I will be knitting in peace two minutes after I post this:

Home from yoga at the gym

Kids are fed and tucked in bed

One load washing, one more tumbling

The old dishwasher on and grumbling

Beans are soaking

Yeast is working

Tea is steeping to keep Mama from sleeping

What's next on the to-do list?

It doesn't matter, this is domestic bliss.

These kids sparkle.

This trip to Denver has me too worn out to actually write. But, I know there are some folks who are sorely missing these kids. So these are for you:

Ode to Smoochy

Have you ever wondered why this blog is called A Day in the Life of Smoochy? Have you ever thought: Gee this blog is written by Becca, not her Smoochy. What's up with that? Well, if so you have never actually been in the same room as the two of us. If you have spent any length of time in our company you know only too well what all the Smoochy business is about. I'm Smoochy and he's Smoochy. We're both Smoochy. We seriously call each other that. All. The. Time.

It started back when we were star-struck, smitten, and over the moon for each other the year of our engagement living in Woodbine, GA. Smoochy was a young Junior Officer on a submarine and I was a grad school drop-out trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. The only thing I knew for certain, was that I was desperately, helplessly, hopelessly, and oh so annoyingly in love with Jacob. Whenever he would go out to sea I would whine and moan incessantly about how much I adored him and longed for his return. Our mutual best friend Chuck was the recipient of most of my laments. He would grow especially irritated with: "I miss Jacob!"

It was around Valentine's Day of 2005 that Smoochy and I discovered the It's Happy Bunny:Love Bites (please follow and read this link!) book one afternoon at Publix while buying sub sandwiches and beer. We stood in the check-out lane laughing hysterically at this little book. It's irreverent and ironic humor gave us an outlet to laugh at our own goofy obsession with one another, I'm sure. The book chronicles the cycle of a relationship... from early obsession to bitter end. In it the bunnies are constantly referring to their little Smoochy-wootsy-pootsy-pie... or something to that effect. From then on it became our thing. I even went as far as to have it printed on tee shirts. His says "Smoochy" and mine says "I am with Smoochy." I took a photo of myself wearing the shirt and wrapped it with the one I had made for him as a surprise to be opened in a care package while he was underway. Those silly shirts have got a lot of milage. We even wore them on the flight taking us from our storybook wedding in Annapolis to Aruba for our honeymoon. But that trip is another story.

But, since today is our fourth year wedding anniversary, maybe it would be a story worth remembering. I'm not exaggerating about our wedding being storybook. Annapolis, MD one of the most historic and beautiful places in the country. It's quaint little shops lining cobble stone streets set with the back-drop of the Chesapeake Bay will forever be my standard of down town perfection. And starting the Thursday before our wedding right on into the wee hours of the Sunday morning following the ceremony we OWNED that down town. OK, we owned it along with the three other USNA couples getting married that Saturday at one o'clock, two o'clock, and three o' clock following our thirty minute door-to-door ceremony which started at high noon.

The wedding was beautiful. Few people I have talked to can forget the image of me coming down the isle like a possessed beauty queen; every tendon in my neck was tight-to-bursting in support of the mega-watt smile splitting my face. Meanwhile my darling Smoochy stood at the end of the isle tears streaming down his blotched and red face. That sounds a little intense, but that's just how we roll. I remember holding on to him in the little room they shuffled us into while the swordsmen lined up on the steps of the chapel in preparation for my welcome to the Navy. We were so happy and so content. He said, "This is all I need. I don't even care about the reception." And I agreed.

But boy, the reception was one hell of a party. But, like I had alluded to before, the whole event was one hell of a party. We had all been going strong starting Thursday afternoon when the first of the party goers started tricking in. Bar car loads and plane rides every friend and family that joined the fold was met with a drink and a dance. We carried on like a roving band of happy-go-lucky party people until the very end.

Oh and what an end it was. Our gorgeous reception at the Historic Inns of Annapolis ended at six in the evening, but we certainly weren't ready to take off our dancing shoes. We all migrated en-mass to Harry Brownes, a bar just next door. I think we took the place by storm. We never wanted the magic to end. But eventually long passed midnight, after well over twelve hours of wearing my poofy princess I mean wedding dress, and racking up the biggest bar tab anyone had ever seen through bleary buzzed eyes (Thank you Uncle Dave and the many others who chipped in!) we finally went back to our hotel.

