I know, it sounds like something someone nasty might use to search for porn.
I assure you, this post has nothing to do with porn.
My boys are just 25 months apart.
They share a bedroom and I have the highest of high hopes that they'll grow up to be best friends.
Yes, they are complete opposites.
Carl is fastidious, a rule follower (most of the time) and a good listener (again, most of the time).
Charlie is carefree and lives life with reckless abandon.
Tonight at dinner we were talking about how many kids each of our kids were going to have.
Elsa proclaimed 6 or 7, Sarina said 4, Carl said 4, Charlie said, "none."
He's going to have dogs instead.
18 to be exact.
And he'd let them have puppies.
Since Thanksgiving the boys have been in a little sleepover mode.
When their cousins were here they shared the blow up mattress where the air came out enough to make them roll to the middle and snuggle.
Charlie laughs when he asks Carl if he remembers waking up snuggling him.
Since the stomach bug hit Carl's upper bunk mattress has been on the floor next to Charlie's bottom bunk.
Anyway, last night the boys were goofing off when Carl asked Mark to put his bed back on the top bunk and change the sheets.
Mark asked why and Carl informed him that Charlie had been messing around au-natural and bounced on Carl's bed without undies.
His balls and bottom right on Carl's bed.
Mark tried to make him feel better and said they had just taken a shower.
Carl's response was that Charlie doesn't wash there.
Huh.
Nothing like brothers that know ever intimate detail.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Trying Days
Some days I wonder if maybe I've been dealt a fuller hand to deal with than most.
Granted, we have a full family which naturally leads to more opportunities for excitement.
I know I haven't been dealt more than my fair share.
But sometimes it feels like I have.
This month has been full.
The beginning of the month I had a chance to jet off to Arizona with Mark while he did a countertop job for a friend's second home. I basked in the sun and shopped a bit for a blessed 48 hours while he worked his tail off.
My little sister kept the kids for me. (I don't know why I keep calling her my little sister. Not that it makes much of a difference now, but maybe to distinguish her from my big sister? Maybe habit?)
It was her turn to parade 6 kids born within 6 1/2 years about town and hear the whisperings in passing. "Are they ALL yours?" "You must have your hands full." All with a, "you're nuts" undertone.
She was a superstar. Took them to see Santa, out to lunch, to Jumping Jacks. They made sweet salt dough handprint ornaments. They called me to wish me a happy birthday. Truly she set the bar high. I know I'm not a fun auntie. I guess I just have to let her be that, and I'll do my best to try and keep up.
So, I returned home and kept the homefires burning while Mark wrapped up Arizona.
Just the typical- one kid with a fever that didn't go down for over 24 hours, a band concert, basketball game.
On the way up to the airport to pick up daddy
we had a barfer.
In the car.
All over the car.
Elsa was sitting in the back back and kept asking, rather persistently,
"what's that smell?!"
"what's that smell?!"
"WHAT'S that SMELL?!"
Charlie covered his mouth and nose.
Sarina "ewwed" it up in the front seat
and I just panicked.
Didn't know if I should pull over to the side of the highway on a dark rainy night in seatac or keep driving. I tried to pull over but realized there was really nothing I could do, so I hightailed it to the airport where a sweet curbside check man loaded me up with a big plastic bag, box of kleenex and fresh bottle of hand sanitizer (which really saved me- with the strong clean scent).
I then traveled to the cell phone parking lot where I cleaned up as best as I could with the far too few diaper wipes left in the car.
Welcome home daddy!!
We survived the night.
The next day poor daddy had to head to work.
That night as I left Elsa's room after putting her in bed I smelled hot electrical something, so I sniffed all over the house to find the source.
Wouldn't you know it?
The dishwasher.
(Don't ever buy an LG dishwasher)
I opened the door to it, closed it and a big black poof of smoke came out.
Awesome.
I sat and watched it a few minutes to make sure it wasn't going to explode and refrained from calling 911.
And yes, Mark walked me through turning the power off a the circuit breaker.
At least it was at the end of the rinse cycle so I called the dishes clean enough and put them away.
Next day, Mark's first full day home and he pulled the dishwasher out to check the connections for replacement and the waterline broke.
All over the kitchen.
And for once I was the one off, blissfully unaware, on a (rather painful) run with some girlfriends.
Poor guy, water everywhere, all on his own.
When it rains it pours, right?
All over the kitchen floor.
Which is actually kind of good, I can't think of the last time I cleaned the floor.
It could very well be a year ago.
Don't judge.
I don't have any crawling babies anymore...
Yesterday was a horrible, horrible day in Connecticut.
Thankfully, I took my kids and played hooky to visit Santa Claus on our annual trip to Seattle to see Santa.
It's the only photo I take of all 4 kids on an annual basis.
We all love to look over the photos and marvel at how much everyone has grown.
And I'm so glad that I escaped the media blitz about the nightmare-come-true in Connecticut.
I vacillate between wanting to stay in the bubble and know every detail of what happened.
I like that quote about looking for the helpers whenever there's a tragedy. I like that reminder to find the good in people who rise to help in time of trauma and tragedy.
There's such a pull to wallow in the sadness and despair of it all.
Maybe I like the idea of looking for the helpers because my husband is a first responder and I pray to God that he never, ever has to witness anything as horrific or a teeny tiny sliver as horrific as what happened to those babies and their educators.
I look into the face of my beautiful babies and it breaks my heart to think of those innocent children excited about Santa Claus and snow and the wonder of wintertime, who faced an unimaginable end.
I pray that they didn't know what happened.
That somehow they escaped the knowledge of their nightmare.
I have a 6 year old.
Most of my friends have 6 year old babies.
Here's mine.
Look at the joy on his face as he runs the bases.
Six year olds know nothing but joy in everything and the wonder in life.
Nothing can take away the pain those parents feel at never getting to hold their precious ones again. At having to answer the siblings questions about when their sister or brother is coming home. Or the lost look on their faces knowing that something so important is missing, and will be forever.
I don't want to think about such monumental loss.
I don't want to think about what kind of monster can inflict such harm.
Needless violence.
I am humbled by the courageous teachers and educators who sacrificed themselves for those babies. At those who hid, protected, and expressed love of such magnitude for the ones who survived, as they huddled together not knowing what was happening beyond their sight.
What they've been through is beyond comprehension.
Yes, some days I have a full hand to manage.
And for that I'm eternally grateful.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Give me vomit, burning dishwashers, and flooded kitchens until the cows come home.
Throw it all at me, I will take it all gladly, knowing that my babies are safe.
Granted, we have a full family which naturally leads to more opportunities for excitement.
I know I haven't been dealt more than my fair share.
But sometimes it feels like I have.
This month has been full.
The beginning of the month I had a chance to jet off to Arizona with Mark while he did a countertop job for a friend's second home. I basked in the sun and shopped a bit for a blessed 48 hours while he worked his tail off.
My little sister kept the kids for me. (I don't know why I keep calling her my little sister. Not that it makes much of a difference now, but maybe to distinguish her from my big sister? Maybe habit?)
It was her turn to parade 6 kids born within 6 1/2 years about town and hear the whisperings in passing. "Are they ALL yours?" "You must have your hands full." All with a, "you're nuts" undertone.
She was a superstar. Took them to see Santa, out to lunch, to Jumping Jacks. They made sweet salt dough handprint ornaments. They called me to wish me a happy birthday. Truly she set the bar high. I know I'm not a fun auntie. I guess I just have to let her be that, and I'll do my best to try and keep up.
So, I returned home and kept the homefires burning while Mark wrapped up Arizona.
Just the typical- one kid with a fever that didn't go down for over 24 hours, a band concert, basketball game.
On the way up to the airport to pick up daddy
we had a barfer.
In the car.
All over the car.
Elsa was sitting in the back back and kept asking, rather persistently,
"what's that smell?!"
"what's that smell?!"
"WHAT'S that SMELL?!"
Charlie covered his mouth and nose.
Sarina "ewwed" it up in the front seat
and I just panicked.
Didn't know if I should pull over to the side of the highway on a dark rainy night in seatac or keep driving. I tried to pull over but realized there was really nothing I could do, so I hightailed it to the airport where a sweet curbside check man loaded me up with a big plastic bag, box of kleenex and fresh bottle of hand sanitizer (which really saved me- with the strong clean scent).
I then traveled to the cell phone parking lot where I cleaned up as best as I could with the far too few diaper wipes left in the car.
Welcome home daddy!!
We survived the night.
The next day poor daddy had to head to work.
That night as I left Elsa's room after putting her in bed I smelled hot electrical something, so I sniffed all over the house to find the source.
Wouldn't you know it?
The dishwasher.
(Don't ever buy an LG dishwasher)
I opened the door to it, closed it and a big black poof of smoke came out.
Awesome.
I sat and watched it a few minutes to make sure it wasn't going to explode and refrained from calling 911.
And yes, Mark walked me through turning the power off a the circuit breaker.
At least it was at the end of the rinse cycle so I called the dishes clean enough and put them away.
Next day, Mark's first full day home and he pulled the dishwasher out to check the connections for replacement and the waterline broke.
All over the kitchen.
And for once I was the one off, blissfully unaware, on a (rather painful) run with some girlfriends.
Poor guy, water everywhere, all on his own.
When it rains it pours, right?
All over the kitchen floor.
Which is actually kind of good, I can't think of the last time I cleaned the floor.
It could very well be a year ago.
Don't judge.
I don't have any crawling babies anymore...
Yesterday was a horrible, horrible day in Connecticut.
Thankfully, I took my kids and played hooky to visit Santa Claus on our annual trip to Seattle to see Santa.
It's the only photo I take of all 4 kids on an annual basis.
We all love to look over the photos and marvel at how much everyone has grown.
And I'm so glad that I escaped the media blitz about the nightmare-come-true in Connecticut.
I vacillate between wanting to stay in the bubble and know every detail of what happened.
I like that quote about looking for the helpers whenever there's a tragedy. I like that reminder to find the good in people who rise to help in time of trauma and tragedy.
There's such a pull to wallow in the sadness and despair of it all.
Maybe I like the idea of looking for the helpers because my husband is a first responder and I pray to God that he never, ever has to witness anything as horrific or a teeny tiny sliver as horrific as what happened to those babies and their educators.
I look into the face of my beautiful babies and it breaks my heart to think of those innocent children excited about Santa Claus and snow and the wonder of wintertime, who faced an unimaginable end.
I pray that they didn't know what happened.
That somehow they escaped the knowledge of their nightmare.
I have a 6 year old.
Most of my friends have 6 year old babies.
Here's mine.
Look at the joy on his face as he runs the bases.
Six year olds know nothing but joy in everything and the wonder in life.
Nothing can take away the pain those parents feel at never getting to hold their precious ones again. At having to answer the siblings questions about when their sister or brother is coming home. Or the lost look on their faces knowing that something so important is missing, and will be forever.
