Fresh Princess of Walmart!

So, we had just returned to America (in the midst of Covid) and were through our quarantine at home – I mean, after all, we had just traveled halfway across the world in the middle of a pandemic …

It was the month of my mom’s birthday – April 2020 – and we also needed a few supplies at the rental where we were staying.

And, let’s just be a little honest, I wanted out of the house. To explore.

To see the world!

So, we hopped in our borrowed car and drove straight to Walmart!

My encounter there reminds me of fan favorite (and my personal favorite) Fresh Prince …

You remember the theme song?

If you do, you can sing our story …

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped-turned upside down (Thanks, Covid!)

And I’d like to take a minute

To sit right there

I’ll tell you how I returned to a town called Chandler

In west Chandler born and raised (Actually born in Mesa)

On the playground was where I spent most of my days

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool

And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school (Erie and Knox! AJHS & CHS)

When a couple of shoppers who were up to no good

Started making trouble in my neighborhood —- Walmart that is

I got in one little verbal fight and my husband got scared

He said ‘You’re not allowed’ back in your hood … #chandler

Okay, okay.

You got me. It wasn’t really a verbal fight. Sparring match. Or encounter of physical form at any time —- BUT —- believe me when I say, Walmart Chandler off of the 202 and Arizona Avenue heard from me!

And this is really how my story goes …

My husband (the better half of the Two Makes Crazy) and I were shopping, birthday shopping, Easter shopping, Mother’s Day shopping —- just generally, masked-up, crazed hand sanitized, shopping without littles or a teen in the mystical land full of all sorts of creatures – called Superstore (aka Walmart).

I found my mom the perfect gift. Yes, at Walmart. It couldn’t have been more perfect for my mom – let me explain why.

If you have met my mom, she is sunshine and delight. She is rainbows. And she is unicorns.

She is laughter and encouragement. The world needs more lovelies like her in it.

And her mom – my eldest daughter’s namesake, Marguerite (aka Tootsie), was laughter. She was a pint-sized miniature granny in a bottle.

She lived a full and extremely hard life. She lost big big big (burying 3 of her children, two as infants, and her husband) – and, yet, still managed to laugh well.

And Tootsie, sweet, feisty, amazing, Tootsie had a fan-favorite toy – if you could call it that.

It was a dancing bear that would dance and sing at the push of a button.

And the cackling laughter of a woman that has lived long would fill the room. Her laughter was loud. It was squeaky. It was combined with lots of exclamations.

And it was infectious.

Even if you didn’t think the stupid, dancing bear was funny, it would take you 2.3 seconds to, all of a sudden, find the obnoxious bear amazing. And you would push the dancing singing paw over and over again – simply to hear Tootsie laugh.

So – when I saw IT at Walmart, I just knew.

It beckoned me.

It called my name.

It was shiny.

It was musical.

It was a unicorn.

It danced.

And it sang.

It was the perfect gift for my mom.

And, in the nostalgia of the moment, reliving the past while in the present, I pushed the button of this musical, dancing unicorn in the middle of the aisles of Walmart over and over again.

Best of all – it was the VERY LAST UNICORN on the shelf!

I had won.

Best gift of 2020 was going down with my name on it. And I just knew my mom would laugh – maybe not as loud, long, or hard, as Tootsie – but I knew it would bring joy!

And so I placed it in my cart, turned my back, and began looking for a card and bag to accompany it.

Within 2.5 seconds, there was a whoosh!

Like a flash.

So I turned.

Behind me, in my cart, was nothing.

No unicorn.

No joy.

No dancing.

No singing.

And that’s when the Chandler in me came out and I threw down.

Okay, not literally.

I hollered, very (let’s just leave it at one very and, yet, imagine a very – very – very in there) loudly,

“Oh, COME ON, PEOPLE! DON’T STEAL FROM PEOPLE’S BASKETS! GET REAL!”

With my loud proclamation came, immediately, literally, before I could blink my eyes, a small crowd of curious shoppers.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?”

And the funniest of all —- “DID SOMEONE STEAL YOUR TOILET PAPER???!!!”

