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?:)

Father's Day

This is only my reflections on my dad, I know that everyone had a unique relationship with him and my siblings may see things far differently than I do/did.  I don't believe that we've ever really talked about it before, aside from reminiscing.

With Father's Day coming up, lately, I can't help but think a lot about my dad.

Look how young and cute we all are.

Not to be completely biased, but I really do think that he was the best one out there.

He loved to each of his four children unconditionally

and with his whole heart.

He also loved many of our friends just as much- with all that unconditional love.

And cousins too.

And OF COURSE his precious grand babies- the ones he got to hold and love and know.

I tell the ones who didn't meet him that he held them and loved them in heaven for me before they came down to join our family.  I like to believe that is true.

I know that he loved Mark.

In the 8th grade, when I broke up with Mark (who hasn't heard that sad, sad story?)

I think my dad would have chosen him over me.

Have you ever noticed, when someone that you love is gone, you search for similarities for that person with the loved ones you are surrounded by?

Scanning their faces, stances, and expressions for little reminders of people gone?

I see it a lot in my Charlie.

Not just appearances, but in some personality traits too.

When he was graduating from high school, my dad was awarded a choral scholarship to Central Washington University.

I wish that I could remember what his voice sounded like before his injury, when he was able to sing beautifully.

Don't get me wrong, he always loved music, it was always playing whenever he was around, usually accompanied by his soft whistle or "bum bum bum" and some singing.

I swear I must have heard that darn Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt cassette in his jeep 10 million, billion times.

When I was eight years old, my dad injured his back at work.  During back surgery he was left without oxygen long enough to cause brain damage.  What I know about his condition may not be 100% accurate.  It's what I gleaned from him, which may not be the most reliable source...  Many times I don't know that he knew entirely what was going on with his health.

I wish I could remember him before his accident...

He was a proud man.

And very good and hiding what he didn't want others to know.

He had to work very hard to do tasks most of us take for granted.

He often saw things as either black or white- not a lot of middle ground on a multitude of issues.  I think that may be why I consciously try to keep an even keel, perhaps even to a fault.

Because of living so closely (yet maybe not closely enough) with his experiences, I think that's why this blog resonated so strongly for me.  (Please please read that blog, it's SO wonderful.)

Anyway,

he had a lot of time on his hands.

He couldn't work for the majority of the years I had with him.

So, he created "quality time" or "qt."  Really that was just spending a LOT of time with me and my younger sister.

Many, many (did I say many?) times it annoyed me.

And I think that delighted him.

He cultivated my love of all things old and quirky.  We spent countless hours together, driving all over the county oogling historic buildings which definitely fostered my curiosity of old buildings- eventually that interest grew into a profession for me.

He trained me to see the value in a wide variety of things others might cast aside as garbage.

Anyone who saw his car must have known he was a hoarder, though we didn't know that term at the time.

He was one.

And I was mortified by it.

I didn't know what hoarding was or why he was like that.

I didn't understand.

It was after he died that I watched a news story about hoarders on abc or nbc.  They had taken brain scans of someone throwing way seemingly useless things in a hoarder's possession- years old magazines or something like that. The person whose items were being tossed out had brain activity that was similar to a person being tortured. It was something along these lines or this.

I had gone to my dad's house and thrown away tons (literally) of garbage from his place.

I had tortured him.

Not out of evil intent, only good and loving intentions.

I didn't know.

Regret is a pretty awful feeling.

I regret that I threw away his possessions (truly it was trash not treasure-see?  I'm defending myself here?).

I regret the day I didn't answer the door when he tried to stop by to visit.

I regret that I wasn't more patient.

I regret that I didn't help him more.

I regret that I didn't advocate for him.

I regret that I didn't know that I should have advocated for him

I regret that I didn't hold his hand more often or snuggle him every chance I had.

I regret that he never got to attend one of my kids sporting events.

It dawned on me the other day that not only would my dad have attended every possible event.  He would have looked forward to it!  Pre-school and kindergarten graduations, football, basketball, and baseball games, cheerleading, concerts- all those things would have been the highlight of his day.

His grandchildren's schools would have been frequent halls for him to travel.

He was the most generous loving man you could imagine.

And I still miss him every single day.

An early happy father's day dad, I love you and know you feel me missing you.

*Shortly after writing this I spoke at a volunteer group meeting about my profession.  Afterwards I was approached by a woman who told me she used to sit across from my dad doing woodcarving.  It was an activity where he could be artistic and social in a safe group.  I was stunned and asked her how she knew I was his daughter.  She was very sweet but looked at me like she was thinking, "Duh" She kindly said he talked a lot about me.  I'm sure he talked a lot about all of us.  But I swear I felt like he was with me right then and there.  I wanted to hug her.  I don't know why I didn't- too reserved for my own good.  It's funny, they had asked me how I became interested in my profession and I almost answered- from hours and hours and hours of driving around with my dad (listening to Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt belt it out) looking at old buildings.  
"I don't know much, but I know I love you...  And that may be, all there is to know...."

Sleepytime

There's no better feeling, when you're a mama, than watching your babies drift off to sleep knowing that

they are content,

they feel secure,

and they are precious and perfect and loved beyond measure.

The Secret Pile

Lately, Elsa's been mounding up secrets to keep in her metaphorical "secret pile."

It started with a whispered one to Mark one day, "Daddy I have a secret but we have to keep it in the secret pile."

He claims he leaned close to hear, looking forward to what crazy comment she'd have.

"I love mommy more than you."

Ouch.

That stings.

I don't care who you are.

Then I got a secret from the secret pile.

"Sometimes us boys and girls pee in the shower."

