Here We Grow Again...

My daughter got married.

That is the sentence that begins the entry I've been procrastinating.
Not because I'm unhappy in any way, but simply because these 'digging into my feelings' kind of posts are my least favorite.  From my writing standpoint, I'd be much more in my comfort zone if the cupcake tower had tipped over (Sorry Sue) and led to a domino effect of big drama during the ceremony.  

But this wedding wasn't what you might expect from us, because this wedding went smoothly.  Which is exactly the kind of wedding that this particular child of ours needed.

You're all familiar with Zac, Kearstin, & Caymen due to their starring roles in frequent posts and you might wonder why Aubrey doesn't make too many appearances.  There are a couple of reasons for that.

1.  I seek permission from each of my family members before I post a blog about them.  Nothing written here is behind anyone's back and everything written here is approved before posted.  You might be surprised at the detailed process that goes on around here.  That being said, Aubrey is my most reserved child and sometimes 'laughing with' and getting 'laughed at' feel the same to her.  Therefore, it's my job to make sure each of my child's needs are met on every level, right down to protecting their privacy.  It's a balancing act.  I screw it up often.  Hopefully I'm getting better at it.

2.  The main reason there aren't many posts starring Aubrey is because out of our 6 family members, Aubrey is the closest thing to adult supervision we've got.  This is the child born to Ron and Shari, raised by Ron and Shari, in Ron and Shari's home, who closed on her first house purchase the same day she graduated high school where she delivered the commencement address as Valedictorian of her graduating class after taking college courses full time her Junior and Senior years.  Basically, Aubrey single-handedly destroyed the whole Nature vs. Nurture argument.  Some things cannot be narrowed down to such a margin. 

Aubrey is a prime example of why parents need to recognize the unique traits God gives each of their children so that they know when to simply stay out of His way.  I'm in awe of Aubrey's intelligence, drive and determination, wrapped within a package of kindness and compassion, topped with a bow of pure strength that people tend to underestimate.

This blond haired blue eyed beauty born face up and turned around after 49 hours of labor, a running joke that she got lost and couldn't find her way out.  It didn't take us long to realize that she was actually the one who always knew exactly where she was going. This is the child that was hard for me to parent because I knew in reality she should probably be the one parenting me.  And just like I knew it would be hard to let her go, I also knew deep in my heart that it would be better for her when I did.

August 15th, the day before her wedding, was my hardest day.  Thank goodness for rehearsals.  Watching Ron practice walking her down the isle.  She giggled, beamed and glowed, and Ron wore a grin I knew hid tears that lay just under the surface.  I finally broke down while I was getting my nails done that night when Lissa asked, "Are you ok?"  No.  I was not ok.  The following day we would be asked, "Who gives this woman to this man?" and Ron would reply, "Her mother and I."

How do you prepare yourself to give your daughter away?

But deep inside we knew the reality.  We weren't losing our daughter.  We were gaining another son, just as Nick's wonderful family was gaining another daughter. And more importantly, I was gaining a friend.  I will always be her mother, but we now live in a more parallel universe.  One of daily texts, phone calls, hanging out at her house watching Big Brother together, lunch dates, excitedly talking about her plans for the future.  A world where my role is to offer a listening ear and then join in her excitement with full on support.  One where my advice and insight will only be shared when and if she asks me for it.

These past 18 years of her childhood where our differences were sometimes more obvious than our similarities, were all leading up to a most precious friendship.  All doubts and fears obliterated.  God knew exactly what He was doing even and especially when I didn't.

That's not to say that this Ohio State themed wedding wasn't covered in Courter touches, ie; the Ohio State theme.  Nick, his dad and Ron all wore Ohio State ball caps.  The bridesmaids each got to choose their own style of red dress and shoes were optional for everyone.  Aubrey chose my mother-of-the-bride dress, which was black, had a narrow cut-out around the middle exposing my bare mid-drift and required no bra.  (She knows me too well.)  She wasn't even mad (or surprised) when Kearstin, the maid of honor, and I swapped each others dresses the morning of the wedding as a prank on the bride.

Nick's mom, Anna, was escorted down the isle by her son, Dustin.  I was escorted by Zac.
She and I lit our individual family candles and then we hugged.  This wonderful woman is my daughter's 2nd mother. I don't feel threatened by that.  I'm relieved to finally have some backup.

