Merry, Merry 2015

We began 2015 with a New Year's Day walk to the beach. Tumbled down on blankets, armed with fresh journals and cookies, we put to paper our goals and prayers for the coming year. A common theme found on all four lists — to work on loving and giving to our little family and then, to share that love with others.

“It is one thing to inventory your blessings; it’s another to care for,
love and nurture them in all the ways they deserve.”

–Mardi Jo Link, Bootstrapper

That list of gratitude and goals seems simple written down, blessed by sandy little hands and the shushing of waves. However, the reality of living and loving is often a relentless, complicated and messy mission. Our best efforts yielded a trove of memories, some absolutely wonderful and some that involved total failure and forgiveness. What did loving and giving look like at Casa Watson this year?

For Mark, it was early morning work sessions and six-day work weeks tending to his growing Watson Fiduciary client base and working full-time as the chaplain for Valle Verde Retirement Community. Bringing Leah a perfectly made cup of coffee (with just the right amount of froth) to her in bed every morning just as she woke up. Reading novels to the kids at night and driving them to school in the morning. Leading family devotions and taking out the trash. Holding us tight and pushing us to pursue our passions with his steadfast love. 

For Leah, it was working to keep our world small so we save our best to give to each other. Redirecting us when we got off course. Working-mom acrobatics to meet deadlines at the office and still make it to the school pick-up line in time. Morning cuddles with pajama-clad cuteness. Embracing forty with confidence and unapologetic self-care. Planning grocery lists, vacations, closet clean-outs, birthday parties, dentist appointments and date nights. Attempting touches of domestic magic to keep our little cottage happy without losing her mind in the process.

For Ben, it was running to get Leah when Clara finally mastered her beach cruiser bike and saying in awe as he watched her ride, “Mommy, isn’t she amazing?” Teaching us about Greek and Roman gods. Fighting imaginary battles in the backyard and choosing to be the good guy. Asking thoughtful questions, giving thoughtful answers. Talking too fast and waking up slow. Requesting the symphony station on the radio. Counting down to the new Star Wars movie over Christmas Day. Reading and reading and did we mention reading? Growing into a handsome young man of integrity, humor, intellect and joy.

For Clara, it was putting on elaborate shows for us involving costumed stuffed animals, set design and wearing her faithful fedora while belting out her favorites — Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. Wishing for a dog above all else and then, patiently loving other peoples’ dogs while we wait for the right time to add one to our family. Playing capture the flag and kickball, building with Legos and cheering on the Giants. Throwing a tea party for her stuffed animals and asking for a pedicure date with mom. Giving the warmest hugs, brightest smiles and cards written with a depth of love and understanding that defy her seven years of sweetness. 

“Keep returning to those whom you belong
and who keep you in the light.”

-Henri Nouwen

On October 16^th we celebrated our sixteenth wedding anniversary by renewing our vows. The four of us headed down to Butterfly Beach where Pastor Bussell, who officiated our wedding, stood once again with us as we made those promises. It was a meaningful way to commemorate our “sweet sixteen.” More than that, we knew there’ve been seasons where honestly saying those vows again would have been hard, if not impossible. We wanted to stand in gratitude for the faithfulness of God, those who who’ve stood beside us, and for this family that has been created out of two flawed people pledging to build a life and legacy together.

With Ben and Clara nestled between us we reaffirmed those sacred pledges. Harold brought out the prayers he had prayed over us at our wedding and as he spoke those sacred words again the deep mystery and beauty of our marriage left us awestruck. Humbled, we know that this abundant goodness has little to do with any heroic efforts on our part — it is the gift of daily waking up, doing our best to keep in the light, asking for help when darkness descends and making the promise to hold on tight, forever.

Thank you loving us all these Christmases. We love you back. May we all take those relentless, complicated, messy and beautiful steps of love in our small worlds.

Hold on tight,

Casa Watson

Thank you, Evan Janke Photography. 

