Life in Tiny Town...

Moved!

2010-10-18T13:42:00.002-05:00

So... I've moved! Please come and visit me at my new digs and update your bookmarks/rss feeds!

My new address is: http://lifeintinytown.wordpress.com/

See you there!

Our Groove

2010-10-13T12:55:00.005-05:00

I don't take well to change, which is a little embarrassing to admit because I've heard that "emotionally intelligent" people adapt to change easily, and I like to think of myself as an emotionally intelligent person, and yet I DON'T adapt easily to change. Every time there is a big shift in our daily routine, our whole life as a family falls into chaos for awhile, usually several weeks. The start of the school year last month was no exception.

But I think, 5 weeks in, we've found our groove again.

I'm doing laundry on a regular basis instead of a crisis basis.

I'm doing the dishes between meals instead of letting them gather on the counter all day, and with their gathering also attracting a swarm of fruit flies.

I'm washing the lunch boxes and re-freezing the ice packs each night instead of finding them-smelly and not refrozen- in the girls' backpacks in the morning.

Our library books are returned when we are done with them instead of when I get the "first overdue" email notice.

Those same library books are pulled out and read daily, instead of sitting untouched in our library bag for a week or more.

In the evening, we are picking up toys and the house in general, going upstairs with plenty of time for getting ready for bed, and spending time together reading, instead of rushing up at almost-past-bedtime and grumpily hissing at the girls to hurry and it's past bedtime get your teeth brushed and sighing heavily every few minutes.

Instead of nagging the kids about their abhorrent table manners, we made a sticker chart to reward them for good meal-time behavior.

Speaking of, I have meals planned and ingredients purchased ahead of time instead of wandering despondently into the kitchen at 5:15 and pawing through the cabinets wondering what the eff to make for dinner tonight.

We've completed a couple of nagging little projects (like moving that ever-growing stack of board games out of my living room- where they looked horrible and messy- and into neat stacks on shelves in the basement) and feeling like I LIKE my house instead of like MY HOUSE IS A DUMP WE ARE HOARDERS SEND HELP AAAEEEEIIIII. (See also: decluttering.)

(Of course, it also helps that David and I are in a better place now too, working as a team again. HALLELUJAH!)

In short, things are chugging along as they should be. There's nothing extraordinary about these simple routines, except that when we're not in our groove and these things fall by the way-side, we are all more stressed and grumpy. When we are not in a groove, everything is harder, and skipping one thing (like washing the lunch boxes) has the domino effect of making 10 other things worse.

Being in a groove just feels good. Like relief. Like a train, chugging easily along. Like it shouldn't take us so long to find our groove, but it does, and we're just so glad to have it back. When we are in our groove, we are living our life intentionally, and we're more peaceful and content as a result.

What about you guys? Do schedule changes, new seasons, etc send your family into a tailspin for awhile?

Priceless Tidbit

2010-10-12T15:39:00.004-05:00

In talking about the babywant situation with a friend after work last night, she said "The thing with you and David is that you both want to make each other happy."

Huh.

It's such a simple explanation for our stalemate, but it's so accurate. Ultimately, I don't want to force him to do something that he doesn't desire, because I want him to be happy. He doesn't want to deny me something I desire because he wants me to be happy. We are at odds because we both have strong opposing desires, and yet we both want to make big life decisions so that the other is happy.

Of course it works the other way too- I am used to him seeing that something is really important to me, to my happiness, and giving in. When he refused to budge on this, it made me so angry at him. And just angry at the situation in general because I honestly don't want to force his hand, to compromise his happiness. He is in the same situation- or the opposite situation, depending how you look at it- with me.

This aspect- this honest desire that the other one is happy- is what is so heartbreaking about not being able to reach a mutually pleasing decision. As someone said in the comments, there is no compromise- you can't have half of a child- it's either CHILD or NO CHILD. And it's either get what I want and make him unhappy or give him what he wants and be unhappy myself.

(Note that I do not see myself as responsible for his happiness- he's responsible for that and vice versa, of course. It's just that when decisions can be made that we know will make the other happy, we are motivated to do so.)

For Dinner

2010-10-12T09:31:00.007-05:00

What I'm making this week:

Catherine Newman's Pork Roast with Cider-cream Gravy. You really should go read her version of the recipe (and all of her other recipes too!), as her writing is simply magic. She's my all-time favorite writer, I think, and her now-defunct column "Bringing up Ben and Birdy" literally changed how I mother, made me into the mother I am today. (Her personal blog is here.)

Anyway, I'm reprinting her recipe here, in case that link ever breaks and I get to a-craving some pork with apples.

Pork Roast with Apples and Cider-Cream Gravy
Serves 8, or 4 with lots of leftovers for awesome sandwiches
Active time: 10 minutes; Curing time: overnight; Baking time: 1 hour

1 tablespoon kosher salt (or half as much table salt)
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon dried sage
Black pepper
1 2- or 3-pound boneless pork loin roast (mine was tied up; yours may or may not be)
Olive oil spray
1 red or yellow onion, halved and sliced
2 apples, cored and sliced
1 cup apple cider
2/3 cup heavy cream

The day before you plan to make the pork, combine the salt, sugar, and sage in a small bowl, and rub it well all over the pork. Wrap the pork in plastic wrap, or otherwise seal it up airtight, and refrigerate it overnight. Remove it from the fridge about an hour before you plan to cook it, if you think to, so it starts off at room temperature. (If you forget, it doesn't really matter).

Heat the oven to 400 and spray either an oven-proof skillet or a stove-proof roasting pan with olive oil. Place the pork in the pan, surround it with the apples and onions, give everything a final misting of olive oil, and pop it in the oven.

After half an hour, flip the roast over and stir up the apples and onions, then roast for another half an hour. Now remove the pork from the pan to a cutting board, tent it with foil so it stays warm, and make the sauce. Over medium heat, add the cider to the pan full of dripping, apples, and onions, and boil, scraping the pan, until the cider is reduced by half and the pan is full of something that seems kind of like a thinnish, darkish applesauce. Add the cream and simmer very gently, whisking to combine everything, then taste for salt (you will likely need to add some) and pour it into a bowl with a spoon for serving. Carve the pork into think slices and serve.

Since I haven't yet purchased my pork roast, we'll be having it tomorrow for dinner so that I can properly cure the meat overnight.

So for tonight, I'm making Sundry's Creamy Butternut Squash Soup. We have a ... squash problem around here, you could say, with squash occupying nearly every horizontal surface, all threatening to turn mushy before we can devour them. With only the bathtub and our beds left as possible storage options, we need to keep on the squash-eating wagon.

CREAMY BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP

• 1 squash (the original recipe called for butternut, I used acorn. You could probably use delicata, whatever), peeled, seeded and cubed*
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, crushed
• 2 cups of chicken stock (Perhaps you have a freezer full of carefully prepared servings of homeade stock, from the weekends you spend simmering giant pots of bones and vegetables. I do not, and therefore I bought a container of Wolfgang Puck’s stock-in-a-cardboard-box. Campbell’s chicken broth in a can would probably be just fine.)
• Half a cup of cream/half and half
• 1 teaspoon curry powder
• Brown sugar, some amount thereof
• Salt & pepper
• Cinnamon

* Peeling a squash is a giant pain in the ass. You could suffer through this, or roast it first in the oven and scoop out the cooked pieces, or use frozen squash pieces, or buy the pre-cut/pre-peeled stuff. Up to you.

Saute the onion and garlic long enough to get soft and translucent, but not to the point of browning. Put your squash pieces in a pan, add the onion and garlic (or take out the garlic now that the onion has soaked up the flavor), pour in your 2 cups of stock/broth and bring it to a boil.

