Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

birthday

Four Weekends: No. 1

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This October, I was out of town every single weekend. Four weekends in a row.

I’ve wanted to write about each of them. As I began to map out my posts, I realized they were a tapestry of what we need.

Ideally, they don’t all come right in a row because, you know, meal prep, house cleaning, catch up, etc.

But with great fortune, they each come.

Weekend One – celebrating kids. Intentional focused time on them. Weekend Two – family time. Time uninterrupted by life’s chaos. Weekend Three – girls weekend. Away time with friends to laugh and have good wine and talk about the big issues of life. Weekend Four – family friends. Time to spend with husbands and wives and kids that everyone in your family connects with and enjoys.

So I’ll cover each of them over the next few days. And I realize a romantic getaway with your person isn’t on there. That’s needed too. The reality is that it doesn’t come every year. Maybe it’s just a date night every quarter that tides you over.

The first weekend of October we celebrated the triplets turning 12! TWELVE! It’s almost impossible to imagine. I started blogging the month the trio turned one. I read over that first birthday blog post love letter when they were 2 and can’t even process how fast it’s all gone.

Instead of having a crazy big birthday party like we did ten years ago, or two years ago, all the kids wanted was to each bring a friend to the farm to fish and camp and visit the horses. I’d told them the next big birthday would be their sweet 16, so until then we do something fun with a six kids (when each kid gets to pick one friend, you land at 6!).

Bray was totally the man of the hour.

He was ON the whole weekend. It was a ton of work because he was the boat captain. We have this tiny aluminum boat at the farm, it’s been Bray’s family fishing boat since he was a kid, and Bray captains it through the gorgeous overgrown bayous and into the larger Gulf-fed waters until they find fish. This time, the kids jug-lined instead of traditional fishing and it was a HUGE hit. The kids said it was the best fishing they’d ever had and boy did they find some fish.

The four boys and Bray camped out down at the camp house which was in between tenants and the girls and I stayed up with Bray’s parents at the main house.

There were presents and desserts (pie and maccrons, per request) and gumbo and donuts, but most of all there was fishing. Fishing on Saturday and fishing on Sunday. The videos from the trip are some of the funniest I’ve ever watched. And while I stayed back at the house managing meals, Bray did the heavy lifting entertaining the kids on the boat.

There were some hiccups.

Stanley (our DOG who you know my feelings on) disappeared. He does this. He usually picks major events like birthdays to try and ruin (he ran away the night of Bray’s 50th birthday party this summer). When the kids got back from the fishing trip late Saturday afternoon, Stanley was nowhere to be found. He loves the farm and really doesn’t leave the main grounds when we’re there. The kids were beside themselves, esp the eldest. So, after an exhaustive search on the four wheeler, Bray agreed to take the boys out to search the bayou. Lo and behold, Stanley had followed them in the marsh, jumped across the bayou and was stuck on the other side in high water reeds. That dog has nine lives. He was safely returned no worse for wear.

Then, when we headed home, we hit a major detour. Bray had to come home Monday morning so it was me and six sixth graders. The trip from the farm to Houston is about two and a half hours. I left extra early, noon on Sunday, so I could be back in time to speak at church worship that night at 5 pm. After we got through Beaumont, traffic STOPPED. Not slowed. Stopped.

Turns out, the great state of Texas had decided to CLOSE Interstate 10 on Sunday afternoon. What could go wrong? After a noon departure, I dropped the kids back at their homes at 6:30 PM! That’s right, nearly seven hours in the car.

And yet. I have to say this was one of my favorite parts of the birthday weekend. All of these kids are massively awesome. The baby’s best friend crawled up in the front seat, swapping with the eldest’s best friend, and decided we’d have a sing along. Since we were parked on I-10, we rolled down the windows, waved at the cars around us, tried to get truckers to honk, and gave a Gatorade to a stranded motorcyclist.

And we SANG. At the top of our lungs. I have video proof. The song selection was HYSTERICAL! Y’all, these twelve year olds gave me hope for humanity. We had 12 year old boys singing Let it Go and Avocado. When we arrived at one of the houses (they all live in the neighborhood so I had an easy drop off), little bit’s best pal hoped out of the car and said I would totally do that drive again!

I can’t even with their awesomeness.

The thing I loved about this trip was really spending uninterrupted time with the kids and their friends. Their closest pals. Who are so cool. And interesting. And funny. At parties, I’m catching up with their parents. At sporting events, we’re all cheering. But on this farm weekend, we were having meals and conversations (extra long ones on the ride home) about a wide array of topics.