I'm not sure how much time passed between our arrival at the Robert Johnson House and the magnificent four-poster bed that awaited us there and the knock at our door that signified it was 4 o' clock in the morning and time to get our asses to the airport... but it felt like fifteen minutes. Chuck and my sister Kate were the lucky two who had the privilege of driving us to embark on our honeymoon. After my darling groom had passed out fallen asleep I had scurried around and packed our bags for Aruba. So, when Chuck and Kate presented at our door and told us it was time, I was ready to go. Smoochy however, would not budge. In fact, despite all of my pleading and begging, he mumbled with eyes closed, "I'm not going." What followed was part persuasion and part drunken wrestling match between Chuck and Smoochy which eventually ended with us in the back seat of Chuck's car cruising down the highway only fifteen minutes late. That was the first time Chuck and Kate every really spent together.

I'm telling you all of this because it is still a wonder to me how the road has taken us from that amazing time. Here we are four years later and four years deeper in love. I know it's the real deal, because real life has set in, and he still melts my heart, makes me feel safe, and proves over and over again that my Smoochy is the catch of a lifetime... even when he's driving me crazy. Because four more years of wedded bliss has also brought on four years of disagreements, annoyances with one another, and even the occasional hurt-feelings fight. But, after every bought of not-so-right we come full circle to crazy, madly, deeply in love. Of course, these days, crazy madly deeply happens in between bath time and when Georgia wakes up teething.

So, I was thinking of all the wonderful things that have come out of four fantastic years of marriage, and this is what I have come up with, in chronological order:

Normy... we seriously got pregnant on the honeymoon. Thank God we made it to Aruba.

A fabulous year lived in California where we made lifelong friends (Hi Stela and Jamie!); Learned how to make the best guacamole in the world (thank you, Stela!); and enjoyed the most delicious margaritas in the world with OJ fresh squeezed from oranges three feet from our front door.

Kate and Chuck got married. (Oh yea, they send us a thank you note every year on their anniversary.)

We got to spend a whole month living with my folks in Naples as Smoochy transitioned between jobs. This was a true test of our marriage, one I'm glad to say only made us stronger, and Normy got to spend a whole month getting to know his grandparents.

Our first house in Omaha, and all the wonderful days that were spent there...

Georgia: Our little doll.

Six months growing closer as a family isolated in the winter of Chicago's suburbs.

And now here we are: back in Omaha living in our Little House in the Woods.

The days are just packed. I'm so excited to be on this journey with my Smoochy. With the sound of Cars the movie blasting in the background as I type this, I know that we are on the right road. Every day I wake up feeling blessed and grateful for my husband and the beautiful children he's helped me make and parent. I can't wait to see what I have to say about our life next year at this time.

And finally, to recap, here are my last two anniversary posts. May there be many many more.

2007

2008

Reporting Live From Denver!

I thought about titling this post "Sleepless in Denver". Though that would have been an accurate title, I thought I would focus on the positive. That being said, if this post is short or nonsensical, please be aware that my kids have both been waking up several times a night since we've been here... and Normy thought it would be a good idea to start the day at 3:30 am Mountain Time. I was NOT raring to go at that hour, understandably. I fell asleep on my sister's sofa instead of keeping an eye on him while he played with his cousin's toys. A little while later I awoke to find that he had gotten the carton of eggs out of the fridge and broke one all over the carpet in the play room. When I walked bleary eyed into the room he was covered in shell and playing with the yoke. "Broken egg, Mama!" That was around 5:30...

So, I'm focusing on the positive. We have had a couple of fun adventures since we arrived here on Saturday. The first was a trip to Tiny Town. The kids loved all the miniature houses and the train ride was the star attraction. A great time was had by all.

Today's adventure featured a trip to a local park complete with fountains. The kids had a blast, despite a rocky start. Normy was pretty freaked out by the geyser at first. But, after seeing his fearless sister and playful cousin charge on in, he dried his tears and commenced chasing them with glee.

I'm praying for a full night's sleep tonight. If it happens, there will likely be more posts and pictures to come. If not, well I'm not sure.