Cook until the squash is mushy, then mash it up with a spoon. You could puree it in a blender, but this way it’s thick and goopy. Mmm…goopy.

Add the cream, curry powder, and brown sugar – I used about a tablespoon of the sugar, but the natural sweetness of the squash varies so I’d go by taste. Stir, then season with salt and pepper and just a dash of cinnamon.

We're also having some kind of beef, potato, and carrot stew over the weekend, we'll do our regular Friday Homemade Pizza Night, and the other nights will be filled in with left-overs. I hate- HATE- the meal planning aspect of grocery shopping and cooking. I do, however, like cooking once I have a plan.

The weeks that I make a meal plan ahead of time are so much easier and more enjoyable than the weeks that I don't make a plan. WHY I don't do it every week is a mystery to me, but I suspect that being distracted by raising children, homework, jobs, household duties, etc is partially to blame.

P.S. Yes, the font type and size is ALL OVER THE PLACE, and every attempt to fix it makes another- different- paragraph messed up. I'm giving up now, but just know that the font changing isn't for dramatic effect; it's blogger's fault. (HOW difficult is it to switch to wordpress?)

Over Population

2010-10-11T15:19:00.003-05:00

The one thing- or maybe the main thing is more accurate to say- that causes me to pause when I think about adding to our family is over-population. I'm actually surprised that no one brought it up with all the of the "wanting more babies" talk that has been happening around here lately.

I have no problem at all with the Duggars. I think they seem like happy people that are making a choice that they believe is right for their family. They have the means to care for their huge brood, and their children seem like they will grow to be productive members of society. They are making choices for their family that are- in many ways- more responsible than most of us. For example, they don't have ANY debt; not their vehicles or their house or anything. Also, if I remember right, they built their (huge, yes) house themselves, using many environmentally friendly and sustainable choices.

The only hang up I have with them is when I consider our planet. She's only so big, and can only hold so many humans, and over-population is already rampant and devastating in 3rd world countries. China, for example, had to stipulate their famed "one child" policy for certain sects of their population, and while that policy has many negative and unethical aspects, it DID significantly reduce poverty.

I know of people that don't want any children, or no more than one child, for the specific reason of wanting to be responsible citizens of this planet. Most people that use over-population as a guideline when family planning would say that two is the upper limit- you replace yourself and your partner in the world, but don't actually ADD to the population. I even have a friend who wished for twins her 2nd pregnancy so that she could have 3 children without having to wrestle with this morality issue.

Since I already have three children, I am already over my quota. And adding one more makes me feel like an irresponsible steward to this earth. David is not called- like, AT ALL- to adopt a baby, so the only way we would be adding to our family at this point is by a pregnancy.

Obviously, if you've been reading here lately, you already know how I feel about another pregnancy. If David came home tonight and said he'd changed his mind, I would agree to another pregnancy/baby in a second. I mean, I think I would; recent confusion on the topic aside, of course.

However, the fact that I would have FOUR children would- and already does- nag at me a little. Or a lot, depending on the day. Since I already have three kids, please don't feel like I'm judging YOU in any way for having more than two, because I'm really not. This is just something that I weigh, over and over, for myself in my own life. I think having a 2-kid-maximum for environmental reasons is different too from the prolific 2-is-normal-everything-else-is-abnormal mindset Swistle pointed out. (Here in the comments section, if you're interested.)

I'm wondering- have any of you considered this when doing your own family planning?

Ten Ten Ten

2010-10-10T21:54:00.005-05:00

Wow, it's been warm- nay HOT- here the past few days. Highs in the 80's is definitely a treat this time of year, even if it leaves us a bit confused by the calendar date. Well, and those tiny black biting bugs? Noo-see-um or some such? NOT A TREAT.

I know many people make a big deal out of dates like today's (10-10-10!!), and I have to be honest: I like cool dates like this. I would especially love to have a baby on a "cool" date. My own birthday is 7-7 but I was born two years too early to be 7-7-77. How cool would THAT have been?

Anyway, I took a bunch of photos of the girls today, playing outside in this summer's last hurrah. It was too nice not to take advantage of all that natural light.

Marin and her dollie have matching dresses thanks to my mom. It was probably too hot to wear a black, long-sleeved dress, but she insisted. And while we walked to church, she rode along in her stroller like the royal highness that she is, pointing out any bit of garbage that she saw, insisting that we trot all over and pick it up, and admonishing us "We don't want garbage around our world, right guys?"

Bless her little environmental-bleeding heart... I guess? Even if it means being on garbage duty on our way to church.

This is our old fashioned door bell that David installed at kid-height. I love it, so much. That's all I have to say about that.

Aw, my twinnies. For some reason, this photo reminds me of their baby-selves.

Ha, ha, Marin pulling Posie in her toy wagon. Special place in heaven for this cat, there is.

Our elementary school does a fall and spring can drive. We collect cans all year for it, and when it's time to turn them in, David and the girls have devised quite a system for counting them, including the ever-accurate tallying with sidewalk chalk.

And of course, because David is David, he's also devised a... pulley???... system to weigh the cans so they don't actually have to count each one. I think they had about 900 today. I'm married to a tinkerer, you guys. All he needs is a jump rope and some wood and he'll McGyver up just about anything. Add in duct tape, and he can build an entire motor vehicle.

+++++++++++

Things are better around here; my husband and I are now talking again. We've "made up" so to speak, and more than just the "bow chicka bow bow" kind of making up, in case you were wondering. I feel so much better.

But I also feel so much worse because we still cannot agree, and this whole thing is just sad. I feel like now it's either have a baby by twisting David's arm into it (which feels gross) or NOT have a baby and feel empty and sad. I honestly don't even KNOW what I want anymore. But I'm glad to have my husband back; not that he ever really left, of course, but it's nice to not feel alone in my own life.

Sometimes I have hope- heart-bursting, joyous hope- that he will change his mind in a way that feels like we could go forth and have a child with integrity. Other times that very hope seems so utterly, well, hopeless that I never want to feel it- and all of it's stupid delusional promises- again. Hope is tricky that way, I guess.

And I also have this fear that David is right. That we can't afford another child, that this is our family and adding another will fuck it all up and I'll be forever sorry for not being able to SEE that before it was too late. And this fear does not jive at all with the desires of my heart, which still wants a baby, of course. And so I'm confused.

But we're talking, and we're listening. If nothing else, at least he knows how important this is for me.

A Good Day

2010-10-07T12:37:00.003-05:00

I woke up this morning curled next to David. I don't even know if he noticed, but I did.

I took Marin to have her school picture taken. It was re-take day; the original picture day was a NIGHTMARE wherein we waited for almost 2 hours during LUNCH/NAP TIME, and in the end Marin refused to even leave my arms. Today? We walked in, no line, she jumped on the stool and smiled so sweetly I almost cried. WIN.

We came home and sorted laundry and she was actually, truly helpful. Also: cheerful, sweet.

The sun is shining through our windows, making the whole house happy. The fall colors are peaking- oranges and reds so vibrant they look fake. The thermometer reads 68 degrees. Cold is coming, but right now delicious warmth remains.

The washing machine is chugging away, the dryer thumping along. I found the box of Halloween decorations. I did a few chores I've been dreading, and it feels great to get those monkeys off my back.

Kate and Joan are bringing a friend home after school. I'm making them caramel apples and popcorn and hoping they will think raking leaves is "fun". (Fingers crossed.)

I'm wearing my favorite worn and hole-y sweatshirt. It's the one I wore to give tours of a gold mine in back in college.

My big girls don't have school tomorrow, and I'm so glad. I realized recently that I miss them, now that school has started.

In short, it's a good day.

Nothing has changed, nothing at all. And yet...