I don't want to think about such monumental loss.
I don't want to think about what kind of monster can inflict such harm.
Needless violence.
I am humbled by the courageous teachers and educators who sacrificed themselves for those babies. At those who hid, protected, and expressed love of such magnitude for the ones who survived, as they huddled together not knowing what was happening beyond their sight.
What they've been through is beyond comprehension.
Yes, some days I have a full hand to manage.
And for that I'm eternally grateful.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Give me vomit, burning dishwashers, and flooded kitchens until the cows come home.
Throw it all at me, I will take it all gladly, knowing that my babies are safe.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Soup It's What's for Dinner
Ok, while I'm at it, I may as well share my latest obsession.
Soup.
I've been making all kinds of it lately.
This one has made many appearances since Halloween when I first tried it. Here's my adaptation from Cooking Canuck:
3 TBSP butter
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup flour
3 cups chicken broth
1 box prepared uncle bens wild rice
1/2 cup minced ham
1/2 cup finely grated carrots
3 TBSP chopped slivered almonds (optional)
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup half and half or milk
2 TBSP cooking sherry (optional)
Soup.
I've been making all kinds of it lately.
This one has made many appearances since Halloween when I first tried it. Here's my adaptation from Cooking Canuck:
Hearty Chicken Stew with Butternut
Squash & Quinoa Recipe
Yield: Serves 6
From the kitchen of Cookin Canuck.
www.cookincanuck.com
Ingredients
*When I doubled everything but
squash- it made A LOT (filled my 8 qt dutch oven)!
- 1 1/2 lb. butternut squash, peeled, seeded &
chopped into 1/2-inch pieces (I didn’t have enough to double so I used
costco 2 lb container + 1 ½ red peppers)
- 3 1/2 cups chicken broth
- 1 1/2 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs (I used 2
rotisserie chickens from costco)
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
- 1/2 tsp kosher salt
- 4 cloves garlic, minced (used one whole container
roasted garlic from top foods-in fancy cheese section on the same wall as
deli meat)
- 1 1/2 tsp dried oregano
- 1 can (14 oz) petite diced tomatoes (I used tomato
sauce)
- 2/3 cup uncooked quinoa
- 3/4 cup pitted and quartered kalamata olives (I didn’t
have enough to double)
- Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
- 1/4 cup minced fresh flat-leaf parsley (I used a
handful of dried)
- I added couple pinches sea salt
- I added 2/3 the bag of sun dried tomatoes from trader joes
Instructions
- Steam the butternut squash until barely tender, about
10 minutes. Remove half of the squash pieces and set aside.
- Steam the remaining squash until very tender, an
additional 4 to 6 minutes. Mash this squash with the back of a fork. Set
aside.
- In a large saucepan set over medium-high heat, bring
the chicken broth to a simmer.
- Add chicken thighs, cover, and cook until chicken is
cooked through, about 15 minutes.
- Transfer the chicken thighs to a plate and allow to
cool. Pour broth into a medium-sized bowl.
- Return the saucepan to the stovetop and lower heat to
medium. Add olive oil.
- Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion
is starting to turn brown, 8 to 10 minutes.
- Add minced garlic and oregano. Cook, stirring, for 1
additional minute.
- To the saucepan, add tomatoes, butternut squash pieces,
mashed butternut squash. Stir to combine.
- Stir in reserved chicken broth and quinoa. Bring to a
simmer, cover and cook until the quinoa turns translucent, about 15
minutes.
- Shred the chicken with your fingers or a fork.
- Stir the chicken, olives and pepper into the stew and
simmer, uncovered, to heat, about 5 minutes.
- Stir in parsley and serve.
Another yummy one is from Amanda B (not my Mandy B but another Amanda B) for my crowd I doubled this recipe so there was enough for leftovers. And if I were to cook this just for me, I'd fill it with mushrooms. But if I did that no one in my house would eat any.
·
amanda b's wild rice soup recipe
wild rice soup
3 TBSP butter
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup flour
3 cups chicken broth
1 box prepared uncle bens wild rice
1/2 cup minced ham
1/2 cup finely grated carrots
3 TBSP chopped slivered almonds (optional)
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup half and half or milk
2 TBSP cooking sherry (optional)
melt butter and cook onion until tender
blend in flour and add chicken broth
cook until it boils stirring the whole time
boil for a minute, add prepared rice, ham, carrots, salt and almonds
simmer about 5 minutes
blend in flour and add chicken broth
cook until it boils stirring the whole time
boil for a minute, add prepared rice, ham, carrots, salt and almonds
simmer about 5 minutes
blend in half and half
Another yummy one is from Barefoot Contessa's Italian Wedding Soup. I remember having this type of soup at the Courthouse in Tacoma one day when I was pregnant with Sarina and never having it again. So yummy- but if you make a lot for leftovers, pull out what you'll want to set aside so you can add fresh pasta on the reheat otherwise it's pretty gooey. And since I'm the queen of short-cuts I used frozen prepared meatballs. I made it for lunch Thanksgiving day.
And all of these go well with either Trader Joe's cornbread mix or this wonderful no knead bread from Frugal Living NW. Which I have yet to prepare when it isn't a sticky icky mess but somehow it still tastes yummy and totally worth trying to manipulate a sticky blob. In my 8 quart dutch oven the loaf is a bit flatter than I'd like- so try it in a smaller one if you can.
A Nice Day
Today was a good day.
I woke up to three sweet little boys happily playing legos.
I picked up my girls from their sleepover at Nonna and Grandpa's house with their cousin.
Then we headed down to the Olympia Rock Gym.
It was my first time in there and only Charlie had been there before.
Every chance the kids have had to rock climb they've seemed to love it, and I felt like it would be an active activity I could handle with the kids.
It was awesome.
I learned how to belay the kids so they could climb higher than 13 feet.
Which each one of them did.
Totally do-able and they're good!
And for all four for an all day pass (we lasted 2 hours) it was $30. Not bad.
Then after the climbing we headed just a hop skip and a jump away to our favorite- Sweet Charley B's for a treat. Only Carl got a cupcake (cookie dough)- the rest went for candy. Ok, I had to try the apple fritter cupcake. Darn it everything in there is GOOD!
That section of town is getting pretty wonderful.
The new Hands On Museum is beautiful- but for me is a one kid at a time place and even then I lost her- too many blind spots to see where they dart to for me. Anyway, the new museum right next to the rock gym, the beautiful sidewalks around the East Bay, Sweet Charley B's, farmer's market and Percival Landing all freshened up. We live in a wonderful, beautiful place.
Now, if the homeless thugs that loiter all over downtown would find a different city to dirty up we'd have it made. (Sorry, I couldn't resist that soap box...)
I woke up to three sweet little boys happily playing legos.
I picked up my girls from their sleepover at Nonna and Grandpa's house with their cousin.
Then we headed down to the Olympia Rock Gym.
It was my first time in there and only Charlie had been there before.
Every chance the kids have had to rock climb they've seemed to love it, and I felt like it would be an active activity I could handle with the kids.
It was awesome.
I learned how to belay the kids so they could climb higher than 13 feet.
Which each one of them did.
Totally do-able and they're good!
And for all four for an all day pass (we lasted 2 hours) it was $30. Not bad.
 |
| killing time until it was his turn |
 |
| goofing around until she could rope up |
 |
| what choo talking bout willis? |
 |
| I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and wise!! |
 |
| working it |
 |
| charlie powered through his fear and made it to the top |
 |
| sisterly love while mama gets Elsa in her harness (when she was climbing she had to quit 1/2 way up because her hands got too sweaty:) |
.JPG) |
| the natural |
 |
| she's party billy goat, with chalk falling down |
 |
| bouldering |
That section of town is getting pretty wonderful.
The new Hands On Museum is beautiful- but for me is a one kid at a time place and even then I lost her- too many blind spots to see where they dart to for me. Anyway, the new museum right next to the rock gym, the beautiful sidewalks around the East Bay, Sweet Charley B's, farmer's market and Percival Landing all freshened up. We live in a wonderful, beautiful place.
Now, if the homeless thugs that loiter all over downtown would find a different city to dirty up we'd have it made. (Sorry, I couldn't resist that soap box...)
Covering the World in Concrete- One Project at a Time
So, I know I've disappeared for a while. I've been pre-occupied.
I really don't know exactly why, but I feel more busy than usual.
Partially because I blog mainly when my husband is at work and he was home for a while.
Partially because I've been helping him to set up his business, running errands, doing his website (with a little- ok a lot of- guidance from a good friend), ordering business cards, putting together estimates, and even helping hold stuff while he completed an installation.
I feel like it's the least I can do to contribute to a business I believe with every bit of me will change our lives for the better.
He is so talented in what he can create. I know that there are no boundaries in what he can accomplish. Somehow he is able to venture into a project that is completely new and different and make it turn out beautifully.
And for the first time in a long time I feel confident that we will be able to save a little bit to help the kids with college.
That we can plan a little better for our future.
And maybe we can take the kids to Disneyland again.
I know it won't be handed to us, it is going to take many hours of hard work and dedication, but without sounding too cocky here, I think that we make a great team.
More often than not I'm just his sounding board to work through all the little nuances of his latest project. Mostly I listen, sometimes I delight myself and provide a little bit of help.
I can see the potential for so many fun and challenging projects on the horizon and I have faith that we will tackle them successfully and with the joy of completing something beautiful.
Wish us luck!
And if you know of anyone that needs new countertops, I know the perfect person for the job...
I really don't know exactly why, but I feel more busy than usual.
Partially because I blog mainly when my husband is at work and he was home for a while.
Partially because I've been helping him to set up his business, running errands, doing his website (with a little- ok a lot of- guidance from a good friend), ordering business cards, putting together estimates, and even helping hold stuff while he completed an installation.
I feel like it's the least I can do to contribute to a business I believe with every bit of me will change our lives for the better.
He is so talented in what he can create. I know that there are no boundaries in what he can accomplish. Somehow he is able to venture into a project that is completely new and different and make it turn out beautifully.
And for the first time in a long time I feel confident that we will be able to save a little bit to help the kids with college.
That we can plan a little better for our future.
And maybe we can take the kids to Disneyland again.
I know it won't be handed to us, it is going to take many hours of hard work and dedication, but without sounding too cocky here, I think that we make a great team.
More often than not I'm just his sounding board to work through all the little nuances of his latest project. Mostly I listen, sometimes I delight myself and provide a little bit of help.
I can see the potential for so many fun and challenging projects on the horizon and I have faith that we will tackle them successfully and with the joy of completing something beautiful.
Wish us luck!
And if you know of anyone that needs new countertops, I know the perfect person for the job...
Christmas Lists in 2012
Apparently, in this house lava lamps are a hot item.
Each of the kids wants one for Christmas.
