Mary Pielenz Hampton (aka RefreshMom) is "midlife mom" to two boys, a train-loving 9 year old and 6 year old superhero-in-the-making. She and her husband Dean will celebrate their 17th anniversary this summer. When she's not shepherding/corralling boys, she's also a friend, writer, at-home-businesswoman, bargain hunter, teacher, lover of tea, chocolate and fancy desserts (especially if made with chocolate). Her heart is looking for God in the smallest moments of life and giving praise back to Him by "turning the daily into devotion."
We recently made a trip to the town I grew up in to visit a friend at a location I vaguely remembered. We moved away from there when I was 15, so I’d never driven around there myself.
We figured the Google Maps directions Hubs wrote out and our recently-handed-down Garmin, combined with my generally good sense of direction and vague recollections of the area, should suffice to get us there.
Our particular Garmin model doesn’t tell which street to turn on, just “in point 2 miles, turn right.”… then, “Turn right.” (Of course, this command often comes just after it’s too late to actually make that turn.)
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This is a bug house. It’s meant for young explorers to place their backyard prey into without suffocating them like our generation did when we simply put the bugs into a glass jar with some bits of grass and a couple holes poked in the lid.
A couple of summers ago I discovered a new use for it. Actually, my 2 year old son discovered it–it can also function as toddler trap.
I entered into the scenario when I heard one of those screeches usually reserved for an episode of sibling rivalry. I came around the corner to serve as referee and found my son with his hand in the bug hut, stomping his feet and shaking it.
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Maybe it’s the newly-hatched summer, but in one week I heard the phrase “Bloom where you’re planted,” from 3 different people in 3 different contexts. Each was referring to not waiting for the perfect set of circumstances; the point is to do the best you can where you are in this moment. I remember thinking sometimes that’s easier said than done.
Earlier this spring I went out on the back porch and saw this: 
Last fall these bulbs were sitting perilously close to the surface, in danger of becoming a mid-winter snack for the fat, scavenging squirrels that have the run of the neighborhood.
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There’s a little town next door to ours that lays claim to “the highest per capita income” in the state. Now I’m not really sure of that statistic–I can think of a few other places with just as few “shoddy” neighborhoods and just as many chic inhabitants–but that’s what they believe of themselves to some extent.
We like visiting the downtown area because there are cute shops and wide, tree-lined walks with lots of street-side dining. It’s a relaxing place to spend an afternoon or get an ice cream after dinner.
One aspect I am less impressed with though, is the driving.
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Written on
March 9, 2010 by
Mary in
Blog
Our house here is situated on the lot so the front of the house faces east and the rear (where the kitchen and family room are) faces west. I miss the wonderful southern exposure of our home in Portland; the main areas of the house were bright all the time, which was important to me when half the days were gray!
When we bought this house long-distance (after spending maybe 10 minutes in it) I thought the east/west thing would work out ok here though because there is so much more sunlight to begin with. What I didn’t take into account is between the porch overhang in the front and the patio in the back, there isn’t all that much natural light inside for most of the day.
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Written on
March 6, 2010 by
Mary in
Blog
When I left for a 5-day conference, I gave the boys each a toy cell phone that I could record my voice on. It touched my heart to see how much they liked hearing my simple “I love you; be good for Daddy; see you soon…” message.
The toy was too easy to erase though; the touch of a button and my voice was gone. When I got back from my trip, my 5 year old asked “Mom, can you put your voice back on my phone?” He’s the same son who later asked when I was going to my conference again.
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The center stone of my wedding set has a ‘feather.’ That’s a rather romantic name for what amounts to a chunk of diamond missing where one facet should be. I don’t know if the feather was always there—the set belonged to my husband’s mother before me.
The jeweler called about it when we left it to be sized. He put the diamond under his loupe and made a diagram of all the imperfections that make this stone unique. Someone else may have a ring that looks like mine, but like snowflakes and fingerprints, no two diamonds are exactly alike. I know what distinguishes mine from others.
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I hear that often from my 4 year old. If, in the course of a conversation, I happen to share a tidbit of knowledge that he’s heard before, I get a teen-sounding, eye-rolling, “I KNOW that!” Frankly, after the first time (where it was surprising and amusing), I find it more than a little annoying.
They say we’re most annoyed by traits in others that we also possess. I’m sure that over the course of my life various people have considered me a ‘know-it-all.’ They might not have said it out loud, but considering my own motives at various times, it must have been thought.
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