The Great Divide

2010-10-06T09:22:00.003-05:00

What's hardest about this whole conflict with David (besides the wanting and not having a baby, of course) is that we can't agree. I'm not used to us being unable to reach an agreement, being on different pages- nay, different mountains- with a huge gorge between us. It's an odd feeling, unfamiliar, and it makes me feel lost in my own life. When it comes down to making big life decisions, David has been my compass, my thermometer, my touch stone, and now the readings on all of my gages are wonky and confusing.

Because we are usually so in tune with each other, I feel unsettled about the outcome our conflict no matter what happens. Not having a baby is scary in that I'm afraid the emptiness will never leave me. But. Having a baby seems scary now that I can't see the direction we are going or the temperature of the situation.

Even worse, I'm not sure how I'm going to find my way back to David.

I know- wamp, wamp, sad trombone. At least I'm not melodramatic, like, at all.

Really, in many ways we're fine- I know we're fine. We're not seeing eye to eye, but things are hardly DIRE. We're not fighting or yelling or actively miserable. No one is packing a suitcase or sleeping on the couch. We'll get through this.

(But wait, I take that back. I am actually pretty miserable.)

On the other hand, I always wonder what it could be that might tip the scale, that might be the beginning of our undoing. Even though I have all the faith in the world in our marriage, I believe that so do most people who have faced a divorce- or at least they did at one time. My fears about divorce are broad based- not actually due to the specifics of this situation- because I don't want to be that person that believes that could never be MOI. We are not above divorce; we are not divorce-proof, not anymore than anyone else is. Which is to say, I don't think any marriage is completely divorce-proof.

SIGH.

On top of everything, I just miss him. Because- get this- now he's not speaking to me. Oh, silent treatment. You are so effective. (SNORT)

Welcome! Here, Look At Some Photos!

2010-10-05T10:29:00.005-05:00

Hello, hello! Once again, Swistle has sent so many of you my way, and I'm so grateful for her support and for the kind words left by all of you. Really, you guys. Thank you so much.

I'm hoping a few of you will decide to stick around- have a seat! Would you like a scone? Can you imagine it if we were really all together? We'd pass around the sharpie so we could all fill in the "hello my name is" name tag, and we'd laugh- at first nervously but eventually naturally. We'd go around and introduce ourselves and talk a little about our lives or kids or whatever. We could even have wine! Or floofy frozen drinks!

I have to warn you though, the conversation might end up being about vibrators, since that seems to be the favorite topic whenever I'm with an all-girl group these days. Hopefully that won't make any of you uncomfortable.

I can tell you what I wouldn't do, if we were really together: I wouldn't pass around a photo album and force you to look at pictures of my kids. Why do I do this in my virtual living room then? I have no idea. I guess I'm hoping that some pritty pritty pictures of the apple orchard we visited this past weekend will be a nice place holder until I can muster up some content beyond Sob, I want a baby!

So anyway. Apple Orchard! (The one we visited 25 minutes after David wanted to "discuss" the baby thing. Ahem. His timing? Is impeccable!)

We've been to this orchard before- without the kids- to buy some apples from their little store, and we loved it then. They sell apples (well, DUH), freshly made apple donuts, hot cider, cheese, strudel, frozen desserts like pies, and various other yums.

However, it turns out that the grounds are even cuter than the store. How we never knew this before is beyond me!

Some of the orchards in our area are very over-commercialized. Also? Overcrowded. This place was so quaint- a pond, roses everywhere, a sweet little outside eating area covered in grape vines that were heavy with grapes, and little benches everywhere. It was truly lovely.

They had a pick-your-own area, where we did indeed pick our own apples. We filled our bag in about 3 minutes flat. And then we just wandered through the trees, letting the kids run and fantasizing about what it would be like to grow up on an apple orchard.

We went with our friends- Beautiful Neighbor and her family- and our girls had a great time together.

It was such a gorgeous fall day at such a gorgeous place. I definitely want to go back often. Though, I was a little sad the whole time we were there, the weight of the conflict with David heavy on my heart. It's not that I didn't have a good time- I really did. And I really hope that future visits don't bring back those same heavy-hearted feelings.

Ding, Ding, Ding

2010-10-04T13:26:00.002-05:00

(Back story here, here, and here, in that order.)

If you heard bells ringing this weekend,

it's because David finally figured out hmmm, my wife doesn't seem to be talking to me and asked me what was up.

(Either that, or he finally got around to catch up on reading my blog and found out ALL KINDS of information when he stopped by here. I honestly don't know which it is.)

(He did ask me one night about a week ago- at effing MIDNIGHT-if I was mad about something. Since it was so late, I simply sighed and rolled over and went back to sleep. He didn't mention it again until yesterday.)

Of course, he brought it up a mere 25 minutes before we were meeting our friends to go to an apple orchard. Because, you know, that's enough time to have this kind of discussion.

Men!

Well, at least my husband. Sorry, didn't mean to over-generalize there.

Anyway, you would think that it would be better now that we've talked about it, but in actuality, it's not. It's too bad, really, that life's problems don't resolve themselves tidily with a neat little bow. But alas, they do not.

Basically it boils down to this: Despite my talking and talking and TALKING (not to mention begging, persuading, deal-making etc), David never realized how much I wanted a baby. Wha? Ta? Fa? I've been telling him for YEARS how I felt.

He also said that if it came down to another child OR our marriage, he would agree to another child.

Yeah, that's exactly the way I want to make the decision to have another baby. With my husband basically saying I'm giving him an ultimatum. WHICH I'M NOT. I do worry about how all of this will affect us long-term, but I can honestly say that I don't want to conceive another baby under the premise that my husband feels THREATENED.

This whole thing has made me realize that I have no idea what I had hoped to achieve when I decided to stop speaking to him almost a month ago. I mean, I know I was angry and aching for something that I couldn't have. And I know that I felt that it was unfair that HE held all the decision-making cards. And I know that the only thing I felt like I could control was me- so I stopped talking to him, outside of the essentials (like "Can you help Joan find her shoes?").

What I do want is to have a baby under the same circumstances that we decided to have our other children- with both of us ready and excited to add to our family. If I can't have that, then I'd like to have him have a change of heart about it. Not because he feels threatened or "talked into" it, but because the idea of another child has grown on him.

I'd even settle for him not really wanting another child, but seeing how important it is for me and deciding that he could suck it up. He KNOWS he would love the child once that child was a reality. He's SAID SO, on numerous occasions.

(As a reminder, his reasons for not wanting another are 1) we can't afford it and 2) it wouldn't "do" anything for him. And when he says this, it's like saying that frozen pizza won't "do" anything for me when I'm craving Punch Pizza. He says it casually, nonchalantly. He doesn't passionately NOT want another child. It's more like "Hmmm. Nah. Not interested." And here I am, walking around with my body feeling empty and my arms ACHING to hold a baby every day.)

(And don't even get me STARTED on the "can't afford it" slant. I mean, really? We're going to base our family size on the cost of fucking piano lessons and sports fees?)

I wish he'd just go get a vasectomy, so I don't have to wonder and hope all the time. Sure, it'd be for all the wrong reasons, and I'd probably regret it, but I'm sick of being disappointed every month that goes by that I can't even TRY to conceive a baby. If he's not going to change his mind, then at least let's just get this OVER so I can move on.

This sucks, ya'll. And I'm a little fragile, so be gentle. Trust me, I KNOW how much is sucks to be married to me. Or at least, I have a pretty good idea.

Homecoming

2010-10-01T21:44:00.009-05:00

"So, Mommy? What do the Bluebirds get if they win the football game?"

"....Um...???"

"Like, do they win a prize?"

"... no..."

"Well, if they don't win a prize, maybe each team could take turns getting goalies-"

"touchdowns"

"touchdowns, and then they could both tie at the game? And, kind of both... win?"