When I sat in my seat on the verge of tears, Zac dropped to one knee in front of me and dramatically bowed and put his forehead against my hand like one might greet the queen, which of course made me laugh.  That boy still knows exactly what I need at any given moment. 

Then as Michael Buble's voice belted out 'The Best Is Yet To Come' the wedding party full of Nick and Aubrey's family and friends began their entrance.  Zac escorted his glowing wife, Barbara, with ever growing evidence of their son in her belly, leading the way.  Kearstin, stealer of all limelight, mischievously grinned down the isle despite the fact that Aubrey vetoed the tiara she wanted to wear.  Sweet Caymen gently tossed rose petals from her basket  as she made her way down to her seat beside me.

And then that sweet moment, as the song 'So Close' by Jon McLaughlin played, I saw Nick's eyes light up below the rim of his hat and I turned and stood to watch my husband walk our breathtaking daughter down the isle.  When they stopped beside me at the front for the prayer, I reached out and took her arm.  I couldn't not touch this creature of beauty in that moment.  And marvel that God chose me to deliver her to the world.

"Who gives this woman to this man?"
"Her mother and I do."

Yes. Without hesitation.  With no reluctance.  But with peace.  We really do.

After the sweet ceremony, where Aubrey inadvertently blew out the unity candle and then giggled amidst the rising smoke as they lit it again, they left the sanctuary to Heavy D's 'Now That We Found Love'  and the celebration started.  A party full of dancing and a reception featuring the ever popular nacho bar, because how could you have an Ohio State wedding without concession stand food? 

While guests began eating, we had family pictures taken on the stage.  When we came down afterward, my neighbor pulled me aside and whispered, "You might wanna tell Ron his zipper is down."

Aaaaaaand, we're back. 

****************************************************

 MANY THANKS go out to the team of people who helped pull this all together:
Anna & Jim:  The most wonderful in-laws we could ever hope for.  They not only love and welcome Aubrey into their family with open arms, they hosted an amazing rehearsal dinner and were an absolute dream to work with for the wedding, always ready and willing to jump in and help with whatever we needed!
Lissa:  Made all of the bouquets, planned, designed and set up all of the beautiful decorations and gave manicures and pedicures to anyone who wanted them the night before the wedding. 
Susan:  Made and decorated Aubrey & Nick's wedding cake and cupcakes, just as she did for Zac & Barbara's reception in May, and as she did for Ron & me back in 1993 when she was only 16 years old.  She also planned, organized, prepared and ran all of the food stations throughout the entire reception.  Thanks also to her mom, Kay and our mutual friend, Pam for helping her on the day of the wedding and Susan's husband, Chris, for making the tiered stand that displayed the cupcakes.
Randy:  For patiently walking us through the rehearsal process and performing a heartfelt ceremony that meant so much to everyone involved.
Eric:  For running the sound system during the wedding and setting up the stage beforehand.  
Barbara:  For creating the amazing block O-H-I-O on chalkboards that were displayed behind the food stations.  What an artist you are!
Justin (aka; JLo):  For putting together the music play list and keeping it running throughout the reception.  You set the tone for an amazing dance party!
Rebecca:  For hosting a fun Bachelorette party, gifting Aubrey with an appointment at your hair salon the morning of the wedding and for helping us organize the entire ceremony.  We seriously had no idea what we were doing, but I'm sure you figured that out pretty quick. 
Jennifer:  For co-hosting the Bachelorette party and your help with set up the morning of the rehearsal.
Cindy:  For coming to help us set up the day before.
Nancy:  For loaning us all the Buckeye nuts that accented the decorations.  What a neat detail they added!
Mark & Sara:  For loaning us the table cloths.
All of our friends and family who came to support our families as we unite by marriage and everyone who jumped in to help rearrange the sanctuary for the reception and pitched in to help clean up afterward.  We couldn't have done it all without you!

Last but not least, a special thank you to my husband.  During this very stressful year of events and change that has taken it's toll on me both physically and emotionally, Ron stepped up as my warrior and my shield.  He cocooned me in a shelter of protection and defended me against undue pressure and stress.  I can't put into words how much I love this man, who knows me better than anyone else on this earth and yet still chooses to love me anyway.

