Saturday we took our trip to the Christmas tree farm. A trip that I thought was well planned out, organized, and sure to be a success.
Landon was bundled so tight he could hardly move, which, in my mama brain, I thought was a good thing. But it took him about 30 seconds into the wagon ride out to the field to start screaming "GET OUT!!!!" and have his mittens ripped off his hands. So...we tried to let him roam once we got out to the field. But, like I said, he was bundled so tight, any type of movement was a bit of a challenge. So he got scooped up by some loving arms instead (which, lets face it, is THE best way to look for a Christmas tree. Just ask two year old me and my Gaga).
These men make my heart explode.
We continued on our hunt, all the while trying to keep Landon's hands covered, which proved to be impossible. Eventually, he just hit full out meltdown mode, really, unlike any we have ever seen before. I'm talking screaming and crying so hard he nearly made himself vomit. Thankfully, again, our universe collided with that of some more wonderful strangers, who gave him their phone, tried singing to him, gave him hand warmers, and tried telling me that it was ok; basically I wasn't a horrible mom for trying to make memories for my toddler in the freezing cold. They were wonderful, and I can add them to the list of things I'm thankful for this season. For sure.
We finally decided on a tree, and the men set to chopping it down, and my mom, the babe and I, jumped on the first wagon out of the torture chamber. Of course, our wagon took us on a nice scenic ride around the entire farm, and by the time we got back to the loading spot, Jeremy and my dad were already on their wagon. Oh well, we all got back to the warmth safely and (for the most part) in one piece.
The second Landon was back into a warm building, he was back to his normal, cheerful self. Aside from the few times he flung himself on the dirty, dirty floor. But once a donut was in hand, the hat was off his head, and he could move his limbs, he was good.
We came home, and had a nice dinner, and a wonderful time decorating our nice, fresh tree. Grandpa and Landon snuck in a little reading and snuggle time, too.
It was what I would call a perfect day, aside from the near-puke inducing meltdown. But hey, that just adds to the story, right? Riiiiight.
Sunday we celebrated my Grandmother's 91st Birthday. 91 years!!! We all have agreed that the woman must have at least 9 lives, because this year alone, we all gathered by her hospital bed several times, sure she was leaving us. But, here we are, a day before her 91st Birthday, and she is still going strong. She amazes me. Daily.
Here is where I must gush about my Grandmother a little bit. At 91 years old, she still has more spunk, attitude, and fire in her than most people MY age. She's a fiesty little one. She has a tendency to be brutally honest, like the day she told me it looked like I didn't brush my hair, and I looked "pretty bad" on our way to a family birthday party. Or when she told me, after me driving 90 miles an hour to get to the hospital, because everyone was sure she was going, that she really didn't like my hair dark. "It really doesn't look good". Or maybe the time she told my mom she should ask my cousin if she could have some of her old maternity clothes. Coming from anybody else, these comments would make me want to crawl into a hole. But no, when they're from Grandma, they are just flat out hilarious. Up until about 6 months ago, this is also the woman who would get down on the FLOOR to play with Landon, and who took great pride in the fact that she could sit with her legs straight out in front of her and touch her toes, and I couldn't. The hardest days were watching her sit in that hospital bed, so small and frail, looking like she couldn't do anything, because I knew in her heart, how much she was still capable of. She is, hands down, the strongest woman I know. This year alone, she has battled her leukemia, survived multiple blood clots in her lungs, a double transfusion, surgery to place a screen in her leg, and endless pain. And yet, on Sunday, there she was. So thrilled to have all her kids, grandkids, and great grandkids in one room...to celebrate her. It was a beautiful, beautiful day. For all of us.
When I see Landon playing with his cousins, my heart, again, wants to burst. Reminds me so much of all the fun and love between myself and my cousins when we were younger. And I look at us now, and as I watch our kids all play together, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. I know how amazing it must be for Grandma to be able to have seen her kids as young children, then her grandkids, and now her great grandkids. And the fact that we ALL love each other? Even better ;)
So much love for this woman. Without her, none of us would be here, living and loving each other. Happy, HAPPY birthday to our backbone. WE LOVE YOU!!!!!
Yesterday, Landon and I took a mental health day. We stayed in pajama's until after lunch, we did crafts, and we snuggled and slept on the couch. It was, hands down, one of our very best days. Nothing on the agenda except each other, and lots of love. Again, so thankful that I am able to have those days. Today, I have to make up for everything I didn't do yesterday. But, per one of my promises to God, I am making time every day for snuggles, love, and just enjoying each other. My chances to do that will be gone before I know it. When I'm sitting in an empty house while he as at school, or off playing with his friends. So I better soak it all up now.
I'm also in the middle of working on another one of my promises to God. I'm trying not to complain. {Cue my mothers laughter as she thinks back to Saturday's Christmas tree debacle} I know how lucky I am, I really, truly do. I have amazing parents. A wonderful husband. A healthy son. A house over my head. Food in my cupboard. Money in the bank. I'm healthy. I have been blessed with so much more than I deserve, and I know that. Yet, I still let myself get caught up in the small things. And then I let myself complain. And I need to stop. I need to stop and think about all the amazing, wonderful things in my life. Am I naive enough to think that I will never, ever, complain again? Um no. I know I will. And the vast majority of it will be unwarranted. But every now and then, everybody needs to get it out. Because sometimes, all those little things DO add up, and I they DO feel HUGE and overwhelming. And that's ok. But at the end of the rant, I need to step back and see it for what its worth. Little. Minor. And I'm working on it. I'm far from being where I want to be, but I promised God that I would TRY, not that I would fix it all over night. And I have faith that He sees my effort.
I also have faith that He sees my effort in rediscovering my faith. I have always gone to church. I have always prayed. I have always believed. But I haven't always trusted. I've fought with God, been angry, and thought that there was no way He could possibly know what he was doing (because, let's be honest, a 9th grade heartbreak is TOTAL reason to be angry with God and think He hates you). But look at me. He did. He has gotten me here. And who am I to question Him? With all he has blessed me with? A bad day and suddenly I think He doesn't know what he's doing and He must want to see me suffer? Oh, Kelly. And so I'm working on learning to trust Him. To know that He has a plan, and I can't fight it, argue with it, or change it. I have to just trust in it, and go with it. To know that He loves me. Easier said than done, but I hope He can also see that I'm really, really trying here.
And now it's time to throw in some laundry and then soak up some time singing and dancing with my favorite little man. Time to ENJOY today. Hope you all do the same!
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