Hello, Old Friend.

You know that one piece of clothing?

That one that you put on and it just makes you feel good, no matter what it looks like or how it looks on you?  That one that you've had for ages and brings back so many memories?

For me, this piece of clothing is my purple sweatshirt.

My mom and I found it at either Steinmart or TJ Maxx about ten years ago.  I was in search of warm clothes for my first PK/MK retreat in seventh grade.  I fell in love with it immediately, despite the fact that I never have (and never will) like purple.

It became my constant winter companion for the next few years.  Those of you who knew me in middle school and even high school will probably remember this sweatshirt making its appearance at youth retreats and winter outings.

I pulled out some of my winter clothes today.  My purple sweatshirt was at the bottom.  I smiled when I saw it and pulled it out lovingly.  "There you are, old friend," I thought to myself, realizing that I hadn't even pulled it out last winter because of being pregnant (it probably would have still fit, as it's huuge).

I tried it on, noticing how misshapen it is from all the wear.  I saw the bleach stains on the sleeve from one time when I cleaned the kitchen sink for my mom, unwittingly bleaching my beloved sweatshirt as I worked.

Immediately, I pulled it on, relishing the feel of it.  It's not quite as soft as it once was, but that's okay.  It's faded and out of style, but that's okay, too.  It's my purple sweatshirt, and I will always love it.

I looked for a picture of me wearing this sweatshirt when I was younger, but couldn't find one among my digitals. :( 
I'll have to check my hard copy pictures (yay, early 2000's).

Perspective

Isn't it funny how perspective can really change things?  I mean, I know that it can't actually change something, but it certainly alters our perception.

I'm reminded of the 2008 movie, Vantage Point, in which a crime is pieced together by interviewing witnesses who all had a different physical perspective of what happened.  It fascinates me how the whole picture can be seen by compiling perspectives.

There are things in life that also require perspective.  Motherhood is one of them.

As a child, I viewed my mom as a source of protection, comfort, and discipline (lots of discipline--I was not the most well-behaved child).

As a teenager, I perceived her as an obstacle that stood in the way of my independence, an authority figure that I did not need or want.

As an adult, I found that she became more like a mentor/friend--someone I could always count on to provide good advice and a listening ear.

But now that I am myself a mother, I see my mom in a whole new light:  The sacrifices that she made daily for me and my siblings.  Sacrifices like sleep, time, and energy--all things that seem so insignificant when there is plenty to be had, but are so hard to give up.

I am only three months into this whole "being a mom" thing and I have to say that it is extremely hard.  It's hard when my baby wakes me up at 2am after he's been sleeping through the night for over a month.  It's hard when he again wakes me up at 6am when he's been waking up at 8am for two weeks.  It's hard when he decides he only wants to take a 45-minute nap when I have tons of reading to do for school.  It's hard when he is crying for no apparent reason other than wanting to be held when I again have schoolwork to accomplish or dinner to prepare.  It's hard not being able to run errands and/or go out in the evenings because it interferes with his schedule.

But you know what?  I would not trade any of it for the world.  My mom was and is a champion for all of the hard work that she put in to raising ten children (and still does, as most of my siblings are still under sixteen).  I hope I can be half as amazing at being a wife and mother as she is.

So who is my mom?



Put all the perspectives together. ;)
(Except the teen one... teenagers have the most wacked out perspectives ever!)

My Piper

I have a yellow labrador retriever named Piper.  Drew and I got her last August... and incidentally got pregnant with Gabriel about a week or so later.  After having this adorable puppy (yes, she is still a puppy--labs are considered puppies until they're two) for almost a year now, I have had a chance to observe her at her best... and at her worst.

