2015: A Year in Review

     It's 2016 already!  Last year was filled with fun and a handful of firsts.  Here are some of the highlights of 2015:

• Our church kicked off the year with a BOLD campaign focusing on generosity and giving (with a goal of purchasing a property within the next two years).  It became an exciting time of talking about how we can use the money God has entrusted to us over the next few years. Nothing excites David Livingston like talking about giving, so this was a sweet time of good conversations for us.
• We entered 2015 with no plans to move, but through a whirlwind of events ended up purchasing our first home together in October. (Dave purchased our former house before we started dating). Though there is a laundry list of work to be done in this older house, it already feels like home and just feels "right."  Dave is enjoying his much shorter commute to the office.
• Myla began school!  She is attending a homeschool co-op kindergarten class even though it's technically her Pre-K year.  As I expected, she loves it.  We will most likely send her to our local elementary school next year, which is within walking distance of our house.
• We took a road trip to Tennessee and North Carolina over Thanksgiving, and it's amazing how a 15-hour drive seems way quicker than the 20-hour drives we take to Wisconsin or Minnesota.  We had fun, but this vacation also confirmed the fact that if we leave town, one or more of our children will get sick.  (Thanking the Lord that this time it was a sinus thing and not the pukes).
• I completed a Beachbody Challenge group and kicked the last few pounds leftover from my fatty baby.  I came thisclose to posting my "Before" and "After" pictures but ultimately chickened out.  You're welcome.  

Those are the big ones, but the photos show a few more tidbits from the year.

 We ventured to the rodeo with much less fear and trepidation of the goats.

 Some cute guys took a cute walk.

 I continued to let these goobers dress themselves, and it doesn't really bother me at all that we go out in public like this.

 Jon David is learning the important lesson that sometimes a boy who follows two girls will have to use a pink toy every now and then.

The "First Day of School" photos were a family affair.

Starting with my dad's generation, our family has a traditional one-year portrait taken.  Though Dave and I are not on the ball for most things, this is one area where we have managed to come through!  Since we were unable to locate the outfit my dad wore for his photo, Dave's mom and aunt once again created an outfit that mimics the style that he wore. (They also replicated the dress that Kristen and I wore from seeing a cell phone picture of the picture).  It's been fun maintaining this tradition while also adding this extra sentimental layer.  

 Here's a poor quality example of our photos. (From left to right: Me, Myla, Piper, Jon David).  I plan to add a copy of my dad's portrait soon.

One of the most exciting moments of home buying is picking out a key of champions.  (Or in this case, former/future champions).

Start 'em young.

First haircut for the little man.

Porch swing fun in Tennessee

So... I Have a Five-Year-Old

Dear Myla,

     Today you turned five.  It feels like a weird day because it's special but also completely ordinary in every way.  It feels HUGE, but it also just feels like Tuesday.  Five years seems like we have arrived at a milestone of sorts. There are days when I pick you up and think, "Man, she's so tall and heavy!" or photos where I realize your face looks like a big kid face instead of a baby.
   
     Your dad and I bit the bullet and had a party, because we always want to try and make you feel special even though it goes against our grinchy personalities.  And you know what? It was fun.  You painted canvases, decorated cookies, and played with your friends.  We sat back and enjoyed the company of loved ones who have been alongside us every step of the way in your life.

     Today, we all went to see the Peanuts Movie because I sometimes make poor decisions.  Let's just say that a 10:00am movie on a Tuesday is the way to GO when we are forced to bring along your little brother. We had popcorn and frozen yogurt for lunch.  (I'm sending in my "Mother of the Year" application right after I finish this post.)

[Movie time!]

 [Birthday trip to Menchies]

      

[Halloween Sass]

[Porch swing fun in Tennessee]

 [Zoo trip with the Stacys]

[One of my blessed reminders that you are still little.]

          As you keep growing older, I am faced with the reality that you are your own person.  We have moved past the survival stage of parenting to the big stuff.  (And let me tell you, I stretched out that "just keep her alive!" stage for as long as humanly possible).

