Baby #2

Well I thought it was about time to let the world know that we have another little McKenzie in the works. It's suddenly become obvious that I've got a baby growing in my tummy even though I'm just 14 weeks along. Things have been going well. I had tons of morning sickness earlier on and spent over a month literally lying on the couch snacking, puking and feeling depressed. The morning sickness isn't gone yet, but it doesn't take over every aspect of my life anymore and I'm hopeful it will go away really soon. Evelyn is cute and often asks how my baby is doing in there and "Can I play with your baby?". I think she'll be a great big sister. Learning of Evelyn's existence surprised us a month before we were going to begin to try for a baby. This time around we planned it out and were pretty happy that it happened right away. Our kids will be 3 years and 1 month apart, which I always thought would be just right. Of course I'm suddenly feeling that the six months I have left for Evelyn to do all that "growing up" we had imagined are flying by all too fast. Christie's baby will be four months ahead of ours so we should have a couple buddies on our hands. Evelyn already is calling Olivia her "Best friend". We're planning another home birth with Christie as our midwife, which I feel so privileged to be able to do, especially in the comfort of our new house. We've already heard the heartbeat twice and there's nothing better than that fast and steady little thump, thump, thump.

Minnesota!

We just got back from a week-long trip in Minnesota. Christie, Olivia, Evelyn and I flew out and spent most of our time in Rochester where my grandma, uncle Kent and aunt Connie live. We had a good time of simply hanging out. The girls were their usual selves - nonstop playing, singing, exploring and fighting. They're more like siblings than cousins. Evelyn misses Olivia now that we're home. She calls her up on her toy cell phone every couple hours and tells her how she's her best friend and that she loves her. Pretty sweet. Mom was out in MN as well, so we got to have some fun together, like going to an apple orchard and picking ridiculously crunchy "Golden Crisp" apples and petting kittens through a large lidded pen. Perfect Minnesota Autumn. We went to St. Cloud one day and I got to spend a little time with my best friend, Sarah. We've been best pals since 8th grade and still love each other like crazy after all these years and distance. What a serious blessing she is to me. It was fun to see our little girls playing in the same room together. In the St. Cloud area we made sure to go to our favorite eateries, including the Cold Spring Bakery which makes the world's very best chocolate-covered macaroons. Mmmmmm. It was a good trip. We spent two days driving back with my mom. I was keeping track of roadkill deer whenever I was driving and stopped at about 25 or 30 somewhere in Nebraska. We saw some live stuff too, though, like about a dozen of wild turkeys. How cool is that? We stopped at a hotel on the way where the girls had fun swimming and I sadly watched the Rockies get swept by Red Sox. The girls were surprisingly perfect for the long car rides, which I was not expecting at all. The best part of our traveling, though, was coming home to Steven. No adventure is ever quite the same without him and I love him all the more.

First Snow

We woke up on Oct. 20th to snow falling on the trees and yard. What a happy sight for all of us. Evelyn couldn't wait to go outside, though somehow we put it off for a few hours until we rounded up old mittens and snow boots. Steven and Little E made a friendly snowman which I christened with a hat. Goodbye summer!

ladybug

Anderson Farms

We had a fun Autumn day at the Anderson Farms. The McArthurs and Boyers joined us for some pumpkin picking, goat and buffalo petting and wagon rides.

we have a new niece

Steven's brother, Ben, and his wife, Joy just had a baby daughter Haleigh a little over a week ago. She's tiny and cute. I got to be there for Joy's labor and the birth, which was such an honor. Joy was amazing, doing an all-natural vbac hospital birth. Way to go, Joy! Here are some pics of the little cutie, Haliegh.

When Evelyn first met Haleigh she got really serious and sweet. She insisted, "I want to take my baby home now" and did a super job holding the little baby next to her on the bed. Sweet.

