A couple of years ago I had a dream. Cody and I were in a tropical place. We were driving like mad along an open stretch of highway, running away from a tornado, when I spotted a little, orange kitten in the middle of the road. I made him stop, opened my door, and in answer to his protests, I said, “We can’t just leave little Biscuit in the road! He’ll be roadkill!”
Which is how I know that someday I’ll rescue a little, orange kitten. And his name shall be Biscuit. I just hope that we’re not running from a tornado when it happens.
This last summer we tried to do make a video greeting for my Brother’s birthday. I drew a nice “Happy Birthday” on the chalkboard, and then planned to record Cheeks standing in front of it while he said, “Happy birthday, Uncle Dustin!” Cute, right? It totally didn’t work. But it wasn’t a complete loss! In the midst of all my frustrated coaxing, and Cody’s snickering behind my back, there is a lot of our little man’s happy personality.
When we returned home from Montana I didn’t unpack. I went straight to bed and stayed there for a week. I don’t doubt that there are dozens of photos on my SD card waiting to be shared, but I haven’t gotten around to uploading them yet. You’ll be the first to know when I get it done.
This morning, Cheeks and I were sitting around looking at pictures of sunshine, remembering what it feels like to be warm, and thinking that a February trip to Dallas would be swell. When we came across some more of the pictures we took of the house, we immediately decided to share. So, here is Cheeks, with a tour of his bedroom.
Welcome! Can I get you a cup of s’milk?
We wish it was still so leafy and warm looking outside that window!
In a basket, up in the air, you’ll find the Frog, the Donkey, and the Hare.
Patty and Woof Woof enjoying a little sunshine.
The dress-up mirror. Also good for making funny faces.
I can remember the beginning of 2010 very clearly. We were all three sick. Most days Cheeks and I didn’t even get dressed. I had a colorful knit hat covering my head from the time I woke up until I went to bed. The house smelled like herbal tea. I was learning to knit. We’d given up cheese and eggs. The days were snowy, sunny, and bright. I was reading Agatha Christie novels.
This morning I woke up to a coughing kid, put on the same colorful hat, looked out at the sunny (but not snowy) day, and thought about how familiar it all seemed. Cheeks and I still didn’t get dressed. And I’m still learning to knit. But everything is different too. I’m reading Nathaniel Hawthorne instead of Ms. Christie. I’m drinking coffee instead of tea. Cheese and eggs don’t seem appetizing at all. We live in a different house. A different state. A different world.
I feel simultaneously more focused and less organized. We have goals this year. Serious goals. But only the outline of a plan to achieve them. Even the goals themselves seem somehow blurry, like that dream that slips away when I open my eyes. But we’re committed to them. Every week or so one of us will remind ourselves that we have to try, and try with all we’ve got, or we’ll always wish we’d done it. We say it out loud, with the other nodding in agreement, as if speaking and hearing the words will make it all more real. But we already know. It’s already real. We’ve jumped in head first, and we’re going to be glad we did it. Even if we aren’t entirely sure what it is that we’re doing.
It’s a lot to swallow when the clock hits midnight and one of the first things Cody says is, “This is a big year for us.” My 100lb, mucus filled head felt light in comparison to the weight of what we’re undertaking. I realized then that I’m going to need something to distract from all that stress. I made a mental list of all the other things that I’m going to do this year. All of those things that go on, continuously, reliably, year after year, regardless of our bigger life-happenings.
And do you know what? Just making that little list makes everything big seem easier, slower, clearer. We have an entire year (two actually) to baby step our way through this experience. That’s a lot of steps. Or books. Or loaves of bread. It’s a lot of small victories to look forward too. So, here’s to small, deliberate actions, big dreams, and beach vacations. (What? A girl can hope!)
Spelt biscuits from Babycakes. (You’re drooling)