     You are coming into your own this year.  You are acting with boldness that we haven't experienced before.  One small step at a time, you are becoming brave.  You started sitting in the front row during Story Time at the library. You touched a snake at the zoo. You LOVE school. And way late in the game, I finally taught you to wipe your own butt (Praise Him). You still don't love to talk to strangers or practice polite small talk, but you are in your element when you have your little siblings to protect.  

     Myla, I am thankful that God gave you to us.  He has used you to show us His grace time and time again.  Side story: early in the school year, your teacher emailed me about a behavioral issue you had in class one day.  You talked back to her and had an attitude about something.  I was mortified (and subsequently confronted with my "fear of man" issue).  After that, we started praying in the car together before we walk into the school building.  One day, Grandma was with us, and we were in a bit of a rush, and I was wondering to myself whether we should just skip it.  

     "Mom, are we going to pray?!" you asked me.  Talk about conviction. 

     My prayer for you is that you would come to know Jesus.  My prayer is that God would fill in the holes where your dad and I are lacking.  I pray that you remember the days where I am here for you and loving you well and forget the moments where I screw it all up.

     This parenting gig is hard.

     ... and fun.

     ...and I'm glad you're mine.

Love, 

Mom

     

Happy Birthday, Jon David!

Dear Jon David,

     I can't believe it has been an entire year since you were born. I waited until the last minute to write this post, because I was secretly hoping to slow down time and keep you from getting older.  Tonight I fed you and prayed for you, thanking God that He has given you to us for now and realizing that there is no stopping time.  You are growing, growing; and I am excited to see the man (gah!) you become.  (I can really only wrap my head around you growing into a boy, but a man comes after that, and I need to come to grips with it.  Help me, Lord)!

     

     You have been the perfect addition to our family.  I don't know how or why, but this round of infant-rearing has been a sweet time for our family. I know that sounds silly, but it isn't always easy for me to go through the baby stage. Your dad thinks you might be our easiest baby, but I think we've just been worn down or forgotten the past! :)

     It's also funny to me that now, at 3 kids, I should probably have the hang of this parenting thing a bit. If anything, more time at this gig has shown me that I will never have it all figured out.  We're just learning as we go and praying that God fills in all the spaces where we mess up.  

     What I can tell you about your life so far is that you have filled us with joy.  I waited to find out if you were a boy or girl because I knew that if I had a boy, I wanted to name him Jon David.  I knew I couldn't keep a secret if I found out beforehand, so it made your birth all the more exciting.  What you also don't know is that I lost my beloved grandmother (Paw Paw's mom) when I was just a kid.  She died suddenly at the age of 56, and we were all shell shocked for a long time after that.  I always thought that it would be a strange, bittersweet year when my dad would turn 56, because those wounds never heal completely.  When you were born on November 9th, 20 days before Paw Paw turned 56, God showed his loving kindness toward us. Your dad, Kristen, and I waited in the hospital room with anticipation, willing the nurse to hurry up and finish bathing you so we could introduce you to him. It was a sweet moment for us all.  

     I want you to know that I don't know anything about boys. I barely understand your dad most of the time. I was starting to feel pretty comfortable with a house full of girls when you barged into our lives.  If I need to learn the names of some dinosaurs, how to make truck noises, or how to bite my tongue when you're climbing too high on the playground, bring it on. This old dog can try and learn some new tricks for you.

     Jon David Livingston, I love you. I am glad you were born. This year, let's work on kissing mama on demand instead clawing my face while screeching like a pterodactyl.  

Happy birthday, son.

Love,

Mom      

[You were doted on from the get go]:

 [If this ain't a proud dad, then I don't know what is.]

[You were born on a Sunday night.  We had our friends take Christmas card photos that Friday morning, because I sometimes make foolish decisions].

 [This pretty accurately describes your personality]:

[Post-haircut, when you turned into a teenager over the course of one hour]:

Ch-ch-ch-changes: The House Edition

     So, we bought a house!  The past few months have not looked at all like we thought they would at the start of this year, but we are excited where God has brought us.  