Nice.

I kind of wish I didn't know that secret.

I wonder what else is lurking in that cesspool of a secret pile.

Though yesterday she did tell us (Mark and me) that we can call her "princess" but not in front of ANYONE and it "HAS TO STAY IN THE SECRET PILE."

There must be a little goodness in that pile after all.

I don't care if she wears boys clothes from head to toe,

has a swagger to rival any pro athlete,

and can spout profanity like a sailor...

she'll always be my little princess.

But I will respect her wishes and keep it in the secret pile.

One Plop

Today was Sarina's Pops Concert.

The music teacher at her school is phenomenal.  How that woman can manage to get those kids to produce sound that resembles real music is beyond me.

The kids even recognized some songs and were humming along with the bands.

Anyway, in the cozy gym with a million of our closest friends, and a balmy 100 degrees...

We're all settled in the bleachers-3 people deep when I keep smelling pure poop.

Not one blast

but a few.

Then Elsa's asking me to take her potty.

Her reasoning was pretty great.

"It's only poopoo.  One plop and it's done."

Maybe for you kid.

Here she is playing with the entertainment she packed for herself.

And yes, that's my big knee in the way, those bleachers leave NO PERSONAL SPACE!!!

Can you see the sweat running down my leg?

Well, it's there.

Summertime is just about here.

I'm sobbing and cheering all at the same time.

I choose this to be good luck

I know I've been pretty silent on here.

Sadly, that's because I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

End of school season.

It's a marathon at sprint pace.

Have you read this post?  It's SPOT ON!!!

But today this was too good to pass up.

After a morning of peace, an hour and forty minute long dr apt (I got cleared for an MRI-yay!) race to JUST make it on time for Sarina's POPs concert, back to town for rollers for Mark, pick up pizzas for easy dinner since we get to go back to school for an evening POPs concert.

I was psyching myself up to reach my hand into our sugar ant infested mailbox when I felt something hit the top of my head.

Thinking a cricket jumped REALLY high, I reached up to wipe it off.

Nope, not a cricket.

Bird poop.

Yup.  Story of my days lately.

But, you know they say it's a sign of good luck...

That's what I tell my unfortunate friends who seem to get pooped on far more often than I would think is normal (Kara).

Now it's what I'm telling myself.

It's good luck that my MRI will show something fixable with my ridiculous back/leg/whatever pain.

Good luck that the kids will coexist peacefully this summer.

Good luck that our aging puppy dog will kick around a few months longer.

Good luck that my not one but TWO historic tour brochures due this fall will go smoothly.

Good luck that Mark's business will continue to grow.

Good luck that Elsa will settle nicely into kindergarten in the fall.

Good luck that Charlie will transition beautifully into all day everyday school- first grade.

Good luck that Carl will continue to thrive in school.

Good luck that Sarina will grow into a mature, even tempered middle schooler.

Hmmmm, maybe I should go sit under the power lines with a loaf of bread so I can get pooped on 10 million more times.

And this is the shocker.  I actually contemplated just wiping my head with the diaper wipe I used to clean my poopy hand and call it good.

Pre-children Jen NEVER would have even considered that as an option.

It seems that at this point in my life I'm far too busy for OCD.

Darn bird poop.

I never saw it coming.

I look weird today

"I look weird today."

That's what I heard muttered in the backseat of the car today, when I drove Miss Elsa to school.

It was a little funny this morning.

She waffled between her new monster rain boots and snazzy new (to her) puma shoes.

At the last second, literally walking out the door, she fled back to the shoe closet and grabbed the pumas.

The time of the comment (riding in the car) her shoes were solid- after that quick change.

It wasn't the camo size 10 t-shirt from old navy or the size 5 cargo khaki shorts that were bothering her, it was the red Columbia fleece pull-over.

Huh.

It was an easy fix. 

We had a grey hoodie in the back that belongs to someone who rode in our car at some point in time.

Switched out weird Columbia fleece pull-over for generic too-big grey hoodie and she was be-boping into class ready to go.

Love her swagger.

Elsa's Fashion Blog #6

I don't know how she does it...

For some reason, she HAD to kick off the hiking boots that went with the ensemble.

I don't know why.

After putting the big kids on the bus she had a sneaky little smile on her face and said,

"People will think I'm Carl, won't they?"

Like she was pulling the wool over everyone's eyes by wearing his clothes, they will see him not her?

Funny, beautiful, baby girl.

Now off to snuggle a sick little boy.

Elsa's Fashion Blog #5

Yup, she wore that hat

ALL

DAY

LONG.

IN PUBLIC!

Then, because all day wasn't enough- she popped it back on after bath time to sleep in.

Too bad she lost her dreadlocks after swimming all spring break in a pool and very little hair brushing...

Dreads would nicely compliment the hat.

A Paranoid Runner

I realize this is true,  but I have a little story. I ran my best time today. 5 miles in 49 minutes (hey!  it's good for me...). I think it had something to do with listening to NPR's TED talk on "The Violence Within Us."  It was all well and good until I hit a more isolated section of the loop and passed a guy who could look a little rough, with tattoos on his hands. It left me feeling paranoid. And I'm pretty paranoid anyway. When I run alone I wear my hair in a bun (I've heard that rapists look for girls with ponytails because they're easy to grab). I only run during daylight, in public areas. But that combination of listening to violence and passing someone to seemed a little rough sure made me speedy (for me). Especially not knowing if he was coming up behind me until I worked up the courage (around a good string of oncoming cars) to look behind me and see that he was no where in sight. But, those TED talks are so great! I love that it's 50 minutes of a good story, well done in the fantastic NPR style. It's thought provoking and entertaining enough to keep me moving. It's my new favorite way to run. I highly recommend it.