Trying out Evelyn's new bike seat. These are the views from our neighborhood hill.

rodeo

Last weekend we did our annual Cheyenne Frontier days. Basically, my two sisters and I, our men and brood of offspring all huddle into my dad's hyper-air-conditioned house for the weekend, eat snacks, ribs and lobster tail, watch movies, chit-chat, half-monitor unbridled childhood aggression, and go to the Daddy of 'Em All Rodeo. I love it. I love the chaos of all those people in a small space. I love the unexpected pure grace my dad pours out to us as a host. I love the drive up there and how magically antelope appear as soon as we cross the border into Wyoming. I love imagining for the umpteenth time life as a cowgirl as we drive across the gently rolling plain with cows speckled on hillsides and distant thunderclouds breaking up monotonous blue. I love the rodeo itself. I love the awkward, slightly apologetic allowance and irony of the "Indian Village" as we enter the cowboy domain, drumbeats and ornate headdresses off to the side while a plastic tent of strippers under the pretense of some cheap AMERICAN beer brand is on the other, a sign hanging overhead, "18 and older ONLY". I take the rodeo seriously. I feel humbled by so many people there. Sure, there are the maybelline-clad 19 year-old blond girls in tight shirts being loved over and over by the camera for the side jumbo t.v. screen. There are the the random urbanites scattered here and there observing the whole event like it's some social obligation to better oneself in accepting and witnessing the phenomenon of a rural subculture. There are multitudes of locals who have waited twelve months for this specific SOMETHING to break up the mundane year of vocational drudgery, raising babies and watching sitcoms on weekly nights. But then there are the cowboys. Ranchers. Old men with deep wrinkles from years out on a horse in the sun rounding up cattle. There are people there that really know the difference between each bull and bronc rider and how each placement of stirrup compared to the last. There are people who understand the demeanor and spirit in the eye of the horse that braces itself in the mud as its rider jumps off and scrambles to tie a steer within fifteen seconds. It's beautiful. It's sport to some, it's real-life-gone-entertainment to others, a spectacle of unusual quaintness to more, it's otherworldly to me. It's a slipping reality. I know we won't get this one back. Once a year I get to sit on an aluminum bench, coax my child into paying attention to the man riding the "big cow" in the arena, wish I had a better 'authentic' cowgirl guise, and long for a time and place where I can tap into something as pure, foreign and unbridled as the cowboy cinching a rope around his hand enough to break it, hold on for mercy eight seconds while praying all the while that he won't lose his hat, just to get up again on two unbroken feet an do it all over again.

nice day

I thought I should post just for the sake of posting. I'm a little premature in this, perhaps, since we're about to embark on a fun weekend and I feel the need to save the savory. The thing is, it was simply a nice day. We got a bike seat in the mail today for Evelyn. Thanks to my friend Sarah, I've been inspired to try out biking with kiddo in tow. Evelyn's seat is now bolted onto the back of Steven's bike, and her new pink flowered helmet is resting on a chair, waiting for its first use in the morning.
On Sunday Steven and I celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary. We decided a couple years ago to follow the traditional pattern of anniversary gift-giving. This year's theme is wool/copper/desk sets. I was sure the desk set idea would be my best bet until Steven ruled it out as if it were cheesy. With a $20 limit and having given myself only this morning to come up with an amazing, thoughtful, you-shouldn't-have kind of present I gave up in exhaustion after four random stores and asked Steven if we could call off gift-giving this year. He was chill to oblige. So we are giftless. We do, however, have plans. Plans. It seems I don't have much of these in life these days. Some people would be envious of it. I tend to feel like I'm drowning in a big sea of boundlessness, guided only by the unruly enterprise of a two-year old. But this weekend we have plans. Thanks to the enormous generosity and love of my mom and Evelyn's eager ability to adapt and love Grandma back, we are going to Breckenridge for a night - ALONE. We're going to eat out at a nice restaurant, have drinks and travel back by foot to our hotel room, we're going to SLEEP IN the next day, we're going to get coffee in the morning and summarize our last year in our "love journal".... The plan of it is enough. It sounds that great. So there's that.
Back to today, though. A storm rolled through and brought us a much needed downpour. The sound was accentuated by the fiberglass roof of the sunroom, to an extreme where I kept the french doors open only a crack. Steven and I went to Bourne Ultimatum (or whatever the title is) and loved it. I really love those movies. I feel like I could do kung fu right now, even though I don't think they really did kung fu in the movie. Violent car chase, perhaps?
Now I'm on my second Coors beer (which I should mention is affecting me a bit more than it ought to and I apologize) which I might shock people by saying I've upped to my top three favorite beers. Could it be true? Something as main-stream as Coors? Yes. I may not know anything about wine, but I've tried a million different beers and I've elected Coors right to the top. It's sweet, it's smooth... Perhaps I'm a simpleton. Fat tire, Coors and Negra Modelo. These are my top three. I should mention that Dogfish Head's Midas Touch is freakishly yummy. Okay, I'm catching myself trying to feign some sort of beer connoisseurship. I like Coors. What can I say?
Today is also the first official day of me being off antibiotics. Yes, my sad wisdom tooth saga continued with an infection in my jaw. If the infection comes back they'll have to cut open my gums to 'irrigate'. Let's say, I've decided I'm fine. And that oral surgery and I don't mix nicely at all. At all.
All these things sum up a good day. In a random, free-association sort of way I'm glad to share them with you.

Mama John

I came across this picture today of Evelyn McNair, otherwise known as Mama John. She was Steven's grandmother, the woman we are so proud to have named our little girl after. She passed away a few months ago and the world just isn't the same place.
Steven's sister, Sadie, had the gumption to put together a really awesome book of photos and words that we wanted to share with the grandparents right before Mama John got really sick. Here's what I wrote. It pretty much sums up the way I feel about her....

When Steven and I were excitedly expecting our child, there was only one name we could think of that seemed right if we were to have a girl. And when our tiny and beautiful daughter was born and I looked at her sweet face and first called her “Evelyn”, I knew the name we chose for her was perfect. It wasn’t just because the name Evelyn is lovely and unique or because it is a name taken from a family member that made it so right for our daughter. It’s a perfect name because she was named after you and when she grows up we hope that she will be like you. When Evelyn grows older it is my hope that others will be reminded of you through her. I hope that when she first meets someone she will take sincere interest in their life and welcome them into hers. I hope she’ll be able to draw in those around her with intriguing stories of her life. I hope she will have that kind of graceful beauty that lights up a room and draws everyone else to it. I hope she will have the same devotion and loyalty to her family that keeps them glued together through times of happiness and trial. I hope she will always have the heart to learn about the world and people around her. I hope she will grow in wisdom and poise and be able to share it with her children and grandchildren. I hope she will be true to herself and go after the things in life that stir her soul. And I hope she will always carry that childlike spark of wit and charm that can make others laugh.
There is no mistake in having named our precious and wonderful daughter after you. It is a name that encompasses such greatness and elegance that my heart swells with pride knowing she carries with her a part of you. And I will always be filled with gratefulness knowing you have given to her pieces of yourself.

--Mama John, you are truly missed....

A few pics from the 4th

We had a fun 4th of July over at Katie and Andrew's house. We adults enjoyed hanging out on the patio, chatting, while the kids ran around.

Evelyn said, "It's a party hat"!

Later the guys played horseshoes and then raced while kids rode piggy-back. "Again! Again! Again!"

~Dad and Christie (and tiny, growing baby Boyer, who is now 3.5 inches, head to rump! praise God for the truly amazing gift of children!!)

The Boyers and McKenzies headed back to our neck of the woods and were totally distracted by all the fireworks exploding alongside the highway and over the city. Our neighborhood is up on a big hill and we were able to find a spot to sit where a huge panorama of Arvada, Denver and Golden spread out before us. There were firework shows all over to see. Arvada's was pretty close by, so that was the focus. They did an exciting show that went on forever, and it felt great to be part of the neighborhood with folks oohing and ahhing in their lawnchairs or sitting on their rooftops while car radios competed with kids and distant thunder, the intermittent sound of 'Proud to be an American' and 'It's a wonderful world' breaking through.

happy 4th of july!

health is so underrated

I feel like I just got a second chance at life. A rebirth of sorts. I am just now recuperating after going through the worst physical time of my life (and I've given birth without any drugs, mind you). It feels so profoundly significant to me to come out of this. Anyway, it's big enough to me that I have to put it here, so here is my greatest "poor me" story. Eleven days ago I went in to get all my wisdom teeth out. Routine enough. It was a little scary, but I had said that I thought of it like a mini-vacation, where I would have the weekend to lie around and take a few pain pills while sipping a milkshake while Steven watched Evelyn. That's funny... The surgery was okay, I guess, except that I wasn't fully out of it and could feel them sawing into my gums and yank things out and all that. After it was over I remember there being some fuss about how to get my mouth shut again. I have a bad jaw in normal life and apparently it locked open, causing them to take whatever measure they had to to get it shut again. Usually they expect you to take prescription pain pills the first day and go onto advil and get over it. I was popping vicodin every couple hours and then motrin inbetween, because the pain was so severe. My face was swollen like a squirrel gathering for winter. Steven thought I resembled Marlin Brando. It wasn't pretty. I finally went in five days later to get things checked out to discover I'd had two dry sockets the whole time. Internet sites describe the pain as exquisite and having them shove strips of anesthetic back into the hole was on a whole different level. So that was rough, but that isn't even it. I'd been feeling nauseous that day of seeing the dentist again and as soon as I got home I started to throw up - a lot. I've been really sick before, like to the point I really needed to be hospitalized, but was too weak to go, but this was so much more extreme. It wouldn't go away. For four days straight I was sick. Really sick. The pain and misery of it was unbearable. I prayed to Jesus for mercy and hoped I would die. It just wouldn't stop. I was scared and didn't think I could handle it anymore. Sometimes it would seem to be getting better for an hour or so and then it would start over again. BUT alas! Sunday morning it phased itself out as it should and bit by bit I have gotten better! Oh mercy! I just feel downright happy to be alive again. Being able to be with Evelyn again is so precious. The sublime simplicity of being out of bed, or eating food, or sitting at the desk writing this feels like a huge gift. I'm humbled by it. I'm renewed by the experience. I will not be thankful for being so sick anytime soon, but I feel changed by it in a sincerely profound way and am determined to carry it on to make my life healthier in every aspect. It's been a big deal. For Pete's sake, I actually am happy giving up Starbucks...

good book

I just read Cormac McCarthy's The Road the other day and it was really good. It's really good whether or not Oprah put her sticker of approval on it (not to act like i'm above being a fan of oprah. most of the time i think she rocks). I love Cormac anyway, maybe because I'd be a cowboy in another life, he writes a book like it's one long poem, and somehow pages on describing one mundane process of saddling a horse or fixing a shopping cart can be entirely fascinating.
The Road was totally disturbing and I'm still thinking about it. I was going to sort out some possibility of a happy(ier?) ending to make myself feel better, but for once in my life thought it couldn't get worse than that (though later i figured out one precious loophole...) and I prayed the whole way through that they'd die already. So read it. I couldn't stop despite Evelyn's best efforts to get Mommy's attention back, which leads me to the question If you buy a book and read it within several hours are you allowed to return it like nothing happened?

I love that Evelyn has a natural affinity of music. She likes to hear it, she likes to make it and she likes to dance to it. I often play cd's in the car, look at the rear-view mirror and see her bopping her head to a song. Sometimes it sounds like she's yelling in the backseat and I realize she's just boisterously singing along. She has been drawn to it since as long as I've known her. Before Evelyn was born she heard the muffled noises of a Pixies and Wilco concert. I sang to her the same few songs every day while she was growing in my tummy and after she was born it was obvious that she was familiar with those songs. She'd quiet down and listen intently when I sang them to her. There have been countless times when the only thing that could soothe her was a lullaby. She's been to concerts and festivals out of the womb, too. When listening to albums she claps her hands between tracks and often says, "that was really good song" or "i wanna hear song again, mommy". Listening to music is her last request before falling asleep at night. During the day there are often too many other choices that occupy her time and busyness, but when we do sit down and listen to something I can see it in her face that it touches her soul in much the same way it does mine. I am so proud to have a little music lover.
3 Month-old Evelyn taking a milk break at Red Rocks to see Wilco.
She fell asleep half way through the show.

I Like Evelyn

This is Evelyn's idea for what "smile for the camera" means.

For Aaron

You mean this day?

Evelyn's top ten, in random order...

1. Anything Nemo (and Marlin and Dory and Squirt and Crush and Bruce...)

2. "Pachufiers" (in her mouth 24 hours a day, with short pauses for kisses, juice or snacks)

3. Olivia (and giving her hugs and apologies after she just terrorized her)

4. Popcorn (with parmesan cheese of course)

5. Water (and dropping phones in it, splashing in it, and dumping it on furniture and floors)

6. Running away from us while screaming

7. Juice in her cup in her hand wherever she goes

8. Coming into our room four times a night and whispering, "Mommy, I want to cuddle"

9. Singing songs and changing the words according to what she's thinking about or looking at

10. Constantly being curious and wanting in on whatever is going on, asking, "hey, wha, wha, wha, wha, wha whatchudoing?"

sales....

I am no stranger to the wide array of sales that people put on to get rid of their no longer wanted junk. Long before I could even memorize the different denominations that dimes, nickels and quarters represented, my family held their weekly Thursday through Saturday ritual of hopping in the car and keeping a look out for neon orange signs. Garage sales, yard sales, estate sales, moving sales or rummage sales, I've been to them all (though we routinely avoided the last on the list. My dad said anyone who called it a rummage sale was bound to rack up the asking price on that ripped piece of masking-tape). My entire wardrobe consisted of ten-cent corduroy pants and slightly stained t-shirts right up until eighth grade when Mom decided that entering the worldly and critically unjust public school system required a shopping trip to Walmart or TJMaxx to buy new and 'in-style' clothes. I don't really know why we had to go to garage sales for everything. We really weren't lacking the cash. Perhaps thriftiness was a virtue we were trying to uphold, or maybe it was not letting all that good stuff no one wanted anymore just go to waste. I don't know. What I do know is that as soon as Memorial weekend came around, we filled our pockets with change from my dad's top dresser drawer and jumped in the car to see what treasures would lie on blankets strewn over green grass yards or folding tables carefully erected over oil-stained concrete. Sale season was on.
I've had a hiatus for several years from hitting any garage sales, mostly because I haven't been around when they were happening. My love for them hadn't weakened in the slightest, but all the same I had neglected embarking in the fury of going just a few more blocks in case I saw a sign at a corner, or hoping that "huge family sale" was advertising itself correctly. I had forgotten the thrill of going through a pile of jeans praying that the only pair of levis may be within two numbers of my size. Yes, The Sale and I had been estranged. That is, until the Estate Sale.
A few weeks ago I came upon an Estate sale only a few blocks from my house. Both husband and wife had died recently and their kids were seeing what last bit of cash they could get after they had already divvied up sentimental heirlooms and photographs. The house was packed full of stuff, starting out in the front yard, into the garage, through the screened-in porch, down the rails of the stairs and streaming into the basement living room. It was a drive-by shoppers dream. I went three times that day. Three times. I started out with a couple oval wooden bread bowls, came back for an antique coin purse, and after eyeing some funky retro furniture I took Steven with me the third time to see if we should buy it. We did. We made a bargain with them and I threw in the "we really do love it and it will have a great home" to ease the seller's reluctance to be talked down on symbolized childhood memories and familiarity. And with a seemingly hefty $350 out of our pockets we left the sale with a headboard, side table, record album cabinet, and a large dresser.
I don't really think of myself as "lucky", so when fortune does nod its sweet head in my direction I don't get over it easily. The furniture we bought is all Heywood Wakefield and collectively we could probably easily sell it for three or four thousand dollars.
It's not so much the worth of the pieces or even that I genuinely really like them that makes me so excited about my estate sale find. It's the fact that I saw the sign and cranked the steering wheel to the right without having put on my turn signal or pressing the brake. It's pushing past the discomfort of walking into some dead couple's house and smelling musty old jackets and unearthed Christmas ornaments to find that one treasure I've never before seen and whose value has only been guessed at. It's being able to recycle someone's tangible memory and with time turn it into my own. And it's the kinship I share with all those fellow salers who grab their cup of coffee and slip into the seats of their cars at sunrise on a Saturday morning and drive blocks looking for orange and fuschia poster board just to be the first one to walk up a driveway, spot that one item peeking out from a doily placemat, pick it up, and with effort to minimize the excitement in their voice, say "how much were you asking for this?"