How We Roll

The kids and I have colds. Not enough to keep us from getting around, thankfully. However, there is enough green snot to keep us from going to the gym in good conscious. So, today I strapped on my jogging shoes, packed a bag full of books and snacks, filled our water bottles and drove to the closest park with trails. I had hopes of getting a good run in, then allowing the kids to run around some open space or play at the playground. I got my run, but as for the playground: no dice. The mosquitoes were thick... thick like they are in an 85 degree summer night in the Everglades.

I had just gotten the kids saddled-up in the stroller and only a dozen yards down the trail when the three cups of coffee I had for breakfast caught up with me and I REALLY had to pee. Apparently, all the other folks in Omaha knew about the mosquitos because the trail was devoid of other people. Thank goodness too. Since I hadn't seen another soul around I had the courage to drop-trou and do my business behind a bush while the kids happily ate dried cranberries. That's when the mosquitos swarmed. It seems I had been jogging just fast enough to out pace them, but when I stopped even for a minute, they found us. I got back to the buggy to find one sucking on Normy's forehead and a horrible cloud of others circling. I was so disgusted that I said out loud, "That's it! We're going back!" But, instead of heading towards the car I picked up my pace and dashed down the trail.

A few steps in I thought, "What the hell am I doing?"And then I answered, "Fuck those mosquitoes! They can't catch me!" (Just because I have finally quit cussing in front of my children doesn't mean I can't drop an F-bomb in my brain.)

So, down the trail I went.

Along with sand toys and balls for the kids to play with at the playground we never made it to, I also brought my camera. I am so tired of taking pictures in the dim light of my house that turn out like this:

or this:

I was really itching to snap some pictures without using the flash or at ISO 800. But, I thought considering the mosquitos, that I wouldn't be able to take a single shot. Luckily there were some places along the trail where they must have lost our sent. There were a couple of times I was so compelled to stop and take a picture that I couldn't resist.

The sound track in my ears was taking my mind on a looped and winding course, just as the path below my sneakers carried the buggy and I along.

I can sense it

something important

is about to happen

it's coming up

it takes courage to enjoy it

the hardcore & the gentle

BIG TIME SENSUALITY

Bjork : Big Time Sensuality

The music felt like it was pumping through my veins along with the blood. I felt the tingling sensation in my skin as the endorphins and adrenalin kicked in. The colors around me were bright and bold and I tried to drink it all up and make little stamps of the colors on my brain to access in a grey feeling moment.

Even though it was well after nine o'clock the moon was still sitting in the sky, getting a peek at at whats goes on during the day. It seems every few steps I would look up and see it, odd and out of place.

Wake up, so much you and I can be
Far beyond the face that we can see
Listen to the silent prayer as it goes up so, to the sky

Kaskade : Step One Two

It was as though every time I stopped to look a little closer I saw something surprising. These thistles kept catching my eye with their bright purple flowers. But, it was the little green bugs hard at work that I found the most amazing.

So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown

Frou Frou : Let Go

I brought you something close to me, 

Left for something you see though your here. 

You haunt my dreams There's nothing to do but believe, 

Just Believe. Just Breathe.

Telepopmusik : Breath

So, what got you movin' today? What song made you burst in to your own private dance part for one? Come on! I know you belted something out in the car today!

If this were my journal I'd write:

Somedays this blog only serves as a reminder that I'm not as interesting as I'd like to be. Which is fine, because that feeling can motivate me to grow in new directions. And who wouldn't like that?

But, the truth is, striving to be interesting is about as worthwhile as wearing high heals for a night on the town. Sure your legs may look great, but if your feet are killing you and you can't dance, you might have been better off choosing the sneakers.

I'm trying to live my life wide oped. Trying to find my true voice. My authentic self. But what the heck does that mean anyway? How much difference is there between who I am and who I want to be? Is it as simple as my actions versus my thoughts? What about perception? How about this:

self = thoughts + or - action / perception

Why does this sound like something I would have written in my journal freshman year?

Aren't I I supposed to have figured this stuff out by now?

I remind my self to:

BREATH

I'm alive.

That's it.

And it's enough

As I write this, I realize that is from one of my favorite songs right now. Have you heard I'm Alive by Kenny Chesney? He sings it with Dave Matthews, which was a surprising combo to me. Let me see if I can find it for you:

Ah yes, thank you YouTube,

The refrain goes:

And today you know that’s good enough for me
Breathin' in and out's a blessin' can’t you see
Today's the first day of the rest of my life
And I’m alive, and well
I’m alive, and well

So, I'll forget the rest.

