For the dogs...

As I'm cooking dinner (Please overlook that statement. I probably wasn't actually cooking--because I just don't do that, but rather shuffling my feet in the kitchen trying to figure out what my now-refusing-purees-because-she'd-rather-eat-steak-10-month-old wants to eat. Moving on.), I immediately become acutely aware that things are silent in the room (that's 5 feet from my kitchen) where my daughter is playing. Then I hear VERY quick crawling knees with a giggle building in her.

Yes, you can actually hear E before she laughs. She gets very excited beforehand, and there's a definite ring in the air before she lets her giggle go. It's pretty darned cute.

Anywho, I know right where she's headed, and by the time I can peak my head into the living room, she's poised and ready: kneeling above the dog bed, she waits to make sure I'm paying attention, then throws her FACE directly into the I-have-no-idea-when-the-last-time-my-dog-had-a-bath dog bed.  She did it on purpose. And wanted me to see it.

With the advice of my mother and many other mothers in my life ringing in my head: Redirect, redirect! She doesn't understand that it's gross and wrong! Redirect! I calmly tell her, "No, no, sweet girl. Doggie's bed," and take her to her toys, "E's toys. These are yours to play with."  All while trying desperately not to gag at the fact she just exposed herself to God knows what from the dog bed, while also biting my cheeks to suppress my own giggles at the fact that my daughter has a pretty gross sense of humor (what I didn't add was that she laughed hysterically through the whole event, mouth full of dog hair and all). Thanks Mr. Kuda... Your genes are getting the blame for this one.

Starting Over 2.0

Right, so it's been awhile, mostly because I haven't found my stride as a blogger, but also because life has become much more than me waking up each day and enjoying my little girl while keeping house. It's become what I never thought my life would be: schedule coordination, day care, stressful jobs, unexpected travel plans gone awry, getting excited just to sit and watch tv with my husband for a half an hour prior to passing out at 8:30 at night, only to do it all over again the next day. I look back at my eight month maternity leave as a seriously sleep deprived extended vacation.

Which at this point, I realize all sounds utterly depressing.  My 25 year-old self would look down her nose at her older, more settled future Kristin, and think, Really? Sooooo BORING.

But that's the thing. It's not either of those things.

This summer has been a season of change, of personal growth, of learning more about myself than I ever thought was humanly possible in such a short time. And despite the stresses of everyday life, including my suddenly and surprisingly rambunctious (albeit, amazing in every way) 10 month old, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life, and have come to discover that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, with the people I'm meant to spend it with.

Which brings me to my final point. Up until now my blog has been a handful of excerpts of life at home with a baby while trying to balance home life, but it hasn't been a true glimpse of what I'm feeling, thinking, or in all honesty, not wanting to feel or think. It's time for my self-realizations be put down on paper... Or microns? Or something electronic given the plugged-in nature of my computer?  Anyhow, it's time to be a bit more honest with myself and with those around me. So, here goes!

And I promise to continue to include super-cute pics of little E. And I also promise to not make any other "start-over" blog posts. This is it!

My Gran

She wasn't just "my" Gran. In fact, she had so many grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and those who weren't officially either, but rather just inherited, I can't even begin to count.  But that's how our family is. Once a part of it, you're in for life.

Gran's picture could be placed next to a number of definitions in the dictionary: matriarch, mother, grandmother, friend, storyteller, comedienne.  But what she opitomizes most to me is unconditional love. Despite having had a rather large family, she had the unique talent of making each and every one of us feel like her favorite. I was actually her favorite, though. Just saying.

I was painfully shy growing up (I know, hard to believe). My typical place in residence, particularly during large family events, was on my mom's lap. I remember having a particularly shy moment when I was probably about six years old. My cousins weren't being very nice (as I was their favorite thing to pick on growing up; I now consider them as if they were my brothers). Gran pulled me aside and asked me, "Want to learn a secret handshake?" She squeezed my hand four times: "Do you love me?" And told me to squeeze back, three times: "Yes, I do." She then squeezed twice: "How much?" And told me to squeeze once, showing how much.  Then we did the reverse, so I could feel how much she loved me.  She told me to come back to her whenever I needed to know how much she loved me, as a little reminder.  This became something I did any time I was feeling down or insecure, and I could do it without anyone having to know. Later, this was passed on to my father and me, and often turned into an arm wrestling match, but it was something Gran had passed on. Emma will learn this secret handshake as soon as she is able.

That was Gran. Always finding a way to sneak in a little alone time, despite the chaos.

The last time I saw Gran was the Thanksgiving of 2009. Paul and I went to visit her at her nursing home with two of my cousins.  That weekend there was to be a mustache contest between some of the men in the family, and Paul had grown a doozy.  Despite sitting in her wheelchair with a curve in her back, Gran smiled from ear to ear every time she looked at Paul... She LOVED his mustache. All five of us giggled the entire time we were there at the ridiculousness of Paul's facial hair.  Gran told several of her famous stories we've heard a thousand times. I drank it in, knowing that it might be the last time I saw her.  Gran squeezed my hand four times before we left. I let her know how much I loved her, but it was our own little secret.

I inherited my nose from Gran. And her eyes. But most of all, I took from her an ability to tell stories, and hopefully to help others feel special in this crazy world.

Sunday morning, God took Gran to join Him in heaven. I have a feeling she's having a great 'ole time, finally seeing Grandaddy again, standing straight and tall with her beautful olive skin and almond eyes. She will be missed for a number of reasons, but all she has to do is look down and see the family that began with her.  So many of the traditions, love, and friendships that have occurred in my life are a direct result of her.

I'll miss you, Gran, and love you more than I was ever able to squeeze.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda