Terror on American Thunder

Last Friday evening I reserved tickets for the whole family to attend Fright Fest at Six Flags here in St. Louis (all SIX of us!!!  The twins were both home for the weekend, and Fright Fest is for sure a Family Tradition...just - not usually one that I particularly enjoy partaking in, and usually, not one I even do partake in).  To say I am not a huge fan of this annual family event is notsomuch an understatement as much as it is, at least in this family, an Understood.  It's a: No Questions.  It's a: Don't Even Look This Way.  Don't Think About It.  Mom. Doesn't. Like. Roller. Coasters.  Or scary stuff.  Roller coasters themselves are frightening beasts of sadistic humor, but add chainsaws and gory monsters chasing you through man-made foggy mist of Six Flags during Fright Fest, and it's a shrill, "No Thank You" from Yours Truly.  

Indeed, most years for this "age-old family tradition," I have opted to stay in comfy pjs in front of a roaring gas fire place working on a Shutterfly photo album or watching a rom-com at home.  I much prefer the occasional updates from The Hubby via darkly lit photos and cheerful family texts rather than brave the see-your-breath cold weather, the shoulder-to-shoulder lines and crowds, and the Fright.  But this year? This year my twin babies - who both happen to adore roller coasters and amusement parks and especially Six Flags during Fright Fest - were home, and I didn't want to be That Mom (the one who sits on the sidelines in peaceful tranquility watching her Little Lovelies enjoy themselves but never crossing the threshold to join in their spirited, spooky fun).  

This year was different.  

In fact, I decided to be SO "not this year" Mom that, without telling my family...or even informing myself, honestly, I purposefully headed towards the line at American Thunder right along with them, the first roller coaster to the left inside the park.  Right past the 1900s cars (one of My Favorite Rides EV.ER.).  Now, you may not know it, but "American Thunder is a wooden roller coaster located in the 1904 World's Fair section of Six Flags St. Louis in Eureka, Missouri.  The coaster was originally named after and themed to the famous motorcycle daredevil Evel Knievel.  It was renamed American Thunder for the 2011 season."  According to Google.  But, actually, as you navigate the winding twists and turns of The Wait to Ride this 30-second metal chamber of horrors, the history of roller coasters in general and American Thunder specifically is unveiled through a series of well-placed bill boards marking the path, keeping your mind off the wait and the Impending Doom in which you are about to partake.  I know, because I stood numbly with my family in line to ride this wooden death trap for the first time in my life.  My husband stood in shock and awe, a bolstery "I'm so proud of you!" emitted from his lips several times that I continually and deftly ignored.  After all, one time.  One. Time. I rode The Boss - another roller coaster in the middle of the park, further past the ice cream cones and the turkey legs, and the little kid Tweety Bird section (it had taken longer to convince me/myself to ride back then).  That day, at the incessant insisting of my husband when we were there together on a date, just the two of us, pre-children era, I rode The Boss, clinging to the bar across my lap with an eagle talon death grip, my eyes rammed shut against my cheek bones, my quivering lips on a repeat loop of something akin to a self-soothing, suck-your-thumb, rocking in the corner kind of verbal self-massage of "you are fine.  you are fine.  you are fine."  That day, I exited the ride and burst into hysterical sobs, and my husband left me alone from thence forward - for the most part - about riding roller coasters with him ever again.  But, on this day, fast forward, I skip-read the billboards, noting with fascination my utter numbness to the task I somehow seemed to have chosen to do.  I'm not even sure I drove to Six Flags thinking I would ride a roller coaster.  Yet, here I was, snaking my way closer and closer to the front.

I thought I was calm.  I now see the fear in my eyes.