Today I am:

(In love with colons!)

No really,

I am a pair of hand slicing watermelon for hungry kiddos.

A voice that calls a friend just to say, "HI! I was just thinking of you!"

A floating dream of a medicinal and kitchen herb garden in place of the weeds.

A flared temper over whining toddlers.

I am two rows of interrupted knitting sitting by the tub.

I am a kiss for a Smoochy returned from work.

Some days if I can just make through lunch-time without screaming at my children that's all that matters. Forget about my "authentic self". When I can be a nourishing breast, a steady shoulder, and helpful hands does it really matter what my "true voice" sounds like? Or is it that in each moment, that is the tenor my "true voice" takes on?

Really, the best I can do is work hard so that when the day is done I can say that I am proud of how I spent my time.

The yoga instructor at the gym (who takes my stereotype of a "gym-yoga teacher" and blows it out of the water.) recently said that,

"So much of yoga is about finding the balance between the energy we draw into ourselves and the how we allow that energy to explode out of us."

I almost fell out of my triangle pose when she said it, because it resonated so strongly with some of the things I have been ruminating on. Right now I am truly searching for that balance.

The Gym and Such

I wish I had a different time to write. My kids take naps after lunch, and it is such an uninspired time for me. I wish I could blog while running or doing yoga... because that always seem to be when I have the most wonderful thoughts. I suppose it is something about all the blood flow that really gets my synapses firing. I usually come away from a run ready to change the world, or write a novel, or some other fantastic scheme. But, by the time I've showered, made lunch, diapered the toddlers, read two stories, nursed Georgia, cleaned the kitchen, and sat down at the computer, I have forgotten what all the fuss was about. Caffein to the rescue! Today it's Earl Grey because Smoochy absconded with half of the of the contents of the coffee pot in his thermos this morning!

Have I mentioned that I freaking LOVE the gym we go to? I have, but now I am going to tell you about it. (Mainly because I have forgotten all about the spiritual and amazing things I was meditating on earlier while running.) Sure, there is nothing that puts my very privileged life into better focus than pulling up to the fitness center in my cross-over SUV-thing and walking in with my two darling children. Once there, they go to their classes. Today Norm had basketball and Georgia did Tiny Tumblers! I either go to a class myself (usually yoga or pilates) or take a jog on the treadmill. Everyone around me is well dressed in matching sweats...not bought at Walmart. Ipods and ridiculously expensive sneakers abound. If I don't feel like working out, I can still go and use the whirlpool or sit in the sauna. Plus, what a luxury to be able to shower, shave, lotion, and apply mascara without interruption. The gym is the yuppy-mama mecca... and the truth is I LOVE IT. I feel a little dirty admitting it.

OK, so I don't dig the matching $100 gym outfits, the ladies wearing full make-up as they do their down-dogs, or the bitchy gossip I hear in the locker room. But, I love being able to go, work out regularly, shower, and know that my kids are having a blast while I do my thing.

Today a quick jog on the treadmill fit into my schedule best. I would rather be outside running with the BOB enjoying the last days of this gorgeous summer weather. But, then the kids are just sitting there, eating pretzels, and fighting over books. At the gym they are meeting friends and learning new skills. Every time I see one of the teachers leading a little line of three year-olds off hand in hand to go to a dance, tumbling, or other sports class it makes me happy that Norm is getting the opportunity to learn how to function in a group like that. We've been thinking and talking a lot about home schooling the kids recently, and this gym even offers daily, age-specific home schooling activities! (P.E. type stuff)

The kids love the gym. This is huge for me. Normy often comes home with wonderful art work that he's made. He never actually wants to leave. There are usually complaints from him when it is time to go. Georgia struggled a bit at first, but now she is over her separation-anxiety and having fun there too. The other day, when I dropped her off at the "Fun and Frolic Room" she charged off excitedly to go find her favorite doll before realizing that she hadn't said good-bye to me. She looked back with a impish smile, then turned on her heal and ran back to me crying, "Kiss! Kiss!" Once she was kissed it was back to the dolls!

So, after re-reading above I find myself wanting to hit delete on this boring post. Bla. Who cares if I love the gym? Big deal. But now I have spent time on it, and feel obligated to send it out into the world. Oh well. Here you go...