And with THAT dinner conversation, David and I loaded up our children and took them to the high school football game. ~~Because JEEZUS, they should at least know the basics of football.~~ ~~Because it was homecoming.~~ To see the band, of course.

And while no one in our family follows any kind of professional sports- I KNOW, how much did I luck out in that aspect of the Marriage Lottery!- I did feel a little sheepish that my 7 year olds didn't understand the fundamentals of a competitive game.

The football game itself was totally nutso. Teens and elderly and food and music and packs of big kids and packs of little kids and people we know and HELLO'S! and blankets and hot chocolate and bright lights and announcers and face painting; everyone a frothing mass of school colors; a sea of blue and gold.

Kate and Joan were immediately swallowed up into the madness- greeted and hugged and carried away in a stream of people- looking so tiny and so grown up all at once and beaming all the while. David and I bit the inside of our cheeks and let them go. Every third face was a teacher or staff person in the school district, and every second face was someone else we knew, and this IS Tiny Town after all, where children CAN safely run free at a football game. At least, that's what we told ourselves, as we craned our necks trying to spot them.

Marin ate starburst candy and wanted to know "what's dat brown sing they are kicking" (ah, that's called a football, honey) and asked "why do they keep just running all around?" (excellent question, sweetie) and cheered for the band and warmed her hands in her pants pockets even though she was wearing her winter coat, which had a better hands-warming option.

And then as we were leaving, I caught up to the twins' posse, and I overheard my girls explaining the stars and constellations and which planets you can see in the sky when to their friends. And I thought these girls know things- not football- but different things. And that was a good feeling.

We came home with a pep in our step and had hot chocolate and washed the Bluebird spray out of Joan's hair and put the kids to bed. We always mean to go to more high school football games, and now I remember why.

To see the band, of course. But lots of other reasons too.

Stomp Rocket

2010-09-30T16:16:00.005-05:00

This stomp rocket kept the children (ages 1-8 years) busy for hours at a friend's house the other night.

We need to get one.

Doll House

2010-09-30T09:10:00.003-05:00

I knew our doll house was big, but I had no idea it would fit TWO children inside.

Now whenever I look at it, it seems RIDICULOUSLY big. Ah, because it IS.

This morning I'm having the urge to do some BIG projects around here. Everywhere I look things seem to be in disrepair- moulding chipping, windows dirty, walls needing to be washed, wall paper begging to be torn down. I could paint the mantle or dust- for the LOVE, I need to dust. Or declutter our toys and books. Or have another mug of coffee.

I guess it should be noted that this "urge" has manifested itself in a way that I'm WANTING to do something, but not actually motivated to DO something. Except look around and feel like I live in a dump. And maybe find a new spot in our house for that doll house.

Or maybe just muse about it on my blog.

Birthday Parties

2010-09-29T15:23:00.004-05:00

My kids' birthday are bittersweet affairs for me. I like to make the day special for them, to spend some time really celebrating them. I get a little choked up singing Happy Birthday. Each year, I am smacked anew at how big they are getting, how fast it goes, and how I'm so lucky to have such awesome little people in my life.

Of course, we have presents. My girls like to open them in their p.j.'s right after breakfast, while it's just our family around.

There's always some kind of cake and candles. This year, Marin wanted chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and strawberries on top. She got her wish, and she didn't even notice that the "4" candle was reused from her sisters' past birthday. She had such a hard time blowing the candle out though- look at her face! She's lucky she didn't break blood vessels in her eyes.

We also have a traditional "birthday banner" that we hang for all of our family's birthdays. And I always buy a bunch of balloons for the birthday girl(s). (The twins each get their own bunch.)

David's family traditionally does "grandparents and godparents" for the kids' birthdays on his side. With 17 nieces and nephews, this makes a ton of sense- instead of doing the whole family for each kid. However, Marin comes up reaaaallly short in the "grandparent and godparent" department as my parents have never come for her birthday, and her godparents are scattered far and wide. Therefore she's had "kid" parties at a much younger age than her sisters.

This year she wanted to have her friends come over in their pajamas, drink hot chocolate, and eat donuts. Well, that's easy enough!

We held the party from 9:30-11am. Marin also wanted to do melting beads- her favorite- with her friends, so we set that up on the coffee table in the living room. (In hindsight, this would have been a better activity for an older group.)

To make things more "fancy" we set up a hot chocolate bar- the kids could pick from lots of different toppings for their hot chocolate. We had whipped cream, sprinkles, mini m&m's, and marshmallows. There wasn't much actual hot chocolate in those mugs, is what I'm saying. Luckily none of my friends seem too irritated at me getting their child(ren) all sugared up so early on a Saturday morning.

Marin's birthday was on a Saturday this year, so we decided to have her friend birthday party and her family birthday dinner the same day. I loved have one full day of celebrating her and then being DONE. It doesn't always work out that way, but it sure was that it did this year.

One other thing to note- we've always asked that her friends NOT bring a gift. She hasn't ever noticed/complained, and it makes things so simple and sweet. Her friends usually make her a card, or bring a small trinket from home, or bring her a bunch of flowers they picked, or something of the like, which she loves and cherishes. (She gets plenty of presents from us and our families that she's not lacking in gift-opening, either.)

For her birthday dinner, we invited her local grandparents (David's folks) over. Marin chose the menu of Swedish pancakes, strawberries, and bacon. She hates bacon, but we obliged her, because WE all wanted bacon. (Though David accidentally cooked the bacon that expired in Jan '10 that he'd been "saving" to return to the grocery- WHY did they have bacon that old on the shelf???- thus making our house smell like ROT. I could GAG typing that. Nothing says happy birthday like expired animal flesh!)

Ahem. Where was I? Oh yeah. Since we served donuts for her friends party, we saved the cupcakes for dinner.

She was so tickled that her grandma and grandpa came over, just for HER. She knows how to win hearts- for sure- and she has theirs all wadded up in her sticky little fists.

I'm writing all of this not because it's such fascinating blog fodder, but because I want to remember- and eventually my kids to remember- that we celebrate them. Everyday; and once a year we haul out the big guns too.

Though I say big guns, we try to keep their birthdays simple and special. I love choosing the perfect gifts for them, planning the perfect day. There was a time that I felt like I was coming up short in the Birthday Hullabaloo department, but now I feel like our own way of celebrating is just right.

Rotten bacon aside, of course.

Anatomy of a Preschool Morning

2010-09-28T10:15:00.005-05:00

7am- Get everyone up and dressed, including myself. Help find matching leggings, non-itchy socks, sharing items for school, school library books, and anything else that should be brought downstairs when we go down to eat. Try to pull a brush through my own hair and over my own teeth. Succeed only sometimes.

7:15 am- Get everyone's breakfast going. Make toast, pour milk, cut strawberries, resolve squabble over certain spoons/bowls/cups, evenly divide cereal if the box is getting low, wipe tears, wipe spills, make 2 lunches, try to remember to take a drink of water, skip making coffee or eating anything myself until later.

7:30 am- Start reminding everyone in a rushed tone to finish. it. up. already. Do all three girls' hair, each to their own liking. Ignore Marin crying since she cries anytime a brush touches her head, no matter how gently. As each girl has her hair done, remind her to get her shoes and coat and backpack and sharing and library books and lunch and water bottle and anything else she needs ready.

7:35 am- Hear David get up and turn on the shower. Try to be understanding that he was up late, working.

7:42 am- Remind the older girls that I have to leave in less than 10 minutes. Continue finishing up everyone's hair, since I've been interrupted so many times for other minor "emergencies". Realize I still haven't got a drink of water.