Yes, in the middle of a pandemic, you would think that would be a logical thing to get upset about – so imagine the surprise of the other shoppers when I said, “No, my magical, singing and dancing unicorn.”

Their concern for my cart-thievery did not hold.

After all, they did not care about my unicorn the way I did. Perhaps their toys that would dance and sing were not as memorable as mine.

So, they left.

And my cart remained empty.

But, no! I was not done.

I shouted again.

Let’s just say, the volume was ample.

“Really! A gift for my mom! Get real, people!”

And then I decided to do something kind-of stupid. Something that I would tell my teenager to never do – I went looking for a “Cart War!”

After all, they messed with my cart, I was coming after theirs!

So, I left the aisle I was in. I left my husband. I left my empty cart – and I began the trek around Walmart – eyeing everyone’s carts. Seeing if I could find the sneaky soul.

I know how to confront. I am not afraid of a fight. After all, I have broken up teenage fist fights in my neighborhood in Poland by grabbing their ears, as well as chased away bad men that were beating up a homeless man at a tram stop in Poznan.

I have served murders soup in my home.

And I have released my dog on approaching robbers in the middle of the night.

I have watched my daughter surrounded by machine guns at the Temple Mount.

And I have taken money back from a man because he did not deserve it. Literally – opened up his jacket, reached into his pocket, and took it back.

So there is no way that some lunatic at Walmart (I use that loosely, as I am most likely looking like the lunatic here) was getting away with my unicorn.

Battle on.

Unfortunately …

I mean, fortunately …

My mission was very short lived.

Apparently the cart thief did not think my unicorn worthy of a fight. So they ditched it on a clothing table.

My prize – tossed – haphazardly – in the middle of a pile of messy clothes.

I am sure it had a soft landing.

I picked it up, looked around for guilty faces. Saw none. (Sly thief)

And pushed the hoof.

Sure enough – the song and dance once again filled the store.

And laughter my memories.

Holding onto my unicorn, I found my husband (who did not pursue this unicorn on foot like I did). We made it through the rest of Wally’s World without incident – and the lovely, hard-fought, unicorn…

Well, let’s just say, it made it to my mom.

With a story to boot!

Maybe the unicorn doesn’t make her laugh as loud as Tootsie’s bear. But, with each push of the button, my heart is flooded with memories.

And laughter.

And, now, a new reason to smile.

I was back in my hood.

#conquererofwalmart #freshprincessofchandler

“What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul.”

Yiddish Proverb

Article explaining the benefits of laughter:

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/laughing-health_b_4519611

Lord, I want to ask you…DYING OVER HERE!

Okay—I COMPLETELY understand this young lady’s Facebook video—I was pregnant three summers ago in Arizona and FELT the exact SAME pain 🙂 🙂 🙂

At my daughter’s swim lessons, I would literally stand in the spray fountain—fully clothed—and just let the water pour all over my body because I could not handle the heat.

I felt like exuding the exact same emotion you will see at the end of this video.

If you live in a desert or a place with extreme temperatures, get ready to cry from laughter and painful understanding.

If you don’t — then perhaps this will bring enlightening to your lives.

If anything—it will bring a refreshing minute to whatever moment you are in currently!

Adios for now!

xo b

The 4 Things I have learned from my 4-yr-old!

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Maxwell says every day, “When I grow more bigger…”

Well, Maxwell, today is your “Grow More Bigger” Day!

You are here.

Four.

Happy birthday, our precious boy.

Hopefully, one day, you’ll be able to look back at this slideshow of the first 4 years of your life and say, “I MADE IT!  I grew more bigger.”

