The Top Nine



Today, Kevin and I have been married for nine years.  Nine years ago today, I woke up, ran 10 miles, fit nicely into my small wedding dress, danced over my parents pool... and packed a bikini for vacation. 

Today, I will get up, entertain three kids with oatmeal and cartoons, try on five outfits until one actually fits, hopefully remember to brush my teeth, and continue work on a bath remodel during nap time.

A lot has happened in nine years.  Four of them are kids.  Which is a major blame for my clothing issues at the moment.  However, instead of looking in the mirror (or pictures) and quickly listing the top nine negatives that nine years has had on this 5'2" mom... I'm going to list my favorites.  My top nine favorites of why I like being married to Kevin Mitchell.  In no particular order.

1. He's still got the best hair ever.  Still jealous of it, and still love it.  Nothing says "we've made it so far" like a full head of hair.

2.  He drove a white Corolla for 8 1/2 yrs of the marriage, and never complained.  At best, it could have been described as a cute car... for a woman.  At worst, it was plain embarassing, and loud.  And yet even though today he has a sweet Saab, he would still trade it in for another Corolla, or even a bus pass, if that was what the family needed.  He's just not a material type of guy. 

3.  He still writes me love notes, like a professional writer.  And they would still be embarrassing for anyone else to read.  Love that.

4.  Even though he holds a professional job, is a dad, and has a lot of pressures, he will blast the latest and greatest pop sensation music likes he's 15.  It keeps us young.

5.  He makes me feel smart when I get one out of 20 Jeapardy questions right.  Even though he knows most of the answers, he keeps them to himself to make me feel better.

6.  He works extremely hard and long hours, but is still the best dad our kids could ever ask for.  Which is why when I worry about having one more, I remember who my husband is, and then I calm down.

7.  He is generous with me.  We like our budget, but he has always understood that stay at home Moms need to feel special.  And he knows how to do that, and where the closest mall is.

8.   He took me out of the Johnson's, but doesn't fight to take the Johnson out of me.  Meaning... he has learned over the past nine years that I like to redo, reuse, and re-paint.  We are re-habbers to our core. And he gives me the freedom to be the creative, crazy, multi-tasking loony that I am most days.  And usually, all I get is an impressed eyebrow arch or a nice smile. 

9.  He still thinks I'm pretty.  Even though I'm pregnant.  Even though I'm currently pushing a + 15.  You gotta like that one, even after nine years, and no bikini in sight. 

It's been a busy and memorable nine years.  We may not look like babies anymore, and we might be a bit more stressed out most days than we were sans kids, a mortgage; and a life.  But every day is worth it.  And every day I'm delighted when he comes home.  I would say that's a good start to the next 50. 

Happy Nine Years Kevin.  I sure am glad that I was a Fool, and rushed into You. 

(Enjoy some old wedding highlights)...

The Brothers: Before



The runner back then... even in heals, always striking a racer pose



The Dance Floor.  Just so my friends here can see it.

Our "Father of the Bride" backyard reception.  It was amazing.

Fathers Day

We had a busy day yesterday trying to work on a bathroom project.  So Father's Day was  a combination of saws, hammers, and sweat.  All things I'm sure that Kevin LOVED doing on his special day.  But he's good at it.. and thankfully his mom was here to help with the kids.  So it was actually pleasant getting things done without having to tend to a fight over cars every two minutes. 

I thought I would revisit the video we made for Kevin last year, since I didn't have time to make an updated one this year.  But it's a good one, if you know Kevin, and you somewhat like our kids:).  
So Happy Father's Day 2011 Kevin..  even though we have to watch the 2010 movie.  We still think you're the slammin' Dad that we did last year.  Thanks for all that you do.

Purgatory

I'm not getting into a theological discussion, but it is fun to throw in a "shocker" heading for all of my Evangelical friends, and a familiar one for those Catholic followers.  So everyone can relax, and continue reading... this blog is about the Mitchell family, not intense debates (although I do like those also).

My "purgatory" if you will allow me to borrow the term, is found on Route 30, the East/ West highway, or as we better know it, the route from here, to Columbus.  And as I was once again making the drive today, I was finally able to label the odd feeling that I have every time that we make that drive.  Which is often monthly, sometimes multiple times per month.  So much so that I feel as though I am neighbors with the farmers along the route, and the horses could recognize my white van by plate number. 

Living three hours from where both Kevin and I had most or all of our childhood, up until we left for college together is a blessing, and a curse.  Such a blessing in that whenever we miss or want to see family, we can hop on the road for a few short hours, save on plane costs, and be there.  A curse in that we never can quite say which home is actually, "Home."  It's an odd sense of living in the in-between.  Belonging to one, yet having most of our history in another.  Desperately wanting to make the new feel familiar, while never quite shaking the memories of how much the past means to us, or the people who make it so special.

