the word on the street

We had Sesame Street on this morning, and on every episode the Muppet Murray gives the Word on the Street. Today we learned about habitat. So, today on the blog, the word on the street is habitat.

I've spent all week spring-cleaning my habitat. I'm talking decluttering, wiping down, dusting, vacuuming, mopping, exhausting cleaning. Today I worked on the kitchen. And I'm beat. (Perhaps the Sesame Street viewing was part of a larger effort to distract the resident toddler from my cleaning out the fridge, the worst of all the chores.)

Spring cleaning is hard work, but I can't say that I hate it. Because here's the thing: I like my habitat. Love it, even. And I love taking care of that habitat.

I love all those small handmade gifts collected and cared for over the years.

I love my new mantle and the seasonal vignettes I get to put together.

I love the decorations I've made and the ones I've found at Target.

I love the vacuum lines on carpet, however fleeting.

I love throwing out the unnecessary so I can better enjoy what I have.

I love filling my home with meaningful and intentional stuff. Not pointless stuff, but me stuff.

I love those small things like the sparkly burlap placemats I found on clearance at Homegoods and that refrigerator magnet of my sister and me from ages ago.

I love my habitat even in its mess, because messes like this mean that my habitat is both lived in and cared for.

I especially love that I share my habitat with this little man, because seriously, he's the cutest kid I've ever known.

I also love sharing my habitat with Josh, even when it means that lone socks in the couch are ever-present in our habitat.

I love that my habitat is a reflection of my people and is a place where I feel close to my roots.

I am looking forward to next week when the spring cleaning will be finished, because that will mean that I can finally get back to my sewing machine. (Oh, sewing, how I've missed you!) For now, though, I'm okay with the work and the sweat. Because the thing is that having this habitat at all is a great blessing, and I'm not about to squander it.

finding my center

{Photo from Mom's Instagram @dpw_2012}

We returned from Denver the day before yesterday, and I'm always so reluctant to leave. I can never have enough time with my people. Every minute I'm there I try to soak up those feelings of togetherness and connection and unbridled love.

{from my Instagram @mscharjane}

My people help me find my center. You know, that place in your heart where everything in your life clicks because you've found the center. That's how my people make me feel: centered.

Sitting at the kitchen counter talking with my mom

Driving with my family crammed into the SUV

Snacking on leftover rolls after dinner

Staying up late talking with my dad on the couch

Driving along all those familiar streets

Listening to my sister practice her piano

Going out to dinner at our favorite Mexican place

Kneeling down together in prayer

{screen shot from Mom's IG #obviously}

Watching my son toddle down the hall to my parents' room

Feeling confident in my dad's ability to entertain an 18-month-old so I can go shopping

Sitting down at dinner with just us

Seeing my grandpa and my son meet for the first time

Cleaning up dishes and snacking on dark chocolate peanut butter cups

Knowing that my brother is exactly where he should be

I wish I could find the right words to explain fully the deep emotions I have when I'm with my people. I feel accepted, understood, and known--and centered. I see my purpose more clearly, understand my place in this world. My relationships with my parents and siblings deepen and mature and become increasingly essential to my well being. My people remind me about why I'm here and what I'm here to do. When I'm with them I am so certain about who I am.

Your people may not be your family members. They may be friends or extended family or in-laws. Whoever they are, I hope you have them, your people. Mine mean everything to me.

time for the tulips

Yesterday I took down the sparkly snowflakes I had hanging up since Christmas, and I placed the tulips that I bought for my church lesson on the table.

It felt marvelous. I know I've written about tulips before. And I probably will again, because they're the most perfect flower. It's almost springtime, people. The snowflakes, while pretty, had their time, and now it's time for the tulips. Follow my blog with Bloglovin

some good days

It was a good day when my wedding ring finally fit again.

It was a good day when I tried that chocolate chip cookie recipe.

It was a good day when my TV shows had new episodes after the Christmas break.

It was a good day when Josh, Asher, and I went on a spontaneous lunch date.

It was a good day when I got my bangs trimmed.

It was a good day when Josh called from work to say he missed me.

What are some of your good days?

summation

In 40 years when I look back on 2012, the word that will leap most readily to mind is baby. I spend the first two-thirds of the year pregnant, and the last third navigating the sleep-deprived waters of new motherhood. More than the babe happened this year, though. Asher's arrival is certainly the most exciting and transforming part of 2012, but other smaller things happened this year.

This is the year I gave up on knitting and dedicated myself heart,  mind, and soul to sewing.

This is the year I came to grips with laundry and grocery shopping.

