The Ryan Plan

I remember the day like it was yesterday.  I was working on another home project, it was nap time, and because we were saving money by eliminating cable, my laptop was Sling boxing me Fox News via my parents TV in Columbus.  Techy, I know.  And no longer necessary.  I have since learned that I cannot make dinner without Brett Baer's voice broadcasting me the days events; Live.  There are just some things that are not worth the savings.

As I listened, halfway engaged in my project, halfway focused on the current health care debates, I heard the argument that changed my view of a Congressman, who may soon change the direction of the country. *** Warning: this is a political post.  Double warning: It's still my blog*****

Wisconsin Congressman, Paul Ryan,  began to speak about his views of the American People,   the role of Government, and the possible budgetary implications if the Health Care bill was implemented.  It was genius, it was well thought out, and everyone should You Tube it.

So imagine my delight when one of my favorite Congressmen was recently named as the Vice Presidential candidate.  Yes, I remember that moment too.  It was the moment that I knew that I had good sense when it came to political talent, and when I knew that my husband may have a future in Government. 

I mean, seriously... separated at birth....


But it's Paul Ryan's moment, so we won't crash his party with Kevin's good looks, yet.  It seems that although both men have heads for politics, inwardly and outwardly, Paul Ryan also has the wife for them, while Kevin does not. While I have strong political views, I choose to live vicariously through the political ambitions of others, and enjoy strategizing from my kitchen table instead of an Oval Office. 

November is right around the corner, it's time to focus, people.  I'm not ashamed to say that this election is important.  It could be epic.  And, like Paul Ryan's speech, it could go down in history as one of the greatest events we've ever watched, besides his great hair. 

Kindergarten Days

Tony Bennett may have left his in San Francisco, but yesterday, I left my heart in a Kindergarten class, with a beautiful blond.  I packed her lunch in her monogrammed lunch box,  attached it to her also monogrammed book bag, and left her in the care of a fun loving teacher who seemed to be more into the characters of Winnie the Pooh than Jack Mitchell.  And that is saying a lot.

The world of a stay at home mom is hard.  Don't let the Bon Bon jokes fool you.  The only Bon Bons that we are consuming, if any, are to keep the sanity between wiping dirty rears and refereeing between sibling wars.  They are rarely eaten while watching Soaps and sipping on ice tea.  (Or in my case, I prefer the News and world events).

So as I have observed, many a Mom seems to find themselves upon this first day of Kindergarten with a bit of a sense of shock.  Shock that it came so soon, shock of the emotional distress of a "baby" growing up, and shock that the last 5 years went so incredibly fast.

We have been in the trenches, sometimes unable to look out and see past the current meal that we are preparing; past the missed nap schedule, and past the embarrassing grocery trip that we just endured.  Then, as soon as they become somewhat refined members of society, able to tie a shoe and maintain manners during an entire meal, they are off on a bus, on their way to a life of learning, and away from us.  

No, I'm not naive to believe that this transition is harder than graduation, college, or that walk down the isle.  But it is in the sense that it is the first  in a series of milestones.  Milestones that only lead to the larger ones that will only lead to my heart being broken again.  And that is why it hurts.  That is why I put her on the bus this morning and preceded it by a long crying walk back to the house.  And that is why I may have consumed more cake than usual for lunch today.  Because if I can't have my heart in tact, at least I can have a treat. 

Where the Heart Is...

Designing my house has been my hobby, enjoyment, sometimes obsession over the last four plus years.  It has, at times, consumed my thoughts with paint options, when I maybe should have been concerned with what movie my kids were watching.  It has been the source of some of my ultimate highs, in terms of problem solving, and ultimate lows, in terms of marital compromise.  I have learned that my husband is a master woodworker, and that the first can of paint will never be the right color. 

Yet through the learning curve of what is being a home owner, I have discovered that making this house my home is so much more than paint and pillows. 

I walk the fine line of remembering that while my treasure is in heaven, this house, I do treasure.  That while God is the ultimate Creator, he has instilled in me a creative spirit that I am proud to display.  That while inviting new faces into our home to show Christ, is priority, inviting them into  a place that is, Inviting, is important too. 

So now, as we begin to contemplate the next step in our family's future, this house might soon become part of our past.  The walls that I painted  with my sister, while both fully pregnant might be enjoyed by someone else.  The light fixture that I taught myself electricity on might be used to light up someone else's bed time routine.  The ceiling that was painstakingly scraped clean of it's odd popcorn texture might be forgotten during someone else's Thanksgiving dinner.

I am realizing that the small touches placed in this home, seen often as frivolous design elements mean so much more to the person who put them there.  They are memories, rooted deep in one's thoughts, only to be covered over with the transfer of a mortgage. 

Ask an interior designer about a wall, and I'm sure there is a story behind it.  Ask them about a woodwork chip, and there is probably a child's name that is brought up.  Ask me about my pillows, and I could talk to you for six months straight.  

These walls have seen four little people grow from babies to kids.  They have heard more crying than one house should be able to endure, but it did.  They have heard fights, laughter, early morning prayers, and late night friends. They were once a little ugly, and now thanks to Sherwinn Williams, are quite the beauty.  

We will miss this place.  I might even stalk it.   If my kids forget it, I had professional pictures taken.  My home was where my heart was... and part of it will be here forever.  At least that's what my etched name in the closet woodwork would have one believe.  But we will just keep that between me, and these walls.  Turns out, Celine, they don't really talk after all.