Family Tree

Just a Note: The following piece was written last Christmas, our first Christmas without Addie. I'm choosing to share it this year because it shows a little bit of the growth that's taken place over the past year. And by growth, I mean adjustment. I've added a few thoughts from 2013 plus lots of pictures. Lots.

***

If it were any other year, you can bet our tree would've been trimmed within two hours of clearing the Thanksgiving table. If it were any other year we would've had turkey on Thanksgiving, not turkey loaf. Hey, gotta give props to my mom for trying.

If it were any other year.

But it's 2012, our daughter is gone, and decorating the Christmas tree was the last thing I wanted to do.

So I didn't.

At least not that day.

Considering all that's happened, skipping the tree altogether probably would've been acceptable.

But we have a 5 year old and a 3 year old and the magic of Christmas is alive and well in their hearts.

We have a beautiful pre-lit tree sitting in a couple of totes in our basement. But two sections of the pre-lit tree bit the dust last year and I had to string lights up, down, and around its wire branches.

I figured I'd start working on stringing the lights, the baby would need to be fed, or I'd find myself mentally tapped and there we'd sit. Looking at a half-lit tree with no ornaments on Christmas Eve.

So I ordered a new one.

Waited. Waited. Waited for it to come.

And then it did.

It sat in our doorway for a full five minutes before my mom and I decided to tackle it.

It took about five seconds to assemble, which was good.

And bad.

That meant later that night we were going to have to dig out the decorations.  You know how it is with Christmas ornaments. Each one has a story.

Take this one, for example.

My sixth grade teacher gave it to us on our wedding day 14 years ago. Since all this has happened, I've often wondered about God's commentary on that day.

I picture Him saying, "Here's this couple that's so completely happy, ready for life, poised for the future. And they'll have a great life, but they will suffer a loss. The biggest loss."

Or this one.

The first of our Baby's First Christmas ornaments. Inside is information detailing what we did for Addie's first Christmas.

And this one.

Addie made it in pre-school. I can't even imagine the glittery mess that went into making it.

This one.

We picked it up on a trip to the Nebraska-Colorado game in 2005. We cheered. We won. And had an interesting exchange with some fans before the game.

Another Baby's First Christmas. This one is for Isaac and it's double-sided.

And these creations crafted by the littlest of hands.

This is one of my personal favorites because it has Addie's fingerprints all over it.

A new baby means a new ornament.

And another to show our growing family.

One for Baby Landry.

And one from Addie that we'd never ever seen before.

An ornament to let her know she will be forever loved.

And these from so many people who let us know how much they love us.

And how much they love her.

You know how it is with ornaments. Each one tells a story.

This is our story.

And our story continues (even on days when continuing doesn't seem possible).

With creations crafted by the littlest of hands.

And a love big enough to fill all of our hearts.

Until we meet again.

So About that Mom of the Year Award

Looks like I picked the wrong day to yell at Isaac about his inability to keep track of his gloves (again).

Ouch.

Yes, after listening to his teacher read Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Isaac said:

"It makes me grumpy when...mom yells at me."

While I'm glad to see Isaac doing a great job of connecting to his teacher's classroom read-aloud, I'm sure happy the first-graders didn't go much further into analyzing this Christmas classic because I'm sure Isaac might have to come to the conclusion that I am, indeed, the Grinch.

OK, maybe not, but I can certainly kiss the 2013 Mom of the Year Award goodbye.

Not that I was ever in the running anyway.

I'd like to say I never yelled at my kids before all this.

But that would be a lie.

Now it just seems the emotions are right there, fully exposed.

The Good. The bad. And, unfortunately, the ugly.

And on this particular day, with the school bus idling outside our house and chaos ensuing inside our house, Isaac got the how-many-times-do-I-have-to-tell-you-to-put-your-hat-and-your-gloves-in-the-same-spot-so-you-can-find-them-in-the-morning ugly.

This was followed by a dramatic unzipping of the backpack to reveal the missing gloves, so all was well, but ugly nonetheless.

Sigh.

I spend a great deal of the day keeping the emotions in check and holding it all together, all the while lugging around what feels like a 50-pound weight. This weight - this big ball of grief - it doesn't go away, and by the time I go home, I am spent.

And my family gets the worst of me.

It's not fair.

It's just the way that it is.

I am hurting.

We are hurting.

And while my little guy may not carry the weight all day long like I do, he does feel it.

Just look at the other half of that picture.

It makes me feel happy when Addie is back.

