Is My Crazy Showing?

Have you seen this?



Earlier this year my mom and I found this very entertaining sign at a Nordstrom store (she bought it).

I love it.

Love, love, LOVE it!

And truth be told, that's what I thought of this weekend.

This Saturday we had a rather (wonderful yet) full day.

We raced off to the Santa breakfast, which was a lot of fun for the kids.  A magician performed, Santa came for a beautiful photo op, and a far larger brunch than I'd ever attempt to undertake myself  was served- complete with a pancake bar Buddy Elf would be delighted to find.

(You know Buddy Elf from the movie Elf?)

I was puzzled all day long why I hadn't noticed before that day that my dress length was odd.

I know all the kids are wearing those "up and down" dresses where they're shorter in front and longer in the back.

It was weird to me that mine was the opposite- longer in front and shorter in back.

I chalked it up to buying it in a discount store and rolled with it.

All

day

long.

Through the breakfast,

a basketball game,

a meeting

and then on to my husband's work Christmas party.

It was at that party that I was discussing how odd my dress was when one smarty-pants proposed that I check the tag.

Huh.

I checked behind my neck.

Smooth,

no tag there.

Checked along the V-neck line.

Oh.

Crap.

I'd worn my dress backwards

ALL

DAY

LONG!

Did I go switch it around?

Nope.

I laughed at myself, poured myself another adult beverage,

then tucked my crazy back in and rolled with it.

Some days are like that.

Sometimes it feels good to laugh at yourself

and not take yourself too seriously.

My Favorite Day of the Year

I have to say my very favorite day of the year is not Christmas

or Thanksgiving

or my birthday

or my anniversary.

My favorite day of the year is the day we keep the kids home from school, dress up, and visit Santa at the Nordstrom in downtown Seattle.

I love it.

I love seeing my kids so excited and nervous about their moment with the big guy.

I love watching their faces as we drive into the city, ooohhing and aaahhhing over the big buildings and busyness of a city.

I love how foreign it is to them to be in a busting downtown.

I love driving through a city I loved living in.

Remembering what restaurants were my favorites. 

The landmarks I enjoyed passing. 

Driving routes I drove when I felt like I belonged in the city.

And I love eating the best hamburger, hands down, at Red Mill.  A magical place where they have a sign saying no cell phones.  Where they don't take credit or debit cards.  Where the lines are worth it.  Where the pile of bacon is insane and mouthwatering.

This year was pretty remarkable.

Yes, we had to worry about getting our broken (yup, yet another broken appliance in this household) dishwasher repaired-the repair lady was able to squeeze in during our dinner hour between Santa and concert.

But we had a fantastic surprise, Elsa was excited to wear the dress she picked out months ago for the big trip to see Santa. 

And she wore it the whole time in Seattle.

I think she even relished the compliments she received.

Maybe she relished being a pretty little girl, if only for a short time.

After Santa we took a different route from downtown to Phinney Ridge (location of the wonderful Red Mill) and happened to drive by the Freemont Troll, so he was added to our favorite stops.

It gets easier the older the kids get.

Maybe one year we can add a trip to the Ferris wheel.

Another we could stay over night.

Yet another we may go to up to the top of the Space Needle.

To top it off we ended the day watching Sarina perform a little group solo in her band concert.

(Elsa had switched into the camo pants and hat for the occasion...)

What a blessed life.

I am so very lucky.

Thoughful Kids

Last night, while I was hovering over our leaking dishwasher (yet again!) and cleaning up dinner, Carl was secretly working on a project.

A project for me.

He wanted to surprise me so I helped him as he needed with minimal glances in his direction.

I will never regret the love and energy I pour into my crazy little munchkins. 

It is so nice when they show their love in such a thoughtful way.

Lael is my middle name.

This makes neglecting mopping floors, washing windows, organizing closets, and wiping down baseboards worthwhile.

There will come a time when I will have a tidy house, when there's a place for everything and everything in its place.

But for now, I'm grateful for the explosion of clutter that seems to be an expression of our lives.

I'm a lucky mama.

People Matter Part 2

I love this, and it dovetails beautifully with how I was feeling about my post "People Matter More Than Anything, I Choose to be Grateful."

I think it's beautiful, I don't care if it's fact or fiction, it's a lesson to us all...

 

Posted by Debbie Saporta on her facebook page:

The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised and proud lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary.

After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly wh...en told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. “I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.

“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room …. just wait.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged, it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away, just for this time in my life.”

She went on to explain, “Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from what you’ve put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in the bank account of memories Thank you for your part in filling my Memory bank. I am still depositing.”

And with a smile, she said: “Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less

Dog Beath

I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but our black lab puppy is really a cat in doggie clothes.

I swear it.

I've never before seen a lab that runs away when you call it so you can pet it.

I've never before seen a lab that hops up on the hood of a freshly parked car.

What?!

She's skittish and prefers her own space.

But my Charlie's working to break the ice.

He patiently lays as close as he can get to her before she sneaks a safe 10 feet away.

It's taken a year but he's worked up to sharing her bed with her every now and then.

The other day I was sitting on the couch and heard him talking to her in his sweet, still high pitched- but happy little voice.

"Ollie" he said,

"your breath smells like mama's."

Funny and offensive at the same time.

I've seen what that dog eats when she's wild and free outside.

I've seen how she bathes herself.

I knew sometimes I have stinky coffee breath, but what?!

He didn't mean to be mean.

There's a very high probability that Charlie would take it as a compliment.

"Your breath smell's like mama's."

I won't lie, that stung a little bit.

People Matter More Than Anything, I Choose To Be Grateful

I think I might be growing up.

A little bit at a time.

I'm learning to control my reactions.

I'm learning to choose my perspective on the events that happen in my life.

I'm learning to see the positive in every scenario.

I'm choosing to be grateful.

I'm choosing to see that I am fortunate beyond words.

I have a husband I love more and more each and every day. 

No matter what happens, I find him to be my source of strength and inspiration.