     It all began in July....

     I had become a bit of an har.com junkie.  I browsed houses in my free time just thinking about our options for a year or two from now.  One day, I noticed a house hit the market on my parents' street.  I mentioned it to Dave, and on a whim, we decided to see it.  From then on, I had visions of my kids running down the street to Nana and PawPaw's house.  Long story short, we made an offer!  I wrote a letter to the sellers about how I grew up on this street and how exciting it would be to live near my family.  (Granted, our house wasn't even on the market yet).  The sellers were very gracious, but wanted to wait to officially respond to our offer until we at least had things rolling with the sale of our current house.  After talking, Dave and I thought it would be wise to spend a little time looking at other houses in the area to confirm that we really wanted this house.  

     Meanwhile, we scrambled to put our house on the market.  Our realtor is a dear friend who has known me my entire life, and she moved mountains for us.  We took photos on a Wednesday, listed it on Thursday, and got an offer on Friday!  (Throw in a couple of showings where we loaded up 3 kids, a pot of chili from the stove, and dogs we were pet sitting). We dog sat during our whole house-moving adventure, because I sometimes make poor decisions. 

     Anyway, while the house that originally sparked our interest is a wonderful place, it ultimately wasn't right for us.  Some issues with the floor plan made Dave cross it off the list pretty quickly after visiting other homes.  Curve ball!  

     After resigning ourselves to being homeless and waiting to find the right place for our family, I started rethinking one of the homes we saw.  This house was in the perfect location, had a floor plan we loved, but the showing was just...strange.  Picture this: we go to see a house, and the homeowner was there (because she wanted to stay).  She asked us to remove our shoes, so we walked around on carpet that felt a bit sticky between the toes...  And there were cats.  And lawn furniture in one of the bedrooms.  And dumbbells holding down an electrical cord that trailed up the stairs.  This is the kind of house where you see the listing online, and the photos are messy.  There were dishes in the sink.  And also the cats.  

     Once removed from the awkwardness of that situation, I asked Dave what he thought about that house.  Hypothetically, if we get it for a certain price and do a bit of work prior to moving in, would he consider it?

    From then on, our excitement only built.  Our realtor thought we were a bit crazy, but she helped us seal the deal.  Now, it's home!

(The key of champions)

 We even inherited an old hammock.

 "I will finish this kitchen before I go to bed," I said, twitching.  Three days later, it was functional.

 Everyone pitched in to help.

     So, we have done a lot of work.  There is much work to be done, but we are here.  Dave's office commute is about 7 minutes long.  I self-preach against laziness every morning when I have to walk upstairs to feed a baby.  The last few weeks have been filled with total first-world problems (broken refrigerator, wonky outlets, plumbing issues, etc).  We are expecting many more to come, but for some reason, it all feels right.  As we continue to unpack and dream about the things we'd like to do in years to come,  I hope we stay grateful.  I hope the Lord uses this house to bless us and to bless others.  I hope I remember that this house is a wonderful place to stay for a while, but that one day, I'll be in my real home with my Savior.

     What a great day that will be.

Dad Went to Alaska Today...

... because our grandpa passed away.  

It feels weird saying that, mostly because I can't put a finger on my emotions.  It's always sad when you lose family, but our situation is a bit complicated.  I didn't know my grandfather very well, and Alaska isn't exactly close to Texas.

You see, my grandpa left when my dad was 5 years old.  Dad is the oldest of three boys, so my grandma became a 25-year-old single mom in the early sixties.  By God's grace, Ruthann Kemp had a ton of help and support from her family to raise my dad and his brothers.  By the way-- have you met the Kemp men?  I am sure they weren't what you would call "easy" kids. 

Grandpa Kemp (or "Grandpa Eskimo" as some of my cousins liked to call him) was a functional alcoholic.  I in no way want to dishonor his memory, but I want to tell our story.  There is a reason my dad has never had a drink in his life, and that's because he saw the effects of alcoholism take place in his own family.  I know this isn't the only thing that mattered about my grandpa.  There is so much more.