But, in the meantime, I want to share the 4 things that I have learned from you:

1.  Live every day practically naked.  Who needs clothes when a naked bum or a good pair of underwear will do the job?
2. Live every day simply.  You, my son, perhaps understand the value of life more than the rest of us.  Or at least most of us.  And this may be the reason why you are simply content.  Mud?  Water?  Insects?  Check.  Check.  Check!  All equals a life being well lived.
3. Live every day as that pesky little/big brother.  Really.  You are a mess.  You are a boy.  Your dinosaur eats her dolly—you make her cry.  You are the middle now but will be the biggest one day.  You may be the pest now but will be the protector one day.  You are the grossest now but will be the humor bringer one day.  Live every day with your sisters as your best friends!
4. Lastly, live every day eating bacon!  Okay—you probably eat a tad too much.  But you show me to savor what is given to me!  And that is you, Maxwell Loren.  A gift from God whose life was miraculously spared.  And we will never ever stop thanking God for the gift of Y-O-U!

We love you now and will forever, our boy. Sto lat,

Your Momma, Your Daddy, Your Adelyne, and Your GoGo Baby (aka Your Josephine)

Now for a classic…And, yes, Paul, we do say it is his birthday!

As 2014 comes to a close, did you miss anything?

I’ve been off trying to become a Christmas Viking in Norway. I failed. The caviar that was spread on bread was just not my cup of tea. On the other hand, I did hike all the way up a very snow-covered trail carrying a two-year-old for most of the path in my not-made-for-snow boots while passing an old Viking burial plot along the way.

Does that make me Viking enough? Probably not.

But the carrying a two-year-old should for sure get me an honorable mention, right?!

Here’s a fun photo, however, of my husband.  He helped when my arms were about to fall off!  He most certainly is the man 😉

Anyhow…

As I watch the dates on the calendar fly away at warp speed, I reflect back upon the last year.  And it is with this rear view that I see it all.

2014 marked for us a year of finality and survival.  It was a year marked with death and once again new beginnings.  2014.  It was a beautiful year that gave us no rest.

And this is what I learned about myself this past year as I ask myself the question, “Did I miss anything?”

The answer is yes.  Always.  And with some regret.

But as I look back upon 2014, I see great news!

I see Rich and I celebrating our 2 years of surviving our marriage after I was ready to call it quits!  So it is as if we celebrated 2 anniversaries this year.  14 years of marriage and 2 years of keeping our marriage.  I think that both Rich and I are better and changed people.  And we have a deeper understanding of one another.  A deeper respect.  And a far deeper love.  We are a better couple.  A more respectful couple.  And even better parents.

I see that when you go through valleys that means there are mountains to climb.  And when you summit the peak, it’s a glorious view that surrounds you.  It’s 360.  And it’s complete.  And you are far closer to heaven.

That is our marriage, and I will only speak for myself when I say—I am so happy to celebrate 14 years and 2 years with my husband this past 2014!

In 2014, I see a little baby that sprang forth from my belly.  A baby that was never really little to begin with (10 pounds 10 ounces at birth).  Our baby finale.  And boy, what a bang we went out with, our sweet Josephine.  Although we tied our tubes and still want a million more children, we are enjoying every single moment relishing the final baby pitter patter steps, cries, and sleepless nights.  We are enjoying the morning calls to rise and the cuddles in our arms.  We often allow her to fall asleep in our arms and just hold her for near to an hour after.  We can’t believe the gift of this surprise little Josephine Diane.  And we love every red hair on her head—even as they are fading to a strawberry blond!

I see a daughter.  A brave, warrior daughter willing to move back to a country that was once the only home she knew.  And then she didn’t know.  And she had to reenter in a language that was foreign.  And hard.  And enter a grade where she no longer has the opportunity to not speak and read and write in the language.  Our fearless daughter took a machete and made the way for our family.  My husband and I were sick to our stomachs to move her away from her cousins and aunties and uncles and across the world to a land vastly different from where we were.  And our daughter.  She plowed forward.  With trepidation?  Perhaps.  And yet with determination.  She spent countless hours studying the language.  And countless more inserting herself into the lives of long but not forgotten friends.  Hand motions and sounds were the friends she had when we arrived back in Poland.  And Google Translate.  And hours upon hours of slow, treacherous, painful homework.  And now, 6 months later, she sits in front of me with her best friend.  Rambling in this difficult language (Polish).  And the only English word I have heard out of her mouth in the past 3 hours was “Oh!  Zobacz!  Broccoli!”  As she and her friend play Skylanders Giants.  This firstborn of mine is my greatest Sensei.  And Richard and I thank God daily for Adelyne’s fearless spirit!

