Garbage Can

"Best part of today was riding in the garbage can."

Yes, that came out of my kid's mouth tonight.

I was tucking Elsa in bed when

she offered up that little gem completely unprompted.

Many nights I ask the kids what their very favorite parts of the day had been.

I'm often surprised by their answers.

Tonight I was snuggled in Elsa's bed with her when she shared that little nugget all on her own.

This evening the kids discovered a brand new garbage can we have for hauling our glass to the street for recycling.

They decided it would be perfect for a little joy ride around the yard.

They even fought over who got to ride in it.

Elsa had the longest ride of all although it was super cold outside and I didn't want to stand out there long enough to capture it on camera...

Leprechaun House

One gloomy day after spending entirely too much time on Pinterest,

filling my head full of images of unrealistic, idyllic images I had a bright idea...

build a leprechaun house!

It'll be so fun!

We can scavenge items from the three acres of woods we live on.

We have lots of bark and moss and sweet little twigs and little ferns and pebbles!

We'll get fresh air

explore our property

and have some good old fashioned teamwork!

Ha!

We walked the woods

we tried to scavenge.

But I was foggy headed and weary with the gathering of boots

and rain coats

by the time we headed out the door that all I could muster was a silly photo of the kids in front of the cows.

Cows they were far too entertained by, watching them pee and poop.

And trying to check out if the lady in the back was about to have a baby.

I think she was...

Carl's head was filled with properly measured and cut and framed up little structures.

I can't blame him.

He's watched his daddy build everything perfectly his whole entire life.

My head was filled with lovely little Pinterest images such as this:

Later I showed Carl pictures of what I was envisioning.

And I've must have decided he wanted to try it out.

The next weekend we had one of the most vivid rainbows touch down in our neighbors field.

The boys caught sight of it before I did.

All I saw was Carl running

then Charlie running after him,

wearing my boots.

I headed out the door to chastise Charlie for tromping off in my boots when I caught sight of this beautiful, beautiful rainbow.

I couldn't get mad at Charlie for throwing on the first pair of shoes in sight in his effort to reach that rainbow before it disappeared.

Heck I was afraid I couldn't get a photo fast enough before it disappeared.

And those boys had a pot of gold at stake!

That rainbow renewed their drive to build a leprechaun house.

This time we found all the right materials.

We weren't even distracted by rivers of cow urine.

Mark cut up a fence board for us to lean together for our cobbled little house.

Carl went with him.

Mark was kind enough to decide to just build a properly constructed little house nailed together with a door and all.

But wise little Carl reminded Mark that it wouldn't be their house if he built it for them.

So, we worked together to put together a homey little shelter for any little leprechauns wandering through.

It's not as picturesque as what I saw in Pinterest

But it has lovely bark, soft and vibrant green moss, a little rock fire put, little rounds cut from apple branches for stairs and a walkway, and a little leprechaun trap baited with pennies in the hopes we can catch a lost little leprechaun willing to grant us three wishes.

Charlie kept saying, "Mom you gotta put this in Pinterest!  Lots of people are going to heart it!"

A painful reminder that I do spend a little (ok a lot) of time on Pinterest.  Perhaps too much.

Bald Little Heads

I've shared before that a little girl dear to our hearts is battling Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL)-and kicking it's a*# I must say.

After a rough start (over half of the school year) she's returned to her regular class.

When we were talking with Carl about how he might be able to help her feel better about coming back, we talked about shaving his head so she wouldn't be the only smooth little noggin in the class.

He thought about it for days.

And he made sure that it would grow back

before he decided that was what he really wanted to do.

It was pretty amazing.

His teacher and a few buddies shaved their heads in class fresh for our little friends return.

Charlie was adamantly opposed.

He was worried that his brother would remain permanently bald.

As Mark was shaving away,

Charlie lamented from the corner that he would be hideous, creepy.

But he isn't.

He started with a mohawk, just for fun.

And now his fresh bald little head.

And the kicker, is that Charlie requested to go bald too.

Bald IS beautiful!

Last night we shaved Charlie's hair off.

I'll try to get a picture of the two together tonight to add here.

It feels nice to know that your kids truly care about others.

That they take a moment to put themselves in others shoes, and try to consider what might help them to feel better.

Our little friend's parents will be participating in the Big Climb in Seattle March 24th.  Sam's team is in the top 10 for fundraising- Team Sam I Am, if anyone is able to add to that donation I know all families battling blood cancers would appreciate it.

One More Crazy Mama Event To Share

Maybe I should blog more of my good days than my bad...

But this mix up was too classic for me not to share.

Actually it happened a couple of weeks ago, and I'd even forgotten about it until I was talking to my mom and she didn't know the story.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email reminder that I was scheduled to usher for Olympia Junior Programs.