Our memories wouldn't look as pretty without you.

San Diego Snapshots

We spent the last week in the San Diego area on vacation, just the four of us. Mark has been super busy these past months with both his chaplain and fiduciary work, which is wonderful on many fronts, but it also means a six day work week, making this time away all the more special. Also, these growth spurt upon growth spurt kids remind us of how quickly these days are flying, spurring us to make these memories, as often as possible. 

I'm more aware now of the gift that it is to live in California (and yes, that we have our big VW van, even though I complain about it). To be able to pack up and hit the road to travel to such a wide variety of places was something I didn’t fully grasp until we moved out of state. It's been fun mapping out new adventures.

Here’s a rundown on some of the small moments from the trip I don’t want to forget:

This is the small army of comfort items that travel with us:

Finding notes written on hotel stationery from the kids saying, ‘Thank you for making this trip possible” and lots of XOXOXOs.

Watching the kids excitement exploring Legoland with total gusto and the bittersweet knowledge that this is probably their last trip as they're soon outgrowing the “awesome.”

Floating down the lazy river with Ben in the next inner tube holding my hand as we made our way down, watching Mark and Clara do the same thing behind us.

Our pirate room at the Legoland Hotel that was cheesy and fantastic for one night and hitting the dance floor at the nightly Disco Dance party. Clara was shy at first holding back. I leaned into her and said, “Clara, you’ll never see any of these people again. Just let go and have fun.” She let go and we all danced for over two hours to pop hit after pop hit amidst the strobe lights and smiles.

That time Clara went to hug Vader and grabbed his crotch.

Floppy McFloppenstuff Floppson, the seagull/s that visited our window at the hotel, hanging out with us throughout our stay.

Ben taking full advantage of the huge breakfast buffet at our SD hotel, loading up pancakes or waffles with whipped cream, syrup, sprinkles and the rest every morning.

Hitting the wall on day 4 of eating-out-all-the-time. The kids ask if we can stop at Von’s and get snap peas, carrots and fresh pineapple.

When overstimulation and change of schedule caught up with us and everything fell apart for about 15 minutes on the streets of Coronado. Finding that stone bench under the shade of trees, talking it out, giving and receiving grace and starting fresh. 

The feeling of total contentment with the kids tucked in one bed and Mark and I huddled around the laptop on the other bed, headphones on, watching a show while drinking wine out of plastic cups.

The boy bonding of Mark and Ben going in the flight simulator together at the USS Midway. Watching the pods whirl and twirl, Clara gets so worried about Ben she starts to cry. Ben emerges from his pod feeling like an aviator hero, and then holds his sister comforting her, reassuring her that he’s fine and that it was FUN.

Being on the USS Midway when a massive thunder and lighting storm hit, then the drenching downpour (the biggest since July, 1902 the paper told us the next day). Ben’s terrified heart thumping against my stomach as I hold him close. Mark holding Clara, looking out at the deluge and then at me wondering how we were getting back to the hotel (we had walked there). Christopher, our Uber hero, saved the day on that one.

Making the effort to give the kids more freedom. Letting them take a walk to the harbor on their own as long as we could see them. Playtime in the pool with us watching from the deck. Sending Clara to the omelet station to order on her own. Using their spending money any way they wanted. The scary and gratifying work of taking those small letting go steps that lead to the big ones.

Surprising the kids with an end stop at Medieval Times on our way home. Total enthusiasm as we cheered for our knight (yellow, of course), ate dinner with our hands and felt like kids in a royal fantasy for a couple of hours.

Exiting #93, San Ysidro Road, the same exit of our newlywed days and suddenly smelling the most intoxicating, sweet fresh scent of rain mixed with blossoms and well, Montecito. Wherever our travels take us we never stop pinching ourselves that our favorite place is home. 

And now, the laundry. So much laundry. 

