Posts Tagged → Jameson

a tuesday afternoon: just thoughts

This winter has been the prettiest winter ever. I think. There’s fresh snow almost every day — or, rather every other day. In between, the sun comes out and makes yesterday’s fresh snow sparkle. There’s so little yucky sand/slush/slop. It’s all just white, clean snow.

It sparkles like diamonds. Of course, that can prove disappointing if you’re 4. Jameson and I were out on a particularly sparkly day, and he, in a dejected voice, announced that “it looks like diamonds but if you get close, you can’t find them anywhere!”

Of course, this house makes winter (and spring and summer and fall) just more enjoyable. I feel like I’m living in the most magical snow globe ever. Snow dancing and whirling, snow on pine tree’s branches, snow on split rail fences, snow in drifts like dunes… Snow in all the most beautiful ways.

*****

It almost makes up for the fact that this has also been the dirtiest winter. Sheetrock dust EVERYWHERE. Always. No matter what. In my teeth, in my rug, in my bed, on my just-washed dishes. Spring cleaning never sounded so good. I’m trying to just patiently wait for the day they say, “Okay! You can now clean and be done!” Because I’ve lost all my oomph for cleaning in the midst of more dust settling. My mantel is as snowy white as the great outdoors, I know, but I just can’t care right now. I’ll quietly and happily wash my kitchen table and counters, vacuum a million times, and block out the rest. Oh, look, isn’t it pretty outside? Yes, let’s just look at the snow, shall we?

But.

But there is a test swatch of color on the walls, and that must mean something, right? (A pale, pale, pale warm peachy-pink. I think it’s going to be just right: clean but warm and most of all, pretty. I just want light, elegant, pretty.) And Monday (!!!), our talented friend comes to lay floors. He and Ryan will hem and haw over which board is the prettiest, which grain to highlight, how to scatter the varying widths — and then, ta-da, we’ll have a floor! Maybe it will make us giddy and itchy with excitement, and we’ll turn around and just start tearing the up the kitchen carpet—

Or maybe not. Maybe we’ll just stand and sigh and love it and take a break.

And go to California.

*****

For a week. Just Ryan and me. To what was home sweet home just one year ago (almost a year to the day, actually, I’ll be back where I started.) How strange and fun that will be! Strange to walk by “our” house and think that it’s not ours. Strange to meet my neighbor and realize she’s been strolling those streets for a whole year without me. To see friends from church and their kids-who-aren’t-babies-anymore and try to fill in a whole year. To walk out the door in ballet flats and a cardigan and laughingly remember that I willingly and joyfully left those winters for these.

*****

Speaking of clothes, I’ve hit that awkward stage. The old pants still work, sort of, if I don’t eat too much, but I had to buy a few extra-long t’s to cover my already-generous belly. 13 weeks? Really? That’s what people say when they see this generous belly, but that’s nothing new. I seem to always get off to a rip-roaring start when it comes to baby bellies. And I tend to finish a bit on the generous side, too, I guess. Blame it on genetics, right, Mom?

*****

Mostly, this is a winter to go deeper. For my roots to wriggle through another layer of rock and dry soil to find the water that’s always flowing, always life-giving, always sustaining. It’s a little happier, perhaps, when life isn’t serving up rocks and sand, but this is when it counts. So I wriggle away, reaching for the water I know is there, knowing that someday these root-strengthening days are going to prove to be oh-so-important. Never mind the extras: today I just set my feet a bit more firmly on these things:

Who does God say He is?
What has God promised to do?
How much does God love me?

Does anything else matter? Really?

No, not much.

A house won’t quickly be blown over when it’s built on the true answers to those questions.

Build my foundation, Lord. Make my house strong. I want to be standing at the end.

house projects!

Last week, we dove into a house project we’ve had planned since moving in: the long-awaited opening up of the living room and dining room!

When we bought this house, it was turn-key. Pristine. Solid. Ready to go.

Except that the dining room was designed to accommodate about 8 people, and I guess if you’re the oldest of 9 kids, that just doesn’t seem quite practical. And so, the very first time I walked down the narrow hall separating the dining room from the living room, I was already dreaming of openness.

Of course, although I had a general idea in mind, I hadn’t really gotten down to details, but Ryan’s never deterred by that. I guess he figures that if there’s a construction zone in the middle of my house, and sheetrock dust on everything, I’ll hurry up about deciding those details. “Hey, it works.” (Those are his exact words. :-))

Saturday, an official lull in the construction activities will take place, as we have guests arriving from California. But not too much longer, and we’ll have a dining room ready to seat as many as will come — provided, of course, that we can find a table. (And chairs. Oh, and a couch, too, and…)

tree time

We have a tree. It’s lit, strung, and ornamented. Of course, it’s currently on it’s second lighting/stringing/ornamenting, thanks to the tumble it took last evening. Not much is as disheartening as a Christmas tree laying flat on your living room floor, surrounded by glass casualties. *sigh*

But it’s standing again, huge and wild and beautiful. Monday morning, this tree was growing in our backyard, part of a quartet of pines, but my daddy’s saw turned the quartet into a duo, and we got ourselves free Christmas trees.