I have a mom who leads by example, how to be a loving mother- who nurtures me even though I'm an adult with my own children.

We all need nurturing, I don't care how old you are.

I have siblings that I love even though I don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like, I know they love me as much as I love them- even if we don't get to show it regularly.

I have beautiful nieces and nephews, each wonderful individuals (and one we get to celebrate really really soon!)

I'm grateful I have four wild and crazy children with an insane level of energy.  Those little people have challenged me, yet enriched my life far beyond measure. 

I love the happiness and joy the exude.

I am constantly entertained by them.

I'm also grateful for our challenges and hardships.

They have helped us to grow.

They have helped us to recognize what we value in our lives.

I'm learning that I value people over possessions.

People over appearances.

People over self-gratification.

I have so many friends near and far.

Such a big, and wild, and crazy family, near and far

And I'm so grateful for each and every person- friend or family.

The people I see often and those wish I could see more.

Whatever happens in my life, I know that I am blessed beyond measure.

I am so blessed to have the opportunity to stop and reflect on this and know in my heart that I am one of the luckiest people on earth.

A little preview of our Christmas card...

People are what matter.

We Just Might Have a Closet Girl

Someone in our house seems to roll a bit differently than the norm.

I love that about her.

We might have made a little too big of a deal about it.

Our baby girl who has so completely shunned the color pink has started taking a new turn.

I don't know if it's because she's now without the influence of big brothers during the day.

Or that she has more time to be on her own, doing whatever feels right to her.

But lately she's been wanting to play babies.

Could be she wants to be a big sister.

Could be that she doesn't mind doing a few girl things here and there.

Could be that's just what she's in the mood for.

I don't know.

I have no answers. 

Each day is fresh and new with this one.

Thank goodness I didn't thin out Sarina's baby collection. 

Elsa's been digging through it and each treasure she finds is like she's struck gold.

I love it!

I love re-discovering each little doll with her and remembering what is special about them- one sings in Spanish (dolce suenos!), another smells like yummy baby, one closes her eyes, one has a magnet that draws a binkie to her mouth... 

And the doll clothes I remember playing with as a little girl, some made by my grandma.

Oh and I cannot tell you how happy I am to see that little high chair and cradle back in use.

Yes, it's a Home Depot apron, and the t-shirt is brown but it is a "girl" shirt.  And a necklace too. 

Yesterday she even wore "girl jeans" to school!

But we're not making a big deal about it.

None of us are.

We're well versed in doing a discrete fist pump behind her back whenever she does something girly.

Not that we want her to be anything other than her authentic self.

She's a special cookie that Elsa Jane and I love this wiggly little person with her crazy pony tail, baseball hat, and home depot apron.

Who's becoming a closet girl.

Maybe she's just trying out the role before she takes it out in public.

Or maybe it's just a phase.

I don't know but I'm sure enjoying the ride.

Boeing Machinists and Distribution of Wealth in the USA

I don't really care for political debates.

Yet I have some pretty strong opinions.

I love my friends and family enough that I don't wish to have uncomfortable conversations with them when our beliefs can differ so vastly.

So I try to steer clear of those types of conversations.

Yet a current event has gotten me thinking.

Thinking about the perception of classes of people.

Thinking about the perception of laziness in unions.

(Disclaimer: I feel strongly that they have a wonderful place and am very grateful for the security they provide for my husband's protection and well being).

Thinking about the perception of corporate greed.

And thinking about the perception of the lower class people residing in our great land of opportunity.

The land of the free, the home of the brave, and where lowly immigrants have made fortunes beyond what they could have imagined in their homelands.

Recently, the Boeing Machinist Union members voted down their latest contract offer.

The effects of which could mean the lost of tens of thousands (and more) jobs in our region working on the new 777x.

The coverage of this decision in the local media was biased (which always seems to be the case lately-whatever happened to integrity of reporting?  Of unbiased reports?  Seems to be long gone...)

I'll admit I was swayed.

"Selfish."  I'd thought.

"They just shot themselves in the foot."  Was another thought.

Along with worry of their seemingly greedy decision affecting so very, very many families in our beautiful corner of the country.

Until I read this op-ed from the NY Times.

Wow.

I've been thinking about the state of our country quite a bit lately.

I don't know why.

Maturity?

Old age?

I don't know.

But it scares me.

What kind of a world will our children live in?

Will this great land of opportunity become the land of the oppressed?  Controlled by the small number of individuals who's wealth affects every individual in our country?  By people who seem more interested in growing their massive piles of dollar bills rather than properly compensating their workforce with a living wage, pension, and health benefits?

Thinking about things like this incredibly illustrative youtube.com video  about the distribution of wealth in our country makes a compelling case for my worry.  They present statistics in a mind-boggling (yet understandable) way.  And that's coming from a girl who dropped calculus for ice skating in college...

The gap is widening.

Where will my children and grandchildren fall within that gap?

I worry about being able to send my four kids to college. 

How will we be able to afford it, the way the cost of education keeps soaring?

If they don't have a college education, how will they find a living wage job?

I know this is a cyclical trend.  The industrial revolution introduced this same kind of cultural environment.  But it seems to me that the industry leaders were more civic minded.  At least they left a tangible reminder of their legacy.  I'm thinking of Andrew Carnegie here.  Industrial giants who set up a way to help the disadvantaged to have a fighting chance to change their lives.

And no, I'm not talking about our population who are able-mind and able-bodied, who could work but choose to live off welfare and hand-outs.

Yes, we have Warren Buffett, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation has contributed to our world betterment in a mind blowing way, and I hear Zuckerberg is following their lead (thanks Zach...) 

But I think it needs to be a mindset that is far, far more broad than the small handful of individuals who have more wealth than we little people could ever conceive of.  More than a cushy tax break for the wealthy. 

It needs to be a mindset that spans all levels of humanity.  With the intention of doing good because it's the right thing to do, not because of an appealing tax break.