I know that he forged a relationship with my dad as an adult.  It may not have looked like a normal father-son relationship, but it was still redemptive. 

I know that he called us every year or so and always, always said, "I love you" before hanging up.   

I know that Grandpa made lifelong friendships in Alaska.  

I know that his housemate physically took care of him until the very end.  That's love right there.

I know that my dad inherited Grandpa's clear blue eyes, his charisma, and his gift of storytelling.  

I know that there are three Kemp men who are steadfast husbands and fathers that are part of my Grandpa's legacy.  

I hope that those three Kemp men can find some beauty in their trip together and maybe even have a few laughs along the way.  I hope they learn new things about their dad and find some peace in laying him to rest.  

The whole thing has been weird to process for all of us.  But you know what?  My little family has been staying with my parents for the past week as we prepare to move into a new home.  I have watched my dad be the "official announcer" for princess pageants with my daughters.  I have watched him rock my son to sleep almost every night.  He wouldn't miss this for the world.  And they will always know how he feels about them.  

If that's not beauty rising from the ashes, then I don't know what is.

  

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes: The School Edition

     Before I had kids, I figured I would put them in some sort of preschool around age 3 just for some routine and structure.  But when Myla came along, I just wasn't ready.  Another year would go by where I knew parents were standing in lines (in February!) or signing up for preschool waiting lists, and I would panic and think, "Well, maybe next year. I don't want to pay for this anyway."  

     Dave never really pushed it, because worst case scenario, we send a kid to kindergarten with no previous school experience, and that's not really the end of the world.  I finally started thinking seriously about our school options this year, since we weren't too crazy about the district we lived in.  Little did we know, we'd be moving out of that district shortly after!

     Anyway, this year, the little lady is attending a homeschool coop Kindergarten class that meets once per week.  It seemed like the perfect fit for us this year.  She is technically still in her Pre-K year, but her class has a few other four-year-olds in it.  I am filled with peace and relief that she is in a classroom with 8 children total, one teacher who is a homeschooling veteran, and in a place where the name of Jesus is the foundation of instruction.

     We are taking it one year at a time, so who knows what next year will bring, but gosh, it all happened so fast.  First step: preschool.  Next step: she is going to grow up and leave us! Gah!

     One benefit of living with family is the extra help we've been getting.  Last Monday morning, I truly don't know if I contributed anything to getting us out the door on time.  Kristen made Myla's lunch, so Myla now doubts my ability to pack one at all.  This morning, she forced Kristen to oversee my sandwich making.  Last week, "the most surprising thing in my lunch was the ice pack!" Myla said.  Little newb.

Here is the obligatory photo reel...

[Because I was the little sister who got to be included in the first-day-of-school pics]

 [The only picture I actually took, hence the blurriness.  It was an, "Oh crap, I think I'm supposed to take a picture of her in the classroom!" moment.  So fun.]

     

Life Updates: The Dog Days are Over...

     I have been thinking about how to write this for weeks now. Life just got crazy, and the blog slipped through the cracks (per usual).  Long story short, we no longer have Penny Lane Livingston.  We had to give her up.

     Some background: We got Penny when we were newly engaged, and she stole Dave's heart as the most submissive little pup.  Her breeder loved her weim Mildred so much that she decided to breed her.  It was Mildred's first of 2 total litters.  When we arrived to her house in Brookshire, the puppies were all running around the yard gnawing on watermelon rinds.  Dave has continued to toss Penny his watermelon scraps over the years.  She clearly fell for him hard from the beginning.  She stood out to us because she would let you flip her on her back without squirming to get away.  

     As sweet as Penny is, she is a bit nutty.  She has the typical sporting breed nervous energy, which I foolishly thought I would nurture by "becoming a runner." Dear friends, if you choose a dog breed based on the idea that you'll take up a new exercise hobby, please don't.  Not only did I not start running, but I had a few babies over the years, so Penny's exercise regimen fell by the wayside.  Penny decided from a young age that crates were not for her, so she continued to escape from them daily until we started to let her hang in the backyard during the day.  The backyard became her kingdom.  