Fart Noises

When I came home from Arizona late last year, I had the bright idea to buy the kids a book about farts.

And yes, it makes various fart noises to supplement the story.

Here's a picture, in case you think it would be fun too...

Anyway, on the way to school Elsa hit the sound buttons repeatedly.

Fart

after

fart

after

fart

after

fart.

She only stopped when we were at the stoplight at the off ramp of Hwy 101 and Black Lake Boulevard where the same boy often sits with a sign looking for a hand out.

He looks like he really, really loves his dog.

I always notice him when I see him.

Anyway, she stopped the fart noises long enough to look up to see the homeless guy and says, "Really?!  He still doesn't have any money?!  Where does he get his clothes?  Does he take his shirt off when its hot outside?" Such a random string of questions, thoughts and observations. A teeny tiny snippet of what's going on inside that little head. But good questions. With so many homeless people around our beautiful town, where do they come from?  Are they really needy and unable to care for themselves? And how telling that my 4 year old takes it all in. Do I encourage compassion? Or do I instill the need to learn to take care of yourself, and make good choices? I try to do all three.

Smile for the Camera

Today is class picture day for 3 of my kids.

Sarina's class decided (much to her chagrin) that they should all wear something sporty.  I think she ended up looking adorable.

I've been trying to convince Carl to wear jeans and something nice to school for over a year, but his beloved teacher talked about how important it was to wear something nice to school for class picture day.

So, this morning Carl came in wearing a blue oxford shirt and jeans.

WHAT?!

Yup, it's true- I have proof.

Charlie was just happy about it all and only needed long sleeves.

Elsa pulled out her very best (in her mind) go-to outfit.

I captured it.

So, on the way to school I told them they should imagine daddy tickling them when the photographer said, "smile!"

One of them suggested, instead, that they smile like when Elsa said, "Mommy said bull****!"

Humility smacked me in the face.

But those little faces sure do sparkle when they remember their baby sister shouting profanities.

Elsa Fashion Blog #4 (?)

Another beauty.

They're endless, those combinations from her brothers' dresser.

Elsa's Fashion Blog

Here's another beauty for you.

Land of the free, camo hat, brother's basket ball shorts, and brother's socks with the heel halfway up her calf.

Pretty awesome.

Correction.

Funkin' awesome.

Don't you just want to kiss those cheeks?

Each Day Can Bring A Surprise

Today, in the hustle and bustle of the first baseball games of the season, I looked up to behold this wonder of wonders...

Yes, she's wearing her brother's polo shirt, last year's baseball hat, and this year baseball pants.

BUT LOOK WHAT'S IN HER ARMS!

Yup, it's a baby doll and she asked me to play with her.

Here's a snippet of our conversation:

Me:  Are you the mama?

Elsa: No.

Me:  Are you the big sister?

Elsa:  No, I'm the big brother. Do you want to be a boy or a girl, mama?

I love that in her play she gets a choice.

It was a freezing, wet, windy day today but both boys played baseball.

Charlie wouldn't pose but I caught him lurking in the background.

I  love this sport.

It's the only one I understand.

I May Be Going Crazy

I know, I know, I say that a lot.

Today was a good illustration.

I started off the day with a "run" with my quick footed friends.  So, in reality I panted behind them for most of the 5 miles.  There are brief periods when I can hang, but it's not for long and not all too often...

That was all great, truly- I always feel so good after I've gone for a run.  I just need to do it more often.

It was a usual Monday morning, zipped to my mom's house for a quick shower, squeezed in an errand before picking up Elsa.

Two more errands on the way to a friend's house for her to play and me to hang out.

But on errand #2 I realized that my vision was like I'd just finished staring directly into the sun for too long and the blind spots wouldn't blink away.

I powered through a little more before it hit me that I was having a visual migraine.

I haven't had one of those in a good 6+ years.

My vision on my right size became completely swirly- like I was looking through a kaleidoscope.

So, I wrapped up the Safeway excursion and grabbed a coffee hoping caffeine would clear it up.

And it did.

Mostly.

At least I could see enough to get to the car and over to our friends house where I think the yummy lunch she had for us helped too.

It wasn't until after we came home that I realized that for tonight I'd booked not one but two babysitters.

Oops.

What kind of crazy lady does that?!

Me.

The good news is that out of guilt for cancelling on one I re-scheduled another night so Mark and I get a date night.

Woo hoo.

Maybe that was my subconscious way of getting a date night...

I was still feeling off tonight when I was getting ready for my meeting, so I used that garbled brain of mine and instead of picking up a protein box with my coffee like I usually do at Starbucks I went big.

In fact, I got a Big Mac,

and scarfed the whole thing down in the parking lot in probably two seconds flat.

I remember once in high school I had a male teacher who approached me laughing (in a rather mean way) because he'd watched me eat something in soc (sosh- for those of you not familiar with CHS) corner for lunch and I must have shoved it into my mouth rather quickly because he inferred that my manners were quite atrocious.  He's the same teacher who told my cheer squad my parents were divorcing before I could explain it to them{RUDE}

He would have been ROLLING to see me eat that Big Mac.

Which totally undid all the calorie burning of the 5 miles I panted behind my friends who are real runners.

Can't win them all, can you?

My Legs Are Burning Mama!

Yesterday, I'll admit- during the middle of the day-

I laid in my bed

I pulled the down comforter up really high

and I hoped that if the kids came up and down the stairs calling out my name they wouldn't notice me laying there

in my bed

so I could get a little nap in.