So weekend one was a huge success. Thanks largely to Bray and a passel of amazing kiddos. A twelfth birthday for the record books!

The Terrific Twelves – A Different Birthday Letter

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Sunday, we drove home from the farm in Louisiana.  Saturday was your TWELFTH birthday and you each brought a friend for the weekend to celebrate.

Typically, I pen a birthday letter to you all. 

I revisited my original blog birthday letter. 

It’s fascinating what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. 

I wrote about the eldest’s persistence even then and it’s still one of my favorite qualities about him.

While little bit is still fiercely independent and can tell (or reenact) a story with delightful dramatics.

And the baby? Well, he still has a sensitive soul and a love for learning.

Other things have changed.

So many.

But what I was struck by, on the drive home, was how amazing you and your friends are. 

I thought, instead of a letter this year, I’d share that story. 

You see, instead of the typical 2 ½ hour drive we were all expecting, you six sixth graders got a 5+ hour drive. Some highway construction genius decided to SHUT DOWN I-10 on a Sunday. 

The freeway was shut down. And we didn’t know until it was too late and it took us two hours just to pass one exit. 

That drive could have been a total disaster. I was certainly in frustrated spirits.

But you all made it fabulous. 

You laugh and told jokes and best of all put on music, rolled down the windows, waved at the cars full of stranded drivers around us, and SANG. At the top of your lungs.  Baby Shark. Avocado.  Let It Go.  You even had me singing. And cracking up. 

What struck me is how cool you have all become.

How much I love spending time with you all.

Even in confined spaces J 

This weekend you struck out on your own and fished and explored and fed horses. 

You advocated for your lost dog and waded through murky marsh to rescue him.

Then you went and made a five hour car trip completely fun.  A feat I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish. 

As one of your friends said after FINALLY exiting the car back at the neighborhood, “I’d do that car trip again!” 

So would I. 

It defined for me what is happening. What you are becoming. 

These grown (growing) people. 

Of course there is still so much maturing and learning. But I’m starting to see glimpses of the older you.  Who you will become.  How you will make this world bigger and better and brighter. 

Wow. Lucky me. 

So all those words of the letters are still, mostly true, but for this birthday I thought I’d say thanks.  Thanks for being an original. For learning and laughing and managing to figure all this stuff out.  In the face of a world gone mad and hurricanes and cancer and pandemics, you just kept growing up. 

I can’t wait to see what unfolds this year. 

Love you more.

The Eleventh Year Love Letter

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Dear ones,

This year, your eleventh birthday letter was a little harder to pen.  In fact, despite the date on this post, I’m a little late in writing.  Not because there isn’t so much I want to tell you, but because I’m not sure how to start in this crazy 2020 pandemic year. 

Normally, I write a letter talking more about who you are.  But this year’s 5th grade back to school letter did a lot of that already. Also, I have found writing about you is harder now that you’re older because there are things that aren’t mine to say anymore.  Gone are the days are funny posts about poop smears and escaping your cribs.  There is still plenty to laugh about, but there are bigger issues too and a future teendom looming very close. 

I also thought of just writing about what we did this year so you’d remember the highlights of 2020.  Our beautiful holiday season with laughter and family.  The eldest’s mommy and me trip to watch LSU play in the national football championship (sorry bud, doesn’t look like that’s going to be a return event soon).  Our great adventure to Arizona, to stay in an amazing VRBO house, and see Sedona and the Grand Canyon and float Lake Powell before cutting the trip short because of the pandemic.  The way we got hours and days and weeks together in a way we hadn’t in years.  How we ate breakfast together and had devotions together and I played teacher.  We even spent a week at “school” on the farm where grandfather Zoomed with your classes to talk about the cattle drives of old. 

But a recap post didn’t seem fitting for your birthday love letter. 

So I returned to old posts.  Last year, I wrote a lot about the incredible decade milestone and how we celebrated. I was also tremendously relieved to see your ninth birthday letters went up a full two weeks late.  I dug into each letter.  Words that held true despite the passage of time. 

Instead of penning all new words for your eleventh year love letter, I decided to use the words of the past that still hold true today. As does our love for you.

To the eldest,

At seven years old, I wrote, “he is obsessed with football.  He is incredibly competitive.  Yet he loves snuggling at night, reading together, and playing board games.”  Ha!  Man oh man – if it’s possible you love football more and are even more competitive! Funny how times change but people stay the same.