7:44 am- Hear shower turn off. Try not to swear in my head about how HE gets a shower in PEACE while I'm spinning 100 wobbly plates in the kitchen directly below him. Take a deep breath a force a smile when another plate shatters and "crisis" ensues.

7:50 am- On a good day, be out the door with Marin. Kiss the older two, at least 5 times (their request), run back in the house at least 2 times for things I forgot- like the car keys. Catch glimpse of self in reflection on the door and realize I look like ass. Try not to care.

7:51 am- See David come downstairs and pour himself some cereal. Hear my own stomach grumble. Frantically check the clock and give Joan and Kate more last minute reminders (library books! sharing!) and kiss them AGAIN. Glance nervously at David and wonder if he'll get them to school on time. (He does, but barely.)

7:55 am- FINALLY back out of driveway and head to pick up Marin's classmate (it's my "driving job", and her family pays me to drive her to and from her daycare to preschool).

8:16 am- Drop both girls off at preschool. Only 1 minute late today- hurray! Talk to some of the parents outside the school.

8:20 am- Head out for a walk, leaving my vehicle parked at the preschool. Enjoy my walk around the lake on such a fantastic fall day. Compose this blog post in my head while walking.

9 am- Jump in my van and head home for breakfast and coffee. Finally.

9:15 am- Contemplate what I'm going to "do" with my child-free morning. Realize I only have 1 1/2 hours left before I need to pick up the preschoolers. Coffee is done; sit down to eat.

9:30 am- Decide to leave the breakfast dishes for later. Pour 2nd cup of coffee and log onto the laptop for the first time. (HI!) Look up and realize that it's already 10 am and I haven't showered. Contemplate whether or not I'm going to have time to shower AND get groceries. Finish up 2 emails that I need to send.

10:20 am- Look up again and realize I STILL haven't showered. Frantically run around house rotating laundry, picking up messes, and showering in record time.

10:43 am- Leave the house to pick up the preschool girls. Wonder where did the morning GO?! Console self by thinking "I still have tomorrow morning to finish XYZ." Try to ignore that little voice that says that tomorrow morning will go just as fast as this morning did.

[*Actual activities during this time vary- sometimes I run errands, see friends, tackle projects, read, get a coffee from a coffee shop etc. The thing is, it doesn't matter what I do, the time goes by in a blink. My "child-free morning" is about 15 minutes in length, I swear. WHY?]

Kisses and Hugs

2010-09-27T15:28:00.004-05:00

I noticed yesterday that I signed my last two posts in a row with "XO". Nothing too odd about that, except that heretofore I don't think I've ended that way. I guess I'm feeling extra kissy and huggy towards ya'll. As I should be, with the support and love I've received over the baby thing and Kate's eating has been wonderful. And in person, I'm pretty kissy and huggy. To my kids, my husband (well, not actually lately, not that he's NOTICED. HRMPH.), and even with friends. Anyway, I will return to those posts' comments whenever I'm needing encouragement.

I'm sitting here eating apples (honeycrisp) and cheddar cheese (extra sharp) and thinking about all of the things that have been on my mind in recent days and weeks. It's sunny and perfectly fall here today, and the rain has stopped, yet my friend's yard remains a lake that is prevented from flooding her entire house by only a wall of sandbags and plastic. Roads are washed out, nearby towns are now nearly islands. Our own basement only became a little damp- though our sump pump had quite a workout- but our house still vaguely smells like wet basement.

So the rains came and went (we got anywhere from 7 to over 10+ inches in 18 hours, depending on which source you listen to), my grandma came and went, Marin's birthday is over, and my husband still hasn't really noticed that I'm not speaking to him.

I have tomatoes rotting on my kitchen counter- which is a wonderful (if guilt-inducing) summer/fall problem to have- and three fat pumpkins outside my back door. I have gourds and popcorn and decorative corn and 8 foot tall broom corn and those weensy little pumpkins that are both decorations and toys around here. The air is crisp and wonderful, and those bright red maple leaves are appearing on the trees and ground, and by day the light is wonderfully golden, and at night I smell woodsmoke. All of this I love, and yet I mourn summer, mourn the passing of time. We only get so many summers in our lifetime, and another one from my own life is over.

I'm also growing exhausted of babywant. I'm so tired of aching for a baby, of pondering my situation, of wondering what will come of this conflict between David and me. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I WANT another baby, I'm so weary of it all. I want the yearning to end, the wondering to be answered, the big question mark about our family's future to reveal it's reality. Will he change his mind? Will I ever be ok if he doesn't?

Then there's Kate's eating situation, which sent panic and alarm through my system (as well as through cyberspace, as I frantically posted about it and sent emails to her teacher). And the comments on that post were so very wise; thank you much for your insight. Tess' comment about how I couldn't "allow or not allow" her to eat really struck a cord with me, mostly because when I stated that I "couldn't allow her to skip 2 meals and a snack everyday", I didn't actually MEAN "allow", but instead I meant "I can't stand by and do nothing while she skips 2 meals and a snack a day". But it made me realize that sometimes? Semantics MATTER, and THIS was one of those times. How I speak to my daughter about this- the very words I choose- actually DO make a difference.

My god, parenting is HARD.

And oh HO HO, did I mention that right after Kate miraculously recovered from her hunger strike that Joan came home with her lunch wholly, 100% untouched? Are you pissing your pants from the hilarity of it all? Luckily it was an isolated incident, but my GOD do I ever have PTSD from last spring's neverending Anxiousgate. Since it wouldn't be unlike them to swap problems- one picking up where the other one left off- I thought FOR SURE we'd have a not-eating-Joan on our hands. Whew.

Lastly, I have my sweet Marin, who proclaims with shock and awe a few times per day "Mommy! I just can't BELIEVE I'm FOUR." The first words out of her mouth on her birthday were "I'm taller now! I'm up to Joan's neck Mommy- I GREW because I'm FOUR!" She told me today "Mommy, look how fast I can RUN. FOUR year olds sure are fast, aren't they Mommy?!" You guys, she is so delightful and charming and sweet. And earnest, my LANDS is she earnest. I hope I never forget her at this age- her soft cheeks and curls bouncing and wide-eyed joy at the world around her. Have I told you how I lie down with her at naptime, and she places her still-chubby hand on my cheek and tells me how wonderful I am, and then falls asleep with her hand still on my cheek?

My god, parenting is wonderful.

P.S. Is it weird that I kind of like that damp-basement smell?

SOMEONE is Four.

2010-09-26T14:48:00.005-05:00

I have so many things that I want to write about that I composing blog posts in my sleep. Do you ever do that too? Anyway, my grandma- one of my favorite people on the planet- was here to visit, and then my wittle bitty baby turned FOUR.

My delicate constitution apparently cannot handle so much commotion in so few days, and you probably think I'm kidding, but I took a 2 hour nap today, starting at eleven (11!) this morning.

Additionally, I am- at this very moment- committing a cardinal Fall Sin, which is sitting indoors on a beautiful and not raining fall day. Did I mention that we got around 10 inches of rain in 1 1/2 days and flooding abounds?

So much to tell you, friends. But for now, I'm heading outside to the hammock.

Better Now

2010-09-24T11:55:00.003-05:00

Kate is better now.

I emailed her teacher.

My grandma arrived.

Kate and I had a nice talk.

She's eaten breakfast, her snacks at school, and lunch with a smile since my last post.

Her attitude made a complete 180 degree change in direction.

I'm not sure which factors- all, none, or some- helped, but ALLELUIA she's snapped out of it.

More thoughts on this later, friends. Thanks for so many kind words and ideas. More on that later!

Not Eating

2010-09-22T10:10:00.003-05:00

Wow, you guys. Talking about this whole "aching for another baby thing" has been so very helpful. Thank you all, so much, for your kind words and support. I had a few comments that were more critical of my situation, but Swistle pretty much summed up every thought in my head- and BETTER- with her comment. (Seriously. Go read it here.) And she's definitely onto something with the whole "two kids in normal" mentality observation.

