear infection, and pneumonia. I was given a long list of medications and sent on my way. Wednesday, I was determined to take the kids to their doctor's appointments that had been scheduled for over a month. I did not want to put them off any longer, although considering my own health, I probably should have thought twice. My friend Kelsey, who is an extremely giving, unselfish person, had come over first thing in the morning to watch the kids for me while I rested and then helped me take them to the doctor's office (This was the second day she had come to help before I could get them to Shelley's house for the afternoon). Neither kid was in a good mood and after the doctor examined Max, screaming at the top of his lungs, I picked him up and he proceeded to vomit, massively. He covered my arm with it and then, chunks dripped all over my leg and the rest of it landed in a big pile on my shoe and the floor. I actually could not see my shoe through the pile on top of it. I had another "I don't know what I would have done without Kelsey" moment, as she held and soothed Max while the nurses were hurriedly cleaning up the mess while the doctor, Mason and I had gone into another room to finish his exam. Both kids are doing good, by the way. Max, who is usually in the 30th percentile has jumped to the 50th, and Mason, always a big guy, is above the 95th percentile. I can't say enough about how much I needed Kelsey around, even if it just made me feel like I wasn't alone. If she wasn't there, I was pretty sure I would have just sat down, all covered in regurgitated goldfish and cried. Thankfully, God sent a friend when I really needed it. To top it off, she also brought us dinner that night. My friend Jeana, brought us some potato soup the next day, which was amazing, and also a huge blessing as I've been trying to recover from this intense group of illnesses.

Tonight, for the third weekend in a row, we are driving. We are currently on our way out of Des Moines, Iowa, where we stopped and spent quite a while catching up with our friends Lance and Kyla. Kyla and Mike did their Masters at the same time at the University of Colorado when we lived in Denver. A year ago she married Lance and now they are almost halfway done "baking" their first child. We've stayed in touch with them and it's nice to be able to stop and see them when we make trips to Kansas City.

As you may have figured, we are on our way back to Kansas City. Grandpa's Memorial is tomorrow afternoon. There are a lot of people coming from across the country to celebrate his life. I know it will be wonderful to catch a glimpse of the mark he's left in this world by all the people he touched. I've known him only a fraction of the time most of these people have, but he still made an impact on me. I already know, that although tomorrow may be difficult in many ways, it will also be a great day. A day to remember, for a man we will never forget.

Love and Imperfection

Standing in my bedroom tonight, I coughed kind of loudly. A moment later, I heard a sweet little voice from inside the bedroom across the hall, responding to my raspy hack. "You okay?" I grinned to myself, as I froze in silence. It was the voice of my newly-minted 2-year-old, coming from his crib, no doubt where he was lying on his back with his feet up in the air, poking them between the rails and against the wall, as he likes to do. Choosing not to enter into a conversation that I knew would mean another 15 minutes of settling him into bed, I didn't respond. Quiet. Then, my concerned caretaker seemed satisfied, as he continued on to other pressing duties, in song. "A-B-C-D-eeeehhhhhggeeeeeee..."

How do they do it? Children are not easy. They whine, they fuss, they don't listen.  They take crackers into the living room against my instructions where the ants find them. They refuse to eat the food I made especially for them. They refuse to eat the food I made especially for me. They refuse to eat any food. They want me to get out a big, awkward toy that requires set-up. So I do it. Then they want me to put it away because it's in the way of the next game they're trying to play. I don't do it. I tell them, too bad, they have to play around it, because mommy wants to sit down for a few minutes. "No, you may not have any candy." "Come here so I can help you blow your nose." "You have to stay in 'time-out' until I tell you." "We can't go to the park right now, it's bedtime." "Yes, you have to brush your teeth." "No, you always need to use your own toothbrush." "Please wash your hands." "I know you don't want to, but we share our things."

