More Clara......

So it's pretty obvious why I don't write a monetized blog right? I meant besides the lack of actual writing skills and odd, fun, topics to talk about, I also stink at updating on a regular basis. It's my adult ADD kicking in. I start a project, and then get sidetracked on my 50 other things that MUST BE COMPLETED THIS INSTANT. So yep, things like blogging get put on the back burner. But just so that I don't let you, my awesome readers down, I have been committed and taking a picture of Clara every day. Well, every day I was here, and not away in North Dakota or Fort Wayne, and every day she didn't have school, and....well, I took a lot of them anyways! So, without further ado, more Clara photos from my Clara Couture Summer Tour 13. At least I know Grandma will appreciate them!

MJC Puffer at South Bend Silverhawks game. Bought these last summer and quickly decided I don't care for puffer style dresses, but my daughters love these, so I give in every so often.

Waiting in line at the Silver Beach carousal, some older Gymboree from consignment.

Pretty in Pink. Polo that is. Consignment buy as well.

And a bonus, since her cake pop matches her dress so perfectly!

Had to get up early and get ready for a run this morning, so Clara comes as is. 

Great garage sale find. And here's to wonky midwest weather, we're back to coats in this photo.

Let's add some pants and a sweater. One of my favorite MJC Art Fair tops.

One of those, it seemed like a good idea on Zulilly. Must...remember...Zulilly...not...friend

 Same day, tennis outfit. Just love Kermit, and so does Clara!!

 Strawberry picking in some Polo. Another garage sale find.

Want to know why my kid's so squinty? She refuses to keep her sunglasses on!

 Clara, circa 1982. Did I getcha? This is a photo of me with my mom and sister. I guess we can finally put the "who does Clara look like?" question to bed.

 Queen Clara, consignment dress

A Gymboree set. Is Christian staring you down? Why yes, he is!!

Clara in a cute consignment dress. Love her in bright colors.

Sugar? I didn't eat the bag of sugar....

Old tee from when Olivia was little and we went to Disney

More MJC from last summer. See why I love this stuff? Get 2 or more seasons out of EVERYTHING.

Okay, not EVERYTHING. Jeesh, you guys are so literal! MJC from a garage sale. It was her size, eep! Unfortunately with MJC's "unpredictable sizing this is way too small. But with leggings she pulled it off kind of as a tunic.

More MJC. Getting into our "Patriot Wear"

 Oh, and more ;)

 Classic, classic, Gymboree. They don't make them like this anymore!

4th of July!!

And another MJC. Okay, trend noted

 Had to include this one due to the joy on her face! I know the dress doesn't show well, but who cares?

Boutique dress from consignment. I have people ask me if it's worth it to shop consignment. I think this blog answers that question.

 Some boutique dress. I forget the brand. Why? Because I'm human!! But bought at discount last year. Soft, pink, and birdy, so all bases covered.

 MJC Art Fair, how I love your made in America beauty! This is from last year but, in great MJC fashion, still fits. Butterflies, and cue swoons.

 A bonus. This blog is proof I feed my kid too many sweets. But isn't that face worth it?

And last but not least. KPea. Our first KPea, and we got more compliments on this outfit than any other we've worn. It's supposed to be a top with shorties, but didn't know what size she needed so it's a dress this year and a top next.

To my mother's land...

I headed to North Dakota last week for my mom's memorial service. She passed away in January in Arizona, but she had asked to be laid to rest in North Dakota, where she was born and raised. Although I spent a few years there as a child, I hadn't so much as visited since I was small, 25+ years prior.

A lot has changed in North Dakota in the past few years. If you've read the news, you may have seen that there's an oil boom happening in the great plains. This is evident on the plane as I fly in, the rough neck workers flooding back into the town from breaks in their home towns. As we sit at a restaurant eating dinner, I watch the traffic drive by. For every car that passes their are 99 trucks, 95 of which look new, but not shiny, dusty from driving on the gravel and dirt roads that litter the countryside.

Heading to Tioga from the airport in Minot, oil fields dot the empty landscape. Man camps huddle against the wind, ugly groups of trailers or small buildings where men pay way too much money to live in these small spaces. Trees break up the flat plains, but are set far apart at intervals along the road, and coming from the forested state of Indiana, the emptiness of the terrain is a shock.