Moving on...

So, this morning I discovered that this girl:

My hat wearing, bug loving,

snuggly and sweet girl Kate,

has not been eating ANYTHING until she came home from school.

Her school year has started off FABULOUSLY, especially compared to last spring (here, and just about every post for the month of May). But she's been refusing breakfast, so I've been coaxing her by allowing her to eat WHATEVER she wanted, as long as it was something. I was so frustrated by her not eating breakfast, but I was trying to not make an Issue out of it, and I was also comforted by the fact that she does get a morning snack at school.

But this morning? I discovered her stash of everything I thought she'd been eating for breakfast, plus all of her morning snacks UNEATEN. And then David, who's been emptying and washing the lunch boxes lately, told me she's MAYBE eating one teensy bite of her sandwich at lunch, leaving the rest wholly untouched.

So she is not eating ANYTHING (except that one small bite of sandwich) until 3 pm when she gets home???????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At 7 1/2 she weighs around 44 pounds- she's already a tiny kid.

I was LIVID to find this out. This is not normal! Why isn't she eating? What the hell is going on here? How can she even LEARN a single thing, with zero food in her small system?

You guys. WHAT do I do? She's obviously not doing this for attention, because her sneaky ways say otherwise... I can't force her to eat. I don't want to make a HUGE issue out of this. Food, of all things, is so goddamn tricky. But I can't allow her to skip 2 meals and a snack every day, right?

This is the kind of situation that makes me feel like I'm failing as a parent.

State of the State, Part II

2010-09-20T09:47:00.002-05:00

Oh, wow. Hundreds of you have clicked on over (via Swistle's link- thank you Swistle!) to commiserate with me over the STATE of not being able to convince my husband to have another child.

So many of us are in the same boat, it seems, and so many others of us can guess what that would feel like, and not much can make me feel better about my situation, but hearing all of your voices was very comforting. I can picture this whole community of crying ovaries, banding together to beg for ANOTHER BABY PLEASE.

Since I wrote that post 12 days ago, I've been increasingly mad and desperate feeling. I can barely LOOK at him, you guys. I'm just so ANGRY. It's just not fair that I feel so passionately about this, and he can so nonchalantly say "Hmmm. No. I don't feel like another child." He's not an emotional person, so of course his response isn't going to be as impassioned as mine, but STILL. It seems like the person who wants something so badly (ME) should trump the person who offhandedly disagrees (HIM).

So what do I do? I have no idea. It seems like the only thing I DO have control over is me- so I've been giving him the silent treatment for 12 days. I know it's extremely elementary, but it's the truth about what's been going on around here.

And before you feel the need to defend him, I should point out that ahhhh.... he hasn't NOTICED that I'm not speaking to him. HE HASN'T NOTICED. You know the one way that the silent treatment FAILS? It's if the recipient DOESN'T NOTICE. Eff. you guys. Effffffff.

(Also, David isn't a jerk, nor is he a complete buffoon. He simply is very straightforward. In his mind, if I was mad at him, I'd say so. If I'm simply not talking to him? Doesn't really register on his radar.)

So to recap: I am so angry at my husband, so frustrated that he has all the control in this situation, can barely stand to be in the same room with him. So I stop speaking to him, mostly because I cannot stand to, but also because- if I'm being honest- I WANT him to notice and care that I'm not speaking to him, but he doesn't notice. So, I'm still pissed, but now even MORE SO and WHAT DO I DO NOW?

It seems like this is something that will not just blow over in our marriage. And that's the scariest part.

Family Room, Now With Table

2010-09-20T09:13:00.003-05:00

Ahoy! Welcome to my blog, AKA the land where "tomorrow I will upload photos of my family room" loosely translates to "sometime in the next five days I will hopefully remember to upload photos of my family room. Maybe." You see, I do this strategically, so that you don't feel any pressure to be perfect either. You can let your hair down around me, scootch in a little late, I won't mind.

(That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!)

So! Pictures!

This is the front half of the family room before adding the table and chairs:

And this is the back half of the family room before adding the table and chairs:

To take that last photo, I'm standing at the door that we always use to enter/exit our home. The ottoman that you see is used by the kids to take on/off their shoes. Our family room has two sets of french doors that lead outside, one- the one we use- directly behind where I'm standing, and the other one right by the shopping cart in the above photo.

Basically, this back half of the family room wasn't being used for much. There's a few random toys, and a couple of baskets with blankets and dress-up clothes, and that's about it.

Here's an after of the family room, with the table now:

The doors you see behind the table are the ones we don't use. The ones we use are off the left hand side of the photo.

Here's an after of the back half of the family room:

We didn't rearrange any furniture, other than move those few toys out of the way. So far, this table has been used for crafts and homework. The dresser/old side board from the dining room also fit in the family room. It's not pictured but is waaaay off to the right of the above photo, along the wall.

We're trying this out for now... not sure if we'll decide it's too crowded in there or not. Any opinions? Too much furniture?

Before and After

2010-09-15T15:41:00.004-05:00

So, upon uploading these photos, I realized just how... insignificant the "change" in our dining room looks based on the before and after shots I took. I should have taken a better shot of the crappy dresser that was serving as a "side board"/craft holder with all of my extra bowls and serving dishes stacked haphazardly on top. It's there, behind the table, but it's hard to see.

There were also two extra-crappy white book cases on either side of the "side board" that held additional craft stuff and kitchen stuff. Those, too, are now gone from the dining room.

(Also, please don't cringe too much at the hideous light fixtures and the weird wall paper. Both are slated to be gone, ah, someday.)

(Before)

The new table is longer, with the ability to add three leaves (is that the right spelling for this usage?). Only one of the leaves is in it in the photo. With all three, it will be around 7 feet long. Also, it has pedestal footing instead of 4 legs, so it's very easy to cram a hojillion chairs around it, if needed.

(After)

I plan to recover the chairs, though I don't hate the green. I can just think of so many fun fabrics for this project, and (I think) recovering chairs falls within the boundaries of "crafty things I am able to do". Also, the red metal stool is new-to-us. Marin loves it, and it matches the red tiles of our kitchen floor exactly.

I like the new/old table. I think.

The striped recliner chair that you can see in the back corner is looking for a new home in our home. David recovered it for me when I was pregnant with our twins, and it's one of the only chairs in our house that rocks. I don't want to get rid of it, but I just have... no idea where to put it. I think the 1912 china cabinet is going to go in that corner, but it needs to be fixed up and painted first.

Initially, we were going to get rid of the old table (garage sale? craigslist? something), but then we got the bright idea to put it in the family room. Somehow we decided to try putting it in the family room as a craft/homework table. We also moved that dresser (previously "side board") into the family room too, so at least all of our craft supplies still have a home.

Tomorrow I'll post before and after photos of the family room, i.e. the room with (probably) too much furniture.

Family Pet

2010-09-14T09:00:00.003-05:00

These fall days are achingly perfect lately- achingly only in that we are so very aware that we won't be feeling the sun on our skin for a LONG time soon- so when Beautiful Neighbor called and asked if I wanted to have some "porch time", I had to say yes. It's, like, the law. MUST. SIT. OUTSIDE. AND. ENJOY.

When I finished putting the big girls to bed, and went downstairs to tell David I was heading to the neighbor's for a little while. What I found was this scene:

The dining room was cheerily lit, with our new (old!) table in the middle of the room, 8 chairs around it. Sitting together on one side, in the middle of that long table, was David and Marin. Marin was wearing a purple night gown and her bare legs were swinging as she was earnestly telling him something, and he was beaming love darts from every pore at her, intently listening. In front of Marin was a jelly jar of milk and some apple slices. David also had a glass of milk and a piece of pie, which he was sharing with Marin.