My son.  My beautiful baby that conquered death a couple times over.  He turned 2 in 2014.  And we finally had his baby dedication—albeit as a toddler.  But, you know, when you spend the majority of your baby life in and out of hospitals, toddler dedication it does become.  And we have finally seen him go from the never healthy baby boy to a boy that runs and jumps and plays.  I used to have panic attacks out of fear of him getting sick.  And now I realize that I can finally breathe.  My boy.  My boy with an old grandpa name.  My Max.  He is beautiful.  And feisty.  And sweet.  And fun.  He loves his sisters.  He loves swords.  He loves popcorn.  And he loves his sister’s Barbies.  He loves waking up every morning and saying, “Good morning, Mommy!  Good morning, Daddy!  Good morning, Sissy!  Good morning, GoGo!”  It’s as if he knows each morning is a gift and a good morning.  Because every morning alive IS a great morning.  Our Max.  I pray for the direction of his life one day because I know that he will represent God greatly!  Our Miracle Maxwell—2014 brought 2 years of life to him.  Hard.  Fought.  Life.  And now it’s time for Max to live freely.  I am glad to enter into 2015 with Maxwell as our middle!

 

Did I miss anything in 2014?  As I ended 2013, I challenged all of us at And 2 Makes Crazy to enter 2014 with JOY—Jesus over you!  And I think.

Did I do that?  Finish 2014 with JOY?  Jesus Over Me?

And I have come to this conclusion…

JOY is not a 365-day-challenge.  It is a thousand-year-challenge.  And, of course, by then I’ll be long gone.  But the thing about it is, as each day I choose to enter it with JOY, I enter it full of the grace of God and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  I enter it filled with peace and know that with Him I can do anything.

2014 was a beautiful gift wrapped in colors of all emotions.

And now, 2015 is ringing in all around me with fireworks in all of their clanging splendor.

Reflecting upon 2014, I wonder.  Did I miss anything?

If I did.  It’s too late.  2015 is now here.  And there is nothing I can do about the past.

And so I must look forward to the future.  That’s where I see endless possibilities and great hope.  With my God.  With my husband.  With my family.  And with my work.

Therefore, I smile brightly as I enter 2015…

From the hearts of my family to yours, God bless you, And 2 Makes Crazy Readers.  Enter 2015 with just as much JOY as before…

Happy New Year…Szczęśliwego nowego roku!

Always,

Brooke, Richard, Adelyne, Maxwell, and Josephine

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.  Great is Your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

The Way a Toddler Prays. Don’t Hinder It. Learn from It!

My son does not start his prayers reverently with, “Dear Heavenly Father…”
Or even, “Dear Lord God…”
Not even, “Dear…”
He starts them by folding his hands in front of his body.
He hovers over his food.
He looks at his plate of food.
He looks all around him.
And then he prays.
“Mommy, Daddy, Sissy Adelyne, GoGo (our family’s affectionate name for Josephine), Nana, Papa…”
This is where he pauses and looks around,
“Apple juice, nana (for banana this time), Minnie plate, ah, (short pause and then he points his finger up in the air as if he thought of it) Ruby Max (as in the television show), fork…”  And the list goes on.

Maxwell takes his time when he prays.  He prays for those dearest to his heart first.

After that, he begins thanking God for what he loves (not people related).

Following that, he takes time to look around him and thank God for what is in his surrounding, appreciating even the fork that he uses to eat his food.

Sometimes we hold our hands forever while we wait for this little boy to finish his lengthy prayer…I may even sigh.  Or try to hurry him along.

But, and perhaps it’s because it’s the 2-yr-old age of stubbornness, he does not allow our influence to affect his prayer.  When he is done sharing with God what he is grateful for—when he is finished sharing his heart of gratitude, THEN and only then does he shout excitedly, throwing his hands into the air, “AMEN!”

And his small sister next to him, Josephine, gets a HUGE grin on her face and wildly air slaps her hands (because the coordination of clapping them together is still to be learned—she is 10 months).