We rock-paper-scissored who would sit by whom, 2 to a car, three cars' full.  Sweet Matthew, my 16 year-old giant man-child cut from a cloth of athleticism, sarcastic humor, intelligence, fashion, and good looks got the short straw.  (He actually volunteered to go with me.  Did I mention he has a kind heart and a gentle, tender, and loving soft spot for his mom?)  Suddenly, we were next.  The silver bar jettisoned open, beckoning me to enter the cart.  I continued to marvel at the truest feeling of Numb I had ever encountered within my core.  Certainly that was a good sign.  I couldn't feel anything, so I must have emotionally matured over the last twenty years and would find myself wholly capable of riding - if not enjoying - this little side attraction with my family at Six Flags!  The metal bar collapsed tightly over my lap.  The coaster lurched forward.  I will be fine, I began to recite.  I will be fine.  I will be fine.  I will be

Screaming.  A guttural, piercing, shrill, terrifying sound came from the utter bowels of my center, my core.  I had no control of it.  I began to scream, and I continued screaming for the entirety of the ride.  Through every twist, turn, drop, and pull.  In my ear, my son calmly cajoled, "here comes a big hill..." and other soothing sounds including, "it's OK Mom.  This isn't for everyone."  By the time the coaster came barreling to a stop moments later (years, really), I sobbed uncontrollably in a squishy wet puddle of trauma and embarrassment on the oil, dirt, and probably COVID-encrusted textured floor of the coaster cart.  Matthew took my arm, lifted, and escorted me from the barn, out into the dark, man-made foggy mist of the night.  We shared ice cream, searched the boardwalks for games to play, and then we drove the family home.

Unfocused: Week 4

Wednesday.  We sit at the table with the pages of his planner filling the space between us.  "Did you talk to your teacher about your missing writing assignment?"  He answers, and the beginning of doubt pricks my heart and mind.  We continue to talk.  A sound becomes present in a corner of my hearing.  Crunch. Smack.  Slurp.  Munch.  My head snaps towards this cacophony while the once undetected burning ember of impatience ignites within me.  Before a thought crosses my mind, I react. "Chew with your mouth closed!" The unsuspecting recipient of my wrath looks up.  Suddenly my attention turns to this one, and my words are not chosen wisely.  My heart pounds, my temper flares, my focus scatters.

I breathe in awareness.  I breathe out apology.  Refocus.  Scouts.  "I'm going to make a list of calls you need to make tonight for merit badges.  How are you coming with snow sports?  Have you printed off the worksheet why haven't you printed it off let's find it do you remember who your merit badge counselor is let's write down a script of what you should say what do you mean you don't have his number," I fire in rapid succession.  His white flag is raised.

Focus.  Unfocused.

Writing this brings tears to my eyes.  There are a series of channels replaying in my mind.  Each a similar show.

Tuesday.  Started dark and quiet.  Alarm ringing.  Regret.  Snooze.  Alarm again.  I stumble down the stairs for coffee and hope for a moment of quiet reflection before chaos.  Chaos is not expected, however, as I leave for work before the kids are up.  Morning chaos is the dad's worry today.

Snowy roads.  Backed up traffic.  Work.  I leave for the orthodontist.  Late.  I pick up the oldest daughter.  We go to lunch.  Phone rings.  School warns detention for another.  This one coughs.  Now more phone calls, a doctor's appointment, asthma, medicine, after school, grab snacks, back to work with everyone in tow.  Late.  Tonight our family presents a talk on communication to top notch nursing students.  My badge is missing, the elevator opens and a brand new baby comes on, we exit because my bigs have big germs and this little needs to fight.  My hands shake, my heart pounds, not ready, I smile, we begin.  Everyone home.  Everyone shower.  Everyone bed.  I sit.

Focus.  Unfocused.

Webster defines the word unfocused as "not relating to or directed toward one specific thing (such as a particular goal or task)."

I argue internally.  You're unfocused.  I am focused.  On the calendar.  On the next presentation.  The next game.  The next assignment.  The next book.  The next class.  The next need.  The next unexpected.  Raising children.  To reach their potential.  To love their Father.  To have opportunity and respect that opportunity.  A job.  That stretches me but pulls me from those children at times, and other times brings us together.  On being a Proverbs 31 wife and rising to the task of being the wife God calls me to be.  Being a daughter.  Knowing what it means to be the daughter of a woman who raised me well and is independent and growing in age.

I am.  Focus.  Unfocused.

Week 3: Simplicity

Simplicity is beginning to mean back to basics.   Simplicity this week meant homemade chocolate chip cookies on a surprise snow day.

Sweet helpers in the kitchen

Everyone is willing to help EAT the cookies!