Then I heard poor little Elsa sound more and more frantic

saying her legs were burning.

Truthfully, it was with a little bit of reluctance that I finally got up and checked on her.

Poor thing had wet her pants because she was laughing so hard at some silly antics performed by her big brother.

She tried to take care of it herself in the downstairs powder room.

She took off her wet pants then started wiping herself down with the wipes in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, they were bleach wipes not diaper wipes.

I popped her into the bath, washed her lower half down with cera ve soap and coated her in triple paste from the waist down figuring that if that stuff worked magic on a diaper rash it had to work on bleach burns...

And I think it did.

Thank goodness I saved the big old tub of triple paste, you never know when that crazy kind of stuff might happen.

Fashion Blog meets As Heard In the Back Seat

Today is the day before Easter.

As I was solo parenting on this beautiful Spring day, I sent one child off for baseball practice then told the rest to get dressed and ready for the Easter egg hunt in my mom's neighborhood.

It's a fantastic little Easter egg hunt, with just the right amount of kids they get to elbow their way through but not so many that they can't find any eggs.

Unfortunately, I did not snap a photo of Miss Elsa's outfit for the big hunt.  Thankfully, my sister was there with her big fancy camera and got a stellar shot of Miss Fashionista.  When she loads them onto her computer I'll be sure to grab a copy and put it on here.

Truthfully, she stood out in the crowd.

Of course on the way home said Fashionista was entertaining the crowd in the car with an impressive listing of...

(are you ready?)

it's completely and totally inappropriate...

and I should have stopped it,

except that she was bringing out such beautiful belly laughter from her siblings...

drum roll...

but#ho+l%s.  *

Yup.

Bunny but#ho*l*s,

doggie  but#ho*l*s,

birdy  but#ho*l*s,

fishy but#ho*l*s,

kitty but#ho*l*s.

You name it, she listed it.

Delightful, I tell you, absolutely delightful.

I did happen to borrow my mom's cell phone later in the day to grab a photo of her afternoon ensemble.

Now, here's the dilemma.

For Easter the big bunny is bringing each child a pair of goggles, flip flops, and a new swim suit.  Smart bunny is thinking ahead to our upcoming camping trip and that indoor pool that keeps us coming back year after year...

The bunny wasn't sure which to bring her-so she gets two.

I wonder which one she'll select to wear next week...

My vote is both.  It's a nice compromise, isn't it?

I know.  It'll probably be just the shorts.

But I want her to always have options.

Have I mentioned that Easter is extra special to me?

It was on a beautiful Easter morning that my husband proposed to me, on the grounds of the capitol building.

And this year it's supposed to be beautiful and sunny.

Hallelujah, He has risen.:)

*I did that to avoid the dirty birds googling it so they don't see my babies

Cupcakes for Breakfast

Some days need to be celebrated.

Like spending time with old friends you don't get to see nearly often enough.

Like the anticipation of an eagerly awaited annual summertime camping trip.

Like sweet little babies dipped in sugar.

OK, more like a bunch of squirmy little kids covered in cupcake crumbs sitting on the counter top,

and a crooked picture in the background...

It's a sweet, sweet life.

Kindness Abounds

If you stop and look for it, you can watch kindness everywhere you turn.

Sometime it makes me catch my breath, it's so wonderful, so powerful, so inspirational.

My sweet big girl has been growing her hair out for years.

Her grandma told her that when she was a young woman her hair was so long she could sit on it.

So, she's been growing and growing her hair.

The trick is that it became so long that she couldn't brush it herself very well.

And our water is so filled with iron that it made just tossing her hair to the side turn into a big tangle.

Not to mention, she's getting old enough that she wants to style her hair and it was just too long to style on her own.

So, she made the decision to cut her hair and donate it to Locks of Love.

And the fantastic Sunrise Hair Design gave her a free haircut for her generous contribution.  Something I didn't know before her appointment.

Here she is carefree, and on top of the world with her little brother with her toasted-marshmallow-colored bouncy hair.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to watch a friend surprised (a couple of weeks early) for her 40th birthday.  The girls who planned the party pulled out all the stops to make it as spectacular as possible- bringing in a friend from as far away as Colorado.  So much work and love to make someone feel special.  She said it was almost like going to her funeral- seeing all these different people there for her.  I thought it was an incredible showing of the diversity of people she's touched in the short time she's lived here in Olympia.

Another friend hosted a fund raising event for a boy we went to high school with who is battling an aggressive brain cancer, who has a wife and two babies.  Our community has pulled together to try and ease the financial burden of the challenges they face, knowing that the biggest battle isn't one we can help with.

To know that there is such a phenomenal community of people looking out for each other, that they care when someone is facing unimaginable challenges.

I see sweetness, selfless dedication, to try to make things just a little bit easier for someone else.

I find it absolutely inspirational.

There's always something we can do for someone else, if we open our eyes and look- we'll see that kindness blooming all around us.

I hope that I remember to point it out to my kids.

That they grow up knowing that that's just what you do for others.

Help when and however you can and try to love everyone in spite of any shortcomings, because Lord knows we all have them.

Brave Boy

The past two weeks the two big kids have been shuttled down to a Hunter Safety class a good 40 minutes away from our house.  After school, between baseball and band practices.  For a two hour long course (three days a week) on safe practices when hunting for the hunter, environment, and animals.

It was a good course that helped to show them that they can do most anything when they try.

That everyone has rules to follow.

That they need to be present every moment they spend hunting, it is serious business.

So one night, when I was snuggling Carl at bedtime (way past his bedtime because of that class) I whispered in his ear,

"You are so smart,

and kind."