Oldest wants either an iphone 4 or ipad mini (see previous post) and a blue lava lamp and maybe some clothes for her American Girl doll.
Next one wants an ipod touch with camera on top, red lava lamp, and some lego sets.
Number three wants this plush stump with little plush animals heads poking out we found down at Compass Rose one day in downtown Olympia and a green lava lamp.
And crazy pants dictated her list to me the other day:
*shiny new bicycle
*pet dinosaur (when I asked what we would do if Ollie barked at it her response- in a duh tone of voice was- "Mooommmm, it'll be in my room!" picture that duh tone of voice with a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you head shake)
*a shiny new boy room- with a bunk bed so her buddy Henry could sleep over and with a room in her room for her pet dinosaur
*and an orange lava lamp.
At least the lists weren't miles long.
My list for them is a cleaned out garage (not a scrap of crap stored in there) all tricked out with our porch furniture, an air hockey table, Foosball, ping pong, and darts. Maybe even a TV with the Wii or drums. Like their buddy's dad's "man cave" they all call it.
How heavenly would that be to have a sheltered place for them to go and be rowdy and get some energy out?!
We'll see if those lists change.
And I'm so up in the air on those darn i-everythings!
Each of the kids wants one for Christmas.
Oldest wants either an iphone 4 or ipad mini (see previous post) and a blue lava lamp and maybe some clothes for her American Girl doll.
Next one wants an ipod touch with camera on top, red lava lamp, and some lego sets.
Number three wants this plush stump with little plush animals heads poking out we found down at Compass Rose one day in downtown Olympia and a green lava lamp.
And crazy pants dictated her list to me the other day:
*shiny new bicycle
*pet dinosaur (when I asked what we would do if Ollie barked at it her response- in a duh tone of voice was- "Mooommmm, it'll be in my room!" picture that duh tone of voice with a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you head shake)
*a shiny new boy room- with a bunk bed so her buddy Henry could sleep over and with a room in her room for her pet dinosaur
*and an orange lava lamp.
At least the lists weren't miles long.
My list for them is a cleaned out garage (not a scrap of crap stored in there) all tricked out with our porch furniture, an air hockey table, Foosball, ping pong, and darts. Maybe even a TV with the Wii or drums. Like their buddy's dad's "man cave" they all call it.
How heavenly would that be to have a sheltered place for them to go and be rowdy and get some energy out?!
We'll see if those lists change.
And I'm so up in the air on those darn i-everythings!
Greedy Greedy Greedy
Christmas is coming.
I'll admit it makes my heart race a little bit that I can't give my kids every single thing on their wish list.
When we were the proud parents of one, I'll confess I was a little picky- ok a lot picky- about every thing for my precious baby. I wanted only name brand items, the newest and best of everything around.
Thankfully I was slapped into reality when I elected to stop working full time to take a more than 60% pay cut- so that I could stay home with my kids.
At that time I was pregnant with our second baby and beginning to realize that I couldn't provide all the newest and greatest of everything.
And even more thankfully, since then, I've consciously tried not to make a big deal about name brands or new things to the kids. I didn't want them yearning for things they couldn't/wouldn't have.
Hand-me downs accepted cheerfully (cause really, who doesn't love free clothes?!), then slipped into drawers, new clothes also slipped into drawers so that both can be a welcome surprise.
My reasoning for this is two fold. Practically speaking- because I cannot always buy brand new latest cool line of jeans/shoes/sweatshirts for each kid on a whim
but also because I remember watching an interview with Maria Shriver telling about when she was growing up, new clothes were not made into a big deal.
She had what she needed.
And that I provide.
I give my kids what they need, trying to do it with things they really like as well as need.
I also remember my middle school days. A crowd of girls would hug you in the hallway then peek at the label inside your shirt to see if it was guess or gap or whatever brand was cool back then.
One girl, the biggest culprit of them all, even went so far as to sew a guess label on her other brand jean jacket.
Why?!
That's the last thing in the world I want my kids to give a second thought to.
Because, really, who cares?!
As long as they're clean, their clothes make them feel good, and the kids are happy then the rest really doesn't matter.
Does it?
My oldest is going tech crazy.
So and so has an iphone,
so and so has an ipad.
And I keep thinking, WHY?!
How on earth do these parents monitor internet activity on those things?
And through them the kids can contact each other 24/7.
Is that a good thing?
I don't think so.
For a while I've allowed her to take possession of my old iphone which has internet access and apps that allow her to text. I was thinking it was a powerful tool to have ready to take when behavior wasn't up to par.
I understand curiosity is an important part of growth. But there was a questionable youtube.com search I found. So it disappeared for a while, I don't care who searched for it (she claimed it was a friend) it was far worse than looking up "fart" in the dictionary.
The other day the kids conspired to take it away from her, the littlest one sneaked into her sister's room at the urging of a bigger kid.
And miss big pants went on a rampage when she discovered it was missing.
She wailed on her youngest baby brother, believing he took it.
Warning, this photo is graphic.
I took it to show her each time she asked for an iphone/ipad or whatever. I wanted her to have this visual reminder of why things are not as important as people.
Granted he is prone to bloody noses but I've NEVER seen him with one like this.
Ever.
It went on forever. And then we pulled a clot the size of a cotton ball out of his nose.
Ewww!!!
I know.
Too much information?
And you know what he said once it slowed down? "Elsa took it, but I'm glad Sarina thought it was me because Elsa is so little."
So, is this the result of bad parenting?
Is it that I have kept too many things from my daughter, that she feels anxious or threatened that when she has something she's coveted it might disappear?
Should I never have let her have access to the iphone in the first place?
Should I have better boundaries for the littler kids?
In my book that photo has gone straight to Santa and she can kiss good bye the ipad mini I was seriously considering buying for her, even though it would be a stretch financially.
Am I wrong?
What would you do?
Never a dull, calm, or quiet moment in this crazy life.
And the questioning never ends, does it?
Maybe it isn't such a bad thing that I can't give them everything they wish for...
I'll admit it makes my heart race a little bit that I can't give my kids every single thing on their wish list.
When we were the proud parents of one, I'll confess I was a little picky- ok a lot picky- about every thing for my precious baby. I wanted only name brand items, the newest and best of everything around.
Thankfully I was slapped into reality when I elected to stop working full time to take a more than 60% pay cut- so that I could stay home with my kids.
At that time I was pregnant with our second baby and beginning to realize that I couldn't provide all the newest and greatest of everything.
And even more thankfully, since then, I've consciously tried not to make a big deal about name brands or new things to the kids. I didn't want them yearning for things they couldn't/wouldn't have.
Hand-me downs accepted cheerfully (cause really, who doesn't love free clothes?!), then slipped into drawers, new clothes also slipped into drawers so that both can be a welcome surprise.
My reasoning for this is two fold. Practically speaking- because I cannot always buy brand new latest cool line of jeans/shoes/sweatshirts for each kid on a whim
but also because I remember watching an interview with Maria Shriver telling about when she was growing up, new clothes were not made into a big deal.
She had what she needed.
And that I provide.
I give my kids what they need, trying to do it with things they really like as well as need.
I also remember my middle school days. A crowd of girls would hug you in the hallway then peek at the label inside your shirt to see if it was guess or gap or whatever brand was cool back then.
One girl, the biggest culprit of them all, even went so far as to sew a guess label on her other brand jean jacket.
Why?!
That's the last thing in the world I want my kids to give a second thought to.
Because, really, who cares?!
As long as they're clean, their clothes make them feel good, and the kids are happy then the rest really doesn't matter.
Does it?
My oldest is going tech crazy.
So and so has an iphone,
so and so has an ipad.
And I keep thinking, WHY?!
How on earth do these parents monitor internet activity on those things?
And through them the kids can contact each other 24/7.
Is that a good thing?
I don't think so.
For a while I've allowed her to take possession of my old iphone which has internet access and apps that allow her to text. I was thinking it was a powerful tool to have ready to take when behavior wasn't up to par.
I understand curiosity is an important part of growth. But there was a questionable youtube.com search I found. So it disappeared for a while, I don't care who searched for it (she claimed it was a friend) it was far worse than looking up "fart" in the dictionary.
The other day the kids conspired to take it away from her, the littlest one sneaked into her sister's room at the urging of a bigger kid.
And miss big pants went on a rampage when she discovered it was missing.
She wailed on her youngest baby brother, believing he took it.
Warning, this photo is graphic.
I took it to show her each time she asked for an iphone/ipad or whatever. I wanted her to have this visual reminder of why things are not as important as people.
Ever.
It went on forever. And then we pulled a clot the size of a cotton ball out of his nose.
Ewww!!!
I know.
Too much information?
And you know what he said once it slowed down? "Elsa took it, but I'm glad Sarina thought it was me because Elsa is so little."
So, is this the result of bad parenting?
Is it that I have kept too many things from my daughter, that she feels anxious or threatened that when she has something she's coveted it might disappear?
Should I never have let her have access to the iphone in the first place?
Should I have better boundaries for the littler kids?
In my book that photo has gone straight to Santa and she can kiss good bye the ipad mini I was seriously considering buying for her, even though it would be a stretch financially.
Am I wrong?
What would you do?
Never a dull, calm, or quiet moment in this crazy life.
And the questioning never ends, does it?
Maybe it isn't such a bad thing that I can't give them everything they wish for...
Monday, October 22, 2012
Oh What A Day
It started like all others.
Running just a little late.
Rushing to make lunches, shower, get everyone ready and out the door on time.
A whole lot of, "shoes on, in the car, buckle up!"s.
(Whole lot means more than the usual 10.)
All day school for the three biggest kids, pre-school for the littlest, dentist appointment for me, grocery store.
Typical, typical, typical.
Except, that when I pulled a container of chili out of the freezer for Mark's lunch I realized it wasn't quite all the way frozen.
Huh.
Later he called me to check on the freezer when I got home again to see if it was ok.
Fine.
I'm actually a little frightened of the freezer right now.
Mark just got a big buck a week ago and guess what's lurking inside my freezer.
Just guess.
That big buck's head in a garbage bag, with the rack sticking out above it.
Ew.
So, when I've been reaching in there I avert my eyes as best I can, hold my breath (I don't know why but I do), quickly reach in and grab out what I need then slam the door shut.
Like I'm afraid it's going to jump up and bite me or something.
Or else whisper, "hellllpppp meeeeeee" in a creepy soft voice.
Yeah I know, overly dramatic.
The point is, today I checked the freezer and found that the food was defrosting.
So, I had to reach back and play with the dial to see if it got bumped by big big rack as he struggled to break out of the freezer. The dial is awfully close to those horns.
I think this calls for a discreet picture...
I was discreet. I didn't include the part of the head I keep staring at through the garbage bag, as much as I keep trying to look away when I get in there.
Anyway, my chore was to clear out anything of value in the dying freezer to haul up to my in-law's freezer while they're out of town.
All while avoiding that sad nose inside the garbage bag.