When the kids were younger and I stayed home full time, we baked a lot.  Back then we didn't eat a ton of sweets except for what I baked in my own kitchen.  Today, with everyone running hither and yon and kids making choices at school for lunch that include cookies and sugary snacks every day, we just don't have time nor caloric back space to fill with sweets at home.  On Wednesday, though, when I came home from work and most of the kids were out playing in the snow, I decided to grab cookie ingredients from the cabinet and throw together a batch of goodness like I did when the kids were smaller and times just seem to have been simpler.

It may sound small, but this act was a simple one of love, of tugging out memories that are fading so quickly from the brain spaces.  I am so grateful that this week we were able to slow down on a snowy day to enjoy an afternoon at home at a slow enough pace that we could enjoy the sights, smells, and tastes of this childhood treasure: warm chocolate chip cookies dunked in a glass of creamy cold milk.

Yum - oh.

Week 2: Interpret a Song - Breathe

My favorite song right now is Breathe by Jonny Diaz.  Every time it comes on the radio, Meiners says, "Mom!  The right song at the right time!" because really?  I need that song every moment of every day.  After the millionth moment of absolutely losing my marbles this week, I posted this in our kitchen:

"No Drama Momma" became my battle cry.  I have to admit - it helped.  Mostly.  I would guess my moments of complete and utter loss of control of my patience reduced by...maybe 10%?  Nah.  I kid.  Mostly.  

Way more like 12%.

Grandma and Grandpa came for pasta dinner and a sold out Beginning Violin concert!

Grammie enjoyed dinner and the concert, too!

Yikes.  Just breathe?  Baby?

Ouch.  Breathe. 

Xopenex helps her Breathe!

In addition to BREATHING and REMEMBERING that Jesus wins in the midst of the chaos of single-parenting while The Mister worked out of town with a winter concert this week and extra rehearsals, basketball practices, breakfasts and dinners and crazy school lunch spending, three different school starts, work, two hour bean bag snuggle conversations discussing painful childhood moments for one of my people, and additional doctor's visits because someone broke his arm, we also enjoyed an exorbitant amount of coughing that led to a stethoscope to a chest and every-four-hour breathing treatments.  Oh yeah.  Breathe.  And Just Be.  Because chaos calls and all I really need is for Him to blow air into my lungs (and into hers!) and to keep me moving and going and ultimately worshiping because truly, that is the only point.  He reigns.  He gives.  He wins.  It is good.  It is good to rest at God's feet, and to just be.  Take it in.  Fill your lungs with the peace of God that overcomes.  Lay down what's good and find what's best.  

Love this kid!

He is just the best!

Love.

Lyrics to Jonny Diaz's song Breathe:

Alarm clock screaming bare feet hit the floor
It’s off to the races everybody out the door
I’m feeling like I’m falling behind, it’s a crazy life
Ninety miles an hour going fast as I can
Trying to push a little harder trying to get the upper hand
So much to do in so little time, it’s a crazy life
It’s ready, set, go it’s another wild day
When the stress is on the rise in my heart I feel you say just

Breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to just breathe

Third cup of joe just to get me through the day
Want to make the most of time but I feel it slip away
I wonder if there’s something more to this crazy life
I’m busy, busy, busy, and it’s no surprise to see
That I only have time for me, me, me
There’s gotta be something more to this crazy life
I’m hanging on tight to another wild day
When it starts to fall apart in my heart I hear you say just

Breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need

Is to take it in fill your lungs
The peace of God that overcomes
Just breathe
So let your weary spirit rest
Lay down what’s good and find what’s best
Just breathe

Just breathe, just breathe
Come and rest at my feet
And be, just be
Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to just breathe
Just breathe

And the video:

31 Days: Day 8 and I'm already 7 days behind

I created a loose goal as "31 Days October" neared.  My goal became writing.  Period.

I don't remember why I decided recently to look at the blog again, but I did.  I rediscovered what I once knew more readily - that countless meaningful memories are documented here.  Yet literally for years, the blog lay dormant.  I decided to "try" to write for 31 days in October.  I'm not writing for critics - good gracious they are plentiful, probably well-intentioned(?), and, while free to their opinions, best kept out of mind.   I am writing for myself mostly and maybe for my children a little, as well.

When I opened the blog recently, I recounted a story to Mr. T who happened to be close.  I asked him about his skyscraper gingerbread house, whether he remembered it.  The next time I opened the computer he uses, I found the blog opened on his home page.