Maxwell and Josephine rejoice in prayer time.

And by the end of his prayers, no matter how cold our food is getting, his heart of gratitude and devotion to express praise for it all, rubs off on us, too.  Where we may have found ourselves sighing moments earlier in hopes that his gratitude would run out, seeing his excitement and rejoicing about those he loves and the gifts of life around him rekindles sparks in our hearts that serve to remind us that our time with God, no matter the circumstances, should never be rushed.

Even at the dinner table.

I wore my winter jacket and beanie in September. Yes. Everyone stared.

We moved to Poland September 8, 2001. We moved from Arizona. We packed what we thought were warm clothes. Turns out, warm clothes from Arizona are merely “thick” t-shirts.

We arrived and were freezing our tails off.

Seriously. It was raining. It was cold.

The heat wouldn’t turn on in our flat because the city controlled the heat in our flat and it was not yet deemed “cold” enough by the city to turn on the heat.

I was an Arizona Desert Rat. Instead of melting, I was living in an ice box gathering ice crystals.

I will never forget how cold I was.

I was so cold, I convinced my husband that we must run out and buy warm jackets.

It wasn’t even technically warm jacket season. After all, it was only September. Little did I know how cold November, December, and so forth would get if I was cold in September, eh?! To me it was already like Siberia.

We were off.  We went to buy winter jackets.  I found one.  Floor length and brown.  And a brown scarf.  And a brown hat.  And brown gloves.

I went all out.

I tell you, I was cold.

And then we went out.  Literally.  Out.  In public.  For all to see.

I was wrapped from head to toe in my beanie, my gloves, my scarf.  You could barely see my eyes.  But, worse than any of that was my jacket.  My floor-length, brown, winter jacket.

I was so toasty warm.  And it was evening.  And we decided to walk to the city square.

Oh, tears are in my eyes right now recalling the numerous stares and mumblings we got as I walked around all wrapped like an Eskimo, yet technically still living in Polish summer.  So funny.

Ah…memories of when we first arrived in Poland.  And although I laugh now, I know then I was freezing.  To my bone freezing.

Oh, I forgot to mention how cold it was.

About 60+F (around 16C).

To a desert rat, 60F is akin to the North Pole.  And that is where I felt we lived.

Needless to say, my jacket and I really learned what cold was when actual winter hit.  And then I dreamed about the return of those “warm” Polish evenings.

Haha.

I hope that there are folks still enjoying the attack of the mummy at their dinnertime conversation.

In any case, with time, I learned how to actually dress appropriately for the weather.  And eventually I learned that September was not the right time to run around in floor-length jackets, gloves, scarves, and beanies, with only your eyes peeking through.

But, even after all of these years in Poland, I am still that same desert rat, freezing and cold.  Just better adjusted for the weather.

Now, here are the TOP 10 most read posts this past year as And 2 Makes Crazy celebrates its one-year blog-o-versary.   If you haven’t read one of the following posts, I hope that you go on back and have a read.

Enjoy.

xoxo from here to there,

b

(Top 10 from the entire blogging year in order of Most Read)

1.  I don’t love Jesus.  Can we still be friends?  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-ln

2.  How to be a Good Wife.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-ue

3.  Knockdown, drag-out fight in Costco.  Today, I appreciate family!  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-Mo

4.  Marital Un-Bliss and Lack of Sleep had a devastating Effect on My Eyebrows.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-3i

5.  Belly Josephine.  And my Ada and Max.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-gp

6.  How to Keep the Romance Alive.  Or Kill It.  Your Hair May Choose.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-50

7.  My Nose Ring was “Snot” a Good Idea.  And We Got a Puppy.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-6B

8.  Porn on Sunday.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-ww

9.  O-M-G, Christians, watch what you say.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-rZ

10.  Hidden Bookshelves:  Poland.  And when we first arrived.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-da

And because it is always interesting to see which one comes in 11th…

11.  Raising a Nutty Kid.  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-wT

 

 

I’m preparing for Hell. Or is it hell?

