We saw Over the Rhine last night in Omaha. It was a last-minute kind of thing and I’m soooo very grateful we got to go. It was a fun ride up and back with the Koenigs, and of course the concert was great. Oh to sing like Karin Bergquist! That woman has amazing control of her voice, say nothing of her stage presence. (Jeremy asked me where she was from and I’m now reading on the OtR website of her “torchy, devil-may-care voice, brimming with Midwestern soul.” There ya have it, JT.) I foresee more Over the Rhine albums in my future.

Today feels nothing like a Tuesday. Sunday morning perhaps, but definitely not Tuesday. Tuesdays have responsibilities and schedules and chores and so far I’ve polished off a large quantity of Diet Mountain Dew, assisted in DVD playing for Liv, and watched a giant spider wrap up it’s prey in the flower garden. Tuesday, really? Tuesday-after-a-Monday-night-date? Yes, definitely.

Now if only I can squeeze a nap in between reading some Harry Potter and avoiding the dishes piled up in my sink.

Nothing says “let’s paint!” like last year’s Easter hat, eh?

Coming up with fun summer activities isn’t hard. Implementing them, on the other hand, is a challenge. By the time I pull out all the paints, newspaper and other necessary materials, Liv is knee-deep in the activity. By the time Liv’s mommy is knee-deep in creative pursuit, Liv is DONE! and she’s moving on to the next thing. Still, I love doing crafts with Livia and I’m glad my kiddo enjoys stuff like this.

On this particular morning we grabbed some new white tanks from the previous summer and turned them into wearable artwork for my niece Madeleine.

One of my favorite pics of Liv napping. For more info, read my Flickr description.

Naps have amazing, restorative powers.

Livia gave up napping at 3.5 years. I nearly wept in despair and wondered how I could possibly fill our days with activities and not perish in exhaustion from the effort. Yes, we did institute a quiet time before she gave up naps. (It was something that we worked into our days with persistence and a fair amount of battling; quiet times definitely didn’t come naturally around here!) I found myself nodding off during an afternoon movie or pushing for a brief respite during those supposedly “quiet” times. And though it was obvious to anyone around us that Liv would benefit from a nap, the kid just wouldn’t do it. I think the saying “You can take a horse to water but you can’t make it drink” fits perfectly here. I could enforce a room-only policy, but there was no way I could make my daughter close her eyes and relax.

The strangest thing has happened this summer, though. Livia has started napping again. She’ll go into quiet time, mess around with toys for awhile, and then the house grows oddly quiet. No tambourine clashes blast through the door, no storytelling to dollies, no dawdling trips to the bathroom, nothing.

Aaaaaaahhhhh.

Naptime. Sweet, sweet sleep, available to Liv, to me, and to Jeremy if he’s on his lunch break.

Napping has it’s rewards we’ve since learned. Liv is much gentler, less dramatic, more enjoyable and friendlier after naptime. She tends to avoid the pre-dinner meltdown and also has energy for a late-evening walk around the neighborhood. The real kicker is, if we keep the naps to an hour or less, she’s still ready to go to bed at a decent time. It’s a win-win situation.

Now if only we can convince American businesses to commit to siestas… I think it’d be a positive cultural change, don’t you? : )

Jeremy has just come through an ordeal. Yesterday he checked into the outpatient surgery center of a local hospital in order to get rid of a few kidney stones, and he ended up being admitted due to the excruciating pain afterwards.

I don’t know why I’m posting… other than the fact that I want to say how much I love my husband—I can hardly think straight, much less write decent sentences. I stayed with Jeremy before, during, and after the procedure (which basically blasted the large stone to bits via ultrasound), and felt incredibly helpless as I witnessed his pain. Really, I wished that I could have taken some of that agony on me. You know when morphine doesn’t help you’re in a bad situation.

I’m grateful for the nursing staff—they did a great job of helping as they could. I’m grateful for the bevy of drugs available to us. I’m grateful for friends and family who watched for Liv and Shiloh, and who fed us and continually prayed for us. I’m grateful for Jeremy, that the Lord relieved him of the most dreadful kind of pain, and that he is on the path to recovery now. I love love love my husband.

I’m also grateful for my own bed. I’m off to find it now.

We finished reading The Hobbit Sunday night. It marked the ending of the first read-aloud book we did as a family and I’ll always be grateful that Jeremy picked it out for us. We worked our way through the book, reading several pages at a time while lounging on the living room couch or sprawled across Livia’s bed. More than one evening witnessed a very tired and squirrelly child—those two traits go hand-in-hand in the Tredway household—alongside one reading parent and one cuddling parent. Oftentimes the reading parent (usually me) also needed to tickle Squirrel Girl’s backside to keep her calm while detailed passages of barreling down the Forest River River or climbing up Lonely Mountain were being read. I have this to say for The Hobbit: the first half was more entertaining for a child than the second. It seems similar to The Lord of the Rings series in that way. The first halves are more lighthearted and full of humorous stories; the latter halves are darker, more serious in nature, and thus more dramatic.