We drive to the church that my parents attended together, abandoned now but still standing, with  a small graveyard behind it. We arrive in the evening, with the sun starting to set and the sky a pink glow. The sign for the graveyard looks eerie and beautiful all at once, a juxtaposition I can't help wishing I had a real camera to photograph. We visit the graves of my grandfather and great grandparents, the graveyard is old but carefully tended, with the grass mown and silk flowers on the graves.

We continue on to the farmhouse my mother grew up in. It sits on the land my uncle farms, but no one lives in it now. We walked through it, and like anything from childhood it seems both smaller and larger then remembered, a huge part of your life but changed from years away. 

We stay in the much more modern home that my uncle and aunt now live in. The huge kitchen is a gathering place for the family. We were fed better than I had been fed in years. Steak from the cows my uncle raises, cookie salad, rommegrout, cake (let's just call it CAKE, but if you want the true name, ask me privately), pickled beets, and fresh, homemade rolls were only a few of the things I ate. My mom always showed love through food, and now I know why. I felt truly cared for and welcome the entire visit.

With all the rich foods we indulged in, I needed to run more than ever. The prairie was calling to me. The open, blue skies, the way you could see for miles, the fresh air and the breeze that blew the entire visit. I knew I needed that run, and that chance to feel closer to my mom than I had in months. The first run blew me away, literally. I ran for a few miles when a massive storm blew in. 5 minutes before, nothing. 5 minutes later, dark skies and wind. 5 minutes more, and the rain was pelting me. The drops felt like needles on my skin, driving into the left side of my body while the wind forced me to run sideways. Since the fields were wide open, there was no shelter, and I ran towards the farm as quickly as I could. Luckily, my dad and brother weren't far off, and they picked me up and took me home. As I walked in the house I noticed only the one side of my body was wet. The wind had driven the rain so hard that only the side facing the storm had been dampened!

Saturday, we went into town for my mom's memorial service. I wasn't sure what to expect since my mom hadn't lived in North Dakota for so long. We headed to the church my parents had married in. It still looked the same, even the colors inside were the same. We met the pastor who knew my mom when she was young. By the start of the service the little church had filled up with family and friends. I know the service was nice, but honestly I don't remember it. It all seemed so surreal. After the service we had a lunch and took family pictures. It was the first time I had met one of my cousins, and we got a cousins photo with my grandma.

The next day we spread some of mom's ashes behind the barn where she liked to play, and took the rest to the cemetery. I don't like to cry in front of people, and I held it together. After everyone left except for me, my sister and brother, and my dad, my sister and I sang a song for my mom. About 2/3 of the way in, I started crying, and let it all out. I try so hard not to be vulnerable, but in that moment I had to bare my soul to my family. 

We went back to the farm house, and spent the next day in Williston finishing the details for my mom's gravestone. On Monday night we took one last opportunity to visit her grave, and we had an impromptu dance party. If you know my mom, you would know she would have LOVED that, and probably would have led some of the dancing. She loved parties, friends, and music, any good times.

I left my mom in North Dakota, but I gained family I never knew. I know the hole in my heart will never fully heal, but now I have some more people that I love that have made my heart a bigger place. I wish I had time to tell you all about them, but let me just name them all here. Thank you to my family, who I love so much, Uncle Kim, Aunt Jolene, Grandma Marlis, Aunt Kerry, Rusty, Peggy, Rusalyn, Kaden, Joelle, Jason, Maddie, Hailey, Aunt Jen, Uncle Brian, and Brianna. Hope to see you all again very soon.

Clara Days 4 through 8

This post is for all the people who saw my children Sunday morning and thought maybe we had become homeless. Or brushless. Or robbed of all hair bows....

Sunday was race day, and daddy dressed the girls. He is pretty competent in that area, and I don't always pick out clothes for him in advance, but this day I did. Two very cute coordinating but not matching outfits. Ah, the photo ops! I carefully ironed the outfits and laid them out for Mike the night before the race. 

