neighbor-love

Last week, Chicago was hit with a giant blizzard. Depending on who you talk to, we got up to two feet of snow dumped on us. The morning after the storm, we opened our front door, and the snow was up to Marty's waist. It was so stinkin' awesome.

I'm one of those weird people who likes shoveling snow. So while Charlie napped, Marty and I shoveled, and shoveled, and shoveled. {mind you, our driveway isn't that long. we just had these ridiculous snow drifts in front of our house, seriously waist-deep. again, AMAZING! when does it EVER snow like that?!}

Our neighbors were out shoveling, too. We waved, and laughed, and watched their little boys body-slam each other into snow drifts. Charlie woke up, and we brought him outside in his cutsie-baby sled. And then, we all shoveled the driveway of a lady across the street who never talks to anyone. It looked like she was out of town, and who wants to come home to three feet of snow in their driveway? Six shovels made the work go fast. See us pictured, above {minus Marty, the designated photographer}. Later that night, we had an impromptu party, with spicy chili and hot dogs on the menu. I learned that one of our neighbors was a tank operator in the Czech army, another neighbor makes her own yarn, and yet another guy has antique motorcycles in his dining room.

Sweet.

Since the big snow day, I've heard other stories of other people's neighbors being, well, neighborly. Shoveling sidewalks. Pushing out cars. Salting driveways. So, the snow? Love it or hate it: crazy weather makes for good comradery... and yet another opportunity to love your neighbor.

but...

P.S.
we really do have exceptional neighbors.

and...

It's stuff like this that makes buying a cat house totally worth it :)

true life, dude.

Sometimes, I feel really bad when I read other people's blogs. I get really down on myself, and subconsciously start saying silly things:

Look how cool that person is. She created her very own china cabinet out of sugar cubes, spray-painted it magenta, and then posted a tutorial with step-by-step photos so that the rest of the world can relish in her creativity and see how pulled-together she is.

Or:

She makes her own delicious baby food out of guavas and lima beans? I don't even know what a guava looks like. I'm a terrible mom. My child will now squander in utter malnourishment, because I don't know how to make that mystical guava/lima bean concoction.

{Totally overblown, but you get the idea.}

I blame myself, not other people, for these assumptions I'm making. No one is trying to project themselves as a perfect, look-at-me-I'm-the-bomb-dot-com person {I hope}. Instead, I see what other people are doing, and then flail my arms and run around in circles because I'm, well, not doing the same thing, too.

But, you see -- preaching to myself here -- I've been given a specific set of gifts and abilities. I can make lists like crazy. I get things DONE. I can glance at a paragraph and spot all of its grammatical mistakes in less than ten seconds. I can sometimes take pretty pictures. I can paint {with anything but watercolors. I hate watercolors. the end.}

etc. etc.

But.

I can't make myself enjoy making pureed baby food. {I'll DO it. But I won't enjoy it. Sorry. I think it's boring.}

I can't build a china cabinet... out of sugar cubes, or any other porous material.

I can't really meal-plan well, or figure out how to organize my basement, or handle more than one child at a time {ha!}, or enjoy cleaning toilets {or anything, for that matter}, or strike up a witty conversation with a stranger sitting next to me, or play an instrument in front of a crowd without getting nervous, or... or... or...

{the list goes on}

So, I've come to a conclusion. You all keep doing what you're doing. You know... blogging, living, blogging about how you're living, etc.

And I will (1) be thankful that I have access to such an incredible group of creative, lovely people {both in the blog world, and in my face-to-face relationships}; (2) learn from your creative, lovely awesomeness; and (3) be happy with who I am.

My pastor says that, when in doubt, always err on the side of humility. And, since I'm in need of boatloads of grace {James 4:6}, I'm off to eat some humble pie.

Happy Friday!


p.s. Here are some of the cupcakes I made for Charlie's birthday party. They were fun to look at, and made our mouths turn blue :)

a whole year

It's midnight. My little guy turns one year old today.

If I had half a brain, I'd write a witty blog post about life with a one-year-old, or how crazy it is that a year with Charlie went by so fast {or slow?}, or about some of my favorite memories from this past year {teaching Marty how to explode peeps in the microwave, maybe? holding Charlie for the first time? yep, definitely up there with those peeps...}

Instead, I'm a ball of mush. Tired, floppy, brainy mush. I had a million things to do tonight to get ready for little Charles's big day tomorrow {you know, the day he's going to remember so much about}, and instead, all I did was make a big, blue frosting mess in the kitchen, watch my husband sweep the floor, and poke around on the computer, editing pictures and making slideshows that are really, totally unnecessary. I've got this urge to do something monumental, since, well, this is sort of a monumental day. And instead, all I've done is stay up late, and turn into a crab. {poor Marty.}


Happy birthday, Charlie-warlie, from your mush-brain mommy and your patient daddy.

psssst. You're our favorite :)


{Click here for a little slideshow I put together of Charlie's first 365 days.}