I can't bring Addie back (oh how I wish that I could), but I can try to give more of my best.

Dear Landry,

I look at you and see nothing but innocence.

Goodness.

And love.

You're oblivious to the sadness that often surrounds our family.

You don't realize that our world is askew; our compass, lost. And, when you look back at me with those big blue eyes, it's apparent that you have no idea what you've walked into.

No idea that this used to be a perfectly good family.

Perfectly good; not perfect.

There's a difference.

We fought over things like money and how little it seemed we had.

We took things for granted. 

There were tears over toys.

Addie and Isaac and Tripp didn't always get what they wanted, but I'd like to think they got what they needed.

And I'd like to think they knew the difference.

Our house was in a perpetual state of disarray and dinners usually came from a box (sometimes a cereal box even).

So things weren't exactly perfect.

But they were perfectly good.

Only we didn't realize it.
 
And here you are.

You.

***

I asked for a good one.

And I asked Addie to pick one out (not sure she had much say in the matter, but I did ask). On my runs last summer.

I'd get about a half-mile away from home - far enough away so the neighbors couldn't hear the crazy - and I'd yell and scream and ask why, why, why.

And then I'd turn my focus to Addie and I'd say, "Pick out a good one."

A good girl.

Because I just knew.

And here you are.

I promised your sister that I'd tell you just how special she was if she promised to tell you just how special we were (to sweeten the deal, I guess).

And she was.

Is.

Special.

And, all things considered, we aren't too bad either.

Not perfect.

Perfectly good.

Like you.

Just Have to Wait

No words today.

Just memories by us and music by Stephen Curtis Chapman, a man who also knows the pain of losing a sweet, little girl.

Hug your babies and hold them tight.

A Big Enough Heart

When I was pregnant with Isaac - well into my third trimester, I believe - I remember wondering how a mother could possibly find room in her heart to love another child. It sounds awful to admit, doesn't it?

Certainly I'm not the only mom who struggled with this notion.

Let me give you a little back-story here. Addie was our one and only for five years. Five years. Our lives revolved around every. little. thing. that. she. did. Trust me. I have the photographs to prove it. She had our full attention and all the love we had to give every second of every day.

How could we possibly love another as much as we love her?

Turns out, you just do.

I remember everything about snapping this picture of Addie
and Isaac. So precious.

You make room in your heart. Either that, or your heart gets a little bigger. I don't know which.

Then one day you realize you can't hardly imagine life without that second child.

And third.

Welcome to our family, Tripp Maguire.

Sweet, sweet sister.

                                   

I have no idea where Baby T is, but I've always
 loved this picture.

                                   
Now we're up to four and I find myself wondering once again.

Is my heart big enough?

Gosh, I hope so.

My family.

***

It is true, you know.

You can't hardly imagine life without any of them.

So why do we have to?

And the Greatest of These is Love

Sprawled out on the kitchen floor, sobbing uncontrollably, I glanced up at the clock.

4:45.

Scott wouldn't be home for another hour. And I was having a bad day. It had been building for awhile, the culmination of a series of events and reminders that the absolute worst thing that could happen to a parent did, in fact, happen to me.

So there I lay. Lie? I don't know. I used to be an English teacher and I can't even figure that one out. I'm claiming grief's fog on this one. Whatever.

So there I lay, a crumpled mess in front of the fridge when - 

"Mom," Isaac yelled. "I can't even hear the TV!"

That should've snapped me back into reality (or at least into the same time zone). But, it didn't.

Picture the crumpled mess making her way - on all fours - to Addie's bedroom.

Safe. Secure. But still sobbing.

"Mom," Tripp said as he opened the door. "Who's gonna put milk in my sippie cup?"

Exactly.

Who is going to put milk in the sippie cup? Do the laundry. Make supper. Brush teeth.

Oh yeah. Us. 

Even though we failed miserably in the early weeks (butter sandwiches, cereal, and applesauce for supper) and had a ton of help early on, it was ultimately up to us to make sure the needs of our two little boys were somewhat met.

After all, Scott and I had made a pact in the hospital in the hours after Addie's death. I think of it often.

Even though our lives our ruined, it doesn't mean Isaac and Tripp's need to be too.

All dressed up for Isaac's preschool program.

So, what do little boys need? 

Love. Lots of it. That's something we've been more than happy to give. And receive. 

Answers. Let's face it. There have been a lot of questions and we try to give the best answers we can. Just today, Isaac asked me if I thought cancer was in the basement. I guess that's a valid question since that's where the monsters hang out (according to the boys). And when we don't know the answers we give them the next best thing: honesty. 

