We Used to Look Like This

We used to be so young. And in love.


(Wedding Rehearsal, December 17, 2004.)

Wait, forget that nonsense. We’re still young. And still in love. In fact, though it’s entirely too cheesy, overdone and cliche, I’d venture to guess we’re more in love now than we were then. Six years is a drop in the bucket of time.

Tonight we’re off to be the young and in love couple that we are, celebrating our anniversary a day early as someone (uh, me) works all day tomorrow. Tomorrow will bring the usual sappy anniversary post, but I couldn’t not post this today. Though, this year we’re rocking the green instead of the red, which I know is probably shocking if you know us.

Hopefully we get through an evening without the pager going off. Six years ago tonight? It did. Oh, fire life, I knowingly married into you, didn’t I?

The Truth

We have had a fabulous weekend. FireDad and I had some much deserved alone time during which we laughed, ran errands, shopped, made inappropriate jokes, listened to really weird stuff on Sirius and just generally enjoyed the company of one another.

No, Really. He Has.

In more ways than one!

Being married to a firefighter is just fine. Being married to a firefighter with a sense of humor is the best.

More Lilies: Til Death Do Us Part

I mentioned this past Monday that I have lilies for the first time in two years. I also mentioned that I’d probably talk more about them before they wilted and died. I have been infatuated with them this year, taking an endless amount of pictures, showing them off around the Internet and talking about them to anyone with ears.

The first group of buds to bloom and open have started to wilt, shriveling and curling into themselves. Another group of the buds are just starting to open, petals reaching toward the sun. I learned, by walking around with the camera yesterday evening, that lilies are beautiful from their blooming to their wilting. Don’t believe me?

Here’s a beauty, just ready to open and unfurl.


On the other end of the spectrum are these two shots.


Beautiful Mess

I had no idea that lilies boasted such beauty even as they wilted and gave up for the season. The colors are simply stunning. While my day lilies are mostly orange and yellow, the wilted versions boast purples and reds. I pruned off the dried, wilted, wavy, wrinkled flowers and let the boys play with them as I continued to snap pictures.

All of this made me feel very romantic and nostalgic and, having just downloaded some music from my past, I put on “Field of Flowers” by Sixpence None the Richer as I edited and watermarked these photos. I will share a quick line with you that hits as to how the beauty of flowers makes me feel.

I wish to quote from Whitman now
To show the way I feel, I feel about you, oh about you
Because it’s a “subtle electric fire” you light in me
Every time I see you
So let’s dance again in this field of flowers we’re in

Because enjoying my flowers with my (handsome) Husband by my side is better than enjoying the flowers alone. Just like this life, really. Yes, it’s true. These flowers are beautiful by themselves. Knowing that my Husband helped me transplant them into our yard, that they are part of his family’s history, that he lamented with me when the deer ate them for two years straight and that he helped water them at various points in time this year… makes them all the more beautiful to me.

I hope that FireDad and I are like these flowers. We had a beautiful start, of course. And I hope, as the years pass, our love can show beauty even in our later years. Considering he just made me a delicious breakfast, I think we’re working on such a result. I definitely felt a “subtle electric fire” of love and appreciation! In fact, I’d like to go dance with him in a field of flowers now. Or, perhaps, just a nice spin around the kitchen, knowing our lilies are outside, blooming another day.

Overwhelming Parenthood

I’m overwhelmed.

Sometimes the overwhelmed feeling comes from the never-ending pile of laundry. I mean, sure, if we didn’t cloth diaper, I might get two seconds without the thought of, “Oh, I really need to change loads.” But then I’d just end up having to run to the store at 7:30 in the evening (or, worse, morning) because I didn’t realize how many diapers we had left in the house. And, perhaps, if I let my children run naked, the clothing would not pile up so quickly. But BigBrother is in a stage where he doesn’t want to begin his day without being fully dressed. It was already warm this morning and I told him it would be fine to run around in just his underwear and a t-shirt. No go. So, there’s the laundry.

Sometimes the overwhelmed feeling comes from being the wife of a firefighter. In the past week and a half, FireDad’s department has been on three structure fires. All three of those fires were in the middle of the night. While that sounds like it would be better than a midday fire that took him away from whatever we were doing, middle of the night fires create a bigger problem. There’s the worry, of course. But then there’s also a tired FireDad. Trying to keep these two boys from climbing all over a FireDad who has all put passed out on the floor, let alone to be quiet, is an impossible task. This has made it hard to work at times. So, there’s the issue of fire.