<3 br=""> I remembered that it matters.  It matters to me and to my children to journal, to document, to ponder in a space.  I don't believe it needs to be a public space - perhaps it would be best, in fact, if it weren't. But this blog does allow my children easy access into their mother's thoughts today and years from now, plus the venue is open and available and fun, actually.  Plus, I always felt connected to others from the blog.

 I loosely created a goal to write for 31 days to see how it went.  I am already 7 days behind.  I guess Yoda was right.  "There is no try.  There is only do or do not."

And so I do.

31 days of Tired and Worn

I'm tired, I'm worn, 
My heart is heavy 
From the work it takes to keep on breathing 
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail 
My soul feels crushed by the weight of this world 
And I know that you can give me rest 
So I cry out with all that I have left 
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/tenth-avenue-north/worn-lyrics/#ZMUcu6FecIoTsq6o.99

Like a tired pair of shoes, I sit at the computer tonight, determined to be renewed.  Today was a remarkable day of new hearts for a 19 year-old beauty queen, fear of leukemia in a Bazouki friend, and an overriding sense that God loves.  Even in our tired, worn-out days.  

Thunder cracks against the night sky as I sit and love Him in return.  We don't deserve it.  I don't "get it."  But He reigns.  He wins.  And in that alone is any hope I have in this screwed up  world.

Thank you, Lord, for a new heart for Angela.  Though my own heart breaks for the family who made the decision to save another in the midst of their loss, God reigns.  He wins.  May Angela live the life He dreams for her!

I pray for my Bazouki Nation.  Rally the Troops.  He reigns.  He wins.

Good night, dear friends.  Supernatural Rest for all.

meiners hearts

Yesterday it rained.  I sent the boys out to cover the sand box in case more rain came.  Meiners flew back in the house and deposited a plant in my hand. 

"Here," he said casually before racing back out the screen door.

I looked down at my hand.  There lay a stem with three pristinely shaped heart leaves hanging breezily from its end.  I sucked a breath in and let myself smile slightly. 

Meiners.

My all American rascally athletic rugrat who throws his arm tightly around my neck and draws me in for a morning kiss but chases out the van door with a thoughtless wave backwards in the school yard.  So intent to find beauty in his surroundings and to share it with his mom, yet careful not to stick around long enough to be thought sweet or nostalgic.

Meiners Heart.

Love.

That Old Adage

Recently, I've felt more and more like this little guy:

A few weekends ago, the kids brought these two little guys home from school for the weekend. 

They played with them, entertained them, fed them, and basically doted on them all weekend.

Some took to the gerbil concept more easily than others.

But in the end, a good time was had by all.

I asked the kids how the teacher was sure these two gerbils wouldn't have babies.  "Because they're two boys, Mom," I was reassured.

Funny thing is, this one gave birth to three babies on Friday:

Welcome to parenthood, Oreo and Milkshake!  Let the rat race begin!  ;)

Meiners MAKES his ZhuZhu pet into a gerbil by adding a paper tail!  I just love that kid's creativity!



edited to add: bwahaha!  My friend just called asking me if I was pregnant ~ like the gerbil I referenced above!  Haha!  NO!  I meant to refer only to the rat race I find myself in because of all the running we do with four kids in various activities!  I can totally see where she'd get that inference, however, so please allow me to set the record straight!  No more babies over here!  {Unless they're gerbil babies!  And even then, no thank you!  Oreo and Milkshake are living out their days of parenthood back at school where they belong!!!  ;)  LOL - still laughing about this one!}

blogapalooza

I went through my laundry basket of loose photos recently to locate the handful of pictures I took during Meiners' open heart surgery.  Sashi helped me sort, and boy was I super excited when she actually found one amidst the piles of photos cascading across the living room floor!  I may have squealed and told her to "keep looking!!!" so intensely that she got a little scared.  Poor thing!  But she did, indeed, find about three photos.