Food. Shelter. A limit on TV time.

Whatever they're lacking in the way of nutrition at our house, I'm confident they're getting at daycare and grandma's. They still have a roof over their heads. The house may not be in full, organized order, but was it ever? We've cut back considerably on TV in the past few months, which means I've had to force myself to be a mom and come up with alternatives (no matter how hard it may be).

And so, we color. Make forts. And a stage for a puppet show. Heaven forbid I don't put the stage in the exact place Addie used to. We dress up. Play with the farm animals and action figures. We wrestle. We wrestle a lot.

Earlier this summer, the kittens were a source of entertainment.

We venture out. To the park. The Children's Museum. A movie. And today, the dinosaur museum in Milford. I'm not going to lie. Sometimes this putting one foot in front of the other hurts. 

Can they fix it? Yes they can!

But you're the mom.

Or the dad.

And you do it anyway. 

Mudroom Makeover: I think I'm in love

Yes, I love my husband. And of course I absolutely adore my children. But this past week I had to make a little more room in this heart of mine because I love, love, love my new mudroom.

When we purchased this little piece of property we realized we were going to have to purge a few items and try to do more with less (see how that process went by clicking here). Yeah, we failed miserably on that front, so that left our family of five living in utter chaos.

For the past four weeks our master bedroom has been command central. Need toilet bowl cleaner? Check the dresser. Looking for the screw driver? It might be on one of the shelves in the closet (probably next to the wireless mouse I still need to get synched with our new laptop). Need to find the receipt for the rug that didn't quite work out. Good luck.

I'd be lying if I said the thought of sneaking off in the middle of the night to find a new home where extra toothpaste wasn't being stored alongside the door stoppers we have yet to install didn't cross my mind. It did. More than once.

Then my father-in-law showed up (to install a water line for our ice maker). Since I was having second thoughts about the fridge we had just purchased, I was able to hold off on that project for just a little bit and casually mention a new one. The mudroom.

Here's a look at the mudroom before:

Utter disorganization.

As I shared my dream of cubbies for the kids and cabinetry that could contain our clutter, my father-in-law snapped into action measuring the space and throwing out ideas. Then we talked budget. Apparently we weren't crazy thinking $600 could do it. I have to admit we were beginning to wonder after the guys at Lowe's told us it would take about $2,400 to construct a bench and a couple of cabinets. Ouch.

The next day my husband and father-in-law headed for Home Depot to gather all of the supplies. This included: 2 30" stock cabinets, 3 36" cabinets, loads of lumber (but some of this was used to build the pedestals for our washer and dryer), paint, primer, and two new paintbrushes.

Then it was my turn to snap into action. Since our basement isn't finished I was able to set up shop down there rather than sweat it out in the 90-degree heat. I removed the cabinet doors and grabbed the bucket of primer. Luckily the primer dried in about an hour (thanks, Kilz), so I was able to slap the first coat of paint on right away. The 8-year-old daughter showed up eager to help. Two days and four coats later we were finished.

Here's a look at a couple of steps in the process:

Removing the cabinet doors.

Painting the cabinets.

Time for my father-in-law (with some assistance from my husband) to take over and for the kids and I to take off for a mini-vacation. Woo-hoo. When we returned I was absolutely ecstatic to see that three of the cabinets had been hung. Over the next two evenings my father-in-law hung the remaining cabinets, cut the lumber to size, and finished the install.

Getting closer.

Measuring for the cubbies.

That's when my second shift kicked in. Armed with wood filler, sand paper, and paint, I worked to put the finishing touches on the cabinet and cubby frames. Then I grabbed my new favorite tool, the cordless drill and screwdriver, and put the doors on the cabinets, touched up the paint a bit more, added a couple of baskets, and marveled at my mudroom. Seriously, I marveled at it. I just stood in there and stared, so muich that my husband offered to move a mattress in there so I could look at the handiwork all night.

Here's the fabulous after shots:

Baskets for hats and mittens.

Hooks for coats and backpacks.

Just enough room on top for a few functional decorative touches.

You see before it was just a pass-through. Something completely unfunctional (dare I say dysfunctional). A hallway that I really just tried to ignore as I entered the house through the garage. Now it's a room worthy of my extra attention. It's functional and beautiful. While it still needs a few more decorative touches (coat hooks need to be installed and a few chocolate brown accents need to be purchased), I'm still absolutely, positively in love.