The Good Life

That's how Nebraska welcomes you as you cross the state line: Welcome to the Good Life.

I can't say they're far off. It's a pretty good gig they've got going on.

It's like the Ohio of the midwest.

(Except Ohio says it is the midwest. Which I've always thought was odd, ever since I was old enough to loosely evaluate a map of the United States. Obviously, Nebraska is in the middle of the west. Ohio is more in the north of the east. Just my opinion, but then, I can only point to the 'west' when I can see the mountains.)

The boys and I just finished nine days in Nebraska, where we met up with some of our favorite people: my soul sister and the boys' two buddies. Jen, Reece, and Mason.

The four boys attended Vacation Bible School together while the moms sat in child-free goodness in a small town coffee shop and strolled through cozy shops. We spent the afternoons at the water park, the evenings eating snow cones, and the in-betweens applying more sunscreen. They waved, cheered, and caught candy at a small town parade.


They visited a half-dozen parks and playgrounds in town, and they had their first encounter with feeding ducks.
The minivan was crowded with carseats, and it spilled with catchy (repetitive) songs, theological questions from young thinkers, juice boxes, and french fries. My children got an education on lightning bugs, Nebraska hot dogs, cornfields, irrigation pipes, bug spray, and tractors.

Jen and I spent nine days talking, which we typically do via text. (Don't let anyone say communication is lost in this age of technology. Although I concede: face to face wins every time.)

I watched a sunset fall below the horizon. The whole ball and its pink afterglow.

(How have I never done this before?)

And might I just say: there is immeasurable victory in a single mom taking two little boys on a 9-day road trip (right on the heels of an 11-day airline adventure).

I love cornfields. And I love the sound of four little boys singing How Great Thou Art.



A road trip for this party of three. We did it.

With and Without

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I did this on purpose.

Because they might not remember the first trip,

but I think they'll remember the second.

And I want them to know that Daddy made magic with us too.

Twenty Lessons from Mexico

1. Stretchmarks do not tan.
2. It takes 2.4 hours for me to miss my children.
3. It takes 2.4 minutes in white sand, foaming waves, and extra salt on the rim of my glass to feel confident that they're A-OK.
4. La Margarita es mucho delicioso.
5. A woman with the boldness to wear a thong swimsuit should also have the innate self awareness to never, ever run while she's wearing it. EVER.
6. Choose traveling books wisely; no books about sick, abandoned, neglected children, while I cannot have the assurance of kissing mine goodnight.
7. My husband can dance and sing. He really can. :)
8. I could grow quickly accustomed to hired help for my every whim. Dangerously so.
9. Nachos with guacamole and pico de gallo make for a great mid-morning snack. On the beach. Six days in a row.
10. All-Inclusive is the only way.
11. Mexican waiters have a thing for girls with freckles and curls.
12. Honeymooners (as in, just married two days ago) are easy to spot. With their brand new, shiny rings and their honeymoon clothes and their hand-holding across the breakfast buffet. And they think they're all sly.
13. A pedicure can beautifully survive a week of sand, sun, and saltwater. A manicure cannot.
14. We prefer a table overlooking the ocean. Especially at sunset.
15. Shins need sunscreen, too.
16. I love a book slightly stained by saltwater.
17. Waves at night make a chorus of praise.
18. I can tackle 500+ pages in five days or less.
19. I should have taken the Christmas and VeggieTales songs off my iPod. "Shuffle" brings some odd ones sometimes.
20. Spanglish is easily acquired; never mind that it isn't really a language.

In the novel of our marriage, Ten Years = Part I. Here's to Part II.

Robb, I'd marry you all over again. And don't you forget it.

Happy Honeymooners

The biggest difference between our first honeymoon and our second:

We now have two little faces to come home to.

Little Campers

Camping is 85% ridiculous amount of work to make homelessness feel like home, and 15% incredible moments that make it totally worth it.

Our trip included eight families (16 adults, 17 children), 2 dogs, 6 tents, 2 trailers, meals for over 30, plans for 4 days, and loads of courage, careful planning, and ever-present willingness to abandon all the planning and embrace the chaos.

We started with ideas, and then lists. And then days of planning, stacking, storing, refrigerating, packing, and forgetting a thing or two, and then remembering again. And writing it down this time.

We packed up the car, at which point Tucker said, "It's okay, Mommy. If there isn't enough room in the car, we'll just get a new car." A good thought, really. Hooray for Daddy and his innate, genetic packing abilities. If it were up to me, well, let's not go there. Spacial awareness is not my spiritual gift.

Finally - yes, boys, finally - it was Time To Go.

Every little camper needs a head lamp.

And we even saw a bear. We really did.

See that black dot in the middle? It's a black bear.

I realize you can't see it well; we couldn't either.

Enter this little wonder. Perfectly pointed, and when one poised on his very tippy toes, that bear was up close and personal.

And on a 'dollar bet', I entered this glacial, mountain run-off lake, all the way up to my knees.

The things I'll do for a buck. 'Freeze my own limbs' is apparently notwithstanding.

(And in an easier bet, I earned a dollar for faking a dramatic sighting of Charlie Sheen in Aspen, Colorado. That was a fine moment, right there.)

And then, of course, there was an evening of sparklers. I know birthdays, and America demands sparklers on her birthday.

There are no pictures of Tyler with a sparkler, mostly because he believed I had nearly lost my mind when I tried to hand him an ignited, flaming torch. He gave me a look that said, "Are you kidding? Do you know me? I'm three."

Instead, Tucker entertained him with his sparkler routine, which included swirls, flips, and handwriting practice. He even said, "It's okay, Tyler. You don't have to be afraid. I'll write your name, too. T for Tyler, Y for Tyler, L for Tyler, E for Tyler, and R for Tyler."

(And I didn't know he coule spell his brother's name.)

(That has been one of my favorite moments of their life together thus far.)

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Our Crew...

The Kid Crew...

The Whole Crew.

In the camping equation, those last 15% are totally the moments that make it all come together.