Jeremy ordered the animated version of The Hobbit, which arrived in our mailbox sometime last week. It was driving force in Liv’s resolve to sit still for the final pages of the book as we refused to watch the film before the last page of the book had been read. So Monday night saw us prepare the first ever themed meal at the old homestead… Italian meat sandwiches became Roasted Dragon Meat on Hobbit Bread. Carrot sticks magically turned into Elvish carrots that sat neatly by piles of Dwarvish (Potato) Chips. The final touch, Wizard’s Brew Liv liked to call it, was a glowing blue combination of blue lemonade and Diet Squirt. We sat down for a feast in front of the John Huston-narrated version of The Hobbit, and there we stayed until Smaug was slayed and Bilbo returned safely to his hobbit hole in the Shire.

It was then Livia told us, for the first time, that she was “falling in love…”. With the movie. With that she walked upstairs by herself to go to bed. Another first.

I hope that Jeremy and I still take shots like this when he’s 77 and I’m 70.

Five years ago we drove home to Lincoln, Nebraska, with the most precious cargo in our backseat: Livia Raine Melissa Tredway. She was eight weeks old. We had adopted her the week before and spent several days in Kansas waiting for interstate paperwork to be filed and approved. We received a green light to leave the state and drove north to the best 4th of July weekend on record. It was an amazing time, and we continue to be amazed by our little girl.

Many, many adoptions happen by word-of-mouth, and that’s why we’re telling you that we’re very interested in adopting again! Our friends are our eyes and ears around the country. In fact, we heard about Livia through a friend and fellow church secretary in town (who heard from her pastor, who heard from another pastor, who was trying to find a good home for his church secretary’s granddaughter!). We believe in an almighty God who orchestrates wonderful things—wonderful things like the creation of new families.

If you hear of a potential adoption situation, we would love to know about it. We can send you more information about our family as well as put you in touch with our adoption attorney. You can reach me at . Thank you!

Last weekend Jeremy’s class held its 20th high school reunion. Seven years younger than my husband, I tagged along as a spouse and member of Lincoln Southeast’s class of 1996. We attended most of the planned activities—the informal gathering at a downtown bar, the school tour on Saturday, and the more formal reception at the Nebraska Club later that evening.

Being the spouse at a high school reunion is not the most exciting role ever. After a while, faces tend to blend together and you wonder how many times you can listen to the same introduction-type conversation (what do you do, where do you live, have any kids? etc). But, I have to say Jeremy’s classmates are a cool bunch. I know I only met them briefly over three events, but I was impressed by how kind, entertaining and genuine everyone was. From what I’ve heard, twentieth reunions are far better than ten year ones. Hear that, Sarah & Charity? Plan on 2016 with me!

Kids were invited to the tour of the school and, let me tell you, it was weird to walk down those halls again. By and large, the school looks the same and smells the same. I could feel echos of rallys, assemblys and musical events past when walking in Prasch gym. I recalled running laps around the track upstairs, breathing hard and wondering how I was going to make it through the mile for my gym class. I remember watching the synchronized swimmers in the pool nearby and recalled selling hot dogs and nachos to raise funds for drama club during basketball games.

As we walked Liv up and down hallways, past row upon row of lockers, I wondered at the fact that my husband tread these halls seven years before me. I never once considered that my future mate was working on his locker combo in the same location, just a few years ahead of my time. And though Livia is slated to be a Lincoln High Link someday—a prospect that I’m really excited about—I can’t help but wonder if she’ll end up a Knight and learn in the classrooms we learned in.

If you care at all about Southeast, click on a photo in this post to check out a few other shots on Flickr. The new cafeteria is awesome, large and airy, while the very new auditorium is beautiful, too. There’s a ticket office (!) and, Adam, you’ll be pleased to know the old artwork has been preserved in a new location. I was surprised by how sentimental I felt upon entering the auditorium. I can’t count how many hours I spent on stage in that place, creating and being created at the same time. My name is on the backstage doors there, accompanied by a smiley face to preserve my high school self as long as the doors stand strong.

Forgive the poor photo, but I can’t resist posting this shot.

Liv has two questions she asks on a regular basis in the strangest, most monotone voice a five year old can muster. The first is, “What’s behind me?” It’s a strange little game she plays where she asks the question, holds absolutely still and waits for you to answer. Go figure.

The second question is, “Where’s the dog?” Asked in the same odd monotone voice, Livia won’t even look around the room. Somehow it’s your responsibility to locate Shiloh and report back. While Jeremy and I have taken to spontaneously and irrationally asking these questions in return, I ask you to refrain from doing so. Liv’s knowledge of my blogging is limited at best. In fact, I think she believes I’m working when I’m, in fact, blogging. So don’t ruin my secret just yet.

Hey, Internet! Where’s the dog?

I love you, too, Jeremy. Happy eleven years (and two days)!