Dad retires tomorrow.

Congratulations to the the most inspiring, smart, kind, loving, amazing man I’ve ever known.

The hairless chickens are a good start for all that’s yet to come – you never disappoint!

This way, I end up running the entire way, but trick my body into thinking it will stop soon. Can’t believe I still fall for it. But I do, and I keep going. My handy little Nike device telling me how far I’ve gone, when I’ve hit the half-way mark, and all while staying in the shade of the big trees.

My breath finally catching a rhythm I stick with, thinking of how much I love the mornings when the kids are in school and wondering why I don’t find myself running each and every morning.

As I passed one of the benches I told myself I could stop at, I found two little old ladies sitting there watching the people go by.

And something told me they were widows who found themselves in the company of each other – nothing like a good girlfriend to make life okay again.

I smiled at them as I ran by, and the one in a brown dress waved back. Huge smile and the sweetest look on her face. Like she, too, was happy to be out in the fresh air.

I thought about how even though she didn’t know it, I could have sat on that bench with her and her friend, belonging to the same club of women who have lost their spouse.

That thought made me run faster, and by the time I reached my turn around point, my heart was beating so fast I could hardly catch my breath.

I picked out a bench for Wayne yesterday. A memorial bench made of granite, just like the one they were sitting on.

I did it while Claire played with an owl, making it dance along the headstones as I talked to the salesperson about the pros and cons of black vs. grey granite (heat retention).

I watched her play among the headstones, kneeling down to use the tops as a table for her toys, and her playful nature completely unaffected by the look on my face.

And Cade.

Sweet Cade who refused to come inside the showroom, opting instead to stay in the car and watch a movie.

The only thing he said to me was, “Does Rylan know you are DOING this?”

Like I was betraying him, and Caeden was going to be loyal.

And I walked back into the store, wondering for what seems like the millionth time, if I was doing enough to keep Wayne’s memory alive for a little boy who avoids the topic at all costs.

Avoids sadness at all costs.

And really, I don’t blame him. All we’ve been trying to do is bring sunshine and love back into his heart – into all of our hearts – and why in the world do I keep bringing up the opposite?

And so, over a year has passed since that snowy night that the van lights faded into the night, taking Wayne with it, and here I was, writing out what I wanted his Memorial bench to say. All of it feeling completely against the odds that I watched my 3 year old play while my 7 year old was mad and while I tried to get my hand to stop shaking long enough to write what I wanted it to say.

None of it looking like my writing, and forgetting to add “brother” to the list of who he was.

And I, on the way home, tried to figure out how to tell Rylan what I had done and how it felt.

And instead of telling him straight away, I found myself extremely quiet and just wishing he could read my mind and hug me tight.

Because it is complicated and hard and not perfect to honor Wayne in a way I always have/always did, while seeking comfort in another’s arms.

Hoping my new life and my old life can stop overlapping because it takes a toll on me. But when has life ever been black and white?

And so, last night while we pushed the kids on the swings outside, I listened to Claire talk to Rylan, watched Caeden and Grace go back and forth with who was “higher,” and I reminded myself that all I want and need is right in front of me, and when I need a reminder of just how fleeting and precious life is – I have a place to go to think about it.

A new bench to aim for when I run.

XOXO.

Last night at Cade’s soccer practice, Mom told me that someone from church told her to tell me hi. That we’ve never met, but she reads the blog daily and wanted me to know.

And I told Mom that I feel like apologizing to everyone because my posts have been so vanilla and boring. Even for me.

And if I told you why, you’d probably laugh. But I’ll tell you anyway.

I’ve never really thought about who was reading before. I seemed to throw up all sorts of emotional baggage, mostly just talking to myself, and not worrying what might come across.

I just didn’t understand the judgement side of things.

And now I worry about who is reading, and why, and what they will say, or what they will think.

I guess I’m wishing there was a way to password protect what I REALLY want to say and keep it from the world without excluding you.

But I can’t.

So I find myself totally censored and careful.

And I miss being myself here and I miss the freedom of not caring/knowing/feeling like there will be repercussions for what I say. But you know, there are.

And I have seen lots of my favorite blog writers seize up like I have, and I was always sad because whatever gave them their shine was stripped away somewhere/somehow.

And the reality is, when it happens, the last thing they do is post WHY.

So.

I keep taking pictures and keep posting stuff I want to share. And I’m still trying to work up the nerve to start really sharing again.

Like yesterday. I posted a picture and that was IT because I kept deleting what I wanted to write. Pissed me off that I was catering to an audience instead of my heart.

(So thank you for still reading. Going to move past boring and back into goodness, okay?)

But today I have a few things to say and I hope you’ll let me just say them.

Like I have been working up the nerve to order Wayne’s memorial bench for the park and how I have had a special poem tucked away for this day.

And I wonder how I’ll work up the nerve to take Caeden because he doesn’t like to talk about Wayne.

And how Claire calls him “My Big Daddy in Heaven” who “has a broken leg but is getting fixed” and who wants to visit him so she can hug and kiss him.

And I worry about Rylan because he is so good to the kids and they love him so much, and it’s so hard to bring Wayne up when we are trying to teach them it is okay to be happy and move on …

But how it is not okay to ever forget.

And he is so good at helping me with this. He rolls with it. Even when I fall apart when the subject of Wayne comes up. (I almost broke dozens of dishes in the kitchen the other day while unloading the dishwasher as Claire was telling Rylan’s friends all about Wayne. I need to learn to relax. Or just leave the room. Serious.)

Anyway.

Do you know what the point of throwing a rock on the hopscotch is all about?

They both do it, and I have no idea why. I just pretend like I do, and toss the rock, too.