It is here, along Highway 30, that I transition my roles;  I slowly become more of the me who is a daughter, sister, or daughter-in-law, while becoming less the outgoing host of new friends, new churches, new doctors, and new neighbors.  It is somewhat of a waiting stage.  A renewal of personality in both directions, depending on whether I am driving East, or West.   And, as some believe of Purgatory, it is a period of suffering.  A mourning in the realization that in either of my homes, the sense of true belonging doesn't exist.  Some days I feel more familiar with one over the other, and other days I feel as if a stranger in both.

Deep thoughts for a blog, I know.  But because this drive has been happening now for over 3 years, it was a relief to finally be able to put it into words.  They are simple growing pains, sure.  Yet they are also a great reminder of 1 Corinthians 13:12, "For  now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 

My true home isn't at either ends of Route 30.  And it's encouraging to realize that my unfamiliar feelings in both places is God's way of reminding me that in the end, home rests with Him.  We all want that "Cheers" setting.  And it will come, just maybe not right now, or right here.  But some day we will completely belong.  And we won't have to drive past smelly cows to get there.  So I've found my "purgatory" here on earth.  Whether it exists or not after we pass is up for debate.  But not on this blog.  For now I will continue to do my drive, think through my thoughts, and work through the growing pains that inevitably come, no matter where home is.

French Motivations

Children's French fashion and 30 pairs of undies aren't usually used in the same thought sequence, unless you are using one, to get to the other.  Which is exactly what we have embarked on here for the last week.  You see, it's potty training time for the boys, and my main motivation are some super cute jackets that I bought for them in France, that they can wear next year to school.... IF, they are potty trained by August.   If they aren't, then I will be incredibly sad that my overpriced, quiet please, Dave Ramsey, coats, will not be used for their intended purpose (to make my boys look cool in school). 

Potty training twin boys was definitely one of the most terrifying thoughts that crossed my mind when the doc broke the twin news to us that day during the ultrasound.  Pregnancy with two didn't scare me; birth didn't worry me, but potty training?  Yes, that kept me up at night.  And I would like to personally proclaim to anyone who doesn't have twins that it is indeed, that hard, and it does in fact stink, that much worse.   I have big plans for myself when I am successful with this daunting task.  Like maybe a few new shirts just because, or a nice dinner out, just because.  I'm taking pride in this feat, and although I know it is hard for all... I will always look at mom's with multiples with more respect now than I ever have before.  My longings of sending myself to a looney bin multiple times this past week are a testament of that respect.

 I am proud to say, however, that our seems to be scientifically minded Charlie picked up on half of the idea rather quickly.  However the other issue, the more messy issue, if you catch my drift, is still an unseen novelty here, unless you consider it the novelty that they both like to keep packed away in their undies, not the potty.  Needless to say, they have had to apologize many times to Elmo and Cookie Monster when they do their deeds on them instead of where they belong... the toilet. 

So we are on to week two.  Hoping that we learn more, and clean up less.  At least the weather has had a few warm streaks, so that naked hose downs while the neighbors watch are less chilly than they would have been a few weeks ago.   And thanks to all of the trees in our yard, come summer I'm expecting some great learning moments during our outside play time. 

And the Verdict Is.....

A healthy baby.  Disappointed huh?  Yes, we had our ultrasound today, where it would have been clear what baby number 4 is rolling in as, boy or girl.  However, I would like to use this post to prove to my family (mainly my sisters), that I can remain strong during some important life situations.  Not when there is a pan of freshly made brownies staring me in the face; no, that is a sure moment of weakness.  But when it comes to really wanting a surprise and some motivation to make it through another C-section, this girl (and Kevin) remained strong.  Even Jack was there, and he didn't demand to know if he would have another brother to fight with over matchbox cars.  Then again, he has bigger things to worry about, like making it to the toilet during potty training week.  But more on that later.

Not even my doc knows the gender.  Apparently if you request not to know, they don't try to find out either.  And here I though they had a secret page in that big file of theirs that had a blue or a pink sticker on it.  Nope, He will find out the same day we will.  Or technically a few seconds before us, since he gets a better seat in the O.R.than both Kevin and I do.  Other than that, baby # 4 is perfectly healthy.  Two kidneys (always a plus), a nice brain, and some cool eye sockets that gave us a wink in a few pictures.  So we are very happy, and very thankful.  Only 20 or less more weeks to go, and then we can find out the real burning question.  Does Callie Mitchell get a better wedding in the end?  Or does she get a sister?  Only time will tell, girlfriend - only time.  

Springtime In Paris

Thanks to my incredibly generous parents and Grandparents, Rachel and I were able to take a trip of a lifetime to visit our sister Sarah in France... sans kids (Cue Angels singing).  Sarah and her family live in the Toulon, France.  It's the Southern part, which means warm, sunny, beachy, perfect weather.  And it was just what this girl needed as a welcome break to the chills of another Midwest May. 