In the melee of memories that morning, I also came across an old, unadorned chipboard, spiral-bound photo album that really made me pause.  As I soaked in the pages of the book, I remembered when I had attempted a Project 365 of our daily lives.  I made it about 6 weeks, documenting the special, the mundane, the little things that made me smile and the big things that made me sad early in 2008.  As I created this hand-held little gem of memorabelia, I began to transition toward blogging.  And doing both seemed redundant.  So I gave up the tangible and replaced it with the digital world of capturing memories.

Over the course of the last four years, I've contemplated my niche in blogging, watched newbie bloggers like myself back then turn their blogs into careers, and let life sometimes overcome the blogging (appropriately so, since I am a mother first).  I've also strongly debated with myself over which medium is better - tangible scrapbooking or the computerized world of blogging.  Looking through this scrapbook truly made me realize, though, how much I am heart wrenchingly forgetting memories because I am not keeping up with any sort of memory keeping.  I have the world's worst memory bank in my head.  I literally can forget the point of a sentence before I reach the end of it.  I am bound to forget my life in this time if I don't get it in writing.  With photos.

One way or the other.

You may have noticed I've been posting a lot lately.  It's because we have a lot going on around here and I want to remember it.  I want to remember how Sashi reads Jingle twice every night now - just the same way reading the pages of that photo album reminded me how Meiners used to play Minutemen every day in the living room at the same age.  How we used to make 1/2 pancakes for half birthdays and cookies on rainy days (what happened to those 'traditions?!' ... I hate to say it, but I think I forgot about them!).

So there you go.  I guess we'll be seeing a lot more of each other.  Provided I can keep up ;)!
~k

Geocaching @ Plymouth

On New Year's Day we decided to take the kids geocaching.  Before kids, we used to hike pretty frequently.  (The best and the worst was hiking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. ... Hiking in was the best; hiking out of the Grand Canyon was the worst!)  Since the kids, we've hiked here and there, but really not regularly because of the whole "carry me!" phenomena.  Now everyone's pretty much independent and we can get around with only the worst fatigue bringing out the jello legs.  We've heard great things about geocaching, so we planned our route, chose our St. Louis-themed object to leave behind (an old baseball card), and off we went!

We were truly astounded at how many caches there are throughout our area.  In just one park alone there were ... 50?  Maybe more!  How many times have John and I ran past them on a training run without knowing the secret treasures the woods held?!

We decided our first cache would be a St. Louis one called Plymouth.  We enjoyed exploring an old cave entrance, petting some horses that we came upon along the trail, scaling rock walls, and generally just enjoying gorgeous weather and our family.  Eventually, we came across the old Plymouth - yes, literally in the middle of the woods!

The next step was actually finding the cache - and since we really had no idea what we were looking for, boy did we get lucky when Meiners bent down into a hollow old tree stump and brought out a little plastic box!

Oooooh the kids were super excited to sort through the contents of the box and pick out their prize to bring home!  Meiners was finder, so we let him decide on a Rams drink holder (he insisted on using it at every meal the remainder of the weekend!).

We signed in and left our baseball card before moving on to more caches.

We went on to complete about five more caches total (hunting through my camera bag for additional treasures to leave behind, including a zoo map, an old stub from a ride up in the arch, etc.!), but our first find was by far everyone's favorite!

We searched and found a Harry Potter puzzle box. 

Everyone was excited to let T sit down to figure out how to open it until we discovered this message:

We scaled some death-defyingly tall trees (I'm so brave!):

Then we headed home.  Such a great day and a fun new past time for the family!

Shopping with a 4 year-old

Sashi is an entrepreneur.  Her favorite playtime activity is "shopping."  This is when she arranges things in her room is such a way as to make it look a little boutique-y and then invites me in to "shop."  She's the store owner.  I get to play various types of customers.  (She doesn't appreciate the crabby teenager who's always on the phone.  She does tend to like the cowgirl from Texas, but she mostly asks for the mom lately...)

Before Christmas, she used our coffee table as her register, sliding items across the top and providing a tell-tale "beep" verbally.  About half-way through December, however, she began to confide in me, er I mean her customer, that she would be receiving a new cash register from Santa.  I always oohed and aaahed over the consideration but encouraged her to keep the coffee table one since it was such a unique antique.

Anyway, lo and behold Christmas morning, Santa came through.  He brought her a talking cash register that scans, adds, identifies coins, accepts debit cards, and even offers discounts to repeat customers (no lie).  She was in heaven!