Now, Marin should have been in bed- or at the very least upstairs looking at books- but for whatever reason, she was downstairs having a small feast with her daddy. She naps very late (from 2-5 or longer!), so we don't expect her to zonk out at 8pm on the nose. But the fact that she can convince her daddy to cut up some fruit, pore her a drink, and spoon feed her pie when she's supposed to be upstairs reading quietly?

Proof that she is, indeed, the family pet.

Old Things New

2010-09-13T09:47:00.002-05:00

This past weekend all of David's family came together to go through his grandparents' house and divide up their things. It was weird, dissolving their home like that, as they are both still alive. His grandma has severe Alzheimer's and his grandpa is 97 and decided last fall to move himself into the nursing home to be with grandma. I guess at that age, he figured he deserved to have his meals delivered and his toe nails clipped for him. Can't really blame the guy, ya know?

I really love old things- not that I want my entire house to look like a walk through Aunt Bessie's parlor- but old things mixed with, well, IKEA stuff is what we have around here. Most of our furniture is a patchwork of stuff we've found 2nd hand, and I like that too. Our house feels less like a furniture store and more like a home this way. However, much of our stuff was cheap stuff left over from our college days, purchased never imagining that it would still be gracing our 7 year old daughters' bedroom almost 20 years later.

David is the youngest of eight (!!) siblings, so most of his family members already have much more "established" homes than we do. This bodes well for us. From grandma and grandpa's house we received a dining room table and 6 chairs, a side board, a china hutch that was a wedding gift to grandpa's mother in 1912, 2 dressers, an end table, a old red metal stool, and lots (and LOTS) of miscellaneous other stuff. Nearly without exception, this stuff was all headed to Goodwill if we didn't take it.

After we loaded it all onto trucks and headed for home, I suddenly got nervous. What if I didn't like those pieces once they were in my home? But it's all here now, and (I think) I really like it all.

The furniture brought with it a little bit of grandma and grandpa's "house smell", and even though they aren't MY grandparents (and therefore not a scent I grew up associating with anything) I kinda love it.

It smells like history.

We've done lots of rearranging to make things fit and work for us. I'm taking before and after photos to post later, so ya'll can play along. It's a game I like to call "Does this room have too much furniture?"

Why "Four" is the Magic Number

2010-09-10T09:28:00.002-05:00

Well, that last post inspired some good points in the comments section. I talked about some of this there, but I am feeling like putting it all together, organized-like, here.

Q: Perhaps this wanting another baby is hormonal? How do you know that this feeling won't pass over time?

A: Babies are my THING, and always have been my thing since I was first old enough to hold one independently (at around age 5 or 6). I was the oldest of four children, and I was very hands-on with both Seester and Kiner, who are 5 and 7 years younger than me. In fact I remember an older girl in our neighborhood named Trish that also loved babies and drove me to near insanity doting on and carrying around MY sister, MY BABY.

Ah, the good ol' days of wandering the neighborhood with my baby sister or brother on my hip!

(I should have cut that bitch.)

Anyway, from a very young age, if a baby was around, I was hovering over it. I'm sure this was annoying at times, but I think my mom's friends and our relatives were mostly LUCKY to have me- a willing set of arms to hold, change, sing to, feed, and dote on their baby.

I never had any questions about wanting to be a mother. In fact, after meeting and marrying David it was physically painful to wait as long as we did before starting our family. Those were a long 18 months, boy.

I'm passionate about breastfeeding and gentle parenting. When my twins were a year old I got a job teaching childbirth classes, and shortly after became a doula to empower other new mamas. I am STILL drawn to babies and get a "mouth-watering" sensation when I see them, aching to hold their warm little bods or smell their sweet heads.

Also, I've never- not for a moment- thought of Marin as my last baby. Not when I was pregnant with her, not the day she was born, not ever. She's going to be four years old this month, so that would be a long time for it to be a hormonal craving. In fact, I'm quite sure that the longer I go without my "last baby", and the farther I get from my viable childbearing years, the more intense the longing will become.

Q: What makes you so sure you'd be willing to stop at four children? What if you want to keep having baby after baby after baby, ala Dugger-style?

A: Well, this is an excellent point, because I'm quite positive that I WILL always want "just one more baby". I don't think I'll ever stop wanting and craving babies. As I said, babies are my thang.

However, I've always said/thought/believed that 4 children was my absolute upper limit. I'm not exactly sure how I came to this number- perhaps my own upbringing of a family of four children has something to do with it?- but it is the number that feels like "enough" for me. More than four seems... like it would be more than I can handle. If we proceeded with another child, it would be our last child. I'm not saying that I wouldn't WANT more, but we would stop after one more. We just... would.

As far as comparing wanting a fourth child to bearing children into infinity like the Duggars? Friends, I have only had two (Tee Doubleyou Oh) (2!!!!) pregnancies and three children. I am miles (and miles and MILES) from being Michelle Dugger. I appreciate what Swistle said too; basically that the mindset of "if we don't draw a line here, we won't evah EVAH be able to draw a line in the future" is such faulty thinking. SO TRUE. So faulty!

And the whole two pregnancies/three kids thing? Babies are my thing, but so is pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, etc. I simply love all of these things. I feel most at home- most right in the world- when I have a small human in my arms, on my hip, or in a sling on my chest. Nursing a child or carrying a baby in my arms seems exactly like what I'm supposed to be doing. And I've only done those things twice. I realize this makes it seem like I have some uneducated "breeder" mentality, but I assure you, I DO have other ambitions in life. I'm just not done with THIS phase yet.

My first pregnancy was high-jacked when I found out I was having twins. From that point on, it was very stressful (would I have preemies? incubators? breathing problems? go home from the hospital without my children?).

Also, I had a very clear image of the kind of mother I was going to be. When I found out I was having TWO babies (remember, that was 5 months into my pregnancy... five months is a long time to fantasize about how lovely my first baby- SINGULAR- experience was going to go), my vision of mothering was gone. I went from picturing myself and my cute baby having leisurely mornings at Target to OH MY GOD I'M NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO LEAVE THE HOUSE WITH TWO BABIES.

And ah, that much was true. I WASN'T able to leave the house much with two babies.

So, anyway, my first pregnancy was stressful. My first birth experience was awful. I was forced into a C-section I didn't want, and I was very angry about it for years. My first "newbornhood" was a blurry, numb season that lasted about 2 years. I had a hard time enjoying my daughters because I was so stressed out and so concerned about not favoring one over the other. I was also suffering from some pretty intense anxiety, but I didn't realize it until years later.

My second pregnancy was hard too, simply because I kept having preterm labor signs and was never sure if it WAS preterm labor or if it was just my "irritable uterus" (<<--actual diagnoses, swear to GAWD), and what if my "irritable uterus" suddenly gave way to ACTUAL PRETERM LABOR... how would I know? My 2nd birth experience took a turn for the douche when I hemorrhaged and suffered some pretty annoying side effects that led me to have surgery 4 (!!) more times after Marin was born.

Marin was a wonderful newborn and baby, and I really enjoyed her babyhood. BUT. It was spotted with surgery after surgery after mothereffing SURGERY, and damn if I didn't just want to skip all the health-problems bullshit and just be a mama to my three girlies.

Also, I should point out that having twins has always made me feel robbed of a pregnancy/newbornhood. Since I LOVE pregnancy and babies, I would have loved spread out those twins of mine over a couple of years, so that I could have cherished each one, instead of having them come together in one stressful, chaotic lump. Again, I've only had 2 pregnancies. I'm 100% positive that if we had only two children right now (instead of 2 pregnancies, 3 children) that David would easily- happily!- agree to one more. Neither of us ever imagined stopping at 2 children.