I left early the next morning as everyone was eating breakfast, and I was surprised to find my girls in what looked like pajamas at the finish line when I finished the race. Upon closer inspection, they were wearing their "workout clothes" apparently in solidarity to mommy running (cute!) Also in solidarity, they apparently decided to forgo brushing their hair, and also affixing it with any type of barrette or hair tie. Maybe they figured their ragamuffin looks would distract from my sweaty, smelly self after the run? Well played, girls, well played. Of course Sunday was the day I ran into EVERYONE. Oh, you know the type of day. Where you have on no makeup, an old t-shirt that you kid spit up all over, and you haven't showered in 2 days? Then you run into the grocery store to buy some emergency supplies (chocolate, wine, and diapers) and you see your old college classmates, who you haven't seen in 5 years, and they are dressed zippily in business casual with a perfect figure and even more perfect hair? Not that that has ever happened to me, of course not, but I'm just saying...

So, if you haven't seen my kids in 6 months, and you're wondering if we're trying the hands off natural parenting approach, these photos will lay your mind at ease. Here is Clara Couture days 4-8. And for reference, it was 90 Monday, and it's going to be 60 tomorrow. So yeah, Clara Couture will be taking a few days off until summer decides to grace us with it's presence again.

Day 4

Here's a reuse of one of our Disney t shirts. Got this beauty on Amazon for something like $6. Paired with some Matilda Jane ruffles we bought last summer.

Day 5

Love, love, love this dress (and Clara's face). I bought a dress from Matilda Jane's Platinum site. That's like winning the lottery in and of itself, since you basically have to be on the computer when they upload or within 30 seconds to even have a chance. Got the dreaded phone call that they had oversold the dress I caught, but the silver lining was that they would let me pick ANY platinum dress I wanted to replace it. I don't know if you can tell from this photo, but the bottom tier of this dress has elephants (swoon). This one is going to have to come out of the closet a few times this summer for sure!

Day 6

This little beauty is a resale pick. We had this exact dress for Olivia when she was Clara's age, but I accidentally bleached the whole thing. It was fun finding this one again. 

Day 7

Another old Gymboree piece. Also got this at a resale. We had lots of this line for Olivia, but not this particular dress. It's a bright pink with turtles, so cute!

Day 8

Boutique end of season dress. Bought this in the fall and stored it. It's Elaine Et Lana and I love the color, the ruffles, and how stinking soft it is. Clara decided it deserved a little cowgirl stylin', she is truly her own little person!

Clara Couture Days 2 & 3, Kinda

I've been getting lots of concerned texts and phone calls..."what happened to the CC project?" "is Clara wearing any clothes?" "did Bravo pull out of the production?" All I can say is, chill people (or that's what I would say if any of the aforementioned items had actually happened. But they didn't. Nope. Not even one. "Is anybody listening, noooo....there's no reply at all"). 

Anyways, back to Clara, and her clothing, and FUN!! Did I mention in my previous post I had too many clothes? Because why, I live in Indiana. And since it's Indiana the gods of nature decided it was getting hot way to fast, and they put the brakes on the whole shebang. Which is fine, in my normal life, because high 60's and 70's pretty much sounds like the perfect weather to me, but it does nothing for modeling my kid's summer wardrobe. Just for fun, I took some photos of her in her transitional spring clothes, so you can see what's she up to. I'll call these days 2 & 3, but they might actually only count for half a day each.

First, a Matilda Jane set. The thing I love about this brand is that although the dress and pants were originally worn full length, she can still wear them after she's grown as crops and a more tunic-y style. Accessories are completely Clara's department. 

Next, and second, and last, we have a Gymboree set. Got this at a garage sale for a buck. Yep, I big puffy heart garage sales!! And this is the new facial expression daddy has taught her for photos. Joy

Clara Couture

My kids have too many clothes. There! They say the first step is admitting you have a problem, and boy do I ever. It was driven home this weekend when I switched over Clara's closets from winter to spring/summer. I kept pulling out outfits, and outfits, and...um...yes, outfits. It wouldn't be so bad except that A.,we live in Indiana, where summers are short, and B., she goes to preschool 3 days a week, which of course she has a totally different set of clothes for, so the ones in her closet were for 4 days a week. If the weather stayed nice starting today I don't think she would repeat an outfit on a nonschool day until September. Sep-freaking-tember.