My greatest hope is that our children learn how to give for the betterment of our society, in a manner that helps make our world a better place to be.  A better place for their children and grandchildren.

We need to teach them the value of buying local.

The value of products made by people earning living wages.

The value of spending a little extra to generate that positive ripple in our economy.

I read somewhere that in Africa, some communities view it as selfish and greedy to do your own housework, yard work, etc when you could hire someone else to do it for you; when doing so would provide an income to a person in need of work.

That struck me. 

It makes sense.

And what happened to the old jingle, "Made in the U.S.A, it matters!"

Did you sing along with me?

I love this story ABC did a couple of years ago, Made In America. 

Why wouldn't it work? 

Why not try?

I feel like we need more solidarity.

More social conscience.

More awareness of how thousands of decisions we make on a regular basis impacts our economy,

our communities,

our country,

our world.

I don't know either side of the in-depth story with the Boeing Machinists. 

But I do know that it took a whole lot of courage to stand up and say "Enough." 

I'm saddened to see what's coming for them as a result of their integrity.

I wonder if I would have had that courage if it were my family who would experience the cold shoulder of a company founded in my community, and fostered by my state government.

If I could have turned down a watered down contract in the name of remaining competitive (ahem, to increase corporate bonuses...?) but in doing so jeopardizing my own career.

I pray they don't all suffer massive job losses.

That the businesses that depend on their productivity don't suffer debilitating losses.

I pray that the people who lead the massive companies (such as Boeing) stop and remember where they came from. 

That they remember that maybe a couple of million less in bonuses, which likely would mean the slightest change in their lifestyle, might be better spent on supporting their workforce.

And it's a spectacular reminder to me, to shop local as much as possible. 

To try to buy products made in the U.S.A.

And to be more conscientious about the businesses I support.

November 30, 2013 is Small Business Saturday.  Instead of going to Kmart, Wal-Mart, Target, Toys R Us and all the big box retailers, try going to the local toy store, grocery store, hardware store, and cupcake shop.  How about going to insurance agents and mortgage brokers you know by name and recognize in the grocery store or your kids school?  The people who own those businesses and those who work there are your neighbors, friends, fellow members of your congregation, your kids coaches, your kids classmates parents, and good people.

How about we put a little money in their tills.

I know I'm only one person, but if you join me, and you ask others to join us, maybe we can be the change we want to see.

Who's with me?

*Please read that op-ed in the NY Times and watch the Distribution of Wealth & Made in America videos, you won't be sorry you did.

Veteran's Day

Sometimes, when my mind wanders off to the topic, I am blown away by historical events.

WWII is one of those events.

I cannot believe the intentional harm inflicted upon an inconceivable number of individuals.

I can't fathom what it must have been like to live through that period of time here in the US let alone in Europe.

As a dark haired person of Jewish descent (among many others) if I'd had the misfortune to live in Europe during that time, I would have been a target for the Nazi's.

I would have been one of the people many others persecuted.

I am proud that my grandfathers and that my husband's grandfathers served in the mission to stop the evil that spread so rapidly through Europe.

My Papa (Pappy to many) served in Italy and Africa. He was Jewish and this must have been terrifying for him.

At one point he was a guard- of one form or another (the details are fuzzy for me) for German POWs.

One of those POWs painted this stunning portrait of him.

I remember standing in my Papa's office staring at this portrait.

Perhaps it is the reason I want to get back to painting, to paint portraits. 

Maybe it was my draw to art. It's a beautiful reminder of his time in the service.

My other grandfather was a US Marine.

After looking at his discharge papers I was reminded that he was an expert sharp shooter.

Looking closer I saw the list of battles in which he served. From the little my dad knew and shared, it was awful. My grandfather did not speak much about what he witnessed or participated in but I don't think it was pleasant.

This veteran's day I think about how it must have felt for that Jewish boy from Spokane heading to Nazi territory.

Or the young man from Iowa serving on the USS Bunker Hill landing in Iwo Jima, Gonon Islands, Okinawa, and Kyushu.

How far they were from home. How the sacrifices they made have made my life more comfortable.

My family feels safe.

We have the luxury of knowing we live in a society that values freedom and the ability to express our opinions-as crazy as they may be.

I am grateful for their service, my uncle's service in Vietnam-even though he suffered greatly because of it.

I am grateful for the 24 years my brother spent serving in the US Air Force.

And my cousin just entering the US Paratrooper training.

I am grateful for all my friends who have served.

It is in incredible sacrifice to put your own security on the line for so many who take it for granted.

Thank you veterans past and present.

I am immensely grateful for your sacrifices.

Forgotten Lunches

We recently had conferences.

I think I've told you all plenty about how flustered I've been.

Too much for this little head to keep track of.

Clearly, because I was packing the kids lunches and poor Charlie was sent with a lunch box from the day before-

complete with empty wrappers (my kids save their wrappers for our garbage can so they don't have to go through the line to toss their trash-saves precious minutes for recess...)

and a lonely little granola bar not good enough to eat from the day before.

So poor buddy had a cast off granola bar for his lunch.

At least it was just a half day so I could feed him when he got home.

In my defense a lunch was packed but left on the counter and the wrong lunchbox put in his bag...

The other day (after his empty lunchbox day)

This little guy

told me about a girl in his class

and how she opened her lunchbox and cried because there was no food in it.

Her poor mom must have a #*@& load on her mind too...

Lucky for her, Charlie realized his crazy mama had packed two cereal bars (I don't know why...good luck? divine providence?) and he shared with her.

At least he'd had a granola bar hidden amongst the empty wrappers and it was a half day.

I'm so proud of him for noticing her distress and trying to help.

He has a good heart that little Charlie.

Oh Snap, Funky Friday

Have you ever seen something completely idiotic and wondered "What kind of person would do that?!"

Last Friday I learned that kind of person is me.

Mark was in (completely awesome) training in Arizona.