Oops, I told you what I keep staring at.
I'll admit, I was patting myself on the back for handling that chore when I greeted the boys getting off the bus.
And guess what?!
Mom of the year forgot all about the Quality Work Assembly today for Carl.
He earned it for not one, but two assignments.
DAMN IT!
I was apologizing profusely as he kept listing all the parents who WERE there.
Salt in the wound little buddy.
As I'm still reeling from that terrible lapse, I look up at the clock.
4:02pm.
DAMN IT!
I was supposed to pick Sarina up from school at 4:00 after getting some extra math help from her teacher.
I arrive a mere 10 minutes late.
While I'm in the main hallway at school waiting for Sarina, I leave the rest of the brood out in the car.
And, as luck would have it, Miss Elsa rolled backward out the suburban door.
That's a good height for a little body to tumble out of.
Then back at home, feeling moderately confident I can pull the rest of the night off when I call the pediatrician's office to try and find a time to get Sarina in and her planter's wart looked at.
Oh happy day, they can get us in at 5:50pm.
So, race through dinner prep, order the little ones up to shower, ask grandma to keep the kids while I take Sarina in to get her foot worked on.
Fine.
Make it out the door with a good number of, "I said now!"s (in a mean threatening voice).
Pull up to grandma's. Two little ones pop out of the car.
Carl refuses to get out.
I try to pull him out.
He won't go.
I threaten, beg, plead.
Nope.
He says, "It's because I love you too much mama."
Which makes the following even worse.
I'm stretched in the middle between a big girl scared the Dr. will have to dig out her wart and a little boy stuck like glue to me.
I pulled him out of the car, locked the doors and tried to drive off.
But I couldn't take it.
I caved and ordered him back in the car.
Which lead to WAILING (Sarina).
Then me screaming.
Truly.
At the top of my lungs.
It really is a great stress reliever.
We make it to the stop light when he says, fine take me to grandmas.
I u-turn and drop him off.
And as I pull away he's standing in the driveway, with his back to me, arms folded across his chest.
Poor buddy.
He went into her side yard and hid.
I think to compose himself so she didn't see his tears.
Triple DAMN IT.
The rest of the day was fine.
But to review the fails here: dead freezer, forgot quality work assembly, almost forgetting a child at school, smallest child tumbling out of parked car door, screaming at the kids multiple times in a single day (I really prefer to keep it to once a day), trying to drive off and leave my little boy crying in the driveway (because he just loves me too much).
I think that last one will haunt me for years.
DAMN IT!
It was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
Even here in Olympia.
Running just a little late.
Rushing to make lunches, shower, get everyone ready and out the door on time.
A whole lot of, "shoes on, in the car, buckle up!"s.
(Whole lot means more than the usual 10.)
All day school for the three biggest kids, pre-school for the littlest, dentist appointment for me, grocery store.
Typical, typical, typical.
Except, that when I pulled a container of chili out of the freezer for Mark's lunch I realized it wasn't quite all the way frozen.
Huh.
Later he called me to check on the freezer when I got home again to see if it was ok.
Fine.
I'm actually a little frightened of the freezer right now.
Mark just got a big buck a week ago and guess what's lurking inside my freezer.
Just guess.
That big buck's head in a garbage bag, with the rack sticking out above it.
Ew.
So, when I've been reaching in there I avert my eyes as best I can, hold my breath (I don't know why but I do), quickly reach in and grab out what I need then slam the door shut.
Like I'm afraid it's going to jump up and bite me or something.
Or else whisper, "hellllpppp meeeeeee" in a creepy soft voice.
Yeah I know, overly dramatic.
The point is, today I checked the freezer and found that the food was defrosting.
So, I had to reach back and play with the dial to see if it got bumped by big big rack as he struggled to break out of the freezer. The dial is awfully close to those horns.
I think this calls for a discreet picture...
Anyway, my chore was to clear out anything of value in the dying freezer to haul up to my in-law's freezer while they're out of town.
All while avoiding that sad nose inside the garbage bag.
Oops, I told you what I keep staring at.
I'll admit, I was patting myself on the back for handling that chore when I greeted the boys getting off the bus.
And guess what?!
Mom of the year forgot all about the Quality Work Assembly today for Carl.
He earned it for not one, but two assignments.
DAMN IT!
I was apologizing profusely as he kept listing all the parents who WERE there.
Salt in the wound little buddy.
As I'm still reeling from that terrible lapse, I look up at the clock.
4:02pm.
DAMN IT!
I was supposed to pick Sarina up from school at 4:00 after getting some extra math help from her teacher.
I arrive a mere 10 minutes late.
While I'm in the main hallway at school waiting for Sarina, I leave the rest of the brood out in the car.
And, as luck would have it, Miss Elsa rolled backward out the suburban door.
That's a good height for a little body to tumble out of.
Then back at home, feeling moderately confident I can pull the rest of the night off when I call the pediatrician's office to try and find a time to get Sarina in and her planter's wart looked at.
Oh happy day, they can get us in at 5:50pm.
So, race through dinner prep, order the little ones up to shower, ask grandma to keep the kids while I take Sarina in to get her foot worked on.
Fine.
Make it out the door with a good number of, "I said now!"s (in a mean threatening voice).
Pull up to grandma's. Two little ones pop out of the car.
Carl refuses to get out.
I try to pull him out.
He won't go.
I threaten, beg, plead.
Nope.
He says, "It's because I love you too much mama."
Which makes the following even worse.
I'm stretched in the middle between a big girl scared the Dr. will have to dig out her wart and a little boy stuck like glue to me.
I pulled him out of the car, locked the doors and tried to drive off.
But I couldn't take it.
I caved and ordered him back in the car.
Which lead to WAILING (Sarina).
Then me screaming.
Truly.
At the top of my lungs.
It really is a great stress reliever.
We make it to the stop light when he says, fine take me to grandmas.
I u-turn and drop him off.
And as I pull away he's standing in the driveway, with his back to me, arms folded across his chest.
Poor buddy.
He went into her side yard and hid.
I think to compose himself so she didn't see his tears.
Triple DAMN IT.
The rest of the day was fine.
But to review the fails here: dead freezer, forgot quality work assembly, almost forgetting a child at school, smallest child tumbling out of parked car door, screaming at the kids multiple times in a single day (I really prefer to keep it to once a day), trying to drive off and leave my little boy crying in the driveway (because he just loves me too much).
I think that last one will haunt me for years.
DAMN IT!
It was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.
Even here in Olympia.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Reincarnation
I'm not sure that I believe in reincarnation.
I do believe that when you miss someone who's made the big move to heaven, sometimes you seek to see characteristics of that person in the people that surround you.
For me, the people I watch most are my little people.
I've said before, that when my dad was battling colon cancer Sarina was my perfect distraction- chipper, happy, asking millions of questions, full of life.
I found that explaining things in a way that wouldn't scare her, helped me to feel less scared about what was happening.
And Carl was my sense of peace.
All I had to do was look into his soulful eyes that seemed all knowing, with his dimpled chin and ridiculously wonderful chubby cheeks and I felt good.
Regardless of what was going on around me, those two little bodies carried me along.
But my Charlie Watson never once got to meet his Grandpa Watson.
They must have hung out in heaven before Charlie was sent down to us.
Not only does Charlie Bear look uncannily like his grandpa,
he's drawn to many things that seem odd for a little boy- but make perfect sense knowing my dad.
Am I looking for the connection, or is it just so very undeniable?
Examples you want?
Well, a little while ago I pulled a box of things from my grandma (my dad's mom) and washed them up. My house is filled with her handi-work- she was an amazing artist of all crafts from macrame to embroidery to quilting. There was nothing she couldn't do and with an incredible eye for detail.
So, I washed up these place mats she'd embellished and had them drying over my claw foot tub in my bathroom.
Charlie came up to me with a look of wonder in his eyes holding out one place mat, asking where I had gotten that, like he'd found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
I told him he could keep it
and he looked like he'd won the lottery.
His face just glowed as he walked away hugging that piece of cloth.
Shortly after Mark and I were hunting around for a wooden box that he'd promised Charlie.
The promise came after Charlie pined, repeatedly for a wooden box he's seen (and keeps returning to see) at the Olympia Farmer's Market.
We couldn't find Mark's box but I did re-discover an old carved wooden duck decoy that had been my dad's.
I knew Charlie was the perfect one to have it.
He's been toting that thing all over the place, like it's a stuffed teddy bear.
The kicker was last night.
I was marveling that he was so content roaming around, n@#$d {I tried to get rid of that word because some dirty bird googled that plus little boy-sick-o!!} as a jay bird, when I noticed that he'd piled up all of his favorite place mats from my grandma.
Painstakingly he laid each one in a ring around the edge of his bed, then climbed into the center and snuggled into a naked little ball.
I coaxed him into letting me take his picture, thankfully he pulled on clothes for the picture.
See the duck?
It was his idea to put it into the picture too.
I know my dad would love watching him.
Of course, my dad loved all kids and would love the unique individuality of each and every one of them.
But I think mostly, I wish I could watch him watch this little boy who seems to have so many funny characteristics his grandpa had.
Would he notice the similarity?
Would he identify with him?
Or would he just be another one of his sweet grand babies?
I know he can see him.
And sometimes,
when I want to see my dad,
I watch my Charlie marvel in a pretty bird,
spot some obscure object from a crazy long distance,
and delight in unique treasures that wouldn't turn most 6 year old boys' heads.
It's going to be fun watching who he grows into being.
I see so much potential for his special little soul.
I do believe that when you miss someone who's made the big move to heaven, sometimes you seek to see characteristics of that person in the people that surround you.
For me, the people I watch most are my little people.
I've said before, that when my dad was battling colon cancer Sarina was my perfect distraction- chipper, happy, asking millions of questions, full of life.
I found that explaining things in a way that wouldn't scare her, helped me to feel less scared about what was happening.
And Carl was my sense of peace.
All I had to do was look into his soulful eyes that seemed all knowing, with his dimpled chin and ridiculously wonderful chubby cheeks and I felt good.
Regardless of what was going on around me, those two little bodies carried me along.
But my Charlie Watson never once got to meet his Grandpa Watson.
They must have hung out in heaven before Charlie was sent down to us.
Not only does Charlie Bear look uncannily like his grandpa,
Am I looking for the connection, or is it just so very undeniable?
Examples you want?
Well, a little while ago I pulled a box of things from my grandma (my dad's mom) and washed them up. My house is filled with her handi-work- she was an amazing artist of all crafts from macrame to embroidery to quilting. There was nothing she couldn't do and with an incredible eye for detail.
So, I washed up these place mats she'd embellished and had them drying over my claw foot tub in my bathroom.
Charlie came up to me with a look of wonder in his eyes holding out one place mat, asking where I had gotten that, like he'd found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
I told him he could keep it
and he looked like he'd won the lottery.