But I clarified in your eight year old letter, and this is true and one of your greatest qualities: He is focused on the things important to him.  Your focus and drive will set you apart.  It may make things hard too, but don’t conform.  You be you. 

In your sixth year love letter, I highlighted what I still believe to be completely true, “You’ve always been so curious about the Bible and God. In Pre-K3, they called you the preacher, and your Kindergarten teacher already has you pegged for the seminary.” You have a profound sense of faith and a calling to learn scripture and know God more.  This will be the light that guides you and I pray it keeps you deeply centered as you encounter challenges.

At four, I shared how you are so sentimental and loving.  You were my cuddler from the time you were born.  I’m starting to see that slip and I miss “the kissy game.”  This was true at three too.

One thing that has definitely changed from your three year old self to now is this third birthday love letter commentary: You are more of a follower than your siblings, but in the best consensus building way.  You will be the peace maker and the people pleaser. 

Little did I know how MUCH that would change.  You were the follower then because you couldn’t get a word in edgewise.  But ever since we gave you your own space to bloom in kindergarten, you haven’t needed to follow or please.  That’s good.

At two, and beyond, I was captivated by your ability to figure anything out.  Such an engineer: You can figure anything out.  You were the first to crawl out of your bed this year and the first to learn how to open the doors and lock me out of the house.  

I’ll close with my five year old love letter words, “I love how you march to the beat of your own drummer.”  May it always be so. But know that wherever you march, daddy and I will always be there to cheer you on. 

To little bit,

At seven, I said, “little bit is kind to animals and friends and babies, oh is she gracious.  She is athletic and musical and artistic.” I said nearly the same thing in your eight year old letter too! Because that is who you are.

Isn’t it crazy that four years letter I could write those exact same words. 

At six, I noticed, “you painstakingly made your bed and arranged all your stuffed animals in particular order, and then you promptly went to sleep in the floor because you didn’t want to mess it up.”  Ha!  You are still organizing our house and our life and watching Mom Hacks and have decided that instead of a teacher or a vet you will become an interior designer or a home organizer.  You will knock that business out of the park!

In your nine year old love letter, I shared, “You stand your ground with the boys but have maintained your femininity.”  It is still true today.  You play basketball with the boys and then ask to get a pedicure.  You can work cows and play with your dolls. I love you can adapt wherever God puts you.

In your fourth year love letter, not only did I highlight your artistry, but your passion for music and dance.  You will still go in your room and sing and dance.  Don’t ever lose your expression.

You love life.  From our roller coaster rides of today, all the way back to two years old, I noticed: You absolutely love living and you throw your whole heart and body into it.  Your lust for life is contagious.

I’ll close with a note from your three year old letter: You are fierce.  So independent.  So strong willed.  So focused…You will face battles and challenges in your life my beloved, but you will stare them down and they will shake as you approach.  You are so brave and fearless.  I love that.  The most remarkable thing about your strength is that it carries as its companion empathy and nurturing. 

Independence is a consistent theme in every birthday note.  You hang on to your bravery and independence.  You will need it my love.  But know that daddy and I are always here too. 

To the baby,

In your seven year old post, I penned, “God has given you a deep wellspring of emotion, more mature than any child I’ve ever met.” 

This is still true today. But I went on to say at eight, “my Renaissance man because his interests vary from cooking to sports to reading to creating Lego vehicles.  Fishing is his biggest passion and he’ll practice casting in our pool when he’s away from the farm.”  You are still casting in our pool!

You my dear are a man who feels deeply and curiously learns all the time. Even at six I said, “you see and hear everything my curious little sponge. Not only do you absorb all of the knowledge and information around you, but you also absorb others emotions.” 

You are really tired these days because there’s so much pushing on you, and you’re a perfectionist and a pleaser.  With the farm devastation and school and football, it’s a lot.  And as I noted in the fifth thank you note, you have a tremendously strong work ethic and discipline.  It’s extraordinary. Everyone comments on it.  Allow for rest too.

Even at two, I noticed your sense of humor and continued to write about it because you are so funny.  And you are my constant learner.  My one who won’t put a book down late at night in bed.  Well it was always so, even when you were two: You find life so funny and your laugh sets us all to laughing with you.  You love to learn.  You were the first one to know all your shapes and your colors and your animals.  You could sit in my lap and read books for hours and want to drink up every new piece of information and commit it to memory.  We will always be seekers in our home, on a journey to learn and understand more, because of you. 