We all extend our unconditional love, support and appreciation to Aubrey and Nick for allowing us to share in their special day.  We look forward to watching their love grow and see what plans God has for their family.  

We love you!



  

Mouse Trap

I fully expected my next blog entry to be about our daughter's wedding that took place on Saturday.  (Pending her permission and approval after they return from their honeymoon next week, of course.)  But as it so happens with our family, material presented itself yesterday.  Uninvited material, mind you, but material nonetheless.

Ron had to work, I brought Kearstin and Caymen home from church and all I wanted was to take a long uninterrupted nap.  With the girls under strict orders to allow that to happen, I'd no sooner dozed off in my bed with Caymen nestled beside me, when Kearstin tapped me awake and said, "There's something moving in my tote bag."  In that moment of exhaustion, this did not seem justifiable to waking me up.  So I said, "Put the tote bag in the garage."  A few minutes later, I was awakened by her whisper in my ear, "It's loose in my room."
And with that, she had my attention.

It would appear that we inadvertently brought the church mouse home with us after the wedding.  Church mouse or not, nobody was going to sleep till the thing was dead, so we armed ourselves for war.  Me with a broom, Kearstin with a mop and both of us clunking around in pairs of Ron's gigantic tennis shoes because they seemed safer than our size 8's that would leave us vulnerable to an attack from the enemy. 

We closed ourselves inside her room leaving Caymen safely in the hallway. And the hunt began.  Poke something, watch for movement, prepare to scream.  Repeat.  This went on until we found ourselves facing the open closet where long dresses hung on a low bar with material pooling on the floor.  Using the end of my broom, I pulled the dresses to the side, he dashed out of the closet and before I could react, we watched him squeeze under the crack of the bedroom door into the hallway where Caymen's screams joined ours.  And then we all screamed and screamed and screamed.  I finally whipped open the door, saw him trying to squeeze under the bathroom door so I started swatting at him, still screaming...and maybe peeing a little...as Caymen ran downstairs locking herself in my bedroom, Kearstin stood frozen in the hallway and quick as a flash, he turned around and bolted back into her closet, thus earning him the name 'Quick Silver.'

Time to regroup...and take a pee break.  The crack under the door is a problem.  The obvious solution (to us) was to block the bottom of the door using 2 wall hangings.  They didn't completely block the crack under the door, but (in our minds) their shape as well as the hooks protruding from the top provided a maze that he'd have to go around and (according to us) mice suck at mazes.  We closed ourselves back in the bedroom and set up our mouse-proof maze.  We studied our handy work and I said, "If he beats us through that before we beat him to death, he deserves to be loose in our house."
From my lips to Quick Silver's ears.  Gauntlet thrown.

Weapons aimed at closet, the cycle began.  Broom pulls out one dress, we grab it by the hanger and move it to the other side.  Dress by dress.  We finally found him hiding under the material of a long purple dress.  I went to work with my broom while Kearstin cried, "You're killing him with my birthday dress!!"
No...I was killing him in her birthday dress.  She's so dramatic.

When all movement stopped, I pulled out the birthday dress, gave it a little shake, and...nothing.  So we continued pulling the dresses out one by one until we got to the very last dress.  Her tutu dress.  Covered in silver glitter.  Seemed appropriate somehow.  Preparing to finish his life in a puff of glitter, I pulled the dress aside as movement by the door caught my eye just in time to see him round the last hook of our maze and squeeze himself under the door and out into the hallway.

Damn you, Quick Silver!

Beating us at our own maze, by the time we moved it out of the way and opened the door, he was out of sight and gone to who knows where.  Kearstin said, "Maybe he'll eat the poison behind the fridge."  Then I reminded her that Tia already did that and was forced to vomit it up all over our garage.  How soon we forget when we're not the one inducing with peroxide.

We were forced to wait till Ron got home and filled him in on our ordeal in which he wasted entirely too much time asking us ridiculous questions about why we thought his shoes that we could easily trip and fall down in would be safer than our own and where our heads were at when deciding to create a maze instead of blocking the crack with a blanket or pillow.
Stay focused here, Chuckles.  There's a mouse loose in our house.

Then he stripped down to his boxers, made himself dinner and went downstairs to watch tv.  Did you not hear our story, sir?!