That’s it.  I am officially preparing for it!  Hell.  Or is it hell?  Lowercase H?  Or am I even allowed to write that word on my blog?  You know…as a pastor’s wife.

Hmmm.  Good question.  Should I have written H-E-double hockey sticks?

But it’s true.  I am officially preparing for it.

Did you know that I have already lived through it?!

It’s called an Arizona summer.

And, yep.  I am definitely preparing for it.

Glad it won’t last an eternity, even though it seems like it.

June 22nd I will escape Hell (hell) and hop on a jet plane…flying back to Poland.  For good.  And good means as long as God directs us to remain.

Feelings.  Well, they are up.  They are down.  Ultimately, however, they are peaceful.

Will I be sad?  More than words.

Will I miss my family?  More than words.

Will I survive?  Barely.  And that’s where God will have to definitely step in and help me change a few diapers.

Okay.  Okay.  He’s not in the business of changing diapers—but he is in the business of being our steadfast.  Our constant.  Our steady.

And so I will survive.  With great joy.  Because I am very excited to return.

That does not cancel out my feelings of sadness.  I love Arizona.  I love my family.  I love the United States.

But I love God more.  And right now, during this season in our life, we have been gifted the privilege of living in Poland.  Of working in Poland.  In seeing people around the world make a difference in the lives of thousands of others.

That is awesome.

And I was just kidding about Arizona being hell.  Or was I?!

To sign off until you see me on the other side of the world, I will leave you with a link to a blog posting by author, speaker, and life coach, Lisa Skabrat, as she wrote a post about a brave young man and his fight.  In it, she made a very loving reference to our daughter Adelyne’s spirit of strength.  Please take a moment to click and read it.

It helped me remember:  Although we are scared, with God we can be brave.  And Fly a Little Higher!

Until you see me on the other side of the pond, I wish all of your crazies out there well (I’ll stop by to update the Top 10 at the end of May).

In the meantime, a big American hug and 3 Polish kisses thrown in for good measure.  Or, as my husband would say, 3 Polish kisses just for fun.  After all, who doesn’t like kissing hot babes?!

Before I leave, remember to click and take a read:  When Life Demands to See What You’re Made Of  (Adelyne is written about in this article)

See you soon…On the other side!

b

Sonoran Living…Hey, I know her!

Wow!  Remember how we linked up to Polish Easter Blogs recently?  Well, what do you know?!  Our very own Polish Housewife, Lois Britton, was on Sonoran Living this morning presenting 3 recipes from her beautifully fantastic food blog.

You should also know, that when Maxwell was in the ICU in his coma, we have personally been served by this Polish-living saint.  And, yes, her food was not just fantastic—it was fantabulous!  It was so good that I made up my own word to describe it.

On top of that, I still dream about her chocolate chip sea salt cookies.

Scrumptialicious!  Another made up word.

Anyhow—it’s a short segment on the internet, but her attached recipes are right below the video.

Perhaps you can become a Polish Housewife, too, and whip up some surowka or chlodnik…or a side of pound cake lemon curd with a little limoncello.  After all, who doesn’t like a little limoncello?!

Enjoy the video…Make the recipes…and Enjoy:  Lois Britton on Sonoran Living

I look forward to hearing about your Polish-cooking endeavors.

xoxo

b

The other half of Crazy!

 

Confessional Monday…I slept on the couch.

We were barely married, in the day and age before mobile phones, when my husband decided to go and kayak the Upper Salt with his brother and a friend.

I trusted my husband and his skills in kayaking.  After all, he had thousands of miles on the Arkansas River in Colorado.  But tragic accidents still happen even to skilled rafters and kayakers.  He had lost a friend just the summer before to one such horrible, tragic accident.

Therefore, as much as I trusted, I still tucked away a little bit of fear.  So, when he traveled hours north to go and kayak, despite the fact that the river he was about to embark on was far calmer, still bearing some whitewater but not the same amount or same level, I had trust in him and I had fear in him.  Both emotions swirled into one.

Yet, being the good wife, I sent him on his way with merry wishes and kisses for a great day.