My morning started in a rush, Sarina had to get to school at 7:45 am to work on the yearbook.  I had to get the other kids fed, dressed and on the school bus.

And it was a rare day I had to spend all day in training 40 minutes away.

Oh, add to it, my computer died the night before (which I needed for training).

Needless to say, I left the house flustered, breakfast dishes still out, no food in my belly or packed (except my mason jar full of almonds), and my head buzzing with all that needed to get done.

During my lunch break I went to get fuel (for the vehicle first) thinking I might even squeeze in a quick shop for a little gift for our babysitter.

As I was fueling up I zipped about finding all the garbage scattered about the suburban (it's what I do every time I fill up to prevent driving around in a garbage dump).

It was in the middle of the numerous trips to the trash can that I missed Mark's first call from his training.

I was dying to hear how the training was going for him, and I knew it was a sliver of a window I had to talk to him.

I'm not sure if it was the lack of nourishment or being flustered that I missed his call, but I hopped back into the car, started it up and drove about 20 feet.

I don't know why, but I stopped and reflected that I had no memory of replacing the nozzle.

One peek out the side view mirror and it was confirmed.

I

am

that

dumbass

who leaves the nozzle in the car and drives off.

FUCK!

Sorry, but that calls for the F word.

Thank God it was the kind of pump with the shut-off valve.

A very nice man (wearing a firefighter union sweatshirt) gently removed the nozzle and set it neatly beside the now naked pump.

Look at that blue sky!  Oh yeah the naked pump too...

I went in and told the people at the gas station who just looked at me stoically.

The man who owns the station tried valiantly to re-connect but to no avail.

I'll admit that as he was trying to make it work I was chanting (in my head) over and over, "Please work, I'm a good person.  Please work, I'm a good person."

Perhaps not quite good enough.

There's a lesson in here, I just have to find it.

$200 to replace the quick connect.

Add that to the $100 spent on fuel and that's one heck of an expensive tank of gas.

I kept thinking Christmas is on the horizon...

I provided my insurance info and drove off.  As I drove down the road I considered taking a left hand turn into Western State Hospital to see if they happened to have an extra bed.

Ok, not really... but it did occur to me how ironic it was that I drove past a mental hospital sobbing to my sister about how stupid I was.

After talking to her, and calming down, I went back to the gas station and wrote a check for the damage.

The owner seemed to warm up to me after seeing my tear stained face.

I must have looked like a wreck.

I made it through my training, came home in time to get the kids off the bus, went out to chop kindling and learned the hard way why you don't wear cute little flats to chop kindling- when those suckers fly they can really hurt a toe.

I love the little pop of red.

Once the fire was roaring I looked up at the kitchen and realized what a mess I'd left it.

And glanced down and my favorite sweater was unraveling.

I could kind of relate to that sweater.

I felt like I was unraveling a little bit too.

Clearly, I still need my mom.  She swooped in and provided a Papa Murphy's pizza for the kids.  At least I didn't have to prepare a proper meal.

The lesson in this Funky Friday, I think, is that I need to stop and breathe every now and then.

I've been so frantically busy for so long, I need to learn how to meander again.

Just the other day I was thinking about how I never walk slowly taking in everything around me.

I can't remember the last time I strolled about not feeling like I had to hurry.

It's coming.

My big projects for work will end in December.

I have high hopes that in January I can take a teeny tiny bit of me time.  To remember how to slow down and enjoy the moment.

Perhaps my lesson,

is that I've been so amped up,

for so many years,

that it took a nozzle ripping,

kindling bopping,

sweater unraveling,

messy house kind of day

to remind me there are more important things in life than crossing off the million things on my to-do list.

One day at a time.

Breathe in and breathe out.

And enjoy the beauty in this world.

Girl Clothes

The other night I was surprised by an article of clothing being worn in our house.

Funny thing is, I purchased the shirt myself.

But this isn't the kid I hoped would be the one to wear it...

At least he didn't pull on the red leggings to go with it.

The icing on the cake was watching the boys play with Elsa's doll house she received for her second birthday that was barely played with.

I love the constant surprises in parenting.

Inspiration

I recently learned that a young lady I've known since before she was even born, was diagnosed with ALL, a form of leukemia. 

She's the first person I know who has been diagnosed with this disease, that I think we all grew up dreading. 

She's a wonderful kid.  

Not to mention that I feel very confident she possesses more intelligence at the age of eight than I ever will. 

So advanced, that she must have been just 4-6 months old when I remember her raising her little arm addressing the world.  "Hi" she'd say whenever anyone walked into the room.  She was talking to people way before most little people are intelligibly verbal.

All you have to do is watch her and it's obvious that she is taking in every bit of her surroundings and figuring out how things work.

She's such a wonderfully inquisitive girl.

And I have no doubt that if she puts her mind to it, she'll find the cure for this awful blood cancer that she has to battle today.

Yesterday, I learned that she will lose her hair as part of her treatment and it inspired me to cut off 12 inches of my hair to donate.  

By 9am it was gone and in the mail by 2pm.

Long hair:

New short hair:

Selfies really are tough for me...  As are pictures of myself.

But you get the picture, right?

When you have to watch someone you care about go through something as awful as battling cancer, you find the little things you can do to help.

I've probably composed 10 cards to her and her family.

Not a single one written or sent.

I've thought of a few different meals I might make and bring to them.

But haven't followed through.

Partly because I'm swamped keeping up with everything going on in our lives.  Partly because I know they must overwhelmed with the outpouring of gifts and well wishes.  I don't want to overwhelm them in any way.

But I do want them to know that they are present in my thoughts, daily.

I'm praying for their sweet girl.  I'm pulling for her victory.  And I know that she's got to be the fiercest warrior cancer has ever seen.

I'm just so sorry she has to go through any of it yet, glad that she has such a full and strong community rallying for her.

I hope that my tiny little gift of hair will help someone out there to feel better about them self as they wage their own war on cancer.

Wishing everyone the gift of health and happy long lives.