Worst-- peeing a river on the floor every time she is greeted

Best-- only having three accidents in the house (excited pee not included)

Worst-- pulling my arm out of its socket on walks

Best-- helping me get out of the house to walk while pregnant

Worst-- eating everything we put in her crate (this includes beds and towels)

Best-- not minding being in her crate for hours while we go to church/small group

Worst-- chewing the shag rug in our living room

Best-- I don't like the shag rug :)

Worst-- being completely unruly whenever we see dogs/people on our walks

Best-- absolutely loving children

This last aspect of Piper's disposition is the one I love the most.  When my brother, Anderson, came to stay with us, Piper fell in love.  Anderson was a little skittish around her at first (understandable, considering her size and playfulness... not to mention her whip of a tail), but after a day or so, he warmed up to her completely.  They played tag together and Piper let Anderson boss her around, although she didn't listen to any of his commands, probably because she couldn't understand him.  He called her "Hopper" and repeated "Hopper, hit!" incessantly.  (Translation, "Piper, sit!")  Piper also let Anderson poke her eyes, pull her ears, and touch her teeth.  I was very impressed.

A few days ago, Gabriel started to notice Piper.  He follows her with his eyes, completely fascinated.  Then, two days ago, I was changing Gabriel's diaper and Piper was laying very close to us as she usually does (labs have no concept of personal space, in case you didn't know).  Gabriel started flailing his hands and touched her, grabbing a handful of her neck in his little grasp.  It was accidental, but Piper didn't know that.  She got all excited and started sniffing his face while Gabriel tried to suck on her nose.  Then, Piper found his hand and proceeded to lick it for about 10 seconds.  Gabriel laid there, completely still, with a look of awe on his face.  It was priceless.  I wish I'd gotten it on video.

Needless to say, I have the best dog in the world... despite her "worsts." :)

Anderson + Piper = BFFs.

Piper on the shag rug.

Family Vacations

Family vacations are beautiful things.  As long as I can remember, I have loved the time away with my parents and siblings.  The road trip to our destination was always a highlight, despite the many fights and arguments and tears that occurred -- a natural result of eleven people being cramped together in one vehicle for hours on end.

Searching for license plates from every state with my sisters.
Watching the scenery of America pass by out the window.
Attempting to make sandwiches while my dad barreled down the interstate well above the speed limit.
My dad refusing to stop for potty breaks except at meals.
Arguing about who would sit in the dreaded back seat.
Reading too many books to count.
Blasting music from the terrible car speakers.
Harmonizing with my sisters to every song.
Complaining when my parents turned the music down (apparently it was always louder in the front seats, even when faded to the back).
Staying at sketchy motels with weird slogans, like "Stay Where the Stars Stay" in Nashville.

These are only a few of the things that consisted of a typical Morrow road trip.  I must say, in spite of the stress, cramped quarters, and inevitable conflict, I miss those times.

This year, Gabriel and I met my family in Colorado Springs, where we are staying with my aunt and uncle.  Unable to miss a lot of work, Drew joined us just yesterday evening.  In listening to my siblings and parents recount the fun (and horror) of the four-day road trip they took to get here, I cannot help but feel a little sad.

My solace lies in the hope that, one day, I will be able to recreate the road trips that will forever live fondly in my memories for my own children.  Yes, even the tears and creepy lodgings.

Smallville

I have a confession.

I am pretty much addicted to Smallville.

Drew and I finished all eight seasons in probably less than a year.  We then took a break while we waited for the ninth season to finish up.

That idea was a really good one, considering I was being visited by Clark and Lois in my dreams.  I even dreamed that I was Lois and Drew was Clark a few times.  Those were pretty awesome dreams!

We just started the ninth season and, holy cow, I think it's going to be the best one yet.  I'm already getting re-addicted.

I think I'm going to get my hair cut like Chloe next time I'm in Virginia.  Her cowlick gives me hope.
 

I think she might have a double crown, as well, so you know it's destiny. ;) There are only so many ways we cowlick-cursed people can wear our hair and it actually look good.

Okay, I must go now and be productive while I anticipate the possibility of watching another episode with Drew tonight...

♥ TL