I wrote always about curiosity and laughter and your sensitive spirit.  But I penned this at three years old, and I close with it now, “Your absolute delight in living fills up any space you invade.  And there’s never any doubt about your love for everything you encounter because you tell us in no uncertain terms what you …  It is a revelation to watch the world through your eyes.  You are already becoming a man of honor…” 

You live a life of honor and goodness.  You are a true friend.  Wherever you run, wherever you go, whatever ship calls you to captain it, know that daddy and I will always come when you call. 

I know I say this every year, but I mean it more every year. It is such an honor to be your mother. It is the greatest gift I have ever been given. I pray for wisdom that daddy and I do this job well and that when you fly away you will always know you have a place to return.

Another 40s Birthday, 2020-Style

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That nice red splotch is what’s left of my spider bite

I climbed another notch on the 40 to 50 ladder with my birthday yesterday.  One that lands me closer to the end of the decade rather than the beginning.  A non-birthday which turned into a lovely birthday because of precious people in my life. 

I haven’t written in a bit so there’s nothing over here on the blog that notes the freak issues that cropped up for me while doing hurricane recovery at the farm the past two weekends.  Weekend before last, some type of spider somehow got into/up/through my blue-jeaned-legs and bit my shin.  It went south pretty fast. By last Thursday, I booked a quick telemed visit with my doctor’s office because of the red, hot, oozing mess.  She prescribed oral and topical antibiotics to get it under control. 

Then, last Sunday at the farm, I developed a painful, itchy rash on my neck and chest. Plus my leg didn’t seem to be improving. 

So Bray and I got a big laugh yesterday morning when I said “Well this is what 4# looks like, you have a 7:45 am doctor’s visit for a freak rash!” (And Southern Living sent me an article on The Most Flattering Hairstyles for Mature Women…) I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, 2020!  And aging! 

Turns out, I was having a reaction to both the oral and topical antibiotic, but the bite was actually improving, it just had a rash on top of it.  Ha!  So no more antibiotics, and now I’m on steroids.  This morning, everything already looks a ton better and I slept through the night. 

With that as its backdrop, how could the birthday do anything but go up.  I worked all day, of course, because adult birthdays are far less glamorous than kid birthdays.  But my best friend sent me a little treat to encourage us to go out/get take out, and our other dear friend dropped off a beautiful gift.  My texts and IMs and social media was full of gracious words from kind friends from this season of life and all the past seasons too!  I love that.  It’s like seeing everyone at a wedding again. 

Bray picked up a Mediterranean feast per my wishes, and my mom delivered a yummy lemon cake for afterwards.  I haven’t written about it a lot here because my weight is just such an up and down battle for me, but I’ve been “dieting.”  I’m doing Beachbody shakes and work outs and I haven’t had a bite of sugar for three weeks so this was a fun little splurge. 

The best part though was sitting around after dinner with these people God has gifted me with and opening cards and presents.  My mom and little bit both picked out these gorgeous cards and wrote these long beautiful messages.  This is the first year a child went and selected their own card and she penned such a beautiful sentiment inside a lovely card that I cried right through the whole thing. 

Bray had a brutal day at work but showed up and did the birthday thing even though he is utterly wiped between the farm and work.  The kids went to school and cross country and are still tired from farm clean up, but they showed up and showered me with love and kindness.  My mom, and friends, and co-workers, all took time out to be such love and kindness.  A good friend of mine had delivered dinner to us the night before since I hadn’t had time to meal prep. TWO straight nights with zero cooking for me! As much as I love to cook, it was a fantastic break in this hectic season. 

The boys have a football scrimmage tonight and game on Saturday.  The kids have a cross country meet next week.  We’re navigating social distance and masks and a pandemic with reentry to school and sports and hurricane recovery.  It’s a lot and it’s good and it’s hard and it’s full. 

I started yesterday completely and utterly depleted.  I’m starting this morning restored.  Not because I suddenly got 12 hours of sleep or everything is different.  Everything is the same (except my rash!). But I remembered how extraordinarily good God is and how I have everything I need. 

I’m grateful to start this next year.  I’m thankful I get to. 

A Decade of Triplets

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I’m a little late in writing this post.  Maybe because it felt so momentous and I didn’t feel I had momentous words. 

How can I sum up in one little post the past decade and the years leading up to this miraculous decade?