OJP has been around at least since I was a kid.

It was something I looked forward to every year.

Kids dress up and ride school buses downtown to the Washington Center for Performing Arts (we went to the Capitol Theater then WA Center in the olden days).

And then the kids get to see live theater.

It's fantastic and so wonderfully inspiring for those kids to experience cultural arts in this form.

Any way...

I make sure that I'm ready and have everything set so I can volunteer.

I get downtown and park in time.

Go through the mandatory orientation (no matter how many times you've volunteered).

I lead my bus to their seats.

Then I start looking for Carl.

Not seeing his class, I lean to another mom and whisper, "I don't see Carl's class."

She looked at me and said, "This is 4th and 5th graders.  He's not here."

Duh.

No wonder he looked at me funny in the morning when I told him I'd see him at Junior Programs that afternoon.

He wasn't even there!

Since that mom had disclosed that she hadn't signed in yet, I whispered back, "Your name is Jennifer, you're leading bus #4.  I'm out of here."

And I got to go out to lunch with my husband.

What an absolute dig-bat.

Today is the real OJP day.

I get to volunteer for both boys since first through third graders are going to see Br er Rabbit today.

I hope they let me volunteer with a boot on my foot...

The Boot

Yesterday was interesting.

Almost exactly a year ago I went to the podiatrist because my foot hurt.

Turned out it was an inflamed little bone under the ball of my foot.

I was fitted for orthotics and have been wearing them when my body has allowed me to run.

Which ramped up this spring.

I was doing well, running up to 10 miles a week.

Then that darn spot started hurting again on my foot.

And really, I'm such a space cadet I didn't clearly recall when or why my foot had hurt a year previously until I was sitting in  the exam room with the dr.

She took some x-rays of my foot again.

Lucky me, that silly little bone under the ball of my foot was snapped in half.

I have no idea exactly when it happened.  I just knew that my foot started hurting after a run and the 2 weeks of rest I tried didn't entirely make it go away.

So now I get to wear this boot for the next 4-6 weeks.

I'm just waiting for my klutzy self to tumble down the stairs trying to navigate them in this thing.

Want to know the kicker of yesterday, post boot?

I noticed I'd been wearing my underwear inside out all day long.

So, be warned...  Inside out undies just might lead to having to wear a darn boot forever!

The up side, is that the kids have been over-the-top helpful.

What is it they say about developing habits?

It takes 28 days?

Looks like I've got exactly that to train those little munchkins to pick up their own s#@*!

Happy Friday all!

Those Aren't Diapers

"Mooommm?"

My seven year old son called from the stairs.

"Why do we have diapers?"

I thought for a second.

"Uh, those aren't diapers, buddy."

"What are they?!" he asked.

"Those are for grown-up mommies."  I answered.

"Oh GROSS!" was his response, "those are for VAGINAS!"

How the H-E double hockey sticks does he know that?!

Yes, they are pantyliners.  For when mama pees her pants everytime she goes for runs,

I wanted to shout back at him.

Thanks to the whole lot of you young 'uns re-arranging my insides for three and a half years!

Sheesh!

Neverland

I know, it's been an eternity since I last blogged.

Not for lack of material.

Just once again feeling in over my head in every aspect of my life.

Actually, since my work has slowed significantly, I'm trying to get back into running.  That's where my extra energy (as if there was any extra) has been going.

When I'm overwhelmed I withdraw.  I don't answer the phone, I don't return calls, I don't initiate much.

I know it's not a great tendency to have, but that's who I am.  And I'm noticing the older I get the more pronounced this tendency is becoming.

When I do truly have more energy I'll focus more on fighting that urge.

As if there will be extra energy...?

Any way...

This was too cute not to share.

This morning was just me and my girl.

It's an afternoon kindergarten day- so she had all morning to stew over having to go to school and think about how she wished she was still in pre-school.

Out of the blue, Elsa asked how to stay a kid forever.

I hate crushing my kids with reality, so my answer was to go to Neverland.

We're still relatively fresh from our Disney Cruise so it's what came to me.

Her instant response was "Henry's been there."

She said it with 100% certainty.

I love people with confidence.

"He has?"  I asked.  Knowing her answer would be good.

She said, "Yes!  Remember?  He rode on a ferry?!"

Maybe I should clarify, "fairy."

I wish I could see the images in her mind.

Clearly, the ferry ride he took in December was actually a fairy ride to Neverland, not a ferry across Puget Sound.

I just want to know, did it include fairy dust?

Did everyone ride on the same fairy?

Because his whole family took that trip.

Now, I can't wait to ask Henry what his favorite thing was in Neverland.

Here we are in the Orlando Airport where we were greeted with a humongous Shrek mural.

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.