I'm not crying. No really, I'm ok. Can you please get me a tissue?

You guys, I found this draft from 2011 when I was labeling my old posts (do you realize I have been blogging here for over 5 years?! crazy!!!). There were no words, no title, and I have no idea what I was planning on writing, but I couldn't just delete these pictures.

Sometimes, when we're driving around here in San Antonio, I still find myself looking for the mountains. It is definitely much more rare now than when we first moved here almost three years ago, but it still happens.

Even though these pictures made me gasp when I saw them, made me feel nostalgic for Colorado again, I didn't feel angry about being in Texas. Man, I was so bitter about leaving Colorado for a good year after we left. I refused to even try to like things in San Antonio. Unfortunately, because of my stubbornness, I lost a lot of time wallowing in self pity when I could have been pouring out a positive outlook on a new situation. I could have given San Antonio a chance sooner and discovered the things that I now love about being here.

True, I will never love Texas the way I love Colorado. I don't have plans on ever moving back to Texas in my future unless circumstances say we must, but I will be sad when we do eventually move away. I will miss our neighborhood, Ft Sam itself, downtown San Antonio, our parish, Central Market, Alamo Heights, and all the other places and areas we've become familiar with and grown to love. This is the city that Vivian was born in, where she's lived her whole little life, the only house she's known. I'd be heartless to say I won't cry when we drive away from it for the final time. Of course, we don't really know when we'll be moving. Technically we're scheduled to live here until the summer of 2016, but you know how the military is--unpredictable.

I think it's funny how much a place can mold and shape you. I loved Colorado Springs from the minute we drove up, but I really missed things about Illinois--long, rainy days, the greenness, trees, being able to breathe. Illinois was the only state I'd ever lived in, where I grew up, so I think I will always think of it as my home, but Colorado will probably always be my second home. So many people there became family to us and I miss them all the time. While I may never think of Texas as another home, I can confidently say that I will think back on living here with fondness. This is the house we've lived in longest as a family. This is the school district Elisabeth has attended the longest. This is where my sister and I got to live in the same city since we both moved out of Pekin in 2005; where I got to be here for her pregnancy and meet my nephew. This is where we became a family of five. This is where Roosevelt died and where we brought Eisenhower home. This is where we joined the Church, where Elisabeth received her First Communion, where we became part of a parish. There are so many happy memories that happened here in San Antonio.

It was nice to find these pictures, though. Ugh, I really miss Colorado. How lucky was I to have this be the view down my street?:

Rachel, Henry, Mabel, Peter

One of the hardest parts about being in the military is not seeing family on a regular basis. We are truly, truly blessed to have parents who try to visit us here in Texas a couple of times a year (each set!).  We always plan one trip to Illinois as well, to see extended family and friends and spend more time with our parents and Evan's sister and her family.

But, another hard part is not getting to see the friends who have become family, like our Colorado family. Last year, we made a trip to Colorado to see my beloved friends Kim and Rachel and their families.  This year, they are coming down here to visit.  First to visit was Rachel and her three kiddos.  They made the almost 14 hour trip in one day.  Of course, Elisabeth and Julia were besides themselves with excitement because they love Rachel's kids like siblings, but Vivian did not remember them.  It did not take her long to warm up to them, though.  :)

Rachel and her kids brought rain with them (thank the Lord!), so the first day was spend getting reacquainted, watching tv, and reading.

 I did buy pumpkins to paint as an activity in case they were bored, so we did that the first day. (I can't help it, my default mode is teacher.)

 Yes, that is my mother in these pictures!!  She arrived via airplane the same day as Rachel and the kids. My mom came to stay for almost a month because she loves us.  :)

 When you come to visit us in San Antonio, if you have not seen the Alamo, than we will take you.  It is right downtown and free. Also, we will take you to the Riverwalk to show you how completely unimpressive it is, and so you can tell everyone you saw the Riverwalk because EVERYONE says it is a "must see!".  We, personally, beg to differ, but to each his own.

 This is Peter, Rachel's youngest, and my Juju.  They love each other. They have very similar character traits and are so sweet together. Peter is a little over 4.5 years older than Julia, but that has never stopped them from getting along so well together.

 This is public art. Peter loves public art.

 These kids are so big I want to cry. Henry is 13 for goodness sakes!  Ugh.

  Vivian really loves rocks. I find them everywhere--in my house, my purse, our cars. This rock bed in the Alamo gardens was like a goldmine for her.

 Our stroller basket via Vivian:

 I told them to all sit up straight and smile or I wasn't going to feed them lunch.  :)

 So, our crosswalks in SA are blind people friendly and will talk to you after you push the button.  Mainly, they say "Wait. Wait. Wait." in the most obnoxious electronic voice.  Peter could not stop pushing the button because he thought the voice was hilarious.

 Since it Rachel, my book soul mate, I took her to the Landa Library (the most beautiful library!!) and Half Price books while they were here.  The amount of books we borrowed and bought were borderline obscene.  I terribly miss book shopping with her. These pictures are from the library's gardens and playgroud:

 Her face here cracks me up!:

 No trip to visit us is complete unless we take you to Ft Sam's Quadrangle!