Yesterday, there was the organized chaos of a nana, two mamas, three aunties, an uncle, and countless cousins (I don’t dare say a number; I’ll most definitely leave one out!) in our family room, beautifying the tree. Ornaments that had been given the last few years, but had never had a tree on which to hang, were unwrapped and rediscovered and put in their rightful place. Memories of honeymoons, first Christmases, road trips with the family, grade school teachers, and many more were shared. Glass, felt, porcelain, cross-stitch, all in between rows of red and white beads. Sparkling birds are clipped to the ends of wild branches — branches which invited live birds only weeks ago.

And, of course, the almost-invisible wire that Ryan used to tie the tree last night at 10:30.

This morning, I got to watch my very own little boy run from his bedroom to see our very own tree for the very first time.

Our first Christmas here, in this wonderful home, sitting right in the midst of a beautiful winter wonderland.

over the river

We were away for 5 days, visiting Maine and people we love. Aunties, cousins, a puppy dog, and grandparents — does it get any better? Jameson brought dress up (which he wanted to wear every day), got a new “big boy” car seat, tried his hand at dunking for apples (and got thoroughly water-logged in the process), and played golf all day long at his Papa’s house. William got late birthday gifts (staggering presents really should happen every year; isn’t it way fun?), went out alone for sushi with Daddy (turns out he doesn’t love chunks of raw fish the way his brother does), and got to hand out candy on Sunday night with Jameson (the two of them sitting on a bench by the door, looking out the window? Adorable.)

We had fun.

We also managed to fit adventure into our drives: on the way there, Ryan almost ran out of gas, and we were driving down New Hampshire country roads late at night, hoping for a gas station. On the way back, I helped out by driving for a couple of hours — except that one of those hours, I was on the wrong highway, heading in the wrong direction. Lot of help I am.

But we got home.

I love coming home.

And I don’t care how local and organic the restaurants in Burlington are, I’d rather eat at home. (My local, organic Swiss chard is just as good.)

jameson’s bible commentary

[Yes, many of these posts are for the sake of my personal record keeping. I realize you’re not as enthralled with my kids as I am, although I understand if you are, because they’re the best!]

One of our fall routines has been to tape a prayer schedule and “verses to discuss” near our breakfast table. We read Galatians 5.22-23 for a couple of weeks, which led — every morning — to this:

me: Jameson, can you name a fruit of the Spirit?
J: (pausing for long consideration) Umm, gentleness!
me: Yes! Can you tell me what that means?
J: Be gentle at dogs and people. Dogs will bite you.

I’ve yet to read that in any commentary, but hey. I guess it’s valid, right?

But now we’ve moved on to Romans 12:10 — Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another. We’ve read it lots and talked about it lots, though I’m never sure what they’re really hearing as they slurp down oatmeal and worry about which color cup they get.

Then last night, we were all heading down the hall to bed. Jameson is obsessed with being “da yeader” (leader) every time we walk down the hallway, so I was surprised when, a few steps into the trip, he suddenly moved to the side and said, “Mom, you can be da yeader.” So I stepped in front of him, thinking maybe it was too dark or something. But when we got to the bedroom, he smiled at me and said, “Mom, when I let you be da yeader, I give you preference. You like that, Mom?”

And I promptly smooshed him with a huge hug and lots of kisses. He is just the sweetest boy.

bits of life

It’s been way too many years (okay, only 3, but still…) since I experienced fall on the East Coast. And oh, how I love it. And I’ve never known autumn to arrive so on cue. I swear, the trees were all a dull green on September 20, and then September 21 — BAM! Orange! Red! Everywhere!

After haircuts on the afternoon of the 21st, we couldn’t help but be struck by the bright, almost neon, orange maple trees across the street from my sister’s salon. Actually, it was Jameson who was struck:

“Look! Mom! Those trees are orange! Do you see that, Mom?”

“Beautiful, huh? Isn’t it amazing?”

Pause while he takes in the wonder.

“Mom, I never saw that before!”

And it’s true, I realized. He hasn’t ever seen a gorgeous, dressed-for-autumn maple tree. And he’s totally in love with this transformation happening all around us, and happily made a little bouquet of red leaves for our table. Perfect.

*****

Of course, along with dramatic gray skies spread over vibrant foliage, the sniffles have also arrived. We had a good, long night of interrupted sleep that ended with Mama and two stuffed up boys all “sleeping” together.

This morning called for warm cornmeal mush, cozy new socks, and a candle. Not so bad, right?

*****

And then there’s this adorableness of Jameson suddenly deciding to set up a hotel. He’s got a little makeshift counter, an old computer keyboard, and he sweetly asks, “Would you like a bedroom?” (type, type, type.) “Okay, five dollars.” (type, type, type.) Then he leads his customer (William, 9 times out of 10), to one of our rooms. Although just now, I heard him lead William to our hall closet, open the doors, and say, “Here’s our elevator. Will this be okay, or do you want another elevator?”

And of course, William just agrees with it all: “Da.”