I decided to bite the bullet and change over Olivia's closet too, and although she has plenty of clothes, it's a more reasonable and rational amount, so of course had to give myself a big ole pat on the back for that one ;)

After 7 years of dressing little people, I took a little time for introspection and asked myself why my kids have so many clothes. Honestly, I think I can trace this back to my own childhood, and my urge to now live vicariously through my children. My family wasn't poor, we always had plenty to eat and lived in a nice home, but for a girl like me shooting up like a weed every year, there wasn't always money for the best clothes. I got some strange, strange hand me downs from friends and family, stuff that may have been in style 10 years prior but didn't even come close in 1992 when I was in middle school. I was tall, okay, I guess I AM tall, but reached my full adult height in middle school, in a day and age where tall jeans were not even on my radar, and if I had a nickel for every time someone asked me "where's the flood?" I would have at least a dollar ;) Yes, I was an awkward, bookish, crooked teethed short pant wearing fool, and I guess that stuck with me since now I way overcompensate for my children. Of course, the rational part of my mind says that for all those awkward moments, my life turned out pretty okay, actually great, so maybe it's not the worst thing that ever happened to me. Then the irrational part of my mind says, "Oooooo....a sale."

To help me remember the fact that we do not need this many clothes, I'm going to post a photo of Clara in her outfit each day, until the day comes where we repeat. You may be surprised at the clothes she wears. Yes, she has some really nice, new, pricey items. But for every one of those, she has 3 things I purchased second hand. I love to shop garage sales and children's consignment sales, so I pick up a lot there. And I buy ahead. Most of her new items are things I bought at deep discount at the end of last summer, and held in a bin until this summer. I'll share what the items are and where they came from, if I remember. You can read all about it, or just look at the photo of my cute kid. Whatever floats your boat.

And lest you start to worry about Olivia and her "uninclusion" in the Clara Couture Project, just remember that a 7 year old has very strong opinions about her clothes, so she has less because she likes less. She'll probably sneak into a couple of photos anyways, I just can't help it.

So here we go, day 1:
It was 82 degrees here today, lovely, lovely! We broke out this Mim-Pi dress that I bought at discount last summer. Saw one of my online friend's daughters in it and coveted from a distance, but when it went on sale I snatched it up. It's the most beautiful shade of blue, and it has horses on it. Ah....sigh...love. This isn't the best photo of the dress but it's the best Clara photo, and since after all everything we do is for our kids, I picked this one to share.

Breathe...Just Breathe

Why hello there! It's me...back from blogging purgatory. Been too, well what haven't I been too to blog? To busy, tired, emotional, blah, blah, blah. But see, now every...single...time I run, I compose a blog in my head. It's like they're in there pressing and just wanting to get out. So here goes. This is going to be a tough one for me to write, maybe, and maybe tough to read. Do you really want to get inside my head? If not, here's your chance to back out. I won't judge you, and we can still be friends, really.
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So, if you have been hiding under a virtual rock, you may not know that I have started running. Which is funny in so many ways, including the ironic fact that I have always, 100%, hated running. Yes, with a passion. There's a whole post in there somewhere about how much I have always hated running, and that's for another day. Suffice it to say, since I am tall, and therefore have long legs, I have been told many times in my life I should a) play basketball b) become a runner c) reach that high thing on the shelf for a short person. No one ever told me I should become a bookish, slightly out of shape dork, but somehow that became my true path and calling. In the past 14 years, I have gotten to love physical activity. I met my husband working out for gosh sakes (cliché, I know). I even got to the point where I looked forward to exercise, but never to running. Then last fall I had foot surgery. We're not talking some sissy little surgery where you're good to go in a week. We're talking foot open, bone removed, screws in, and on my butt surgery. I laid on the couch for a week, and once I was cleared from that I wore a boot and gimped my way around for months. My foot hurt, but I was determined to follow the doctor's directions to a T, which meant babying it, since I didn't want long term problems (we've all heard the stories of the friend's cousin's sister who never walked without pain after a foot surgery, and I did not want to be that girl).

Laying on the couch losing all cardiovascular endurance, I hatched a plan. I, Ashley, hater of running, was going to run. I think I was just longing to move, and running sounded like the most movement possible. I don't know if I ever would have really started running, but it made me feel good to think I would.