An hour later, I heard Kearstin's screams from upstairs, immediately triggering Caymen's and my own.  Ron calmly got out of bed, grabbed a shoe and a Walmart bag, followed Kearstin's pointing finger into the bathroom, closed the door, and a minute later, exited the bathroom with 'TMFKAQS' (The Mouse Formerly Known As Quick Silver) in the bag.

When Ron gave us a look of disgust I said, "Obviously, we slowed him down for ya.  You're welcome."

 

Anchor's Away

Sometimes I wonder if we're naturally drawn to people like us or if our ridiculous tendencies just rub off on the people around us.  This question arose again last week when we traveled to Tennessee with our friends, Lissa & Andy and Chad & Melanie.

Chad's dad generously allowed us the use of their home as well as his pontoon boat for a long weekend of fun on Dale Hollow.  He had but one request.  "Don't let anything happen to my brand new anchor."

Seems simple enough...unless you've met us before, in which case you know your anchor is pretty much screwed now.

The first day out on the lake, we found a private little cove and we dropped anchor.  We spent the next several hours swimming and floating on rafts.  At one point Lissa said, "Is the boat getting closer to the shore?"  Ron answered, "No, we just swam around a corner", which might have made sense if the cove had a corner, but nevertheless, we swam on without a second thought.

Lissa's concern proved valid when we swam back toward a boat that had clearly run ashore and whose front was currently resting on dry ground.  Andy and Ron got to the boat first and delivered the news.  "The anchor's gone."  Ok, that's bad.  But the rope's gone too, so if the rope floats, that's good.  Turns out, the rope doesn't float.  That's bad.

We aimlessly swam around the vicinity where we thought the anchor was thrown, occasionally diving down in futile attempts to reach the 16 ft bottom.  No anchor.

Then we sat on the boat discussing the stupidity of a rope that doesn't float, which briefly led to the idea of running a series of tests to see what other parts of the boat don't float, then we tossed around suggestions that were not only few, but highly improbable of being effective, one of which was to "call the dam" leading into a conversation about whether or not there was an actual "dam office" which naturally escalated into a series of inappropriate knock knock jokes, serving only to delay the matter at hand and solved nothing while we sat on the beached boat.  But far-fetched as it seemed, a plan was eventually hatched. 

 We went back to the house to get ready for dinner and took the boat back out for the 30 minute ride to a restaurant on the water.  While we were eating, the storm blew in.  I'm talking torrential storm here.  After dinner we sat sheltered under an overhang on the dock periodically commenting that "it looks like it's passing" and "the worst is over."  Lies, all lies.


We finally decided we had no choice but to get back on the boat and brave the trip home in the dark of night, lit only by the frequent strikes of lightening, to the point of secretly questioning if Chad had recently refused to go to Nineveh and briefly contemplated throwing him overboard to see if that calmed the storm. 

The following morning we headed back to the cove.
Operation Get That Anchor Back, was underway.

Unfortunately for us, a family had already anchored into our cove for a day of swimming with their small children.  Unfortunately for them, we were undeterred by common courtesy and proceeded forward with our mission.

So just for fun, let's switch perspectives as I describe what they saw from their boat.

They saw a boat full of people park nearby, completely disregarding proper boat etiquette.  Three women got comfortable sunbathing on the back.  Three men got busy on the front.  One man repeatedly threw an anchor into the water and then pulled it back in.  Another man repeatedly cast out a fishing line with a giant hook on the end and reeled it back in.  The 3rd man was behind the wheel of the boat and slowly drove back and forth and round and round, while 80's music blasted from the boat radio.

 It needs to be said, if I were the family on that boat watching, I'd have been pissed.  To their credit, they stuck around either to stand their ground or to see what this freak show might do next.  And were they in for a treat, because about an hour into this brouhaha, they witnessed the man with the fishing pole scream "I'VE GOT SOMETHING" and then the man with the anchor jumped immediately overboard followed by his screams of "DON'T HOOK ME" and then every person in our boat erupted into cheers and celebration when they pulled an anchor attached to a long rope out of the water as 'Eye Of The Tiger' blared from the radio.  (You can't make this stuff up, people.)

...and then they saw the guy who reeled it in turn around and throw the anchor and rope overboard again as the women screamed, "Noooooooo!!!!"

To which he replied, "We tied it off this time.  We're not idiots."