This is the year I watched all of The West Wing and decided that I probably won't ever watch it again.

This is the year I went to see a movie in theaters by myself for the first time.

2012 is the year when I reached new levels of both confidence and vulnerability in my marriage.

It's the year I accepted that for me busy isn't better and that it's okay for my life to need a slower pace sometimes.

It's the year I read six nonfiction books and fell seven books short of my yearly goal.

2012 is the year I taught thirteen five-year-olds with one of my wonderful friends.

This is the year I bought a car and gave away half my wardrobe.

This is the year I came to a deeper understanding of discipleship and covenant-keeping.

2012 is the year I came to know myself as a mother; the year I came to better understand God's plan for me and my family; the year where my life vision was expanded and refined; the year where I opened my heart more fully to God, my husband, my son, and myself.

over a cup of cocoa

It's overcast and rainy today. I love it. It's the kind of weather that begs for sweaters and soup. If you were to stop by this morning, I'd offer you a seat on the couch and ask if you wanted some cocoa.

I'd tell you how ready I am for rain again, how I've been so excited to bust out my sweaters and rain boots.

I'd mention our plans to spend the day at the coast tomorrow to celebrate our anniversary, which is Monday.

I might tell you about how having a baby has actually made grocery shopping easier for me. Because shopping with a babe is so much more cumbersome and involved, I plan ahead now and go grocery shopping only once a week instead of several times.

If asked, I'd tell you all about Asher's many perfections, a litany that would surely be interrupted several times by Asher's coos. Actually you probably wouldn't have to ask me about him; I'd gush unprompted.

I'd admit that I don't like my stretchmarks, even though I know they're a marker of something beautiful and divine.

I'd tell you about how vulnerable motherhood has made me. My heart has never been in this place before, and it's exhilarating and terrifying--truly sublime.

I'd confess that when Asher sleeps, I go and check on him several times. Really, though, I just like to look at him.

I'd ask you about your plans for the holidays, what traditions you're looking forward to, and how your family is doing.

I'd offer to let you hold Asher, but only if you wanted to. I've never been that person who loves to hold every single baby. If you're like me, I take no offense. It's a-okay.

I'd ask if you've read any good books lately. Or bad books. I'd ask what you thought about them and why.

I'd ask you what your favorite iPhone apps are, because I am finally joining the smart-phone club.

I'd thank you for stopping by and say, "We should do this again soon!" I'm often content to hole myself up and hibernate (regardless of the season), and embarrassingly I give myself a pat on the back whenever I initiate socializing.

After you left I'd rinse out the empty cocoa mugs and put them in the dishwasher. I might turn on a TV show, read my book, or write.

What would you talk about over a cup of cocoa?

distractions

Tennis four-square

Racquet air-guitar





Dominion



Badminton madness



Brownie sundaes

Voodoo Donuts

Over-exposed photos shot in manual

Powell's

Children's books

And sewing books

Food carts

One day past the due date and still no babe, so I'm sure glad I have so many delightful distractions at the ready. Plus the heat broke on Saturday. Hallelujah. 

all good things

:: John Mayer's new CD (let's just forget that in real life he's a scum bag, yeah?)
:: The fabric for the nursery

:: Homemade mac and cheese
:: Target house-brand popsicles
:: These flats from Target (and gift from Rachelle)--I wear them everywhere

:: Two more shifts at work. Two.

cascading tulips

Sorry to leave you with such a personal and dispirited post since Tuesday. The truth is that it's been a weird week at the Wilsons'. It's been a week of melancholy moods, weird work schedules, and a pervasive feeling of disconnectedness.

I woke up this morning bracing myself for my last day of work before my weekend, and in the kitchen I saw my tulips I bought on Monday. They looked like this:

And I loved it. Maybe this could be an indication that I should have trimmed them shorter or found a taller vase, but I love how these flowers have burst open and cascaded into my kitchen. To me those pale pink blooms bring so much simple joy that a vase can't hold it. To that happy beginning, I went out into a day full of chirping birds, shining sun, and balmy temperatures.

This afternoon, as I throw open my windows to let in the spring air, I'm so glad that tulips are the type of flowers that bloom and cascade.

2011 in review

winter

:: Josh and I started teaching the 8- to 9-year-olds at church. Boy, has that kept us on our toes.

:: I admitted an emotional funk.
:: I had some articles published in the New Era.

:: I discovered Fabric Depot.

:: Josh turned 26.
:: I fell in with Jimmer-mania.
:: I had a hard time adjusting to my full-time job downtown.