     

     She was the ultimate sibling to the babes.  She has never so much as made a peep as they grew up crawling all over her.

     

 [Exhibit A]

 [Exhibit B]

 [Exhibit C]

     Despite Penny's overall awesomeness, we had a couple of troubling incidents with her.  A few years ago while we were dog sitting for a friend, Penny attacked Laci in the backyard.  The other dog was not involved whatsoever, but it seemed like the presence of a third female with a similar nervous presence caused Penny to lash out at the little guy, Laci wiener.  At that point I seriously wondered if it was a good idea to keep her.  But keep her we did.  We became extra careful while dog sitting.

     A few weeks ago, I had a friend bring her boys over for a play date.  We sat at the dining room table chatting and drinking coffee while the kiddos ran around and played.  They played inside and also outside where we could hear and check them through the window (which happens often around here).  Penny was outside as usual. Suddenly, I heard Piper screaming and ran out to see what was happening.  Penny was attacking Laci.  My friend's two little boys and Piper watched the whole thing while screaming and crying as I attempted to break up this one-sided dog fight.  It took maybe thirty seconds to get Penny to stop, but it felt like forever (with me screaming at her and beating her with my giant purse).  I quickly herded Penny into the guest room and went to get Laci, who was pretty much lying there in shock.  The only cause I can speculate is that these boys maybe weren't as dog savvy and may have been a bit more high-energy than other kids who have visited before.  This may have triggered some anxiety in Penny, who in turn exerted dominance on the little guy, Laci.  Either way, I didn't see it coming.  It's the first play date that has ever ended at my house with me holding a towel to my dog's neck and hoping she didn't bleed to death.  I apologized over and over to my friend.  Despite this horrible experience, a few positive things mark that day:

• Nothing happened to the kids, praise God.  JD was asleep and Myla was at Vacation Bible school.  While the dog fight was happening and kids were scared, I looked at them and said, "Stay back! Don't move," and blessedly, they listened.  You guys, 2, 3, and 4 year olds aren't always known for their obedience, so this was good.  They wanted to run to their moms, but they listened and obeyed.
• My friend was able to go pick Myla up from VBS. I couldn't get my head together enough to ask her and coordinate it, but she offered and made it happen.  One less thing to think about.
• Dave works nearby and was able to come home right away.  No questions asked, he left the office to come home and take Laci to the vet. 
• We quickly found someone to foster Penny.  I knew I could not force Laci to return home to the dog who bit her once again, so we boarded Penny for a few days until we could find a good home for her.  She is currently being fostered by a breeder who also takes in rescues until she can find them a good home.  This lady is a weimaraner person.  She owns 6 of them.  She knows and loves the breed.  Penny has done great with her so far, and the woman was undeterred when I was completely honest with her about out situation.  She gets it. 
• When this whole thing happened, we didn't know we would be putting our house on the market mere weeks later and navigating the whole showings/house hunting/temporarily homeless situation.  This would have been much more difficult with an extra dog to coordinate.  We are currently nomads.  I mean, I am already asking my family to house my party of 5 (plus one wiener dog).  One less large dog is slightly less stress.  I hate to say it, but it's true.  

     

      '
     It was NOT fun taking Penny away after having this dog for almost her whole life.  I beat myself up thinking that I failed her, or that if our circumstances had been different (we didn't have small kids, we didn't have Laci, or I took her for daily runs to burn energy, etc), this never would have happened.  But it all came down to this: I do have small children, and I can't run the risk that she could be aggressive ever again.  I do have another dog who has been bitten twice now.  I can't have her living the rest of her life with her aggressor.
     I miss Penny.  I know her foster mom will find her a great home, and I look forward to receiving the update that she has found the best match for her.


So now we're one step closer to being all caught up...