He whispered back, "What about brave?"

I affirmed he was very brave and strong.

He told me he would protect me.

To which I replied, "And I'll get your back."

He said, "No.  Charlie will."

When I asked what I could do he responded, "You can be look out."

So, I guess it's settled.

When the need arises, Carl will protect us, Charlie will back Carl and I'll provide look out.

We make a good team.

And yes, they are now card carrying hunters.

Thank goodness, I hope they're good marksmen because I'm very, very worried about keeping them fed as they grow...

Now to perfect my venison and elk jerkey recipe...

Health and Fitness

So, I'm always struggling with trying to work in exercise in my life.

I know that if you don't make it a priority then it'll never happen.

So hard to carve out time to do, but it is important to me.

Nevertheless, my running is sporadic.

I've been trying to make it my number one priority to run every Monday morning when I have everyone in school.  That day there's less of a chance that I'll have conflict with doing something for myself.

And when I do I get a good chunk of time with two people I adore.

Not that I can chat the way they can, it's all I can to do suck in a breath every now and then and try (usually not very successfully) to keep up.

We have a beautiful 6 mile loop that I love, fills me with joy for my hometown, even on drizzly days.

After two weeks of not going running, last week I was so excited to run my 6 mile loop on Monday, a 5 mile version of that loop with another one of my favorite people on Wednesday, and THEN an 8 mile loop (that had a significant amount of walking to it) on Friday.

It felt great to work in that much mileage.

Unfortunately, my body doesn't seem to care for this sporadic activity level.

Last year when I ran 8 miles cold turkey I learned I had arthritis in my knees and downgraded from the half marathon to the 5 miler.

Really, that's what I get for not being able to property train.

This year, true I haven't had the time so far to properly train, but I have been trying hard to run at least once a week.  For a decent distance.

But my feet rebelled.

I was worried I had stress fractures in my feet.  At first the bruised feeling in the ball of my foot was fine once I started walking on it.  But when it started to swell a tiny bit I got worried.

And in that worry I was trying to formulate a plan in case I couldn't continue to run.  How would I keep weight off (I've put on a few pounds from the old HCG and it's tough enough to keep the weight down).  And I love the social aspects of running (again-I just listen to people talk without being able to contribute to conversations because of the heavy panting...).

I could become vegan?

I could try swimming?

So, in my quest to eliminate those extra lbs, with the looming 20 year high school reunion, and the worry that I don't/won't be able to exercise adequately, I'm trying to be even more whole food conscious.

Today, my lunch was sooooo good!.

My mom had made sauteed kale with boiler onions and bacon last Sunday night that was delicious.

Since then I made it again with a sweet onion and pancetta (plus a little bacon fat for flavor).

In light of the rethinking my food, today I tried an even healthier version.

And you can bet your buns I'm making it again.  Maybe it could be a family meal if I threw in some chicken or prawns.  Or at least something for me and Mark.

Here's my ingredients (sorry the mushroom is not pictured, it was shy-ok- I didn't think to take a picture until after it was cooking up and smelled so yummy, hence the nub of a carrot and half onion)

Notice the new kitchen tool?

Here's what I did.

I took a sweet onion and sliced 1/2 of it thinly.

I took a big portabello mushroom and sliced that thinly too.

I covered my big cast iron skillet with olive oil (about 1 1/2 tablespoons) and added the onion and mushroom to saute for a while sprinkled with fresh ground pepper.

Next I dumped in about 1/2 a bag of trader joe's kale.

Then I took my new vegetable peeler that juliennes the veggies and shaved up a massive carrot and half a zucchini.

I sprinkled it all with garlic salt and cooked it until it looked adequately done to me.

It was delicious.

Here it is in the pan.  And yes, I ate it ALL.

Oh, and I went to the podiatrist today.  One of the tiny little bones under by big toe knuckle (ball of my foot) is inflamed.  Got some orthotics and I should be good to go.  They're the SOLE ARCH SUPPORT from REI.  Nice quick fix, hallelujah!

AND my insurance covers custom orthotics, so I'll get those made and will be zipping around in no time.

Ok, panting after my friends is more like it...  But at least I'm beating the street.

Fashion Blog

I recently blogged about look good feel good.

It's my motto.

I think it just might be my "funkin' awesome" daughter's motto too.

I guess that our opinion of what "looks good" just might be a teeny-tiny bit different.

But hey, that's what makes us all individuals.

Right?

I've noticed there are a lot of social media ways girls are sharing their daily outfits to inspire those of us who may be lacking a little outfit inspiration on our own.

Well, perhaps it's time for a little Elsa Fashion posting.

Who knows, it may become a regular feature (like the earlier "As Heard In the Back Seat" I had going for a while- until the old built in DVD player slowed conversation in the vehicle).

You may have seen the first photo posted in Facebook.

It really is a show stopper.

Literally.

Just after Mark snapped this photo he told me that it was time to take her shoe shopping.

That he didn't care what she picked as long as it wasn't moon boots.

Those were really and truly his words.

I think maybe it was the boots/shorts combo that put him over the edge.

I've just grown to accept the wacky-ness of each ensemble.

Ready?

But the kicker is, that on our way in to Target so she could pick out new shoes,

not one,

not two,

but THREE

little gray haired ladies literally stopped in their tracks to follow this little girl be-bopping into the store to pick out new shoes.

And all three had the biggest grins on their faces as they continued on their way.

That's the thing that's so special about this little one.

I swear, everyone who takes a second to watch her in motion has to smile.

She's so charismatic.

So bouncy.

So full of her own agenda.

She's absolutely bursting with personality.

So, here's her outfit for today, including the new shoes.