Sometimes the overwhelmed feeling comes from these two children. T-ball is in full swing. We actually had two games this week due to a makeup of a previous game that was called off due to rain. And then we went to see Thomas the Train on stage. And then BigBrother is gearing up for the end of school so he has had extra stuff to do in that regard. And LittleBrother is cutting his bottom two eye teeth and isn’t sleeping well. In fact, BigBrother hasn’t been sleeping well either. And if we go outside, they want to be inside. When we’re inside, they want to be outside. And so, there’s the children.

And sometimes it’s everything else in my world. I don’t know if I like my new haircut. I have a cut on my big toe. I’m unmotivated in the kitchen despite having a new menu. It’s too darn hot for my liking. Currently, the neighbors are blaring their bass so loud that I can hear it clear on the other side of my house. My family, like FireDad’s, all want to spend time with the boys and, while that’s great, it’s hard to make time for everyone. Yo Gabba Gabba makes me twitch. Speaking of twitching, my eye has been twitching for about 36 hours now. Today, the electric company didn’t alert us that they were going to be working on the wires and proceeded to fry my laptop’s battery. As such, I’m stuck to the wall. I keep trying to get enough money to buy a new laptop, but things keep happening. So, there’s just about everything else.

And so on and so forth.

And at the same time, I am so overwhelmed with love. I can’t explain why other than the fact that I am keenly aware of how blessed I am… we are… to have everything that we have. I have seen a few of my friends endure horrible things in the past few months. I don’t have answers as to why they are dealing with such horrible things. The loss of a child. The loss of a boyfriend. Loss after loss after loss. And my biggest complaint is about the never-ending laundry? Or enduring the noisiness of my two kids? Or the worry that I knew I would endure when I married a firefighter?

Seems kind of silly.

In light of it all, two of our dear friends who have been trying to have a baby for quite some time announced their happy news today: they’re expecting. As the tears fell, happy ones, my deepest wish and biggest prayer is that they, too, will know the overwhelming experience (maybe minus fire life issues) that we have known. Diaper laundry, noise level and all.

We are sending our best wishes for a safe and uneventful pregnancy to Bethany and George. Congratulations!

It’s Still Cool to Love

It’s Thursday, so I’ve had love on the brain. (Love Thursday being the reason, of course.) I had all intention of writing about a new book we got just recently but… my children, they give me content. For free. They’re good little content producers.

We had to bring home BigBrother’s girlfriend, A1, from preschool today. Her Mom had an appointment so we brought her home with us. (Through this experience we also learned that two booster seats of different brands and one Britax roundabout fit in the back seat of our GMC Sonoma. Win!) We stopped at the Fire Department so BigBrother could tell FireDad about his day. As I was saying my goodbyes, I hear BigBrother whisper across the row of car seats, “A1, I love you so much, too.”


Later, as they had snack together in the kitchen, I heard, “A1, I love you,” followed by, “BB, I love you, too.”

More melting.

Now, in the living room, they’re sitting with barely any space between the two of them, holding hands, watching a Wubbzy DVD (to be reviewed soon) still whispering things about love. Just last week, after I informed him that he couldn’t, in fact, marry me since Daddy is already married to me, he told me that he was going to marry A1. And they were going to name their children the names of LittleBrother and A1. In all likelihood, they’ll probably just end up friends. (But there is this part of me that thinks, “Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to like my son’s in laws?” Because, yes, that would be nice.)

What warms my heart is that my oldest son hasn’t lost the desire to express love. He hasn’t been told to be a brute. He doesn’t have to push her down to let her know that he likes her, ala  the movie “He Just Not That Into You.” He may play basketball but he tells me that he loves me as he leaves the court, complete with a kiss. Even though mean and nasty anonymous commenters think that they know better, I think we’re doing just fine. If you want to raise the child that beats mine up, well, that’s your prerogative. We’ll stick with the concept of love, thank you very much.

That is, until LittleBrother makes a move on A1. He just brough his favorite yellow fire boot to her, said “silly!” and batted his little eyelashes. And then, just now, I asked him to give me a kiss, and he ran over to give A1 a kiss. Oh dear. I’m in trouble. Or, LittleBrother is in trouble. Or, maybe, BigBrother is in trouble. Or, perhaps, we’re all in trouble.