Not to worry though.  The kids were also having the time of their lives spending every moment with my rock star quality grandparents,  who thought it nothing but breezy to have 3 Great Grand kids stay with them the whole time.  Yes, they are the best, and no, you can't borrow them.  And when they weren't being entertained by Mama De and Papa Gramps, I heard that my little Callie is now the top sought after real estate agent under the age of 5 in the Columbus area.  She apparently is well versed in home showings, client meetings, and training classes thanks to her buddy time with Grandma Jan.  Nothing like starting them young, and training them early!

Back in France, Rachel and I did everything from bike riding on Islands (yes, this pregnant belly did survive), to shopping French yard sales.  We saw old villages with lovely shops, ate tons of French pizza, croissants, and baguettes, and hung out on some fabulous beaches.  After that, we took a train to Paris for our last two days, and revamped our knowledge of important art and history.  Although where and what we saw will not be spelled out here, thanks to my non-existent French language skills.   But having a sister who now speaks beautiful French sure comes in handy when exploring, well, France.  I refused to walk into a store, order any food, or ask for a restroom without Sarah.  She was a saving grace when this girl needed a bathroom, and needed it now. 

Overall, it really was a magical trip.  I loved exploring, and spending quality time with my sisters.  France is beautiful and historically moving.  But coming back to the U.S. was also refreshing.  There's no telling how much you appreciate being able to read advertisements... until you can't read anything for a week straight.   Being able to communicate with even the bored U.S. customs officials was music to my ears after a long plane ride with mostly French speaking tourists.  And don't even get me started on the beauty of our American toilets.  It's an entire blog post worth of insight.  I will just say now that airport bathrooms were never more welcome. 

So many, many, thanks to my family who made it possible, and to Sarah and Phil who gave us one sweet week in their world.  I feel refreshed and ready to take on my normal routines again.  That is, however, if I can ever convince my kids that Mommy's house isn't Grandma's house.  Now that is more challenging than an 8 hour plane ride while pregnant.

(Pictures are out of order... but enjoy!)

Beach by Sarah's House, in Toulon

Phil came home the day before!  Family Pic on bike Island

Sisters..after a very bumpy bike ride

Waiting for our Train to Paris

Notre Dame Cathedral

For Kevin... Even Thomas Jefferson got a statue in Paris



Arc de Triomphe



True Tourists, on the double decker bus in Paris

Market near Sarah's House

Beautiful French Country Side



The Gardens of Rodin - One of Kev's favorite sculptures.  Doing the "Thinker Pose"

"The Thinker"

The Louvre

Island Bike Tour

Another French Village... for shopping

Who said you can't touch the top?

Eiffel Tower

Last night in Paris.. eating a genuine Crepe.  I didn't Love it, but I loved Paris

 

The Tale of a Blue T-Shirt

When I thought about having boys, I swore to myself that I would not have the type of boys that run around in t-shirts and sweat pants.  I was convinced that my boys would be the well dressed ones, collars up, button shirts, and nicely pressed cargo pants. 

Then you have boys, and you encounter the "easy" fleece section of Target.  Not only is the t-shirt and fleece area cheaper than the cool outfits, but it also results in less tears from two crazy boys who apparently do care what they wear.  Remember, we are budget central here, and buying two of everything can be down right depressing come register time.

So I gave in.  I gave in to sweat pants, button less collars, or no collars at all.  Sweat shirts, fleece, stains... the whole truck load.  (I even let Callie wear Character tees - another sworn no no that is for another post).  Lately, my penny pinching and laziness has lent itself to one son who now cries every Sunday before church because he has to wear buttons (Sound familiar Uncle Andy??), and one son who although protests less, still prefers his comfort to his style.

Enter in the tale of the blue t-shirt.  Jack has been known to find something he loves, and use it until he kills it.  Proof of this is his almost brown-ish blankey (even after a bleach wash), and his pooh bear who is no longer bright orange, but more of a fallish burnt orange, with a touch of green... coloring.  He goes everywhere with them, and they look the part.  So when the other day, he began specifically asking for a certain blue T, I knew I was in for trouble.  First problem, the shirt doesn't fit anymore.  It's 18 months.  Second of all, how is a mother supposed to wash when kid wants to wear said shirt at bed, and during the day for play?  But at this point, I make it a point to avoid all useless tears, so the t-shirt has won for the last two weeks.

Yes, we wash it every couple of days, and it if had major stains, I would wrangle him out of it, even with sobbing.  Although not fashionable, it works.  It makes him happy, and it makes dressing easier in the morning when all that needs changed are pants.  I will have Kevin tackle the button issue later, like when he starts dating.  So we have some time.  And in the mean time, you can be sure that boy will be squeezed into the shirt every birthday picture, just as a bit of friendly retaliation for all of the wash his mother is currently doing for this odd preference.