By the looks on their faces, the family on the other boat strongly disagreed with that statement.

Mama's Boy / Friend

Regardless of how well you know us, it usually doesn't take long to realize that Zac is not only my son, but my boy. 

I think we have a typical mother-son relationship, in the sense that we have always loved hanging out together, talking and laughing about everything.  I look at him and see my 2nd best guy friend...my husband being 1st, of course.

Ron says Zac's a Mama's Boy.  If by Mama's Boy he means that I'd, oh let's say, jump out of an airplane or put my body through a Tough Mudder for him, then yeah, he's a Mama's Boy.  And I'd do the same for any of our daughters, but so far they seem to have a little more sense than that.
Kudos to them.

Ron, Zac and I played together on our church co-ed softball team every summer for several years.  That's Zac and me at Christmas with our matching ball gloves Ron got us because that's what super-cool moms and sons want, okay?

My boy is now a married man with a son of his own on the way and working full time on 2nd shift.  So for now, gone are our days of playing softball together and as our summer church league is drawing to a close, I've been thinking a lot about all the fun we've had in the past.

So if you'd like to stroll with me down memory lane for a quick second, let me recap the domino effect that led to what happened last year.  Ron heard through the grapevine that his company's fall men's league needed another player.  Ron did not volunteer himself.  He volunteered Zac.  When one of the players on that team told Zac they were short-handed on their co-ed team, Zac volunteered himself.  And me.

Basically, Zac and I infiltrated a co-ed softball team, mid-season, full of people we didn't know who worked together at a company we didn't, none of which is surprising to anyone who knows us.  We're not ones to get hung up on minor technicalities. 

We showed up at our first game dressed in the only thing we thought to wear.  Our matching navy blue church jerseys.  He with his baseball pants and head band combo;  me with my yoga pants and pony tail.  Cue the bad-ass-slow-mo walk as we approached the dugout side-by-side wearing our cleats and carrying our matching gloves. 

The fact that the rest of the team wore shorts and orange t-shirts was neither here nor there.

Zac took his position in right field and I took mine as Catcher, squatting behind home plate.  Three innings later someone on my team said, "You know you don't have to squat, right?"
That tidbit of info would have been awesome 3 innings ago. 

But it was the question I was asked during the 6th inning that got my attention when the umpire said, "Is that your husband or boyfriend?"  Thinking Ron had shown up, I looked around and said, "Husband.  Where do you see him?" 

You know that special effect in movies where everything takes on a blurry spin and the voice talking gets really deep and drawn out?  That's what happened when my eyes followed the umpire's pointed finger as he said, "R-i-g-h-t f-i-e-l-d."

Holy crap!

After the inning, I ran back to the dugout, pulled Zac aside and said, "Dude!  That umpire thinks we're a couple!!"  Then our heads turned simultaneously as a player on the bench said, "Oh, you're not?"

With a stone-cold expression, Zac turned to me and said, "One of us is never wearing this jersey again" and then he walked away.  Why was I the only one flattered here.

Gone are the days when mothers can dress like their sons and not be mistaken for their significant others.  Sigh.

We finished out the regular season (me in my jersey, he in a t-shirt) and tournaments were held on a blustery cold Saturday in October.  That morning, he rushed me out the door as I finished putting on my make-up and grabbed my 'I'm too sexy to be 40' mug. 

When I yelled at him for abruptly changing gears and almost making me spill my coffee, he lectured me on the habit of filling my mug too full.

I stepped out of the car in my yoga pants and super-cute-off-the-shoulder sweatshirt and realized I was completely under-dressed for a bitter cold day at the ball fields and when my hair whipped over my face, I remembered the hair band that was still laying on the bathroom counter.

As our team watched, Zac stormed off toward the dugout while I trailed behind with my hair blowing in the wind, arms full of softball equipment, walking as fast as I could without spilling my coffee and yelling, "You look like a really bad boyfriend right now!!"

Surprisingly, they contacted us to play for them again this year.  Zac's work schedule doesn't allow time for it and I regretfully declined as well. 

I mean, it just doesn't feel right to play without my boy...friend...buahahahahaha!!!