Picking Teams

Today after school, the first thing out of Charlie's mouth was, "I got to have recess and play with Carl today."  He was beaming as he elaborated, " Carl was the captain and he picked his team.  He picked me, Carson, Ryder, and an 8th grader."

My heart swelled to think of my two boys choosing to play with each other when they have a whole playground of kids to play with.  I have to get out there and watch them playing football at recess.

There's something magical about team sports.  It brings such diverse people together and can build a beautiful comraderie  I've watched Mark playing basketball for over 20 years.  That guy knows every basketball hoop in town from apartment complexes to the armory to athletic clubs to schools elementary thru college.  And the variety of people he knows from it too constantly surprises me.

I see that starting with the boys too.  One of the principals goes out and throws the football with the kids at recess and he looks like the pied piper with all the kids following him.

I hope above all hope my kids will share in that sense of community their whole lives long.  And that they do it side by side pushing and supporting each other the whole time.

Full moon? Part 2

The day that keeps on giving.  It's 12:15am, I couldn't put down "Tell The Wolves I'm Home" but now it's done.  And I loved it.

And guess what?!  I forgot to set the clock on my coffee pot before I set it on auto brew.  I smell a fresh pot coffee downstairs.  If I were more daring I'd get up and work through the night.

But I'm not.  So I'll snuggle into my bed with visions of a beautiful story, smelling delicious coffee.

What a weird day.

Is it a full moon today?

I know it's not a full moon today but what a weird day it's been.

And it's only 2:17 pm (as I write).

I really should be spending my time doing the work I'm so worried about getting done.  The work that's been eating at me, like the feeling you get with a looming deadline you are unprepared for (remember finals anyone?)

The work I was supposed to get to do all day today with very little interruptions.

Let me start at the beginning...

5:58 am I am awoken by a LOUD boom.

Instantly a shrill, panicked shriek from Elsa's room, "Mama!?"

The power was out, all lights in the house off, and her smoke detector was chirping-loudly.

I grabbed her and tried to get her quiet and into my bed before she woke Sarina and the boys.

Ha!

Didn't work.

Pitch black, freezing, everyone awake and in my bed, wrestling about.

All I want to do is sleep, but I looked out the window and saw that a neighbor between me and the source of the noise had a porch light on.

Was it just my house?

Of course, a night when I'm home alone with the kids.

Yes, a scary movie where a bad guy cut the wires does cross my mind.

Then my adrenaline runs.

But, it's ok.

I can make it work.

I manage to get the kids up and ready for school- fed, dressed and lunches packed.

I get all my things packed in the suburban so I can head to my mom's house for a shower and I'll just work there.

I can salvage the day.

I pop the kids on the bus (it's the first day Elsa doesn't cry because she has to go to school-yay for that!).

I lock up the house and head into the garage.

Oops, no power = no garage door opener.

That's ok, I'm resourceful.  I consult my mom and brother-in-law.

I climb onto the slanted front bumper of the car and manage to pull the red handle to release the door.

I even slide the door up

once,

it slides back down,

twice,

it slides down again

huh,

I catch it on the down and slide it back up and look up at it to figure out how I can keep it up long enough to get the car out, when...

something falls off the door into my eye.

Awesome.

I turn away (toward the driveway)

boom,

down goes the door.

And you guessed it, locked out.

And the house locked up.

My cell phone in the garage.

It's ok, I have a neighbor.  I'll borrow her phone, call my mom to rescue me with a spare key she keeps (even though it's her birthday-happy birthday mom!).

No neighbor home, she was smart and got herself coffee at Starbucks.

So, not a huge deal, my sister lives 1.25mi away.  I needed to go for a walk anyway, just didn't feel I'd had the time to squeeze it in.

Got it God, I'll walk and enjoy this beautiful foggy fall morning, call my mom, it'll be ok.

Even better, my neighbor drives up, not only does the blessed soul give me nice hot Americano but she drives me to my mom's.

I get there, find her neighbor (like a favorite uncle to me) needs mom's truck.

Fine, I'll get a ride home, drive it to mom's clean it up and hand it over.  Really not how I'd planned my day but something that's been on the back burner far too long.  It's nice to have a reason to HAVE to get it done.

So I shower up, and I'll confess, I started to crack a teeny tiny bit without my own deodorant or eye make up remover.  Ok, it was the eye makeup remove that almost broke the camel's back.  Logically, not a huge deal.  And by itself just a blip.  But combined with everything, it was a set back on my glass-is-half-full attitude.

But deep breaths, and a little pondering on perspective.

It's ok.

I got it.

And now I'm home.

I am showered, I went to the bank, I helped my mom make some decisions about something, I vacuumed the last of my dearly departed puppy dog out of her truck.

Three things on my list of 100 accomplished on a day I was supposed to focus and be EFFICIENT.

I have an hour before the kids get home.

I'd better be REALLY EFFICIENT.

And it looks like subway for dinner on the way to football and cheer practice.

I wish I could have a do-over.  But Friday will be my day for efficiency.

Cross your fingers for me that the lights stay on and no clumps of dirt fall into my eye, please.

We Still Have Diapers

"We still have diapers."

Elsa said to her daddy the other day.

I think that may explain the scene I walked into, in her room.

She'd been playing in there pretty quietly for a while...

I really wish I knew what the story was in her head as she created this installation.

Why does the teddy need "diapers" on his face, down his neck, and on his belly?

Silly girl.

Fall Football Schedule

Saturday was a pretty busy day.

The only reason I'm documenting this is so that my future-quiet house, reflecting-on-raising-kids self can remember accurately (without embellishments) what a typical fall football Saturday consisted of...

Saturday morning started up trying to be a good mama making French Toast for breakfast for two kids and waffles for another (one kiddo had a sleepover the night before).  I wanted to fill their little bellies with homemade warm food before the big busy day.

At promptly 8:30am (I'd aimed for 8:00am knowing that I always seem to be running a 1/2 hour late) we departed for a 9am flag football game at Washington Middle School (a good 25 minute drive away) for Charlie and Elsa.