His face just glowed as he walked away hugging that piece of cloth.
Shortly after Mark and I were hunting around for a wooden box that he'd promised Charlie.
The promise came after Charlie pined, repeatedly for a wooden box he's seen (and keeps returning to see) at the Olympia Farmer's Market.
We couldn't find Mark's box but I did re-discover an old carved wooden duck decoy that had been my dad's.
I knew Charlie was the perfect one to have it.
He's been toting that thing all over the place, like it's a stuffed teddy bear.
The kicker was last night.
I was marveling that he was so content roaming around, n@#$d {I tried to get rid of that word because some dirty bird googled that plus little boy-sick-o!!} as a jay bird, when I noticed that he'd piled up all of his favorite place mats from my grandma.
Painstakingly he laid each one in a ring around the edge of his bed, then climbed into the center and snuggled into a naked little ball.
I coaxed him into letting me take his picture, thankfully he pulled on clothes for the picture.
See the duck?
It was his idea to put it into the picture too.
I know my dad would love watching him.
Of course, my dad loved all kids and would love the unique individuality of each and every one of them.
But I think mostly, I wish I could watch him watch this little boy who seems to have so many funny characteristics his grandpa had.
Would he notice the similarity?
Would he identify with him?
Or would he just be another one of his sweet grand babies?
I know he can see him.
And sometimes,
when I want to see my dad,
I watch my Charlie marvel in a pretty bird,
spot some obscure object from a crazy long distance,
and delight in unique treasures that wouldn't turn most 6 year old boys' heads.
It's going to be fun watching who he grows into being.
I see so much potential for his special little soul.
Friday, October 12, 2012
A good smack
Oh the joys of parenting.
After a day spent seeing off the big game hunter for a few days, running errands to get a contractor's license secured for his big new venture, attempting to make the Honda-Car suitable for another to drive, replacing the already-lost-lunchbox of Mr. Big-Kindergartner, and trying to hunt down the perfect jacket for said Mr. Big-Kindergartner (that is the correct size), seeing the rain return, and trying to keep chipper for the kids while keeping everything in order and having family movie night (minus one very important family member)...
I would say, come evening time my nerves were a bit shot tonight.
I bribed the kids with movie (Charlie picked The Miracle and it was a good one) and popcorn if they bathed and got into their jammies.
It was after bath that the big smack-down came.
It was truly unintended.
Littlest Miss Sweet Pea was chirping rather loudly.
Ok- she was SCREAMING.
Just to make noise,
I wholeheartedly believe.
I calmly and pleasantly asked her not to do that again.
She screamed again,
in my face.
Maybe it's the hormones- alright it's totally partially PMS.
Anyway, I don't know when this became instinct, but without any real thought my hand whipped back and smacked her freshly bathed, still damp little bum.
On bare skin.
Poor poor baby.
I truly thought that the second largest beach towel we own she selected to wrap around her warm little body was covering said little bum.
But there was my handprint welt on that sweet little cheek to prove I connected.
And boy did she howl.
Rightfully so.
She was perfectly happy screaming.
Between sobs she informed me that {talking about spanking} that I needed to do, "little ones on little people."
My poor little sweet pea.
She's one of my very very favorite little people.
Sometimes I forget just how little she is and expect more out of her than maybe I should.
Next time I'll try to keep it "little on little people" even if they have a personality as big as Texas.
After a day spent seeing off the big game hunter for a few days, running errands to get a contractor's license secured for his big new venture, attempting to make the Honda-Car suitable for another to drive, replacing the already-lost-lunchbox of Mr. Big-Kindergartner, and trying to hunt down the perfect jacket for said Mr. Big-Kindergartner (that is the correct size), seeing the rain return, and trying to keep chipper for the kids while keeping everything in order and having family movie night (minus one very important family member)...
I would say, come evening time my nerves were a bit shot tonight.
I bribed the kids with movie (Charlie picked The Miracle and it was a good one) and popcorn if they bathed and got into their jammies.
It was after bath that the big smack-down came.
It was truly unintended.
Littlest Miss Sweet Pea was chirping rather loudly.
Ok- she was SCREAMING.
Just to make noise,
I wholeheartedly believe.
I calmly and pleasantly asked her not to do that again.
She screamed again,
in my face.
Maybe it's the hormones- alright it's totally partially PMS.
Anyway, I don't know when this became instinct, but without any real thought my hand whipped back and smacked her freshly bathed, still damp little bum.
On bare skin.
Poor poor baby.
I truly thought that the second largest beach towel we own she selected to wrap around her warm little body was covering said little bum.
But there was my handprint welt on that sweet little cheek to prove I connected.
And boy did she howl.
Rightfully so.
She was perfectly happy screaming.
Between sobs she informed me that {talking about spanking} that I needed to do, "little ones on little people."
My poor little sweet pea.
She's one of my very very favorite little people.
Sometimes I forget just how little she is and expect more out of her than maybe I should.
Next time I'll try to keep it "little on little people" even if they have a personality as big as Texas.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
An Adventure in the Fall
Yesterday was a typical fall day in our house.
We had a football game to get our cheerleader to at 8:30am.
Then raced home.
Made a nutritious lunch of top ramen (blech!) and packed up daddy for his big cross country adventure in concrete.
Then divided up and carpooled with fantastic new neighbors who happen to have a cheerleader and football player that line up perfectly with our cheerleader and football player.
So we girls headed off to cheer game number two, with a little boy with a wiggly tooth in tow, dropped of the cheerleaders, then Mr. Wiggly-Tooth at a friend's house to hitch a ride to one of his best little buddy's birthday party.
Then back to watch the cute little girls cheer their hearts out on a sunny fall day.
Next we packed it up and zipped out to the middle of nowhere (aka Yelm) to watch the boys play football.
Then race back to Lacey to pick up the newly front toothless little boy from the birthday party.
Yep, he lost his tooth in the pool and couldn't find it.
But don't worry, he dictated a note to the tooth fairy explaining the circumstances.
Off to grandma's to a delicious steak dinner with aunty and cousins.
My kids never get steak, so they gobbled up that big old platter of meat in no time.
Then asked for more "chicken" please.
Poor kids, never get anything good.
I even heard my daughter say, "It's nice to not have noodles or pizza for dinner."
Ouch.
I need to put that crock pot to use more on these crazy football days.
I just have to find recipes the kids will like, and actually eat...
Mission impossible, I know.
After dinner I ran to the pharmacy to get ambien for that big cross country trip while daddy oversaw bath time.
Then loaded the kids up to take daddy to the airport, all fresh and clean in their pjs, watching Herbie movies on the way.
Charlie started the waterworks first.
Actually, Sarina had been turning them off and on all day leading up to the departure.
But Charlie really wailed, "don't go don't go, don't GO daddy!"
Over and over- and over again.
It was a little like torture.
6 days is forever in their little minds.
By the time we got to the airport they were all crying.
Charlie pouring his heart into his wailing,
Carl sitting their quietly with tears streaming down his face,
Sarina trying to hold it together alternating with wallowing in her sorrow,
and Elsa just trying to keep up.
Quite a send off for a poor guy just trying to head out to learn from the best in the industry so that he can come home and grow a thriving business- for the family.
I know both mama and daddy had a lump in our throats too.
As I pulled away I was kind of wondering if someone told the kids that daddy was being deployed to war...
But truly, I'm so proud of my husband.
He's researched, and researched, and researched to find the best person to learn from.
Yes, he could do trial and error while he starts doing these concrete counter tops.
That's what he's done so far, but we both know that's not quick enough for us.
He wants to make sure that if people are paying him for a product, that he provides the best he can possibly provide.
I know he's going to do well.
He has that perfect combination of self confidence, pride in his work, and connections to make this successful.
I believe wholeheartedly in him.
Plus he has a fantastic support system and two jobs lined up for when he gets home with the promise of another.
We have a good life, there's no doubt how very blessed we are.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Snuggle Spot
For as long as I've snuggled my husband, it's always been his head on my chest.
We've watched many movies cuddled up like that.
With my babies, it's been the same.
Their sweet little heads on my chest.
Elsa recently named that spot.
The snuggle spot.
Our second grader has been the most prolific visitor to the snuggle spot, with his blankey.
He may have even logged as many hours there as his daddy.
He said he likes to listen to my heart.
I wonder if he hears it telling him how very full he makes that heart.
The other night (actually the night before I forgot what grade he is in),
he was snuggled in his snuggle spot (he uses that term now too)
and whispered in his sweet little boy voice,
"Mama, why does my heart feel funny when I snuggle you?"
Man I love that kid.
Of course I love them all.
It's that purity in their voices and clarity in their observations that makes my heart skip a beat and makes me catch my breath.
Every time.
We've watched many movies cuddled up like that.
With my babies, it's been the same.
Their sweet little heads on my chest.
Elsa recently named that spot.
The snuggle spot.
Our second grader has been the most prolific visitor to the snuggle spot, with his blankey.
He may have even logged as many hours there as his daddy.
He said he likes to listen to my heart.
I wonder if he hears it telling him how very full he makes that heart.
The other night (actually the night before I forgot what grade he is in),
he was snuggled in his snuggle spot (he uses that term now too)
and whispered in his sweet little boy voice,
"Mama, why does my heart feel funny when I snuggle you?"
Man I love that kid.
Of course I love them all.
It's that purity in their voices and clarity in their observations that makes my heart skip a beat and makes me catch my breath.
Every time.
Do You Pee Your Pants?
So, my friend has convinced me to consider taking a big step.
Like many mama's I hear about, I cross my legs to sneeze,
and when I suddenly cough,
oh and laugh really hard.
I put in a pad when I run (sorry brother TMI?).
I have visions of peeing myself in public- in a way I can't hide.
Not to mention, it would be nice to be dry when I'm done with a good run.
So, I'm considering the sling surgery.
The Dr. I visited described it as using a mesh that's been used in hernia surgeries for 30 (or was it 50) years. It was tough to tell, she has a bit of an accent.
She said the mesh is like velcro and instantly supports what needs supporting in there so I don't accidentally piss my pants.
Like you would do that on purpose...
To do it or not.
The surgery (not peeing on purpose)-
that is the question.
If I died from complications, would I be considered vain for having the surgery- just so I wouldn't have that shame of peeing my pants when I laugh really really hard?
True story- that did happen, at a friend's surprise birthday party at the country club.
I was pregnant (with the child who I recently forgot what grade he was in) and it was tough to tie a sweater around my massive belly to hide my super wet pants.
Gross.
It's not like I'm having a boob job.
And I have always had a hard time holding it when I laugh really really hard.
But I'm seriously considering it.
And you bet your buns I'm nervous about it.
Um, Hold on... It's Right on The Tip of My Tongue
Do you ever get asked a question and completely blank on the answer?
Sure, I know things like- who was the 12th US president,
or what is the square root of pi- most people would blank out on those.