I really try to say things other than "no" as much as I can, although it's a lot harder than one might think. I let Mason go to bed in a laundry basket once. He was begging. I think he lasted about 30 seconds. He went through a phase where he wanted to sleep on the floor. Okay. That's fine. I really just care that you are sleeping. Of course, he only spent minutes on the floor each night before he realized it wasn't as great as he thought it would be. Still though, he would have me tuck him in, pulling blankets around him with the perfect tautness. Ok, here's a big one. I let the boys play on our coffee table. More like, climb, jump, slide, and hang on that coffee table. I know it bothers some people who see it. They think I shouldn't let them do it. They don't say it, not out loud. While that used to kind of bother me, now I really don't care. These boys jump from that table onto the couch like performers with great style, twisting, turning, starting backwards and landing with their faces in the pillows. Sometimes it's a sideways fall, or a leap over a brother, and many times a simple straight-forward high jump. They know (ok, theoretically) that it's a special thing reserved for our table and our couch, and they love it. "Mommy watch me!" Then there is the inevitable slip, trip, flop, or bump that brings them to me for comfort. But then they're right back at it and the tears are still wet.

So much of me has always felt like a non-mother. Maybe that's why I sometimes write about obvious things making an impression on me (I don't claim to be extraordinarily insightful, just honest). I never "had" to hold the babies. I didn't enjoy babysitting. I had no younger siblings to help me learn how to be a care-taker at a young age. I was the one with two mothers my whole life (thank you, sister, Renee, a.k.a my second mom), and for the most part, I loved it. I enjoyed being the baby of the family (sometimes I still milk that one). I was freaked out when I realized that I was actually going to have to figure all that stuff out for myself. I was going to have to grow up. And not just pretend. I knew I'd have to actually be responsible. There wouldn't be someone to bail me out when I decided I'd had enough. I had no idea what I was in for. I was scared. And rightly so. It's no picnic.

When I see Max spend 15 minutes "practicing" climbing in and out of his crib before bedtime, I start to realize I may have learned something about being a real grown-up. I'm not sure I can aptly put it into words, but maybe it's that I know I'm still a work in progress myself, needing practice for all the adult skills I've supposedly mastered, or at least all the ones us "adults" try to act like we have. We're secure, we always know what to do, we know how everything works.  Kids, if you need to know something, ask an adult.  They are experts on everything (ha). And sure, I can make a list of crazy things my kids do, but how many ridiculous things did I do this week? Did I say I was going to go to the gym and then not go? Did I say I was going to be careful of what I ate and then scarf down a bunch of dark chocolate reeses peanut butter cups three nights in a row? Did I put off calling the repair guy yet again (seriously, it's been two months)? Maybe I didn't kick or shove anyone, but did I think something unkind about someone? I wish I could say "no" to at least one of those questions.

So, to answer my query from earlier...How do they do it? How do they take so much of our physical, emotional, and mental energy and then turn around and make us feel like it's all worth it?  It sounds crazy, but that's how it works, isn't it? Every time. For all my non-adult feelings, my thoughts of lost independence, lack of time for myself, and a bittersweet pause (if not a total stop) in a career I've enjoyed, I am humbled at the way my heart has changed, opened, and grown, since becoming a mother. Often these days, when I'm losing my patience, feeling like a broken record and like I'm talking to a brick wall, it's only a matter of time before a little Max will ask me if I'm "okay", stunning me with his apparent concern, his obvious ability to watch and learn from what I do, and it will snap me right back into the present, a place where I know that these moments are fleeting, that if I'm blessed enough to watch my children grow into adulthood, that it will always go too fast, and before I realize it, they won't be so completely and utterly dependent on me to teach them about life and to provide them with a good one. I know that as much as I often feel drained, I know I will feel immensely more empty once they are grown and gone and that if I don't relish this time in my life, I will regret it later. And maybe someday, I'll be dependent on them, and they will take care of me, in a thoughtful, gentle manner, loving me in spite of my imperfections.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll agree to read "just one more story", or break a few of the rules. And maybe, I will care a little less what other people think, and pause before my voice rises in frustration, when I remember that I, too, am not perfect.

Ode "2" Max

My baby boy, Max, turned two today. I can't believe how fast the time has gone. Here are a few fun pics to remember the last couple of years that he's been a part of our family.

Our first pic of Max back in April 2009. 

Cooking cousins.

During my 38th week, we went in to be induced but had a surprise Cesarean.

Our little Max had arrived on November 13, 2009. It was Friday the 13th. Just like his Dad.