A (Mon)Day In The Life

The Monday after returning from Vacation is pretty much destined to fail.  So I was pleasantly surprised last week when mine was going flawlessly.  At least until 1:30.  That's when Caymen, who's going on week 4 of sporting a giant glob of dried bloody suture glue above her left eye from a trampoline accident, popped in to my office and excitedly said, "Notice anything on my face?"  I swiveled my chair to see that she'd applied huge tattoos to her cheeks.  Visions of this face dressed in a beautiful white flower girl dress preceding Aubrey down the isle flashed through my head.

But first there was the matter of her dentist appointment at 3:30pm.  Maybe if I started scrubbing now, the 7 year old's fresh facial tatts would be but a distant memory...unlike the eye wound.  That's when the phone rang and my daughter-in-law, Barbara said "What are you doing right now?"  I looked down at Caymen's gangsta face and went the easy route.  "Nothing."  Zac's car broke down in the parking lot where he works and she was stranded.

We picked Barbara up and headed straight to the dentist to meet up with Ron for our cleanings.  But shortly after Caymen was taken to a room, the dentist came out and said, "We have a little problem."  My immediate thought was, 'So, you've seen her face.'  He went on to explain that one of Caymen's back teeth is cracked and he needed our help to hold her still so he could numb her.  Having just barely survived the ER visit where they tried to numb her forehead for stitches and finally resorted to the now infamous glob of super glue which Ron claims he could've done at home for free, I knew this dental visit had the potential for disaster.  I wasn't disappointed.  Five minutes into the chaotic scene, the doctor inadvertently pushed the needle full of numbing fluid into his own left hand.  The procedure (and possibly the remainder of his afternoon), came to an abrupt end.  She was immediately referred to a "specialist" and I'll be watching the mail for his announcement of early retirement.  Sometimes "We're really really super sorry" just isn't enough.

Next stop, loaning Barbara our 2nd van and then all of us driving over to take a look at Zac's broken down car.  It didn't take long for Ron to realize that the clutch is blown.  Thankfully, his car broke down just one parking lot away from the service center.  It was already closed for the evening, but they had a locked drop box for just such occasions.  Thank goodness we're having so many strokes of luck here, unlike the dentist who's probably home hittin the sauce pretty heavily by now with his one usable hand.

Barbara filled out the service note, sealed the keys in the envelope and dropped them down the slot.
Our VAN keys. In envelope.  Down slot.

Flash to Ron on the phone with Security while he worked a stretched out coat hanger down the slot like a toilet plunger, Caymen laying across the counter with everyone trying to convince her she wouldn't get her arm stuck...she wasn't buyin it...and Barbara digging things into the lock explaining that she's "really good at lock picking."  I don't even wanna know.

Security finally arrived and busted up our little party.  I thought, please don't ask about the child laying across the counter with her arm crammed in the slot, or about her face, or the fact that I just realized she's not wearing shoes. 

Guard #1 dressed in a florescent green vest that screamed rookie, showed up only to announce that he doesn't have a key.  Welllll, thanks so much for stopping by.  Security guard #2, dressed in a legit uniform, saved the day with a key and retrieved ours.  Barbara handed me our van keys, dropped Zac's keys down the slot, Security went on his way and we went on ours.

That's when Ron asked Barbara, "Do you have your apartment key?"

Apartment key.  In envelope. Down slot.

The pregnant Barbara and barefoot gangsta child tore across the parking lot, chasing the security car and wildly waving their arms while I silently prayed that Zac wasn't witnessing any of this from a window. 

The security guard returned, escorted us back to the drop box, allowed Barbara to retrieve her key...again...drop keys down the slot...again...and then he sent this freak show on our way...again.

If I knew where the dentist lived, I would've driven to his house to join him.  But that didn't stop me from having the drink.  An aptly named one, at that.

Screw you, Mondays.
From now on, I'm skippin straight to Tuesday.

The Change Of Life

My top 3 fears.
1.  Rabies.
2.  Electricity.
3.  Change.

So far, between Zac's marriage to Barbara and their pregnancy, Aubrey's high school graduation, purchase of a house and upcoming marriage to Nick, and my unfortunate encounter with an ungrounded hot tub, 2014 has bombarded me with 2 of the 3.  (I still have 6 months to avoid rabies.)

When Summer rolled around I assumed things would get easier.  Easier meaning, calmer.  Easier meaning, less chaotic.  Truth be told, easier meaning, easier to accept.  My family is moving out.  My family is shrinking.  Dear God, my family is changing.