I'm talking simple questions,
like the name of someone you've known for 3 years and seen 4 times a week.
Or how about how much each of your children weighed at birth?
Even if it's the sweetest person in the world and there's no pressure.
Like today, at my daughter's quality work assembly and someone asked me what grade my second child was in.
Uh.
Uh.
Hold on.
Nope,
Nothing.
Nothing there.
Completely blank.
Couldn't even conjure up who his teacher was last year.
I did find the name of his teacher this year.
Phew, quick deductions and sweetie pie who asked the innocent question helped me to figure out my baby boy is in the SECOND grade.
Dear Lord I hope that one sticks.
I don't know if I could take a repeat performance.
It caused flashbacks to Still Alice.
Ugh.
Now, if I wander into your kitchen and dismantle it looking for my favorite tea cup- make an appointment for me.
Please.
Jeez.
Who can't figure out what grade her own kid is in?!
Only this crazy mama in the country.
Clearly I was wrong on Monday when the doctor I visited asked me about my stress level.
I actually considered saying low.
I was all the way up in Issaquah, cozy in a Russian/Swedish bubble after a peaceful drive all by myself. I bumped it up to moderate when I reflected on my busy, hectic life.
Maybe I should revisit that answer.
Think it would make a difference on the Dr.'s conclusion that I'm a good candidate for the sling surgery to keep me from peeing my pants?
More on that next time.
Sure, I know things like- who was the 12th US president,
or what is the square root of pi- most people would blank out on those.
I'm talking simple questions,
like the name of someone you've known for 3 years and seen 4 times a week.
Or how about how much each of your children weighed at birth?
Even if it's the sweetest person in the world and there's no pressure.
Like today, at my daughter's quality work assembly and someone asked me what grade my second child was in.
Uh.
Uh.
Hold on.
Nope,
Nothing.
Nothing there.
Completely blank.
Couldn't even conjure up who his teacher was last year.
I did find the name of his teacher this year.
Phew, quick deductions and sweetie pie who asked the innocent question helped me to figure out my baby boy is in the SECOND grade.
Dear Lord I hope that one sticks.
I don't know if I could take a repeat performance.
It caused flashbacks to Still Alice.
Ugh.
Now, if I wander into your kitchen and dismantle it looking for my favorite tea cup- make an appointment for me.
Please.
Jeez.
Who can't figure out what grade her own kid is in?!
Only this crazy mama in the country.
Clearly I was wrong on Monday when the doctor I visited asked me about my stress level.
I actually considered saying low.
I was all the way up in Issaquah, cozy in a Russian/Swedish bubble after a peaceful drive all by myself. I bumped it up to moderate when I reflected on my busy, hectic life.
Maybe I should revisit that answer.
Think it would make a difference on the Dr.'s conclusion that I'm a good candidate for the sling surgery to keep me from peeing my pants?
More on that next time.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
School Bus Drama
Today I was alarmed to look up and see Carl sobbing as he walked down the driveway after getting off the school bus.
You know when they cry so hard they can't tell you what's wrong, so your mind races to the worst possible scenario?
Which, to him- it was.
I believe he thought he was going to die.
And for my kids I think that the concept isn't far fetched.
They can all recount the summer we lost our sweet little friend.
It has made them realize that kids can go to heaven too.
They know about mortality.
And it's such a tough thing to talk them through.
So, on the way home today- while on the school bus, Carl sat with a boy from his football team.
The kid was going on about pressure points and demonstrating on Carl.
He rubbed a muscle on Carl's back then stopped and said (according to Carl with a very serious look on his face),
"Oh I forgot, if I do that it means you'll die in 3 days."
Carl said he started crying on the bus.
He was that scared.
He believed it.
In his mind, the poor little boy thought he was dead man walking as he climbed down from the school bus.
I can only imagine what was going on in his head as he was trying to figure it all out.
How it would happen.
He was terrified.
I assured him it was all b.s. (not saying that, of course) but that it would never happen.
I don't think he completely bought it,
because at bed time he asked again if I was sure he wasn't going to die.
I explained that when I get massages my friend Michelle rubs my back like that and I'm ok.
I know that the boy who pulled that trick didn't know Carl well enough to know what he's seen in his life, so far.
I know Carl's haunted by images of his parents sobbing without restraint in front of him.
And the kid has two teenage brothers who've likely scared the shit out of him time and time again so he's immune to that level of terror.
It's a life lesson.
But it's a tough one for both mama and sweet boy.
I hope I don't see any more babies sobbing their way off the school bus again anytime soon.
You know when they cry so hard they can't tell you what's wrong, so your mind races to the worst possible scenario?
Which, to him- it was.
I believe he thought he was going to die.
And for my kids I think that the concept isn't far fetched.
They can all recount the summer we lost our sweet little friend.
It has made them realize that kids can go to heaven too.
They know about mortality.
And it's such a tough thing to talk them through.
So, on the way home today- while on the school bus, Carl sat with a boy from his football team.
The kid was going on about pressure points and demonstrating on Carl.
He rubbed a muscle on Carl's back then stopped and said (according to Carl with a very serious look on his face),
"Oh I forgot, if I do that it means you'll die in 3 days."
Carl said he started crying on the bus.
He was that scared.
He believed it.
In his mind, the poor little boy thought he was dead man walking as he climbed down from the school bus.
I can only imagine what was going on in his head as he was trying to figure it all out.
How it would happen.
He was terrified.
I assured him it was all b.s. (not saying that, of course) but that it would never happen.
I don't think he completely bought it,
because at bed time he asked again if I was sure he wasn't going to die.
I explained that when I get massages my friend Michelle rubs my back like that and I'm ok.
I know that the boy who pulled that trick didn't know Carl well enough to know what he's seen in his life, so far.
I know Carl's haunted by images of his parents sobbing without restraint in front of him.
And the kid has two teenage brothers who've likely scared the shit out of him time and time again so he's immune to that level of terror.
It's a life lesson.
But it's a tough one for both mama and sweet boy.
I hope I don't see any more babies sobbing their way off the school bus again anytime soon.
End of Summer and Back To School
We're now in week 3 since school started.
And yes, it's taken me this long to feel like myself again.
Finally, they're all occupied by something other than driving me NUTS!
It was a great summer.
And I'm incredibly grateful for Ken Lake.
We'd be home, the kids would fight and argue over something stupid.
It would escalate-
and feel like no one likes anyone in this house.
Then I'd pack everyone up and escape to the lake.
It was blissful.
They'd play together.
Encourage each other.
Work together.
And I could sit in the sunshine, drink my coffee, leaf through magazines and read books with pleasant children noises in the background.
Perfection.
There was a big mouth bass lurking under the dock that kept the boys occupied for many many hours.
I hope he's still around next summer too.
He brought all kinds of people together- big teenage boys, little boys, middle size boys, and more than one adult- all trying to figure out how to get him.
He'd pop out every now and then to let them know he was still there.
He'd delight the crowd by snatching one of the little fishes swimming nearby and eating it whole.
The kids also caught many little fishes, took them for rides down the slide, watched them swim in the ever present bucket.
I'll post pictures when I can use my email again.
They also ended the season by catching a poor little salamander.
When they finally let the poor guy go, he was so confused he just kept swimming in circles.
I hope he straightened out eventually...
So this is a big year.
Three kids at Griffin and our final year of pre-school.
Big time.
This was Charlie's first day of Kindergarten, first day riding the school bus.
I like to think of this as the kid realizing summer's over.
Silly geese.
First day of second and fifth grade.
Big boy in Kindergarten.
This picture looks sweet, and that's what I was hoping for, but just before I took it Sarina said, "Mom I don't want to kiss her. Her breath STINKS." At least she whispered it. Can you see her holding her breath while sweet baby sister is all in?
I'll admit, I had to take a sniff myself, and it was a bit sour.
I'll never forget feeling like the school bus was a big yellow monster gobbling up my baby the first time it stopped at our driveway. And I feel that way each time one more hops on there.
He's still adjusting to a new school.
One without his buddies from pre-school.
He was so lucky to have so many boys he loved in his pre-school class.
Tonight he cried because he was telling me that when Peter's mom walks Peter into their classroom Peter cries and it makes Charlie miss me.
It broke my heart.
How do you tell him it's ok?
When he's used to being by my side more often than not?
That I'm always close by for a hug and kiss if something goes wrong or he needs a little comfort.
This is why we start with half time kindergarten.
To ease into life away from home.
I told him that it sure sounded like Peter needed a friend, and I know that Charlie would be a great friend. I suggested that he walk up to him and tell him it will be ok and that they can play together at recess to give him something to look forward to.
Now I just hope that Peter is as sweet as he sounds after pushing my kid toward him...
And let us not forget the last but not the least.
Far from the least.
She's all dolled up for her first day of school, wearing her big brother's baseball hat.
I'm a little sad that her best buddy isn't there this year, makes it feel a little less exciting to drop her off. But I know it's good for her to branch out.
It's a new year, with old and new friends and I know it's going to be a great one.
For starters, I don't have to drive into town 5 days a week.
Two years of that was enough.
I can't believe that this is our 9th pre-school class at Gloria Dei.
They do grow up fast.
And yes, it's taken me this long to feel like myself again.
Finally, they're all occupied by something other than driving me NUTS!
It was a great summer.
And I'm incredibly grateful for Ken Lake.
We'd be home, the kids would fight and argue over something stupid.
It would escalate-
and feel like no one likes anyone in this house.
Then I'd pack everyone up and escape to the lake.
It was blissful.
They'd play together.
Encourage each other.
Work together.
And I could sit in the sunshine, drink my coffee, leaf through magazines and read books with pleasant children noises in the background.
Perfection.
There was a big mouth bass lurking under the dock that kept the boys occupied for many many hours.
I hope he's still around next summer too.
He brought all kinds of people together- big teenage boys, little boys, middle size boys, and more than one adult- all trying to figure out how to get him.
He'd pop out every now and then to let them know he was still there.
He'd delight the crowd by snatching one of the little fishes swimming nearby and eating it whole.
The kids also caught many little fishes, took them for rides down the slide, watched them swim in the ever present bucket.
I'll post pictures when I can use my email again.
They also ended the season by catching a poor little salamander.
When they finally let the poor guy go, he was so confused he just kept swimming in circles.
I hope he straightened out eventually...
So this is a big year.
Three kids at Griffin and our final year of pre-school.
Big time.
This was Charlie's first day of Kindergarten, first day riding the school bus.
I like to think of this as the kid realizing summer's over.
Silly geese.
I'll admit, I had to take a sniff myself, and it was a bit sour.
He's still adjusting to a new school.
One without his buddies from pre-school.
He was so lucky to have so many boys he loved in his pre-school class.
Tonight he cried because he was telling me that when Peter's mom walks Peter into their classroom Peter cries and it makes Charlie miss me.