:: I started sewing, and my first skirt was dubbed "crafty" by an insensitive coworker, and my second skirt gave me hell.

:: I survived my first Oregon winter.

spring
:: We celebrated our six-month-iversary and had no qualms about the cheesiness of it all.
:: I had my first day off of work since Christmas.
:: I filed our taxes and with some of the return bought a KitchenAid
:: I met up with my sister, mom, aunt, and cousin at Women's Conference in Utah.
:: I met one of my kindred spirit friends through blogging, a friend who, incidentally, I had many classes with at school and never got to know until we lived on opposite sides of the country.
:: The rain continued.
:: I ate Lebanese food for the first time.
:: I went to the Oregon coast for the first time and loved it.
:: I had some a serious cake failure.
:: I read many, many books.

summer
:: We spent the Fourth with my family in Colorado.
:: I posted about my strong feelings on feminism and how women are treated in the media.
:: I chopped my hair.
:: I finished writing the wedding thank-yous.
:: I hiked at Mount St. Helens.
:: I stopped working downtown and have never looked back.
:: We went to DisneyLand with the Wilson clan.
:: I turned 24.
:: I planned my fall sewing.

autumn

:: I had another cake failure when I tried to bake a cake for my grandma's birthday.

:: We started rock climbing.

:: I made a point of doing spooky things for Halloween.

:: Rachelle came to visit for a whole week, and we rocked Oregon.

:: Josh and I celebrated our first anniversary.

:: I had an emergency root canal.

:: I subscribed to Cook's Illustrated.

:: I started a new job at Deseret Book, a place I never saw myself working until I got there.

:: We celebrated another Wilson Thanksgiving.

:: I added to our Christmas decorations.

:: I experienced working holiday retail hours.

:: I blogged only seven times during December, including this post.

So it was a pretty good year. Nothing super eventful happened, but sometimes years like that are nice. I felt like I really settled into my chosen life. I've felt contentment over my choices and have never been happier than I am right now.

Happy new year, everyone.

polka-dotting

I wore my Easter skirt today because I thought I needed a boost. I've had an interesting week emotionally. I've had waves of feeling overwhelmed and over-emotional* (which hasn't happened a long time) throughout the week, and this morning I had a couple things happen that threatened to push my emotional buttons (not having an umbrella, leaving too late to catch the bus, and not being sure where my iPod was). Remarkably fast, however, all of my concerns resolved themselves (my umbrella ended up being in the car, I barely made the bus, and my iPod was plugged into my work computer). I thought that by wearing my cute, polka-dot skirt, I was remedying a rough week.

In looking back on my week, however, I realized that really, my week wasn't bad at all. I made a point of doing the small things—prayer and scripture study—each day. Even though I may have had rough moments throughout the day, I was always reminded of the wonderful things in my life in the end. I was given an extra measure of love and motivation. So really, the polka-dot mentality adopted me this week, and I wore a happy skirt today not to improve my mood, but instead I wore it because life is so good.

While I've had moments this week of stressing about the wet laundry still in the washer or the stove burners that need a desperate scrubbing, I realized I've also been enjoying froyo, Ingrid Michaelson, free Chipotle lunch, the one day of 70-degree weather this week, Spring Wipeout, giant ric-rac, and, of course, my polka-dot Easter skirt.

*Josh: "I've learned that women typically have many, many emotions. Me? I have about five."

leaving and coming back

This past weekend was my first Women's Conference experience, and at first I was a little caught off guard by the masses and masses of women and the long lines, not to mention the ever uncomfortable Marriott Center seats. The classes, though, were great. I learned more about charity, the power of simple gospel principles, prayer, communication, covenants, and womanhood; and I also learned a lot about myself and what I need to be working on to become who I'm supposed to.

In addition to Women's Conference activities, I had lots of quality time with my mom and sister.

I got Big Swigs with my Number One.

We ate lunch at the MOA cafe while catching up with good friends.

And I even got dinner from Cafe Rio on Friday night.

I met up with old friends and made new ones. I laughed, cried a little, and made the most of my two days in Utah.

Part of me felt so unready to return to real life, but then I realized I was missing the point of everything I'd learned: I have a mission in this life. For me right now, that mission is in Portland, Oregon, and while I may miss my family terribly and wish for more time with them, my mission is happening right here in the Northwest, and it's happening right now. I'll treasure up the time I have with my family and then go out and do the work I'm meant to do. I may not even know what I'm supposed to be doing specifically, but I pray throughout my days I'll do what God needs me to.

So while I may feel unready to say this, I'll say it anyway: Bring it on.