How could I capture the full decade of my yearning to be married with kids but staying stubbornly single despite my searching? 

How do I write about the years of dating between meeting Bray (nearly 16 years ago) and the time we looked at each other on that church alter saying I do?    

How is it possible to share the deepest soul agony we both had in hearing we couldn’t have kids and those years of trying with only failure to show? 

Then. 

The moment that sparked this decade’s long adventure. 

The moment there were two lines.  And I took another test, two more lines.  Then another test, PREGNANT.  (I wouldn’t know the irony of three tests at the time.)

Then Bray walking into our bedroom, where I’d stayed in bed for a week in hope of improving our chances, and him opening a little package.  Inside, a tiny onesie that said My other car seat is on daddy’s tractor.  I can still see his face.  This disbelieving hope of a final yes. 

A nearly 33 week pregnancy, the last six weeks spent in bed, the last two in the hospital.  The decision to take them early to preserve my health when the preeclampsia took hold.  The month in the NICU with three little people and several big scares all while I tried to heal from the emergency C-section.  Taking each one home individually, first the eldest, then the baby, while my heart broke at leaving little bit behind an extra week to recover from an infection.  All came home on monitors and we had the chaos of weeks that followed, another emergency NICU stay, the holidays, my return to work right after the night nanny left.  It’s all a blur.  I don’t know who rolled over first.  Or who sat up first.  I know the eldest climbed out of his bed the first but that wasn’t for another year plus. 

The first year, Bray and I clinging to each other as we worked and parented and did absolutely nothing else because there was no space for anything except for these little people.  They took over.  They grew.  They improved.  They smiled.  The gurgled.  They sat up in little Bumbo seats and had triplet pow-wows. 

The second year, Bray and I tried to figure out how to do “us” in the middle of the hard and exhausting work.  We fought and fell apart and fell back together.  That happened at least three separate times in this decade.  Where we didn’t know how we’d get back to each other and we always did.  God always worked a way for us to get back to each other. 

And these people.  Oh we loved them so much then and we love them so much more now. 

They are so very beautiful.  Their hands that will still hold ours.  Their foreheads we get to kiss after ‘bednight’ prayers.  Their hair that smells like chlorine or sweat or shampoo depending on when we hug them close.  Their eyes that stare into ours – welling with tears when hurt descends and sparkling with laughter when we dance or cook or exchange jokes. 

That first beautiful boy who came out.  Our Baby A.  With his big hands and feet and head, like a Labrador puppy.  Oh he is so persistent.  He works at anything he wants.  He wants to be the very best.  He can suffer crushing disappointment or sadness or self-chastising when he isn’t, but he just keeps working.  That eldest – confident, except when he’s not; bold, except when he’s worried; tenacious and athletic and competitive and loving and utterly kissable and challenging and fascinating and outgoing and passionate and smart and the first one to completely capture my heart. 

Then the lone baby girl.  Baby B.  She was squished right in the middle of the boys but held her own, kicking them in the head on our ultrasound to make herself known, and still doing it today.  She is the most introverted, needing time and self-reflection.  She struggles knowing what a bright and gifted young woman she is becoming, but she remains fierce and loyal and committed and active and kind and generous and adventurous and observant and thrill-seeking and thinking and lovely inside and out.  In her early years, I said she was my cat and the boys were my dogs because she just needed someone to feed her and change her and then she was just fine, thank you very much.  But her independence and desire for peace, while still strong, has abated enough so she loves and cuddles and develops deep friendships. 

Ah, and last, but most certainly not least, came Baby C.  He was the smallest all throughout the pregnancy.  Our doctor even asked us to consider “reducing” our crew when we found out we were pregnant with three.  What a loss the world would have without this bright Baby C.  His lungs were a little underdeveloped at birth which has caused him to struggle some with asthma but you would never know by the way he plays and works.  He will have his heart broken because he will give it away. He is bright and hard-working and diligent and empathetic and curious and loving and observant and also athletic and committed and sensitive. 

We did not make them who they are.  God did.  We get the honor of getting to know them better than everyone else, what an extraordinary gift to know them best, and of raising them to be generous and curious and grateful and seekers of truth and justice. 

We have failed often in this decade.  We will fail in the decade to come.  But they know we love them more than words can say.  They know we will always show up, no matter what.  And they know the five of us are in this thing together, for better or worse, and we will carry each other through the hard and cheer each other through the joy. 

One decade as a family of five.  It seems more than I can even take in.  I am ever so grateful for every single day.