First time meeting his big brother. Who was clearly super impressed. So glad I captured this special moment. Ha ha.

We took the train into the city around Christmas time. Here we are at Union Station.

6 months old.

 Sometimes laid-back.

Sometimes, not...

Max turns one!

He's a little cautious at times.

And brave other times.

My happy little family.

I've always been jealous of his amazing hair.

18 months. Finally got a serious haircut.

My budding artist.

Max has always been a tender-hearted little guy.

One of my favorites.  Perfectly captures his cheery little aura!

Happy Birthday, Max! We love you so much and can't imagine our lives or our family without you. Here's to many more, little buddy!

Alone...please.

I'm not sure if it's the shorter days, the cooler weather, or the gray skies that seem to be hanging on longer, but I've been feeling my inner introvert kick in with great force. I'm entering a phase of serious re-energizing and I'm not surprised if some people think I'm odd, strange, or down right rude. Of course, I don't mean to be any of those things.  Needing to be re-energized, for me, means that I need to be alone.

I don't want to plan any parties (sorry, Max, even though you are turning 2 next weekend...so, we'll see what we come up with), go to any events with crowds of any size (church too, sadly), or have to be "on" in any form.  I get exhausted hanging out with a lot of people (or less than a lot, if it's the wrong people). I don't have my usual energy to do laundry, clean the house, or tackle my favorite home projects. And I'm sure it sounds ridiculous, at least to the 70% of the population who are extroverts and have no idea what I'm talking about, when I say that I just want to be alone with my journal, my pen, and my thoughts.

Ditching my family entirely to meet my introverted needs is not something I'm going to do, so I suck it up and push through it.  Ugh.  But it doesn't come without a price.  Although holing up in my dorm room in college worked just fine, I can't exactly tell my energetic toddlers to go whip up some breakfast on their own because I need an extra hour to finish my contemplative thoughts.  Rather, I've had to be especially creative to respect my own needs while not neglecting my family's.  As an example, all three boys were sleeping on Sabbath afternoon when I snuck outside to the backyard with my journal, puffer jacket and favorite lounge chair.  I cozied up, finally alone in the quiet, breeze blowing the crisp leaves, started writing, and in the midst of my first sentence as I'm basking in my "I'm so sneaky" feeling, a little red-headed boy comes bounding around the corner with his summer shoes and no coat and says in the most energetic, sweetest, highest, littlest voice, "Hi Mommy! You out here?" It was as if he, too, had discovered a little secret and he knew it was special.  While I didn't get much (okay, any) writing done I did have the front seat to a performance of how many different ways you can go down a slide headfirst, how to play golf with a plastic bat, and I got to be the designated puller of a red wagon expedition looking for good sticks.

Despite my current state, I wouldn't trade that afternoon for anything. On the other hand, Mike took the boys out for a while on Sunday afternoon while I was at home by myself, last night I had a long, hot bath and tonight, Mike put the kids to bed.  I know that without a partner who cares and understands, I might be literally going crazy. I'm so thankful for his willingness to step in when I'm getting overwhelmed (this feeling, of course, is not unique to us introverted moms...but is common to moms of many personalities).

So, I will take my few moments, because I know that before too long, I won't feel quite so off-balance, or quite so desperate to be alone. Every little bit helps and if all I can get at the moment is small pieces of time, that's okay with me.  I know it will get better and I also know I don't want to miss the spontaneous moments with my kids.

What are you needing right now? Is there a way you can meet your needs without giving up something in other areas of your life?

A Family Day

This past weekend, we decided to take a break from our regular routine. We drove out to Batavia, IL and enjoyed some peace, quiet and time with each other outside.

The boys had fun playing at the Red Oak Nature Center.

Mason is not into having his picture taken right now, so I have to sneak them in.

We hiked to one of the few caves in Illinois.

We even crawled inside.

"Putsch!"

Mike took Mason to find a bathroom, so Max and I explored a while by ourselves.

"Oops."

He loves Canadian Geese.

A missing rock is a perfect place to stand.

A solo round of "ring around the rosie".

"I'm back, Mommy!"

Love.

Favorite activity: throwing rocks.