You should see how fast she can run in those babies.

She's an individual all right.

And I couldn't love her any more than I do.

Chauffeuring

Last Sunday was a little crazier than usual.

The day was normal enough, aside from having to help my husband pull on his pants.

That's happened once before, when he had this awful unexplained pain through his abdomen, groin, and back.  He spent a year trying to figure out what was causing this pain.  There were several days I had to help him dress himself.  And anxiously watched him hobbling about like an old man.

It was a stressful time,

the not knowing.

He went to his doctor, had MRIs, x-rays, any test we could think of.  That doctor just prescribed naproxin.  Which was completely and totally ineffective.

It was terrifying to watch my husband in so much unexplained pain

how much it affected our daily life

how fearful I was for our future, when our livelihood depends on his physical fitness.

I'm so grateful that he found a massage therapist who knew exactly what the problem was.

His psoas muscle.

Nope, I didn't make that one up.  There really is a psoas muscle (though lots and lots of people have never heard of it) it can be life changing when it cramps up on you.

Thankfully, we were able to get him a combination of massage therapy and acupuncture to clear it up.

Until last Sunday when he tried to stretch his tight psoas on the kitchen counter after we'd put the kids in bed.

It was like a domino mega-cramp.  Poor guy couldn't move.  He was stuck, twisted on the counter top until we called the medics to come dope him up enough to move him onto a gurney and take him in to the ER.

It was hard to see him in so much pain, maybe that's how he felt while I labored with our first baby...  So helpless.

After hanging out in the hospital until 2am I brought him home and have been his chauffeur ever since.

Which is totally fine, if it leads to a more healthy husband.

Really, it's been fun to spend this time with him and not worry about projects and the 100 million things that have to be done hanging over our heads.

But I cannot believe how much time we have spent in a car over the week.

Want the chauffeur tally?

It's a little mind blowing.

Keep in mind we live in the boonies...

Over this one week span our family has had:

5 massage appointments

2 acupuncture appointments

3 physical therapy appointments

2 doctor appointments

1 hair cut

1 basketball practice

1 band concert

and 1 basketball game

Plus fresh cookies dropped off for the fantastic medics who came to the rescue (just before I headed north to staff a public hearing).

We still have a massage appointment on Sunday, and Monday holds a massage, acupuncture and another doctor appointment...

Needless to say, it was absolutely delightful to pause a moment at the Percival Park with the kids, hop on a swing, and enjoy the soothing rhythm of swinging in the fresh air.

In all the hectic running around trying to accomplish every thing that has to be done, it's so nice to stop for a minute and breathe.

I really need to do that more often.

And I'm so very, very thankful to have health insurance that covers massage, acupuncture, and physical therapy.

I feel so fortunate we have these resources to bring him back to constant motion we're all used to, to see the old Mark coming back to us.

Hallelujah!

Look Good Feel Good

I don't know where I first heard that saying, but it resonated with me pretty early on in life.

I remember there was one time in high school when I tried to go to school in my sweats and without a shower.

I couldn't make it through the whole day, somehow I finagled a way home to quickly shower and put on real clothes before heading back.

It's true, if I don't feel like I look good (or as best as I can pull off for the day...) then I feel off all day long.

It's why I rarely go out in public pre-shower- except if I know I'm going to work out or run.  Then I roll out of bed, throw on workout clothes and go for it.  Sometimes just wiping the smeared makeup from under my eyes with my sleeve.

But that's really the only time I do it.

And as much as it bothers me that I feel this way, I feel better with newer name brand things.

I think I've said this before, but I'm consciously trying to raise my kids to not care about name brands or if things are new.  Maybe it will spare them of the shallowness I do not want to pass on...

But oh how I love designer jeans (I buy them second hand), and the latest jewelry and accessories, and styles of shoes, and driving a new car.

As much as I hate that our suburban is such a gas guzzler (both for the $ and the environmental aspects) I feel better about myself when I'm driving it.

Shallow.

I know.

Super duper shallow.

Which is why I'm trying to appreciate the humble pie I was served today.

I drove our 1992 Honda Accord to my meetings for work today.

It's leaking oil, the windshield has a massive crack running through it, the weatherstripping is a bit mossy, the antenna is broken, and it's pretty noisy.  There's a melted green crayon on the back seat, used turkey fryer oil spilled in the trunk, yadda, yadda, and yadda.

Frankly, every time I park that baby I hope that someone I know doesn't see me stepping out of it.

I know.

Shallow.

So today, upon leaving my meeting I realize the battery is dead.

Funkin awesome!

The car is old enough that the headlights don't turn themselves off automatically.  And I forgot to turn them off myself when I parked that bad boy.

Probably because I was in a rush to get away from it so no one would see me near it.

So, I asked a police officer I noticed in the City Hall parking lot if he could help me or know of someone who might be able to help me.

Which he kindly provided me the help I needed.

After he rummaged in his new car for jumper cables it dawned on me that there just might be a set in my trunk.

And, there was!

Silver lining here...

So another police officer helped push the Hondacar into position and I went to pop the hood and accidentally popped the trunk instead.

Feeling like a super idiot I explained to the nice man that I rarely drive that car.

And, under his breath I heard him say, "I can understand why."

Ouch.

I know.  I'm a good person and really, it doesn't matter what kind of car I drive.  And I consciously repeat that to myself every time I get to drive it- over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...

Mmmm Mm!  Humble pie.

Perhaps I'm Turning into a Prude

Long, long ago...

In a time far away.

Before I had kids,

I had many

many

many opinions.

So very many.

Drive thrus were for lazy people.