Hi There, Forty

My official countdown to forty has started. As soon as the calendar flipped to March there was no denying that my time has come. It feels big, but I’m not quite sure why. I’ve been batting it around in my head and heart and this is what I keep coming back to.

My thirtieth year was the long (at least it felt that way) quest to get pregnant and start a family. After so many years of being told, “you have time” suddenly it switched to, “you better get on that.” Every first half of the month I played out the same fantasy on my drive to work, zeroing in on every perfect detail — the moment I would tell Mark I was pregnant.

I had every aspect mapped out — the music (Marc Cohn’s “The Things We’ve Handed Down”), my outfit (little black dress), the ambience (candles and white peonies at a table set for two), all the way to the silver Tiffany rattle that would announce our entry into the next phase of life and marriage. After eleven rounds of this mind game I could replay that picture perfect moment over and over.

When it actually happened this is what it looked like — packing to move cross country to North Carolina discouraged and fearful that our baby dreams were not going to come true, I find a pregnancy test in the back of our bathroom cabinet. I had wised up fast in our trying to conceive journey and bought tests by the dozen at the dollar store. However, this one was from the fresh, exciting time and it was the real deal, spell it out in words, $8.00 test. My thrifty side wouldn’t let me throw it away and my superstitious/sentimental side wouldn’t let me pack it in a box that signaled a new start and new chance for a family. So, I decided what the hell?

When I saw the “Pregnant” flash on the stick I immediately started screaming calling to Mark to come upstairs. Together, we stood on the top step holding the plastic stick that I had just peed on, shaking in shock, weeping in joy and disbelief. There was no music, no flowers, no silver rattle — just the two of us marveling at the thought of three.

I think it makes for a good example in the difference in my approaching 30 vs. 40. At thirty you’re mapping out a well-curated adult life — your perfectly packaged family, house, career, vacations. You’re building a series of snapshots all with the perfect soundtrack, smiles and color schemes. It’s beautiful, meaningful and oh, so pretty.

At forty, you’re in the middle of those plans and it’s all a little messier, harder and disjointed than you could’ve imagined. It’s also deeper and beautiful in a way you can’t explain until you’re in those moments holding a stick you just peed on or your fussy baby, your spouse’s hand as they head into surgery, chubby fingers as they take first steps, first rides, first days of school, or clutching Easter baskets, Christmas stockings and plane tickets for four people that now, somehow, are forever linked together.

I remember taking my wedding vows and seeing them as distinct chapters, “better or worse, sickness and health, richer or poorer….” I thought there would be this phase and then that phase and always on an upward trajectory. I now understand that it all comes mixed together — when parts of your life are plentiful, you can still face emptiness that will bring you to your knees, that richer and poorer can mean much more than your bank account, that it's the worse that makes you understand and appreciate the better. My own hardest lesson was realizing that in times of darkness and grief it’s not necessarily a pain that is divided by two, but a burdened doubled. For me, forty isn’t shiny, silver-plated and wrapped in a blue box. Forty is strong, scarred and wrapped in laughter, love and tears.

To be honest, I never really looked much beyond forty, it seemed far away with much to accomplish before getting there. Now, it feels like a blank notebook waiting to be filled with the next phase of plans and daydreams. But what I dream about is not things I can post on Pinterest or Instagram and feel satisfied with my good taste, my good life. Rather, I find my heart longing to create connections and authentic memories with those I love most, including myself. I’m not sure how it happened, but about a month ago I started feeling kind to myself, almost as if I were my own best friend. Imagine that.

Last weekend I spent time with one of my dearest friends from college. In 2015 we’re both welcoming our third decade together as we both hit the big 4-0. She gave me my first 40^th birthday gift and wouldn’t you know? It’s a beautiful, silver circle pendant from Tiffany with her lovely wishes to live a full life.

Happy Birthday, Leah Elizabeth. May God bless you and keep you always. May your heart be filled with the fullness of God and forever be thankful.