Did you see these dresses at Target this year? Twenty bucks!

There for awhile I was in withdrawals from not being within driving distance to Anthro or JCrew.

I have found that if it doesn’t exist at Target, I really don’t need it. (I can’t stand ordering online. I need instant gratification. Besides, getting up to find my purse to get my credit card number requires too much work!)

That’s all I’ve got.

XOXO.

Setting the tone at home is one of the most important but UNSPOKEN realities of being a parent. Don’t you think?

Yesterday as I was driving the kids home from school, I looked at Cade in the rear mirror and simply said, “I love you so much, Buddy.”

He responds, “Oh I know! I can tell because of the notes you stick in my snack bag.”

Or like today at Claire’s school art show. There were Moms and Dads milling around with their kids looking at their art work collected from the entire school year, and Claire turns to me and said, “I just want to go home with you Mama.”

I’m not the cutest or craftiest or most patient or even CLOSE to being a perfect woman, but I am one who simply shows up for those I love …

And in the dark days we lived through last year, I forgot Caeden’s snack many times … and Claire requested her Grandma over me multiple times (last year sucked, yes?).

And so I figured out how to turn the corner and I decided that if I was going to start over, I was REALLY going to start over.

And love big. And apologize more. And laugh harder. And call my Mom more. And talk to my sister instead of text. And tell my girlfriends how important they are to me.

And there was a time when Caeden’s snack would have been organic and healthy (and most likely uneaten), and that was important.

And good nutrition still is, don’t get me wrong, but the little note that said: “You make me proud every single day” elevated those Cheetos.

And it makes me happy that I am capable of always being better. Of screwing up and getting back up.

And always getting better.

And I read this and thought this is right on mark:

You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside your story & hustle for your worthiness.

How does that not ring true for all of us?

XOXO.

(I found the notes at a local shop in Denver, but here is another source to get ideas from: Lunch Box Notes)

Lindsay and Noah were here for the weekend so we were very busy doing nothing at all.

She’s adorable and hilarious, and he is adorable and as sweet as can be.

Love that they are in Casper and are closer than Denver.

Love when she comes for no reason at all.

Here’s the by-product(s) of our weekend:

1. Take a brown lunch sack and tear most of it off. Very wasteful but whatever. Do it in the name of portion control.

Stamp some initials, your monogram, or even the theme of your event.

Fill with something to eat:

I added potato chips to ours as we were grilling out, but other ideas are popcorn and m&ms, trail mix, or an itty bitty bottle of booze. Very versatile, these bags.

2. Marne and Travis throw killer BBQs. Just so happens I got a new recipe from them that I have to share.

Beergaritas!

1 can of limeade

3 bottles of beer (used Corona Light)

1 cup of tequila

Mix it up and garnish with fresh lime wedges. YUMMO.

I’m stealing this one and reclaiming it as the official cocktail of summer.

3. New Oatmeal Concoction

Make a pot of steel cut oats. Add sliced mangos, coconut, and almond milk.

Tastes like Thai sticky rice but for breakfast and without the guilt.

So good. Seriously. Even better cold.

4. Starting to face the fact that it’s time to sell/store/unpack my life’s belongings. If you have any interest in Wayne’s miter saw (never used), his golf clubs (all high end, text me for details – used once or twice at most), scuba gear (top quality as he never skimped and his latest set was used just once when we went to Turks and Caicos), computers (give away), flat screen monitors (a steal), etc. Text me at 913.530.2023 or email me at valkoop@mac.com.

I hate talking about and dealing with this stuff, but it’s time. And I would much rather place stuff with you than random strangers on Craigslist. Ugh. This was a hard one to type.

XO.

We’re BBQing tonight and I’m most excited about this idea:

Take brown paper sacks and cut the tops off. Stamp something cute on the exterior, like your Monogram, and stuff them full of chips to serve with hamburgers.

I’ll take a picture tonight and share tomorrow. I saw it on Pinterest (of course, you all probably did, too) and thought it was as clever as could be.

My sister is coming tonight with baby Noah and staying for the weekend, so I’ve got to pretend I am this crafty and clever all the time.

(Fade out to me being exasperated with the kids during a typical dinner, “What? You have GOT to be kidding me. You’re hungry again?”)

XOXO.

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April 28 | 2012

She wore a custom gown made just for her and she waited all morning to wear a beautiful, very thin, gold wedding band.

He wore an easy smile and grey suit to match the old world elegance that wrapped around their wedding.

They are the best of friends and the ease in which they move beside each other made those in attendance stop just to watch.

And as tears fell from their eyes during the ceremony not a soul was untouched. Unmoved.

The love and the promise for all their tomorrows started long ago. They just happened to invite a few of us to celebrate it on Saturday.

Congratulations Michael and Nastassia Janes.

Deadwood | South Dakota

A light-as-a-feather box arrived on the front porch with an “open with caution” warning written on the front.

As I carefully opened the surprise (what in the world could it be?), a white balloon gently eased out of the box, floating into the air and then pausing because of the weight of the note attached.

The note, asking me to be his Godmother, gave me an ever-present lump in my throat as I hastily called my sister to tell her that I was beyond honored.

(I wish I had my wits about me and taken pictures! Cutest presentation EVER.)

I honor of itty bitties and new parents everywhere, I wanted to share a great idea I came across:

Ask your local wine shop or restaurant for a wine crate. Fill it with taco fixings (I’ve shared my guac recipe here, right? How about my brown rice tacos?), fresh flowers, and a six pack of beer.

New parents will love the non-frozen version of dinner and you’ll be proud as can be of how dang original you are. Good friend to have, yes?

Have a wonderful weekend.

XO.