Then, a few months ago, my world crashed down around me. My mom was sick. Nothing new, she was sick for years and years. The last time we all rushed home to be with her she was out of the hospital before we even arrived, and we all had a grand time with her and each other at home. This time, I thought, would be just like those other times. My mother, the fighter, needed us to pay attention to her (she always had a slightly dramatic streak) and she would fight back. We would send time together, the family, and go home once we saw her safely back to her bed. Well, this time was nothing like those times. Nothing...

I arrived to her hospital to see her sleeping. Took my exhausted father home and slept, got up early and headed back. In those times, my dad and brother were sitting vigil by her bed in shifts, so she wouldn't pull her oxygen off. She needed it to breathe, but kept removing it. They wanted to intubate her, but we didn't want that since she wouldn't be able to be "un" intubated. A catch 22. My brother left me to watch my mom, so he could get some rest. She had some lucid moments. She recognized me, and told me she was afraid she was dying. I assured her she wasn't, couldn't, she was too strong, there was too much left for her to see. Stupid. So stupid. But who ever believes their mom could die? I mean eventually, yes, but today? Never. She ate pudding. She hadn't eaten in days but they wanted to see if she could swallow. I remember how much she loved that pudding. It's the little details that stick with me.

All that sitting up and activity got her oxygen out of whack, and she started desat-ing. So guess what? On my watch, my mom was intubated and sedated. That was the last time anyone talked to her. I failed her, I failed my father, my brother, my sister who arrived that afternoon to an unresponsive mother. I knew she wasn't coming back, and I was the one in charge of keeping her safe. She'd been in the hospital a week, and it took me 4 hours to mess it all up.

Since my mom was unconscious, there wasn't much we could do. We visited with her, but spent a lot of time at home, trying to get my dad some rest. I felt pent up, guilty, sad, mad at the world, so, I went for a run. Just a little run to get out and away and clear my head. And it felt pretty good. It hurt, my lungs burned, but I felt as though I deserved that and much more. I kept running while I was in Arizona. I came home, and was met with snow and ice. A new challenge. I ran into it. The Sunday after I returned, my mom passed away.

If your mom is alive right now, please hug her. My mom and I didn't have the perfect relationship, we were too different, and too alike. We butted heads, but I always thought we had more time to work out our differences. She loved my kids. Oh how she loved her grandbabies. We could call her every day and the kids could tell her little things and she made such a big deal about them. Clara still asks to call Grandma Princess. I try to explain, but how do you explain to a 3 year old that Grandma is in heaven?

I am not good with dealing with emotions, so mostly I stuff them down until they eventually explode out, like firecrackers or those snakes in a can. Since I didn't want to cry in front of my family, because I didn't want to be held or comforted, I ran. I could run in the dark up and down my street, in the snow. The tears were mine, and no one else could see them or claim them. I listened to music, cried, and ran. Ran and cried. Sometimes I just stopped and cried.

As I ran more and more, I felt as though my mom was with me. That may sound strange to you, but honestly, I could care less what it sounds like. I talked to my mom while I ran, and I felt as though she talked back. Not in a weird, the trees are talking to me way, but in a way that worked. I ran, and I carried my mom on my shoulders. When it got hard, and it did, I felt like she was there, cheering me on. She was good at that in life, when I did good she was so proud. I think that's why I tried to achieve so much, I craved my mom's approval.

As I ran I shed the guilt. I knew my mom loved me, and she knew I did the best I could. Although I will always wish she could have had that last conversation with someone more deserving, I am glad that I was blessed to be there. I am glad I got to tell my mom I loved her one last time. I am glad, even though the pain of her loss still cuts my heart in two.

This may seem rambling to you. And it probably is. I wrote from the heart. I run from the heart. I have had friends say they get tired of seeing all my running posts on Facebook. I know that they just don't understand, since they don't know WHY I do it. Every time I run, I feel like I honor my mom. Every time I run, I get to be in her presence.  Every post is what I currently have to substitute for a phone call, a chat, a shared photo. I don't know how long I will feel the need to run. Some days, I do it just because the run itself feels good. Some days, not so much. Maybe in another month, year, who knows, I won't need the run to feel close to my mom. Until then I keep in mind what a wise woman who lost her husband recently told me. "In life as in running, keep your head up, your shoulders back, and your eyes on the road ahead. Breathe."