On the way, in COMPLETE seriousness, Charlie announced that someone had Beaver Fever (aka shart, poopy toot, you get the general picture...?).  Then pretty quickly he corrected himself, it sounded like he was  just talking to himself, "Oh no, it's just my breath."  I heard him say.

Ha!  Ha ha!

It was a fun game, aside form popping something in my mid back that left me nauseous and hard to breathe...  (It got better after a good, hot soak in Epsom salt).

Elsa tried her best and did a good job keeping up.  Charlie was a fantastic flag puller, ball running, touchdown scoring kiddo.  When he has the desire to play, he's really good, but I'm his mom and of course I think that...

Then we zipped home and picked up Sarina from her sleepover, I make some quick chicken noodle soup to warm them up and hope it helps with the sniffley, coughing kids.

Then off to Carl's 3:15pm game in Yelm.  We left at noon because the highlight of games in Yelm, for me, is getting to go to Van's- a DELICIOUS hamburger stand on the way.  It's so good that there's always a good line so you have to come with patience.  But it's soooo worth the wait.  And I consider myself a pretty good burger connoisseur.

We all contentedly polished off our burgers then headed to Yelm for the 1 hour warm up for the 3:15pm game.

After a rocky season, Carl did a good job of staying in the the whole time he was asked to play.  For some reason just into the season, we had a stretch where he didn't want to play.  He even told his coaches "no" when they asked him to play.  It was shocking for us, because Carl's such an easy going kid.  But he was scared of getting hurt.  I don't know if this is because we talked too much in front of him about how important it was that he stay in the lower league because he's only 56 pounds and he thought of himself as fragile.  Or maybe some kids in school got inside his head about how big some of the other teams are...  But we worked through that (I think) and directed him to picture the other team as a kid he isn't too terribly fond of in school.  I think that's been helpful, that and the promise of a day hunting with dad when the football season is over...

Because the game didn't start until late and the chorus of "I have to go pottys" the second we got to the car, we didn't leave Yelm until 5:15pm.

Sarina needed to be in Steilacoom at 5:00pm for warm-ups for cheer.  So much for the stop in DuPont for dinner en-route, we headed straight to Steilacoom.  It was a super fun game to cheer for, the 8th grade boys played hard and won.  I ended up coaching the last quarter (kids in tow).

Then, we made it to dinner at 8pm (they're used to eating at 4:30pm because of practice...).  We hit Happy Teriyaki in DuPont and the kids loved it.  They have a koi pond inside and the kids were fascinated by the friendly, big mouthed gold fish.  And the really friendly woman working let them feed the fish.  They filled their bellies with moderately healthy quick food then home to bed (after 9pm).

Mark's been hunting in the north Cascades since last Thursday and I'm not sure when he'll be home so it's been tricky navigating the schedule solo.  But I enjoy the challenge and it helps me to appreciate his help that much more when he's able to be home.

It was such a busy weekend.  It's no wonder the boys were out like a light (with the lights on) before I could tuck them in on Sunday.

Can you see the drool?!

I love football season and watching the kids play and cheer, but I'm really ready for the kids to have more down time, time to do their homework, and get to bed on time.

9-11

This date is for me,

what the day President Kennedy was assassinated,

is to my parents.

I will forever be able to close my eyes and see the images on TV the morning of 9-11.  I can hear our friend's voice calling, telling me to turn on the TV, picture myself sitting in disbelief as I watched the towers burn.

I know exactly where I was on I-5, when my little sister said, with panic in her voice,

"They keep going in those buildings!

Why do they keep going in?!"

I was newly wed to my high school sweetheart-a firefighter, pregnant with our first baby the world was a safe and beautiful place for us.

Every year I'm tempted to re-hash my version of where I was the day the towers fell.

The day that hundreds of firefighters entered those doomed buildings.

The day that rocked my world and many, many others.

I have been married to a firefighter for 12 years now.

In that time I have noticed a few common characteristics of firefighters.

Many choose the profession so they can make a difference in their communities.

They also choose the profession so that they can be home and help raise their children, so that they can take an active role in family life.

You know Mark was the primary care-giver, don't you?

These individuals are our communities coaches, leaders of nonprofit organizations, fundraisers for numerous worthy causes, and the people many turn to when they need help caring for a sick or injured loved one, help with a broken waterline, replacing broken things, all kinds of jobs.

They are motivated, self-driven individuals who learn quickly how to pitch in and do what is needed in their community- for friends, neighbors, and people in need.

They spend many holidays protecting our communities, missing that time with their own loved ones.

When I look at my husband, one of my favorite parts about him (aside from his wonderful humor, generous heart, and all around good guy-ness...) is his hands.

He has big strong hands.

I've always felt better when they're around my waist, on my shoulder, or holding my hand.

When I look at them, I see hands that have held our brand new babies, changed diapers, checked for fever, cleaned countless owies, built our house, and lead us through our blessed life.

Those hands have worked hard to make a good life for us.

Those hands have also carried our dying 92 year old neighbor, treated people injured and in their darkest hour, they have vented burning buildings, lead a fire hose through burning buildings, and cut people out of their cars.

They have gripped the steering wheel of the fire engine as it has gone to countless emergencies, waved to children staring at the fire engine passing by, maybe honked the horn a time or two at friends to make them jump, and guided a funeral procession for our sweet friend lost far too soon.

Those hands have corrected bat swings, caught more baseballs than anyone could count, tossed footballs, shot baskets and shepherded not only our children but many others as coach for many of our children's sporting events.

They make a mean jambalaya, chicken wings, and the best smoked beans you've ever tasted.

Those hands belong to my hero.

To a man I could never imagine not being my better half.  Those hands have held mine for over half our lives.

They belong to a husband, a father, a neighbor, a brother, a son, a coach, an artist, and a firefighter.

Those 343 firefighters lost on 9-11 were someone else's hero.