It broke my heart.
How do you tell him it's ok?
When he's used to being by my side more often than not?
That I'm always close by for a hug and kiss if something goes wrong or he needs a little comfort.
This is why we start with half time kindergarten.
To ease into life away from home.
I told him that it sure sounded like Peter needed a friend, and I know that Charlie would be a great friend. I suggested that he walk up to him and tell him it will be ok and that they can play together at recess to give him something to look forward to.
Now I just hope that Peter is as sweet as he sounds after pushing my kid toward him...
And let us not forget the last but not the least.
Far from the least.
She's all dolled up for her first day of school, wearing her big brother's baseball hat.
I'm a little sad that her best buddy isn't there this year, makes it feel a little less exciting to drop her off. But I know it's good for her to branch out.
It's a new year, with old and new friends and I know it's going to be a great one.
For starters, I don't have to drive into town 5 days a week.
Two years of that was enough.
I can't believe that this is our 9th pre-school class at Gloria Dei.
They do grow up fast.
Head Above Water, Youth Football Season
Pssst...
Want to know yet another secret?
When I'm feeling overwhelmed, I don't blog.
As you can see, I've been overwhelmed lately.
That, plus my computer is on its last leg.
First it wouldn't let us use google (which includes blogger.com).
Now it won't let me into my email.
Do you know how hard it is to email essential professional documents without a computer?!
It's a little tough.
But I prevailed.
I got around the damn computer and it's bias against yahoo.com and used Mark's gmail account.
So take that temperamental techno monster!
Can't live with them, can't live without those darn computers.
Now, back to the overwhelming-ness of my life.
Do I complain too much?
Truly, just documenting the insanity.
We're knee deep into football season around here.
Sarina is cheering and Carl's playing for TCYFL (Thurston County Youth Football League).
Tackle football.
With pads.
And tackling.
And little boys playing quarterback.
(Yahoo!! That's MY boy!)
It's actually an impressive organization with thousands of kids participating.
It started with three practices a week, all in full gear.
Now he's pared down to two practices a week from 5:30-7:30pm, but Sarina still has three.
Did you know I pride myself on having dinner on the table at 5:30pm sharp?
This football has sure thrown a wrench in that peaceful (ha!) family routine.
Really, the main reason for dinner at 5:30pm is so we can get the kids in bed on time...
Sarina is rocking the cheerleading. I'm so proud of how quickly she's catching on and nailing her cheers and stunts.
She even gets to be the fly girl.
So much pride.
It's a grueling schedule, two kids going to two different places at the same time on all but one evening a week.
Then Carl plays one game a Saturday while Sarina cheers for two games a Saturday.
And dragging around the little ones.
Then I try to walk (sometimes even run) the track during practice.
I would fall sleep in two seconds in the grass if I sat there for 2 straight hours watching.
But all the driving, and meal planning, and orchestrating is so very worth it when you see your baby boy throw a pass that ends in a touch down.
When they're all gathered in a huddle and you hear his voice calling the play.
SO MUCH PRIDE.
There's nothing like seeing your last name on the back of your child's jersey.
Then to look down and see your almost mini-me wearing a cardinal and gold cheer uniform, cute big white bow in her hair.
I'm so VERY VERY lucky!
It makes all the insanity swirling around us worthwhile.
I want to stop time and stare at my babies out there.
Growing up.
Doing things I remember doing.
I can be sappy now about them.
They've been in bed for a couple of hours, so I'm feeling lovey.
If I'd written this a few hours ago I would be a little less lovey.
I guess it's a little like childbirth.
The memory of the nastiness dulls with time.
At the end of the day, some sort of magical spell settles in, and sprinkles love dust to help remind me what precious little treasures they are.
Even when they're smelly, back talking little boogers.
Come nightfall,
when they're snuggled in bed,
I know how very much I love those little rascals.
Want to know yet another secret?
When I'm feeling overwhelmed, I don't blog.
As you can see, I've been overwhelmed lately.
That, plus my computer is on its last leg.
First it wouldn't let us use google (which includes blogger.com).
Now it won't let me into my email.
Do you know how hard it is to email essential professional documents without a computer?!
It's a little tough.
But I prevailed.
I got around the damn computer and it's bias against yahoo.com and used Mark's gmail account.
So take that temperamental techno monster!
Can't live with them, can't live without those darn computers.
Now, back to the overwhelming-ness of my life.
Do I complain too much?
Truly, just documenting the insanity.
We're knee deep into football season around here.
Sarina is cheering and Carl's playing for TCYFL (Thurston County Youth Football League).
Tackle football.
With pads.
And tackling.
And little boys playing quarterback.
(Yahoo!! That's MY boy!)
It's actually an impressive organization with thousands of kids participating.
It started with three practices a week, all in full gear.
Now he's pared down to two practices a week from 5:30-7:30pm, but Sarina still has three.
Did you know I pride myself on having dinner on the table at 5:30pm sharp?
This football has sure thrown a wrench in that peaceful (ha!) family routine.
Really, the main reason for dinner at 5:30pm is so we can get the kids in bed on time...
Sarina is rocking the cheerleading. I'm so proud of how quickly she's catching on and nailing her cheers and stunts.
She even gets to be the fly girl.
So much pride.
It's a grueling schedule, two kids going to two different places at the same time on all but one evening a week.
Then Carl plays one game a Saturday while Sarina cheers for two games a Saturday.
And dragging around the little ones.
Then I try to walk (sometimes even run) the track during practice.
I would fall sleep in two seconds in the grass if I sat there for 2 straight hours watching.
But all the driving, and meal planning, and orchestrating is so very worth it when you see your baby boy throw a pass that ends in a touch down.
When they're all gathered in a huddle and you hear his voice calling the play.
SO MUCH PRIDE.
Then to look down and see your almost mini-me wearing a cardinal and gold cheer uniform, cute big white bow in her hair.
I'm so VERY VERY lucky!
It makes all the insanity swirling around us worthwhile.
I want to stop time and stare at my babies out there.
Growing up.
Doing things I remember doing.
I can be sappy now about them.
They've been in bed for a couple of hours, so I'm feeling lovey.
If I'd written this a few hours ago I would be a little less lovey.
I guess it's a little like childbirth.
The memory of the nastiness dulls with time.
At the end of the day, some sort of magical spell settles in, and sprinkles love dust to help remind me what precious little treasures they are.
Even when they're smelly, back talking little boogers.
Come nightfall,
when they're snuggled in bed,
I know how very much I love those little rascals.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Amazing Books
Don't you love it when a book changes your perspective on life?
When it inspires you like crazy to live better
be better?
Or is just one you cannot for the life of you get out of your head?
I love those kinds of books.
First there was Go Ask Alice by Anonymous (?!). That book saved my hide. I could have easily tried crazy drugs as a reckless kid but that book terrified me. Thank God I read it in 8th grade.
Another was The Stand by Stephen King. I remember reading it as a youngish teenager and having it blow my mind that there was a chance that we might have our own dark ages. Maybe that's the reason why it seems practical to have the scene set for potential self sufficiency if the need arises... AKA 5 acres in the middle of no where...
The Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck was a terrifyingly realistic book to me of what it must be like to be normal people thrown into destitution.
Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert is another that is often in my head. I loved that book, which I just read because I was bored not because Tim Russert inspired me I just knew him as that guy with a white board on NBC when it was election time (this was before his untimely death). It is such a loving tribute to his dad, Big Russ.
The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh helped me to remember that people are often affected by what has happened to them early in life and foster children need extra patience and love.
These are just directly off the top of my head, I know many many more will come to mind after posting.
But the latest, the reason for blogging, was Still Alice by Lisa Genova.
Alzheimer's is a terrifying disease. I know of three relatively close people who have suffered from early onset Alzheimer's- so I was drawn to this novel written from the perspective of someone living with it.k
Mental illness and brain damage are such uncomfortable afflictions. I'm sure for both the afflicted and those around them.
This book was so wonderfully written, it inspired me to be more compassionate.
Ok, I thought I was before, but it's a reminder that people are people regardless of what life has dealt them.
What a powerful powerful book. I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone.
While my dad didn't have Alzheimer's, it made me wish I could go back in time to be with him again.
To be more patient,
extra loving
and affectionate
more understanding.
Read it and let it inspire you for the people you are blessed to be with today.
When it inspires you like crazy to live better
be better?
Or is just one you cannot for the life of you get out of your head?
I love those kinds of books.
First there was Go Ask Alice by Anonymous (?!). That book saved my hide. I could have easily tried crazy drugs as a reckless kid but that book terrified me. Thank God I read it in 8th grade.
Another was The Stand by Stephen King. I remember reading it as a youngish teenager and having it blow my mind that there was a chance that we might have our own dark ages. Maybe that's the reason why it seems practical to have the scene set for potential self sufficiency if the need arises... AKA 5 acres in the middle of no where...
The Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck was a terrifyingly realistic book to me of what it must be like to be normal people thrown into destitution.
Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert is another that is often in my head. I loved that book, which I just read because I was bored not because Tim Russert inspired me I just knew him as that guy with a white board on NBC when it was election time (this was before his untimely death). It is such a loving tribute to his dad, Big Russ.
The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh helped me to remember that people are often affected by what has happened to them early in life and foster children need extra patience and love.
These are just directly off the top of my head, I know many many more will come to mind after posting.
But the latest, the reason for blogging, was Still Alice by Lisa Genova.
Alzheimer's is a terrifying disease. I know of three relatively close people who have suffered from early onset Alzheimer's- so I was drawn to this novel written from the perspective of someone living with it.k
Mental illness and brain damage are such uncomfortable afflictions. I'm sure for both the afflicted and those around them.
This book was so wonderfully written, it inspired me to be more compassionate.
Ok, I thought I was before, but it's a reminder that people are people regardless of what life has dealt them.
What a powerful powerful book. I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone.
While my dad didn't have Alzheimer's, it made me wish I could go back in time to be with him again.
To be more patient,
extra loving
and affectionate
more understanding.
Read it and let it inspire you for the people you are blessed to be with today.
Perspective on Yard Work
Wouldn't it be easier if we all declared weeds as plants and plants as weeds?
Who gets to decide what's a weed and what's a plant?
Is it the same guy who categorizes which words are profanity and which are acceptable in proper company?
Seems like a mighty powerful job.
I think I could do better.
I would declare all living things as plants worthy of retention.
Maybe then I wouldn't end up with the tightest hamstrings in THE WORLD and a sore back after one day of wrestling with those things you all call "weeds."
Then maybe I would follow it up with, "Way to go fucker! You just saved someone a whole lot of work!" But in my altered planet that would be a good thing to say.
Perhaps I'm a bit delirious.
Please Dear God let school start soon...
And yes, our yard looks light years better now that all of said "weeds" have been removed.
Who gets to decide what's a weed and what's a plant?