(Yup, I thought that rude thought in my head and maybe even said it out loud).

Of course now I often drive out of my way to find one that suits my needs, if I have a car full of kids- because we all know shuffling them in and out of a car is often like trying to herd cats...

Hmmm, what else...

Well, the latest was that it was ridiculous that some grocery stores covered up regular magazine covers because they were too suggestive (Cosmo).

Such ridiculous prudes (likely from the bible belt) probably demanded it from afar.

Well, the other day I'll admit that I wished there were such covers over the magazines at our local Top Foods.

Now that my kids read (and 3 letter words are super easy to read quickly) they pay attention to those enticing magazine covers claiming that they'll improve your sex life.

My little boys were thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo looking at all the exposed flesh.

I think I wish those bible belt prudes would call Top Foods so I don't have to.

"Hey mom, they look like balls!"

They kept exclaiming.

I didn't even look.

Because really, what could I have done.

I kind of tried to encourage them to move on (unsuccessfully).

The same sweet boys spent a good chunk of time hammering geodes to reveal the crystals inside.

I think that's MUCH better than eyeballing all kinds of pictures of people in their undies in Cosmo.

Little Critters

Have I said that I wasn't sure I wanted kids?

Truly, if Mark hadn't been so big on having a big family who knows where we'd be today.

To be honest, little kids with their boogers,

and their runny noses,

the barf

and poop

disgusted me.

It overshadowed the cuteness- by far- in my mind.

I didn't mind them when they were clean and happy,

but I couldn't get out of there fast enough when they were messy and covered in bodily discharge.

Lucky for me, God saw a window the single week I went off of the pill- totally on accident (I forgot to renew my prescription before one insurance ran out and the other took over).

In that single week- out of 13 years of taking pill- God saw his window,

and we now have our precious (usually) little Sarina Grace.

We were hooked.

Of course then followed another, and another, and another before we had to stop the insanity!

So, I don't know how it all happened, lucky coincidence I suppose...that I find myself (today) in charge of my own four kids, plus a bonus 3rd daughter who's been with us since Friday evening (it's now Sunday).

Yet, I wouldn't change this path for anything in the world.

Then there are the animals...

Again, with the mess factor-

I've never been an "animal lover"

though I appreciate them from a distance

I've never been a big, get-in-their-face dog lover.

It completely grosses me out to let them lick my face.

Um, have you seen how they bathe?!

And I know my dog eats poop so I'm pretty sure there are others out there who find it delectable as well...

Gross.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my animals, and I often love giving them loves.  But you do have to admit, their hygiene is a little gross to us humans...

The animal tally today is:

five butterflies (Charlie's fantastic Christmas gift from his family in Leavenworth)

here he is watching over his beautiful creatures

butterfly with open wings

 three dogs- two of our own plus one we get to watch every now and then

Hunter & Ollie

Hunter (right) & Shreker (left)

 And Bob, our beta that I cannot believe has lived so long, in spite of our unintentional neglect.

Bob (right)

It's a wacky, crazy life out here in the country.

And I'm so blessed that it's mine.

And thankful I don't have to watch over 21 chickens any longer.

But that doesn't mean the chickens will be absent forever...

Signing off,
the crazy mama
with 4 (+1 today) kids, 2 (+1 today) dogs and a fish = 9 beings other than herself

Do Boys Have Long Hair?

This morning, as we were walking through a rare patch of sunshine to pick up Carl for this little beauty...

Yup, $1800 so his chin doesn't grow like Leno's.

Anyway, as Elsa and I were walking to the school, I was enjoying the sunshine and she was quiet.

A sure sign something was up.

She held my hand and asked, "Do boys have long hair?"

She was focused and looked me in the eye, patiently waiting my answer.

"Yes" was my instant answer, knowing there was more to the question than the surface.

"I want to be a boy."  She said it quietly but with a whole lot of longing.

Where do you go with that question?

I answered with what came naturally, "God made you a girl.

But that doesn't mean you can't do everything boys do.

And you can still dress like a boy."

I know I've said it before, but I'm so very glad she was not my first child.

I know that if she was my first, I would have projected my own insecurities on her.

Frankly, right now I'm too busy to dwell too long on those insecurities.

Yet, I feel like I have to tread carefully

so that she can maintain her wonderful sense of self esteem.

A little part of me wishes I'd chosen Jackie or Jamie or Chris so that whatever route she chooses in life she keeps as much of herself as she can along the way.

I do love the name Elsa Jane but I love the curly honey-color hair person it belongs to, even if she dresses in her brother's clothes from head to toe.

Really, she is "funkin" awesome.

Nope, that's never going to get old.

This is Really Awesome

Have you heard that song, "Thrift Shop"?

"Only got twenty dollars in my pocket
I - I - I'm hunting, looking for a come-up
This is freaking awesome"

Well, some versions use the naughty word but my kids listen to the "clean" version which says freakin.

So...

Last Saturday was the daddy marathon.

Poor guy slept a whopping 2 hours Friday night because he had the joy of tending to the non-tax paying homeless all night long, who were drunk and wanted a free ride to clog up our emergency rooms (but that's a different soap box so I'll stop now).

Anyway, the day's events included: Carl's basketball game at 10 that Mark got to coach, Elsa's dad's day at pre-school (Dad's Snow Great!), Sarina had two basketball games that Mark got to coach, then escort Sarina to the father-daughter dance.

But the humorous highlight of the day, which has brought us all many inappropriate giggles, comes from the mouth of our babe...

Elsa must have been riding cloud 9 after a fun Dad's Day program.

In the car on the way home she informed Mark that Dad's Day had been,

"funkin awesome."