They were more than just firefighters.

They too, were husbands, fathers, neighbors, brothers, sons, coaches, artists, and firefighters.

That's what breaks my heart when I look at this photo.

Those 343+ brave souls marched right in those buildings to save lives.

They made a difference.

And I will never forget their sacrifice.

I count myself lucky that mine comes home after each shift, I pray that he will always be returned to us safely, so that he can continue his beautiful life that touches so many.

I'm proud to call him my husband and my hero.

Fighting Words

Ahh, I can tell it's the end of summer.

Long gone are any pretenses at teamwork (aka getting along in our house).

The other day in the car this was the discourse in the back seats...

Elsa: "Carl, did you know I was going to say I don't like Charlie?"
Charlie: "You know I can hear you right?"

Later in the day I heard this little gem:

Charlie to Elsa: "When I'm done with the xbox I'm going to slam you on the ground."
Elsa's response: "I'm going to jump on your tummy and knock the air out of you!"
Then Charlie's last word: "Well,I'm going to get a stick and poke your eye."

Nothing but hearts and flowers going down around here.

My plan was to take the kids swimming every day until school starts to keep them tired out.

They wouldn't stay still long enough for more than 2 photos...

But their time in the water is slowly shrinking.  I keep looking up to see their goose bumpy arms and dripping bodies hovering closer and closer, crowding around me like little zombies.

I guess this must be the natural course of events.

Those people who planned how long summer lasts were awfully smart.  They must have had multiple kids at home too because they seem to know with some wonderful accuracy how long the kids can be each others' playmates before all hell breaks loose.

We're on the edge, wouldn't take much from here...

Even though I dread the thought of homework, I look forward to a few hours to myself each day to gather strength and brace myself for the late afternoon/evening shift of mommyhood.

Little Surprises

I really don't know where it came from.

Night before last Elsa decided she was going to wear girl clothes.

Ok, girl clothes that are boy colors.

What?!

I thought she was tricking me, but that night she slept in a black lace skirt and sparkly Paris top.

Yesterday started with a fancy dress

then she wore a sweatshirt with a rainbow on it then changed into a black sparkly skirt and rainbow striped top.

As she pulled on her orange swim trunks she informed me that I "need" to buy her a girl swimsuit.

Today she has on an adorable girl running shorts and the most precious "Land of the Free" sweatshirt.  She's pretty camera shy lately, but I'll try to grab a photo to add later.

Hallelujah!

But, I'll say I can do without her coming home with a heart sticker on each nipple.

That almost gave me a heart attack!

Who?  What?  How?  I stuttered.

She didn't answer.

Maybe being a tomboy is better...?

Not Enough Fire & Brimstone In Our House

I know that every day brings some sort of stunning realization when you're a parent.

The other day, for me, it was that my kids had absolutely no concept of hell.

How the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks could these little buggers live years on this earth and have NO CLUE about hell?!

I'm failing as a parent!

Looks like I need to sing, "I've got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart" song WAY more often for their benefit.  So the devil can "sit on a tack (ow!) sit on a tack (ow!) sit on a tack to staaaayyyyyyy..."

Clearly there is not nearly enough fire and brimstone in their lives.

And that mini-dose of Jesus each summer isn't cutting it.

I knew it wasn't selfish of me to cart them off to VBS, they need to learn about the ultimate consequence in life!  Maybe we'll try TWO VBSs next summer.  (HA!)

But how do you describe hell and Satan without giving kids nightmares?

Apparently, I did not do it correctly because poor little Elsa had night terrors last night- the worst I've seen in the 11 years I've been parenting.

We've talked lots, and lots about Jesus and heaven.  They know the ins and outs (according my my conjectures) so I tried to explain that as wonderful as heaven is, that's how bad hell is.

Is that right?

I think we really need some professional guidance on this one.

My poor attempt to explain was that Jesus is the ultimate good guy (like an action hero) and the devil is the ultimate bad guy.  Heaven is where you get to do and be anything you want.  Hell is the biggest owies and the worst nightmares all day every day forever.

And if you're a good person, you treat people and animals well and with a good heart you'll get to go to heaven.  If you're bad and hurt people and animals then you'll go to hell.

Pretty simple, I think.

I hope I'm right...

Oh, and the kids know heaven is real because they saw a boy who's been there on the 700 Club.

What?!

My kids watch the 700 Club?

Enough to know the name of it?!

Crazytown!

I had no idea they were watching that show, to be honest it creeps me out a little bit- but I guess it's better than Law & Order or CSI.

Dirty Money

The other night, it was after bath time in our house.

I was laying with Elsa getting ready to read her stories when I noticed Charlie messing with the front of his undies.

Figuring he must be rearranging his parts I didn't think much of it...

Until he pulled a wad of $1 bills out of the special pocket only boys undies have. (And which I assume is the big draw for my little girl who loves wearing boy undies).

I guess strippers aren't the only ones who use undies as wallets.

I almost wonder what else be stores in there but I really don't want to know.

So don't forget, people, wash your hands after handling money.  

You never know where it's been...

Who's Out There

Sometimes I wish that I could tell who's read my blog.

It's a little weird to me that strangers might enjoy reading.

I like it, don't get me wrong.

But sometimes I think back to when I used to put youtube videos out there, until some guy messaged me and asked for more videos of Carl's feet.

Eeeewwww!

So, if you've seen me lately hobbling about here's the story.

Yes, I walk funny- there's some pressure on a nerve that runs down the back of my left leg.

To alleviate that pressure (I've had since the end of APRIL) I took an oral steroid.

Which didn't help.

But I did get shingles (ON MY FACE!!!), thanks to my suppressed immune system.

Likely combined with the insurmountable tasks of packing for a week camping,

48 hours home to do laundry

and re-pack the food and laundry,

off to a wedding

then another week in a toasty climate

with lots of family time

plus trying to do the work I have two grants for,

and conference calls,

and preparing for public hearings,

and agreeing to help coach my daughter's cheer squad,

and keeping 4 rapidly growing little people happy.