I'm going to go find my camera and see what I have on there from the weekend that may be able to save this post...

OK, this weekend:

I wore a long skirt, an apron, and baked bread.

This made me feel like maybe I wan't really a yuppy.

My favorite moment is when I take dough out of the oven after the first rise. Seeing what the yeast has accomplished always feels like witnessing magic.

Normy enjoyed a couple caterpillar visitors.

He was a boy-obsessed.

They have since been released into the woods to enjoy the rest of their days. He didn't get to keep them because I couldn't figure out what type of moths they would become, and therefore we couldn't find them the right leave to eat.

Georgia read her first novel.

Smoochy played with the children.

Trying to capture a photo of them was like trying to photograph a group of elusive and rare mountain gorillas. They were always one step ahead of my lens.

The end.

Rain

It is raining buckets in Omaha. A steady shower is watering the woods around me. It has been going all morning. Like many rainy-days in the Midwest, the torrent seems to to come and go in waves... but never stops all together. I love it when it slows a little, and you look out to see the plants shivering as drops make their way down dripped from the leaves overhead .

This is so different from the summer rains in Florida. Those rain storms of my childhood rolled across the land like a very predictable train making it's usual stop. The clouds would gather by two in the afternoon; they would threaten and swirl for a bit. The release would come by three o' clock, when thick heavy drops fell straight form the sky. It was such a common everyday thing that most of the time the sun wouldn't even bother to stop shining.

But here, rain can be an all day event. Sometimes even a string of days. I love the rain. I love the cool gray feel of the world. I love the anticipated and yet surprising feel of the rain drops as you dash from your car to the safety of indoors. I find humor in everyone's frizzy hair, and I love to see who has remembered their umbrella, and who just wings it. I don't own an umbrella, though I think I'd like a big floral one. One that cannot be compacted into my purse and has a curved wooden handle...

Anyway, so other than our usual trip to the gym (which we all LOVE LOVE LOVE) we have all been cozied-down reading books, painting, and of course playing with trains. Now the children are in their beds, I have a cup of coffee, and peace has descended on the house in a thick and cool rainy-day way.

I've been cooking, knitting, and cleaning. We have a someone very special coming here tomorrow and I want all to be ready. I've also been snapping pictures of all the many things that seem to be making me crazy-happy today. My photography is always so ragged. I don't have Photoshop and I was an idiot and didn't spend the extra money on the camera I should have. Arg. Lesson learned. But, my camera is fine... and most days It does what I need. The trouble is my dream-house is very lacking in the natural light department. We live in the woods. And the trees grow so thick around the house that no matter how many huge and wonderful windows we have, it is always a little dark here. My kitchen is on the North side of the house, which means that the lights are on in there all day long. Perhaps a tripod would help?

Well, here is what I am loving today:

Georgia's

Norman's

(I spluged at Wally-World the last time I was there and bought some real watercolor paper. What an amazing difference this makes! Before all their paintings had giant holes in them from over-saturation and massive toddler brush-friction, but this this wonderful paper is impervious to their lead strokes.)

Yikes!

Oh Dear, what have I done? After years of the same old blog, I was feeling like a change... but this? Um, needs work. Crap.

Of course now it's time to make eggs, start the wash, go to the gym. And then of course there is the knitting I just started that is calling my my name. I just started my first fair isle project. A very modest ribbed cap: purls in teal and knits in brown. Can I tell you how much I am loving this hat? I have been forcing myself to learn how to knit continental style because I want to increase my knitting speed. It's going alright. Half a dish cloth and one scarf in and I can knit but not purl. Anyway, this has enabled me to knit fair isle with a color in each hand! It makes me feel so dexterous and competent. What satisfaction.


So, there are lots of other things I could be doing other than dinking with the blog. You know, like cleaning... there is lots of cleaning. But, really, I think nap time will be spent working on this too-small banner and trying to tweek the rest. I miss my old template.

This summer when I was in Ripley I had the chance to ask my Great Uncle Ernie if he were asked to describe his mother (my great-grandmother, as seen in my profile picture) in three adjectives what they would be. All he could come up with was "old" which was disappointing. He said, "Well, she was always older than me..." !!! However, he also said that he remembered that she always preferred "sewing and such" to actual house chores, and that this was often a source of conflict between her and her husband. This of course, prompted a knowing smile from me.