 The ducks and geese were all out in parade mode.  Wherever we walked, they were waddling behind us trying to catch up.

 And then I look over, and Mabel is HOLDING A DUCK!:

 How crazy is that?  She just swooped him up and carried him around to show us!

 20 minutes later, Mabel picks up that same duck, again!!!!  What duck *wants* to be held?  Julia was excited and also jealous; she wanted to pick up a duck but was just too nervous to try.

 There are bird feeders all over the Quadrangle, but no one had any quarters.  Julia figured out, though, that if she just shook the whole machine hard enough, some of the pieces would come out.  She was becoming quite popular with the geese which both frightened and excited her.  Hey, geese are funny but kind of aggressively scary.

 On the way back home, Ebeth found a ginormous patch of stickerburrs!  Here is just one of her shoes:

 Her other shoe was also totally covered and her socks!  Peter had been following her, so he had them too.  It took us 15 minutes to get those all off. Ridiculous.

They were here for 5.5 days and it just wasn't enough. It'd been too long since we'd seen each other and saying good bye was so hard because we aren't sure when we'll see each other again. Our kids keeping growing (though we tell them to knock it off, dagnabit!) and once a year makes that reality even harder.

But, even if it is a whole other year, I am so very, very thankful for friendships that pick up right where they left off, technology that lets us "see" each other almost daily, and friends who become family.

Oh, and also wine.  Cause I forgot how great a glass of wine is when talking to Rachel well past bedtime.

My mom and my mom's mom and my mom's mom's mom...

For most of my childhood, my Grandma (my mom's mom) lived in Iowa. She married Grandpa Bud when I was about 6 years old and moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I remember the day it finally clicked with my little sister that Grandma lived in Cedar Rapids...not See the Rabbits.

Grandma is the one who taught me to crochet. I was seven. Every visit I would dutifully make sure I brought my crocheting hooks and some yarn so I could sit next to Grandma on the couch and watch her hands fly making stitches while I patiently waited for my hands to learn to move just as fast.

Grandma always made our favorite foods when we visited--homemade ice-cream, chicken salad, cookies, cucumber salad, roasted mushrooms. She also had itty-bitty cans of soda, which I was so excited about.

Grandma remembered the names of my friends, what I did as extra-curricular at school, and what books I'd been reading. She brought little gifts when she visited--yarn, newspaper clippings she thought we should read, books, pictures, treats--things that she saw and thought of us.

My Mama (Grandma's mom) lived in Florida my entire growing up. We didn't get to see her very often, but my parents made sure we made trips every 3 years or so to see her.
Mama and I were pen pals as soon as I could write sentences. Every other week I'd either be mailing or receiving a letter. When we visited, Mama made root beer floats. She'd show us quilts she was making or afghans she was crocheting. She'd bring out old pictures and tell us stories about when my mom was a baby (which was so hard to visualize!) and stories of the Papa (her husband) that we never got to meet because he died before I was born. When Mama moved to Illinois in 2003, we'd visit her at the nursing home and Elisabeth would entertain her with dancing and songs. She lived to be 94 years old. She had the softest skin and the prettiest hair.

When I was little, I wrote a story about my Mom. In it I said she was over 7 feet tall. Since she is barely over 5 feet, she must have liked feeling tall for once.

One of my first memories involving my mom was when I was three. (I think I might have shared this with you all already before) It was bath time and my little sister, Terra, was crying from our bedroom. My mom told me to take all my clothes off and wait for her before I climbed in the tub. I was almost done taking my clothes off, when my mom brought the cranky Terra into the bathroom and told me to get in the tub. I looked down at my socked feet and said, "But, Mom..." "Ginny, I said get in the tub." Ever the diligent child, I got in the tub, with my socks on. As my mom started shampooing my hair, she looked at my feet. "I tried to tell you my socks were still on." I got to take the entire bath with them on.

My mom was always the first one up (something my children do not experience often). Even if I was up earlier than normal, my mom was up with coffee in hand. She was always smiling a hello, asking how I slept--even when I refused to answer or would only growl a response. (I've never been a morning person). When my mom slept in, we all knew she was ill. Then, of course, there was panic since moms are never to be ill.

My mom was the mom who drove everyone to school--us, our friends, our cousins. She was everyone's emergency contact. She was the one who opened her house to the entire neighborhood so she didn't have to worry about where we were going or who was watching us. My mom was the disciplinarian to everyone. My ornery cousins were good at our house because they didn't want Aunt Debbie mad at them. She was the one who my aunts called when loose teeth needed to be pulled. And even though my mom was strict, my cousins knew (and still know!) that she loves them. She went not only to all of our school programs, but other kids' too. She was safe and even during the junior high and high school years when I butted heads with my mom the most, my friends sought her out to tell their problems and cry to, knowing she wouldn't make them feel stupid.
Happy Mother's Day, DebbieMom. I'm sure I speak for all your "kids" when I say how very, very loved you are.