Now, "shopping" has reached an entirely new level.  We go almost every day.  And when we don't go, I get told.  And made to promise that we will go tomorrow.

It is definitely one of those quirky play time routines that I want to remember because it is so endearing.  And will change before I know it.

Cherishing these days.

Merry Christmas from our house to yours

In the words of that crooner Michael W. Smith:

May the ones you love be near you
That's the happiest Christmas of all

Much Love,
Karin


Read more: MICHAEL W. SMITH - THE HAPPIEST CHRISTMAS LYRICS http://www.metrolyrics.com/the-happiest-christmas-lyrics-michael-w-smith.html#ixzz1hW5TnEHo
Copied from MetroLyrics.com

The Minutes :: 12.4-12.10

My good friend Frizzy used to host Five Photos on Friday on her lovely blog Heaven's Gift.  I truly loved that series.  I was horrible at keeping up with it.  But it was a wonderful way to give a week its own props by way of an honorable review.
So - in honor of that which once was, I am giving this post up to last week.  I know, I know.  We're all over-the-moon crazy busy.  It's that time of year.  But it was just such an awesome week.  The kids are all healthy; they're getting along with their friends, doing well in school.  Basketball has begun and schedules are nuts, but everyone made it to their respective practices. { I think. } I started baking again (for the first time in months, literally)...We celebrated St. Nicholas' birthday...The kids did a great job in the Christmas Pageant...Dad built a closet from nothing.  It was just such a good week.  Let's pay it a lil homage, if you will.

I could otherwise title this post:  A Tribute to Pinterest - Thee Whom I Love.  Pooks and I are way into hair right now.  Maybe it's mostly me.  I was pretty darned impressed with myself for recreating this hairstyle on my pretty girl, though, I must say.  I, myself, am Queen of the Messy Bun.



Sash insisted on a photo alone with Santa.  She added it to her wall of friends.  Santa gave her this sign to put in the window with her list of things she wants him to bring.  Now, when he asked her what she wanted, she merely said, "Whatever you bring me."  So sweet.  Somehow she found plenty of ideas for this list.  I think she'll be very happy come Christmas morning.  ;)

St. Nick was good to the kids this year already (December 6th).  Sash's ornament is a ballerina.  Meiners' a Power Ranger.  Pooks = Elphaba (The Wicked Witch of the West) and T's was the golden snitch (a nod to Harry Potter).

Here's another fun Pinterest idea.  (Did I mention I love that place??)  Sashi and I had fun surprising Daddy one morning after some light snow :)

The Christmas Pageant occurred last week, as well.  Our sweet shepherd.  Lovin' that hair.  She gave up on the matching beard, though.  (Can't say I entirely blame her!)

I just ove this four year-old march march marching below in the Christmas program...and the puckered little sideways lips.  She's been making that face a lot lately.  Such focus and determination.  So cute.

And get a load of this pre-teen.  He's still three years away from being a tween - are boys tweens? - but that hair sure makes him look older than 7, I think.  He looks like a brooding teenager.  Maybe pensive is a better word.  John and I have officially decided the kids can have their way with their hair.  What's funny is it can't be short enough for Tommy.  But Matt screams when you mention a haircut.  So different.  But it fits both of them perfectly.

And cupcakes.  Yeah.  I laughed as I delivered these.  Sometimes I get this incredible notion that I can bake cupcakes.  Yet, God humbles me.  {Thank you, Lord!}  These were awful.  Just awful.  Not the recipe.  No, the recipe for the cake was D.I.V.I.N.E.  I nearly pitched them and went to buy a dozen from Dierberg's because of the frosting I chose.  Next time I'll skip the brilliant idea to top the delicious peppermint mocha cake with [ever-so-yummy but way too overpowering] mint cream cheese frosting and just top 'em with chocolate frosting.  Now that would have been Y.U.M.!  Yup.  There's always next time.  {They were pretty, though, which is half the fun!}

So, that was our week-ish in a nutshell.  My man was home most of it, taking some hard-earned vacation time, building a closet in the corner of the boys' room.  The closet looks amazing and will be such an asset to their room.  I sure love my handsome handy man.

Yup - it was definitely a great week.  And only 13 days left until Christmas!  Can you believe it??