Mexico

We just got back from a week-long vacation in Puerto Morelos, Mexico, which is a little fishing town located between the two bustling resort cities of Cancun and Playa del Carmen. The Boyer family joined us in our travels, allowing Olivia and Evelyn lots of play time, opportunities for babysitting swapping and just being near each other without the busyness of daily life. We had a great time of doing basically nothing - eat, swim, drink, nap, build sandcastles while looking at the amazingly turquoise water, etc. It was great.




Steven and I went on a two-hour snorkeling trip and saw the best corals, anemones and fish I've ever seen snorkeling. I love being able to see the world under the water. The first time I ever went snorkeling I was hyperventilating, because of the amazement of it all. So yes, I really do love it. We also got to follow a spotted eagle ray, which was pretty awesome. Bryce and Steven later went scuba diving together and saw a sting ray, lobster, a giant barracuda, among other things. It sounds like the dive was pretty exciting.


We all fell in love with the pool and spent a lot of time there. Evelyn got really good at swimming with the minor assistance of a floaty-suit. By the end of the trip she was kicking her legs and 'flapping' her 'wings' enough to keep her head above water and go back and forth a few feet from her Daddy and me. She was feeling like a little superstar.



Sitting at the beach was by far my favorite thing about our trip. The water is spectacular in that area and being able to look out while listening the the gentle waves crash upon the white sand of the shore is something I could spend most of my life doing.


Ah, but one of the best things about traveling is coming home again. It is good to be back in Colorado and the U.S. I always appreciate all I have that much more after being away for awhile. We came back to trees full of lush leaves and flowers blooming in our yard. It is good to be home. But, I sure wouldn't mind looking out my window and seeing that Caribbean water again every morning...

Steven

It would be impossible for me to do justice in trying to accurately describe Steven. I honestly don't know anyone like him. "He's so quiet!", everyone always says. It takes awhile to get to know him, it's true. But I think I do. Steven's not the kind of person who will gush to anyone about his life. It's rare to hear him blab about mundane things. He usually has a point in what he's saying. Every so often I'll realize that he is just talking away and my stomach flips a little. It does because I know he doesn't chat like that with anyone except me.
So yeah, he's pretty quiet. But he's also really funny. Sometimes the way he says things is downright hilarious. He's quick to add something witty even when it sounds like something most people would have rehearsed and held onto for awhile to use for such a moment. He's thought for years that I don't think he's funny. I'm sorry, it's just ingrained stoicism gained by years of living in rural Minnesota. Those Germans don't laugh out loud about anything. A smile should be victorious enough. Anyway, yes Steven, I really do think you're funny. If I readily laughed out loud you'd hear me laughing - a lot.
Ah, he is wise. Yes. Steven can surprise me with a wisdom that's far beyond his years or experience. It comes out of the humble and sound part of his heart. I am soothed by it. I get directed by it. This is the very place he pulls his strength for fatherhood from. Sometimes I'll have days as a mother where I feel so overwhelmed and lost as "Mommy!!!" and Steven will come home and all of my doubts melt away. His patience and sincerity with Evelyn drive me to be a better parent and I can see it in Evelyn's face that she is confident and safe in his love.
I've seen him mature and change over these years and I've never been more proud to really know a person.