For so long we were 'The Courters'.  Said by others with deer-in-the-headlight eyes and slow knowing nods.  That crazy family of 6, some who wear shoes, some who wear pants and one who refuses to remove his ball cap, all of whom operate under zero adult supervision.

We offer no explanation or apology for who we are because throughout the past 20 years, when everything around us changed, we were the only constant.

But these days, much of our time is spent as a family of 4 having only Kearstin and Caymen at home with us now.  We fit in a booth at a restaurant.  We make it through most outings without causing a scene or disturbance and can interact with the public without anyone disgustedly asking, "Are all of these yours?"   Apparently 6 Courters have the ability to create Duggar-size scenes.

I find myself in the midst of this hurricane of change and there's a level of pain in it so you might have to bear with me while I try to adjust.  I remind myself that this is good change.  It's natural change.  This is the way God intends for it to change.  Therefore, I'll fight through my 3rd deepest fear and not only accept the change, but embrace the change.  Because even though it didn't feel like it at the time, easy was when our kids lived at home.  Now we dig deep into the world of intentional.   It's a little harder but we're deliberate in scheduling our family time now and it's worth it. 

In turn, God is navigating me through these scary changes with comforting glimpses of normal...ok, sometimes not so comforting and you might not consider it normal.

For Father's Day, the 8 of us piled into an old school bus with giant tubes before being dropped off and left at the mercy of the river current to make our way back to where we started.  I looked over to discover my future son-in-law on all fours on top of his tube as it slowly spun toward a small waterfall with his flip flops floating behind him while Aubrey stood stuck knee deep in the water screaming and Ron debating jumping ship to look for his sunglasses that he was sure were caught in a tree before Kearstin discovered them dangling off the back of his shirt.  We are the epitome of the Red Neck Yacht Club.  Then afterward, we gorged on giant cheeseburgers before dropping like flies around our living room in water-logged-junk-food induced comas. 

The week before last, a hose on our pool pump burst, flooding our barn and spraying directly at the light switch and yours truly (with cheeseburger in hand) ran in to see what happened, blindly reached in to turn on the light, felt that old familiar feeling before catching another glimpse of the afterlife and losing my cheeseburger.  Lord, if you could just tell me what you'd like me to learn here, that'd be awesome.

Last week on Hilton Head Island, Zac and Barbara decided to use the beach (and fire) to reveal the gender of our grandchild, beach fire being strictly prohibited on the island, but that's neither here nor there.  They carved GIRL and BOY in the sand and lined it with string, having saturated one with fuel so that it would be the gender to ignite.  Then we watched as Z lit the end of the string and it started to spread as families began to gather and watch.  And then we watched the bottle of fuel ignite into flames in Barbara's hand so she threw it down.  And then we watched people scatter and run as far away from us as possible.  (We're used to that.)  So we kicked sand until the flames smothered out and then stood silently looking at each other. Well that was terrifying...and disappointing.  So we regrouped and then the girls and I started digging while the guys ran to Walmart for lighter fluid and we set the beach on fire again.  And when that ended with frantic sand kicking, the spectators became "potential witnesses" so they waited a few days before they set a fire on an abandoned tennis court that took a bottle of water and several minutes of stamping with shoes to put out.  The end result was effective, albeit violent.

So what am I freaking out about here?  'The Courters' aren't shrinking.  We're expanding...and multiplying.  I shouldn't be the one in fear.  The world should.

So watch out everybody.
Here comes #9...

It's a

MAYhem

Every blog entry starts with a title.  With Aubrey's senior prom, Mother's Day, Kearstin's 15th birthday, Aubrey's high school graduation, and the preparation for a reception we hosted for Zac and Barbara this past weekend, let me assure you, the fact that it's been a month since my last entry speaks more of my lack of time than lack of titles.  So allow me to compile a couple of May's entries into sub-titles, that coincidentally happened simultaneously. 

 Amazing Race
Ron signed up to participate in the first annual Honor Ride, a 35 mile bike race in Columbus.  It was a spur of the moment decision that led to the purchase of new racing bike (read:  tiny seat that inserts deeply into butt hole by mile 3), the borrowing of a bike helmet and exactly 2 bike rides around our block to "train."  He tried desperately to get me to do it with him, but I adamantly refused.  (Those are the fork in the road moments where you look back and see God's protective hand in the preservation of a marriage.) 