Is it the same guy who categorizes which words are profanity and which are acceptable in proper company?
Seems like a mighty powerful job.
I think I could do better.
I would declare all living things as plants worthy of retention.
Maybe then I wouldn't end up with the tightest hamstrings in THE WORLD and a sore back after one day of wrestling with those things you all call "weeds."
Then maybe I would follow it up with, "Way to go fucker! You just saved someone a whole lot of work!" But in my altered planet that would be a good thing to say.
Perhaps I'm a bit delirious.
Please Dear God let school start soon...
And yes, our yard looks light years better now that all of said "weeds" have been removed.
Don't mind me while I disappear into a book...
Do you ever just want to fold your self up into a good book like the never ending story?
I do.
It's my fantasy escape.
So-word to the wise...
if you see me racking up a stack of read novels there's something I'm escaping from.
Most likely the insane chaos of my blessedly full family life.
They are blessings,
they are blessings,
they are blessings,
almost equal to the amount of work they require.
Hear my self pep talk?
I wanted more than anything to be able to stay at home with my children- to raise them myself.
But there are days when I can't help but wonder if I might appreciate them more when I had a consistent break from them.
Maybe the resentment of putting away every single item in the house they lay their little hands on each and every day, all day long would lessen.
I realize it won't last long.
I know I will wish them back under my every footstep,
interrupting my each and every task
10,000 times(!).
I do love them more than anything else in the world.
But mama needs a break every now and then!
I envy those women who have taken an evening a week for themselves each and every week.
I wish our family schedule wasn't so complicated to allow for that (with my husband working we're only a whole family 2 out of every 3 nights-makes me feel guilty to take that away yet another night more than is absolutely necessary).
Clearly I'm not the only one with a little tension.
Foamy anythings don't stand a chance in our house.
Little nibblers.
I'm not 100% sure who the culprit is,
but I have my suspicions.
Maybe I'm getting old.
I no longer feel satisfied by accomplishing a lot in a short period of time with the kids under foot.
It's starting to just make me irritable and snappy.
So, anyone have some good book recommendations?
Lately I've read: The Little Giant of Aberdeen County, To Heaven and Back: A Doctor's Extraordinary Account of Her Death, Heaven, Angels and Life Again: True Story, The Girl Who Chased the Moon, The Peach Keeper, Garden Spells (all magic realism type novels- my favorite) and Still Alice (I think I'm going to blog about later).
Yup, the stack is growing.
And yet, this mama needs to disappear into a good book again...
Share your favorite escape books with me?
Pretty please?
I do.
It's my fantasy escape.
So-word to the wise...
if you see me racking up a stack of read novels there's something I'm escaping from.
Most likely the insane chaos of my blessedly full family life.
They are blessings,
they are blessings,
they are blessings,
almost equal to the amount of work they require.
Hear my self pep talk?
I wanted more than anything to be able to stay at home with my children- to raise them myself.
But there are days when I can't help but wonder if I might appreciate them more when I had a consistent break from them.
Maybe the resentment of putting away every single item in the house they lay their little hands on each and every day, all day long would lessen.
I realize it won't last long.
I know I will wish them back under my every footstep,
interrupting my each and every task
10,000 times(!).
I do love them more than anything else in the world.
But mama needs a break every now and then!
I envy those women who have taken an evening a week for themselves each and every week.
I wish our family schedule wasn't so complicated to allow for that (with my husband working we're only a whole family 2 out of every 3 nights-makes me feel guilty to take that away yet another night more than is absolutely necessary).
Clearly I'm not the only one with a little tension.
Foamy anythings don't stand a chance in our house.
Little nibblers.
I'm not 100% sure who the culprit is,
but I have my suspicions.
Maybe I'm getting old.
I no longer feel satisfied by accomplishing a lot in a short period of time with the kids under foot.
It's starting to just make me irritable and snappy.
So, anyone have some good book recommendations?
Lately I've read: The Little Giant of Aberdeen County, To Heaven and Back: A Doctor's Extraordinary Account of Her Death, Heaven, Angels and Life Again: True Story, The Girl Who Chased the Moon, The Peach Keeper, Garden Spells (all magic realism type novels- my favorite) and Still Alice (I think I'm going to blog about later).
Yup, the stack is growing.
And yet, this mama needs to disappear into a good book again...
Share your favorite escape books with me?
Pretty please?
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Dark of night & recipes
The bedtime shuffle in the dark of night...
Charlie had a bloody nose in the night.
I had no idea that he'd come into our bed last night.
Then this morning Miss Elsa work up at 4am crying because of a bad dream. She kept asking me to stay with her the rest of the night.
I assured her I would, but my M. O. is to typically jet the second she's asleep and head back to my own bed.
Miss Smarty-Pants wasn't buying it.
When I rolled my back toward her I felt her little hands grab the straps of my nightgown and hang on.
Like I was on a leash.
She wasn't letting me get away so easily.
Seems to be a rash of bad dreams.
I have no idea why my kids are all having deep rooted fears of something happening to me and/or Mark.
That's the reason, I believe, Sarina won't spend the night anywhere.
I remember having those myself. I hated that show Punky Brewster because of it.
It turned my stomach to think of being orphaned.
Charlie laid in bed tonight worrying about bad dreams.
He even asked, "Are bad dreams nightmares?"
Poor kids.
I'm hoping that this too shall pass.
Oh, then this morning I noticed Elsa stomping her foot repeatedly.
I realized that she was saying she was stomping out the sparkles.
Sparkles.
It took me a second to realize the "sparkles" was tingling in her foot.
It must have fallen asleep.
I like that.
Sparkly feet.
When they're asleep.
And now to continue my random train of thoughts...
My eating habits have relaxed a little more than I'd like recently.
And I have an extra 5lbs to prove it.
So, it's time to cut the carbs again.
This morning I made two salad dressings to have on hand for good quick salads.
The first is Creamy Balsamic Vinaigrette
First things first, ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS buy "FIRST COLD PRESSED" olive oil for salad dressings- or anything else not heated to a high temp.
I learned that's how you find the tasty olive oil when I studied in Italy.
And boy does it make a difference.
Kirkland has a good one that's reasonably priced- we go through this pretty quickly in our house.
Usually I throw together whatever I have on hand to use with this dressing. Today was tomatoes, mini bell peppers, coleslaw cabbage, butter lettuce, some marinated onions (red onions sliced and sitting in a baggie with balsamic vinegar for a couple hours to a couple days) slivers of Dubliner cheese and two hard boiled eggs.
I'm at the end of my fresh groceries- ideally I'd have my marinated red onions, tomatoes, avocado, chicken, (maybe even some bacon), some type of strong cheese (blue, feta, Dubliner) and lots of fresh butter lettuce or romaine.
Also, I'm a sucker for a good Asian Noodle Salad .
Fortunately my friend Robin keeps me hooked up.
I've posted her Spicy Thai Noodle Salad before.
Now this one she shared with me this year.
I make this dressing and try to have it on hand. Super quick salad with left over grilled chicken or steak with cabbage (often I cheat and use the coleslaw mix from the grocery store).
But do NOT use Kikkoman soy sauce from costco- way too salty.
I'm sorry that I made that mistake when I ran out of the low sodium sauce and was making this for a family.
Also, if I add noodles (I try to stay away from carbs) then I use Trader Joe's High Fiber Spaghetti.
Yes, I went through a phase when I was trying to consume 30 grams of fiber each day eating some nasty cardboard crackers (now used as fish bait at Ken Lake).
Now I'm just trying to eat whole foods with minimal carbs.
Five lbs can stick like super glue but I've learned that if you're persistent, even super glue can release it's hold when you keep at it.
Charlie had a bloody nose in the night.
I had no idea that he'd come into our bed last night.
Then this morning Miss Elsa work up at 4am crying because of a bad dream. She kept asking me to stay with her the rest of the night.
I assured her I would, but my M. O. is to typically jet the second she's asleep and head back to my own bed.
Miss Smarty-Pants wasn't buying it.
When I rolled my back toward her I felt her little hands grab the straps of my nightgown and hang on.
Like I was on a leash.
She wasn't letting me get away so easily.
Seems to be a rash of bad dreams.
I have no idea why my kids are all having deep rooted fears of something happening to me and/or Mark.
That's the reason, I believe, Sarina won't spend the night anywhere.
I remember having those myself. I hated that show Punky Brewster because of it.
It turned my stomach to think of being orphaned.
Charlie laid in bed tonight worrying about bad dreams.
He even asked, "Are bad dreams nightmares?"
Poor kids.
I'm hoping that this too shall pass.
Oh, then this morning I noticed Elsa stomping her foot repeatedly.
I realized that she was saying she was stomping out the sparkles.
Sparkles.
It took me a second to realize the "sparkles" was tingling in her foot.
It must have fallen asleep.
I like that.
Sparkly feet.
When they're asleep.
And now to continue my random train of thoughts...
My eating habits have relaxed a little more than I'd like recently.
And I have an extra 5lbs to prove it.
So, it's time to cut the carbs again.
This morning I made two salad dressings to have on hand for good quick salads.
The first is Creamy Balsamic Vinaigrette
 |
| These are the ingredients I used- that's sugar in a sugar bowl, in case you were wondering. |
I learned that's how you find the tasty olive oil when I studied in Italy.
And boy does it make a difference.
Kirkland has a good one that's reasonably priced- we go through this pretty quickly in our house.
Usually I throw together whatever I have on hand to use with this dressing. Today was tomatoes, mini bell peppers, coleslaw cabbage, butter lettuce, some marinated onions (red onions sliced and sitting in a baggie with balsamic vinegar for a couple hours to a couple days) slivers of Dubliner cheese and two hard boiled eggs.
I'm at the end of my fresh groceries- ideally I'd have my marinated red onions, tomatoes, avocado, chicken, (maybe even some bacon), some type of strong cheese (blue, feta, Dubliner) and lots of fresh butter lettuce or romaine.
Also, I'm a sucker for a good Asian Noodle Salad .
Fortunately my friend Robin keeps me hooked up.
I've posted her Spicy Thai Noodle Salad before.
 |
| These are the ingredients I had on hand to use today. |
I make this dressing and try to have it on hand. Super quick salad with left over grilled chicken or steak with cabbage (often I cheat and use the coleslaw mix from the grocery store).
But do NOT use Kikkoman soy sauce from costco- way too salty.
I'm sorry that I made that mistake when I ran out of the low sodium sauce and was making this for a family.
Also, if I add noodles (I try to stay away from carbs) then I use Trader Joe's High Fiber Spaghetti.
Yes, I went through a phase when I was trying to consume 30 grams of fiber each day eating some nasty cardboard crackers (now used as fish bait at Ken Lake).
Now I'm just trying to eat whole foods with minimal carbs.
Five lbs can stick like super glue but I've learned that if you're persistent, even super glue can release it's hold when you keep at it.
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