Lyric mix up courtesy of "Thrift Shop."

To make matters even better- at dinner the next night Mark asked Elsa to tell me how Dad's Day had been- trying to get her to say "funkin awesome" again.  When it did come out the kids all thought she said the big F word.

Charlie even announced, "That's the F word!"

To which Elsa stood on her chair, elated, shouting, "I know the F word!" with the biggest smile on her face.  With so much pride and excitement.

Now there's been a lot of things in our house that have been "funkin awesome".

But we have to mouth it to each other to keep it from becoming an epidemic in our house of little comedians.

Yup, our lives are "funkin awesome."

Very Funny God

I think that God must have a great sense of humor.  Truly.  Why else would he allow the scenario that unfolded in my hectic day? Here it is from the beginning... This morning was normal.  Got up, fed the kids, made lunches, took my shower, Mark saw the kids off onto the bus (well 1/2 of them anyway). I busted a#$ trying to clean up the house, upstairs and down (not that that's normal-just the hectic tone of the morning was normal).   It was a day for a rare event- delivery people bringing new furniture!!  I wanted to clean up enough so we looked like the kind of people used to delivery people coming in, at least for part of the day... Then I dropped 1/2 of the kids at my moms house so I could have the joy of going to my 3 years overdue annual exam.   Lucky me. I'm healthy for the most part. The issues I'd hoped to eliminate by removing my IUD, I was told, are just part of being in my late 30s. Ugh. Then I zipped to get the kids, get 3 birthday gifts, off to birthday party, then home for new daybed delivery for a freshly turned 11 year old girl, then post old bed on craigslist. Zip. Zip. Zip. Here and there and everywhere. You know its funny.  As I "cleaned" the powder room this morning (aka swipe a bleach wipe over the visible splotches of urine on and in the vicinity of the toilet) I BRIEFLY thought I should really wipe down every surface in that room.  Then the idea flitted away as fast as the kids say, "mom I'm hungry!" the second they step off the school bus. Did you know there was a brief(ish) time in my life I sold skin care products with the main goal to be able to make enough $ to hire someone to clean my house? It's true!  I'm a terrible sales person, but I hate cleaning toilets that much.  Maybe it's because my mom and grandma are champion toilet cleaners... they even heat water to scrub those bowls sparkly clean. There's no way I can keep up with that standard. So I don't even try. It amused my grandfather to no end when he heard about my aversion to toilet cleaning. So, as I was responding to the various craigslist emails to get rid of the old bed, I heard running water. Realizing that quite a while ago we'd insisted that little-miss-big-pants wipe her own bottom, I thought perhaps she'd forgot to turn off the water in the sink after washing her hands. Ahh that was wishful thinking.  (Both that she'd wash her hands and that the sound was sink water). No.  No.  No. This is God's humor here... It was poopy toilet water streaming over the sides of the toilet bowl. Inches thick on the floor. As I ripped off the lid to the innards of the toilet flushing system and held whatever piece stops the water from running, I screamed at the kids to bring towels and get daddy. Looks like I did get a chance to clean every surface in that little room. And a large, large stack of towels too. Well played big man.   Lesson learned. Maybe I should clean a room top to bottom every now and then.

Does Santa Die?

Mom, "Does Santa die?"

That's the question Charlie posed as I delivered his bedtime cup of water after putting the boys in bed.

My answer was no.

Then Carl chimes in, "See?  I told you."

"He must be God's friend."

Ok, I'll give them that.

Some kids call Christmas Santa's birthday.

So, I could see why they might be friends- Santa and God.

It's tough trying to figure out the order of the cosmos...

Unicorn on the Moon

Tonight when I was tucking Elsa into bed I noticed she was laying on her bed, studying a figurine.

(a little back story here- the figurine was sent to her big sister years ago from her great-grandma, and Elsa recently acquired it by sneaking it out of her big sister's bedroom...)

She held it carefully in both of her little hands.

She was calm

and quiet

and thoughtful,

...it caught my attention.

After stories, as I snuggled that sweet little body in her bed, she said, "I wonder how the unicorn got in the moon."
As I was about to offer up fairy dust as a potential option,

she answered her own question.

"Hmmm" she said with absolute certainty, "it must have been a jet pack."
"I'll bet you're right." I replied.

But to be honest, that one didn't even cross my mind as a potential mode of transportation, but obviously it's every bit as likely as silly old fairy dust.

Jet packs...
I'm so very grateful she shares those tiny little windows of what's going on in her little mind.
She elaborated that,  "It must be lonely up there- on the Moon.  She's probably thinking about her family."

I wonder if Elsa is lonely on the days her brothers and sister are at school. 

Does she feel like that unicorn sitting on the moon by herself?

The other day I took Charlie out to Red Robin for lunch, just the two of us.  His first comment, once we were settled into a booth, was that he wished Sarina, Carl and Elsa were there too.
It's easy for me to use that time when I'm down to one kid to do some of the stuff I've put off or done as quickly as I could with kids underfoot for the past 11 years.

I have to consciously remind myself that the chores can wait a little while longer.

The house will be clean one day, in the relatively near future (ok, a year from now).

But they each want me now.

I'm a big part of their world and I have to show them that they're a very big part of my world too.

Because, of course, they are the world to me.
Today we played kids monopoly, the kids and I, and it was delightful.
I'm one lucky mama to be given these precious babies to love and cherish.
Yes, there are many days the volume of children, the noise, and their needs is overwhelming. 

But that is also part of what makes this crazy chaotic life wonderful.

And those days when I get one on one time with each of them all the more precious, to focus on them and them alone.

I am so very blessed.