Ron predicted he'd have it completed in roughly 2 hours.  But in full-on Courter fashion, several things went disastrously wrong.  It started with a volunteer at a pit stop pointing him in the wrong direction, escalated with pranksters switching some of the route signs around, proceeded downhill when he got lost, stumbled into an area that had no phone signal and had to flag down an elderly couple in their car to ask directions only to discover that he was inadvertently halfway through the 70 mile bike race course.  This would've been the point where my seething rage turned into a puddle of tears and urine on the ground alongside the road until either God or Care Flight delivered me home. 

But Ron persevered and rode all the way back to the pit stop, where my first order of business would've been to kick some volunteer ass, but Ron opted instead to hitch a ride.  Nine hours, 55 pedaled miles and 15 miles riding in a u-haul later, my husband completed his Honor Ride, with honor and testimony intact, and was rewarded with every free t-shirt, ribbon and medal they had on hand. He arrived home, climbed directly into the hot tub and said, "So what did you do today?" 

Funny you should ask...

Dress Up
*No picture to accompany this story.  You're welcome.*

You'd think with as much trouble as Ron and I get into together, we might do better apart.  Turns out, that can actually be worse.  While my husband pedaled for his very survival through the streets of Newark, I decided to try on a dress Lissa gave me.  (Note, once again, the involvement of Lissa.)  Caymen and Kearstin were both asleep and this should've been a non-event.  Try on a dress.  Like it, keep it.  Don't like it, pass it on.  I unzipped it to the seam that ran across the middle of the back.  Stepping into the dress wouldn't work so it had to go over my head.  Not a Claustrophobiac's ideal scenario, but I'm a 2-time Tough Mudder and I will not be intimidated by a dress.  Cue Mandisa's Overcomer as I bunched the dress up as tight as I could, quickly rammed my head and arms through the hole, fought off tears when it got stuck above my chest and danced around hyperventilating while I frantically pulled it over my bare boobs, because heaven forbid I be prepared for an emergency. 

I successfully squeezed everything into their proper compartments, checked out the end result in the bathroom mirror, and decided the dress was a keeper.  Then I realized I had to do everything in reverse to get the thing back off.  I pulled the dress up and struggled until my boobs finally plopped out of the bottom.  That left me with the dress bunched up underneath my armpits and my arms hanging over the top cocked at weird angles.  The goal was to cross my arms in front of my face, grab the bottoms of the dress and in one rapid movement, whip it off over my head.  I counted to 3, yanked it up and got stuck.  Really really stuck.  Like, arms straight over my head, dress tightly wrapped around my shoulders, face and arms stuck. 

The panic that had been rising to the surface finally bubbled over the top and unable to see anything except the inside of the dress, I literally bounced off walls as I ran through the house until I found my way into Kearstin's room and screamed for help until she woke up to the sight of her headless, naked mom, frantically flailing her hands straight up in the air through the top of a dress. 
A therapist is in her very near future. 

I couldn't see her, but by the disgusted sound effects, I could tell she didn't want to become involved in whatever twisted nightmare I had going on here, but she had no choice.  She didn't ask me what happened.  That was pretty obvious.  Her only question was, "Why are you wet?!?"  That would be profuse sweating, can we please save the interrogation for another time. 

Our first attempt was for me to get on my knees and she yank it off the top.  Fail.  Second attempt was for me to lay on the floor and yank it off the top.  Fail.  Third and final attempt before resorting to calling 911 and then changing our identities in the Witness Protection Program, was for her to slowly push the dress inch by inch, shoulder by shoulder, until it finally released over my head.  A brutal 5 minutes later, I finally broke free and she made me promise never to climb into that dress again. 
Um, obviously.  I'm not an idiot, ya know. 

She went back to bed and I untangled the dress to return to Lissa when I noticed a detail on the zipper that I'd missed before.  As it turns out, it actually unzips past that seam all the way down to my butt.  Deal changer.  I stepped into the dress, pulled it over my chest and slipped my arms in...then I walked into Kearstin's room and asked her to please zip me up.

She opened her eyes, looked at the dress and said, "Get out."

Teenagers.  Geesh.