And all day I prayed.  I knew when they should arrive at the river.  I knew how long the river should take.  And I knew approximately when they should arrive home.

Unfortunately, that time when he should arrive came and went.

He was not home.  Worse yet, there was no phone booth phone call to say that they were fine.

Okay.  Sometimes rivers take longer than they should.  Sometimes drives take longer than they should.  Sometimes…

My mind was racing.  To calm my anxiety, I decided that I would get out of our adorable little apartment, our first abode together, and go grocery shopping.

Food and shopping.  Two categories commonly used in many lives to avoid truths, eh?!

I took my time grocery shopping but made sure that I was finished by 9pm so that I could be home to watch the evening news.  I was not hoping my husband was on the news-instead I watched hoping my husband was not a story on the news.  Does that make sense?

Thirty minutes of news and no “Breaking News” of a kayaking accident or incident or ???  Needless to say, I was grateful.  Grateful that he did not make the news but still just as concerned that he also had not yet made it home.

More time passed and I really had to think.  At what point do you call the authorities to let them know that they may need to assemble a search and rescue team?  Truthfully, I wasn’t sure.  What would I say, “Hi, I’m a new wife.  My husband went kayaking.  He’s not home yet.  I don’t know if you need to go and search the river or just “stand by” the phone…I’ll let ya know.”

Eventually I decided that I would give him more time.  After all, flat tires also happen.

Groggily, hours later, I was awakened by my husband.  I looked at the clock.  I looked at him.  He was saying something about his day…

At this point I feel complete relief.  Then, bubbling up inside I felt my second raw emotion—the one that took over.  Anger.

He didn’t even think to call me on his way home to tell me they were okay?  He didn’t think to call me when they stopped to eat that they would still be a couple hours out?  He didn’t call me to tell me he had a great day?  Point.  He didn’t call.

I was left until the wee hours of the night wondering if he was okay, and he didn’t call.

So, as he was talking about his great day, I picked up my pillow and marched into the living room.  And I slept on the couch.

As I drifted to sleep, I thought, “Are you kidding me, Brooke, Richard doesn’t call and you are the one that is sleeping on the couch?  There is something wrong with this picture.”

The very next morning, I walk into our bedroom, and, still sleeping like a baby, my husband.  Snoring.  Soundly.  Not a care in the world.

Why is it, folks, that we often lose sleep when the other party seems to get plenty?  I have no idea.

Last night, present day last night, my husband and I also had an argument about all things related to being newborn parents.  Lack of continuous sleep does not always bode well for civil conversations.  Therefore, we had a “lively” discussion about many topics.

Warning—when you have not slept well—avoid all topics.

But we didn’t.  And we argued.  And I ended up on the couch again—my choosing.  Baby in a rocking cradle next to me.

Now, the morning after, awake for hours, I have got to ask myself, “Brooke, at what point in your life will this madness end?”  Needless to say, silly Brooke, I have no idea.

I’m too passionate to give an answer.  But my husband has already made me coffee this morning.

Marriages and couches, my friends, two things that will keep you humble.

Happy Presidential Monday to all!  Hope you got a few winks of sleep for me 😉

At least little Josephine looks well rested, eh?!

Throwback Thursday…Nearly 2 years and two worlds later. Whoa!

It’s amazing how time flies and can change life so quickly…

Two years ago, we were a family of 3, living in Poland…baking Maxwell.

Two years later, we are a family of 4, living in Arizona (for the time being)…baking Josephine.

Two years ago, my little gal did not have an American accent—and had never spent more than a total of 3 months in all of her life in the States.

Two years later, she has lived in the United States for an entire year—and, although she is still learning the art of the “American smile”, she no longer sounds like our own personal version of Mary Poppins.  Slightly a bummer.

Hope you enjoy her precious (1 minute) video wishing you a Merry Christmas in English and Polish.  And hope you also enjoy our throwback photos from life before Maxwell and Josephine.

Amazing how time changes things…

Many hugs for today—looking forward to writing tomorrow about “The Impossible Task”!

xoxo

b

Baking Maxwell:  Brandenburg Gate, Berlin, Germany…2011