IT'S

SO

MUCH

TO

DO!

There,

that's off my chest.

The drugs are done for the shingles.

Yes this is my second time having them (I'm only 38).

At least they're starting to heal so my fingers are crossed the scabs are gone and I'll only have some lovely fresh pink skin on my cheek in time for my 20th high school reunion in less than 2 weeks.

Not to mention the 10 lbs I wanted to lose for the reunion, but I haven't been able to exercise since April...

It's good learning to be humble,

nasty wounds on my face,

softer than I'd like to be,

unable to do everything as well as I'd like,

I'm human.

I know that.

And I hope that it gives me patience to realize everyone else is human too.

No one's perfect, no matter how hard they pretend to be.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

Silver Stars

So, the other day I ran into Fred Meyer to let the kids blow a little of the money they earned and get a couple of groceries that Costco didn't have.

After the painful selection of what they could purchase with the few dollars they had burning a hole in their pockets (Charlie had $8 and Elsa had $6-we had lots of discussions about saving up to buy more expensive items instead of something that's just ok) I was waiting in line for a well-earned Americano.

Elsa spied a rounder full of back-to-school backpacks (at a screaming deal for $9.99).  She came up to me holding one that was black with glittery silver stars and metallic straps.

I was so overjoyed by her selection I said, "OK, you got it."

I even started to get out of line at Starbucks.

I think I spoke too quickly.

Or maybe it was too eagerly

because she instantly changed her mind and went back for another look.

She thought maybe a doggie one would be better (knowing Charlie would love it).

Then she came back with a black backpack with skulls and neon green.

Darn it!

Charlie tried to tell her how much cooler the star backpack was.

Her response?

It was classic Elsa.

"You guys are trying to trick me into being a girl."

Then the second metaphorical punch,

"It's not going to work."

So, my five year old little girl with the long toasted marshmallow colored hair, with curls, will head off to kindergarten carrying a black backpack with skulls and a neon green handle.

She certainly has her own sense of style.

Who am I to stifle that creative self-expression?

How Do I Get This Thing Off?!

Yesterday was my husband's cousin's wedding day.

We were all excited to celebrate with him and his fun family.

To get ready I bought Mark new shorts and shirt (it was a casual wedding), same for the boys- ok they wore their old khakis and new button shirts.

Sarina got a beautifully BRIGHT pink lace dress which was shorter in front and longer in back.  She was stunning in it with her brown skin from camping.

Then there's Elsa.

Seriously, I waffled in Target.

Boys section?

Girls section?

I physically walked back and forth a couple of times before I gave up and selected an outfit from each.

A dress just like her big sisters...

and shorts and polo shirt like her brothers would wear.

What do you think she chose?

Somehow we got the dress on her and Charlie INSTANTLY blurted, "Elsa you're BEAUTIFUL!"

Oops.

She started wiggling around then looked at me and said, "How do I get this thing off?!"

And the "thing" was said with such disdain.

You could see the hope fade from Sarina, Carl and Charlie's faces.

When Mark got home I was stunned he was able to get the dress back on her.

Then he tried bargaining.  The stakes were up to $20 and a new baseball hat, of her choosing.

She still refused.

And again she said, "How do I get this thing off me?!"

It was the shorts and polo.

I figured, it was way more important that she feel good about herself than we get our way and force a dress on her- even though Charlie was right, she was BEAUTIFUL in it.

But there's hope.

She told me the only day she'll wear a dress is when she marries Henry.

Sweetness.

Pure and simple.

Cleaning House & Youth Entitlement Day 1

Who hasn't heard of the Tiger Mom?

Well, I believe that I found the softer, American version that I find INSPIRATIONAL.

I don't think I have been shy about expressing my slight dread of the summer months.

Look at how excited they are for summer, I feel evil for dreading it.

The truth is I can barely handle the household with the majority (ok half) of the kids out of my hair during most of the day.

When everyone is home it's constantly like a bomb has gone off.

This is so painfully true in my house.

I don't like it, but I feel like everything is out of my control when they're all home and under foot.

But I think I just found some hope.

A teeny tiny little glimmer of hope.

This woman was interviewed on the Today Show a while back.

Out of sheer desperation I went and bought her book hoping it would guide me.

I think I might have found a magic method of feeling like my house isn't constantly spiraling out of control.

I am determined to make this summer a summer to love.

And give me a chance to look forward to summer again.

It is written by a woman with 5 children, so I have a slight advantage only having 4.

Right?

What really rang true for me with her description of how she parented on the playground (completely not helicopter parenting) and how she parents regarding chores (so much easier to do it yourself than nag others).

I wanted to frantically raise my hand- like in class- and say that's me!  That's me too!!

Last night Mark and I told Carl, Charlie, and Elsa the plan.  This morning (Saturday) Elsa made her bed and picked up her bedroom without being reminded.

Carl and Charlie spring into action the second they remembered.

Hallelujah!!

I think it helps that there's money involved.  One dollar for every day they make their beds and clean up their rooms.  It has to be done by 10am.  If I find they haven't done those two simple tasks they lose one dollar.

This is the first month.  Creating the clean room habit.  Next month will be something too, slowly increasing their productivity.

There still is the toughest critic, we'll see how that goes...

And today I had to add in that a certain someone has been saying "no" to me and throwing wicked temper tantrums far too often for my liking.  So, I took that someone's dollar for today after they wouldn't settle down.  That same someone can earn the dollar back by being a good listener for the rest of the day.

My breath is held and my fingers are crossed.

Please oh please oh PLEASE let this work!

If I could be crazy enough to attempt and succeed at that insane HCG diet, I sure as heck should be able to teach my kids responsibility.

And that I won't always be there to do everything for them.

Wish me luck, and a stronger will than the sum of the little souls I'm trying to shape in to productive beings.

I WILL not fail.

Now, who wants to join me?:)