In truth, there's part of my brain that doesn't want FOUR children, either. I mean, I like how our little family still fits around our small kitchen table. I like how people will still invite us for dinner because we don't seem like this HUGE family; I feel like another child would scoot us into "huge family" territory. I like my freedoms now that Marin is older. I've really enjoyed having more time to explore things I love (like photography). I look forward to working again, or going back to school, to doing things that are good for just ME.

And yet? That thirst? That longing that transcends all logic? It wins, folks. It simply does. Despite all of these really excellent reasons, I still physically yearn for another baby. I do.

But David doesn't, so. There's that.

State of the State

2010-09-08T14:03:00.000-05:00

So remember how I wanted another baby?

Well, I still do. But something has changed. See, before I wanted a baby... in the future sometime. I wasn't ready to get pregnant, but I wanted to get pregnant at some future point. Now? I'm ready to be pregnant. Like, yesterday.

It happened overnight, this sudden shift from someday to NOW. I'm actively longing for a baby now, I'm doing "pregnancy math" as far as due dates and how old my other kids will be, etc. My arms ache sometimes, wanting a wee sprout to hold. I'm thinking about my cycle a ton, wondering, hoping, calculating.

But the crazy part is, I can't be pregnant, WON'T be pregnant, unless my husband changes his mind, or unless the universe decides for us, which seems unlikely since our current method of birth control has been fool proof for the past, oh, at least 8 years.

Can I take a moment to tell you how pissed I am at him? I've done everything I can think of- up to and including begging and bribing- and he steadfastly says no. I've tried giving him time (ah, like 3 years), not talking about it so as to not nag the issue, reasoning, explaining, and- as I said- begging and bribing. I've even threatened to outright trick him, though mostly jokingly. MOSTLY being the key word.

Still no.

I've tried to explain to him that if we don't have another child, I will long for one the rest of my life, whereas if we do have another child, he certainly wouldn't regret it. He agrees. But he still doesn't want one. I've tried to explain to him that our next child already exists- can't he see that child? Over there? Just past that shimmering veil? Our child- our precious baby- is waiting for us, and HE is keeping me away from him/her.

He doesn't see.

I tried explaining to him that this longing I feel is like thirst- you can tell me all you want that I've had enough to drink- I have three perfectly healthy glasses of water already; I can't possibly need more. But if I'm thirsty- if my tongue is dry and my body is longing for water-nothing you can say to me will change that. I'll still be thirsty until I get a drink. Just because it only takes you three glasses of water to be hydrated doesn't mean I too will be hydrated with that amount. I'm still thirsty; I need another glass of water. And it's not fair for you to keep that water from me, just because YOU are not thirsty.

I used the analogy of "this is the last computer you can own. Ever. If it gets older, etc, no matter what you can never have another new computer." Funny enough, this was the only analogy that actually hit home with him.

Yesterday when we dropped all three kids off at school, my longing and begging and hoping suddenly transformed into a ANGER towards him. I'm pissed that he refuses to have a change of heart; I'm pissed that he is keeping me from the water I crave; and mostly I'm pissed that HE hold all the cards, all of the control.

Something about dropping all of our children off at school awakened a raw emotion in me, and it surprised me. Perhaps it's because when we dropped Kate and Joan off for their first day of preschool (at the same place we dropped Marin off yesterday), I was hugely pregnant with Marin. I had 3 weeks of "no kids at home during preschool" before she was born.

Now, my body is not carrying a baby. My body is not even all that hopeful of carrying a baby anytime soon.

This past weekend, we had a overnight date to celebrate our 10th anniversary. We had 24 hours of no children. We stayed downtown Minneapolis, walking and biking all over the city.

We roamed aimlessly and peacefully around the Sculpture Gardens.

We talked and held hands and didn't worry about the clock or anyone's schedule or anyone else's needs. We remembered what we were like before we had children.

It was a lovely time, and I cherish looking back on some of the photos I took, knowing we were so happy together, knowing I was still in the "hoping state" instead of the "angry state". We are usually happy together, with our three little ducklings underfoot. And it was nice to be happy together without them, too. We've had 10 good years of marriage. I'm proud of that. (More photos start here.)

But right now- just a few days later- I'm mad, not happy. I'm restless and aching, not content. And I don't know how to fix it...

Park Palooza- A Success!

2010-09-08T09:42:00.003-05:00

Last Friday, on a bitterly (and unseasonably) cold and windy day, we celebrated the end of summer with our much anticipated Park Palooza. We ate breakfast at a park, had our Opening Ceremony- complete with a balloon release!- had a treasure hunt, went on a hike in the woods, ate lunch, and pretty much totally exhausted our children. We took a break from naps and then met again- this time indoors as we were all chilled- to round out the afternoon.

It was awesome. My kids really love ritual, ceremonies, and "traditions". My friends think of EVERYTHING, and I'm not even exaggerating there. The cold made it seem like we were- quite literally- seeing the end of summer.

We ended the day by leaving the children home with their dads and going out to eat. And then out for drinks.

I really love these ladies... (and their children and spouses, of course.)

More photos of our fun day start here.

P.S. I have no internet at home, which is driving me CRAZY. Our home phone line, our tv watching (we canceled cable, so the kids use Wii Netflix), looking up recipes, blogging, facebook, twitter... AHHHH. I can't believe how reliant we are in the internet, and how much it affects us to not have it. I'm at a coffee shop right now, have been here for 2 hours, and STILL feel like I have stuff I want to do before going home to my internet-less house. Hopefully, they will be out to fix it tomorrow...

90210

2010-09-02T21:48:00.000-05:00

Ten years.

An entire decade.

On this day- in what seem like it could have been just last year but then again feels like a lifetime ago- David and I donned our traditional wedding costumes, gathered all of our nearest and dearest, and committed in front of them all "'til death do us part."

I tried to find some digital photos from that day to share, but quickly realized that showing you a photo of us in all our wedding glory would require scanning things, and well. It's 9pm and this is what I chose instead:

This photo was taken a few months after we met, before we were married. I believe it was our first visit to Rapid City together, for Seester's high school graduation. We were still in that "can't keep our hands off each other" phase, which I'm sure made us a JOY to be around.

So much has happened in the intervening ten years. Together, we have grown from a family of two to a family of five. (And counting? Maybe? David, please? *sigh*)

Recently I was with a group of friends and were talking about times in our lives when we were really, truly scared. I can think of a few times when I felt frozen... terrified. But the day we got married? Right before I walked down the aisle? Not a drop of fear. Only peace, joy, a strong feeling of this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.

We've had our ups and downs, like anyone else. Moving, a growing and shrinking and growing business, health issues, births, fights, dates, family trips, and lots of other things that can't easily be summed up in a tidy list. Now that 10 years have passed, I'm so proud of where we are, so happy with the life we've created for ourselves. I'm happier than I ever thought I'd be. I never- EVER- thought I'd grow to love Tiny Town the way I have.

And man, am I ever excited to see what the next 10 years will bring.

How It Went With HER

2010-08-31T10:58:00.005-05:00

So, my dad's on-again-off-again girlfriend or whatever the hell she is?

Yeah, we saw her.

On our first morning there, we went over to Kiner's house (where my dad "lives"), and I brought food to make breakfast for everyone. It was Kiner, Seester, my dad, and our family. We hung out for the morning, and then my dad had to head to the fair to work the booth for his company.

At the very last second, he asked Kate and Joan if they wanted to go with him. Around noon, they all loaded up, and off they went to spend the afternoon ~~goofing off~~ "working the booth" with my dad at the fair. We agreed to meet him there at 4pm.

When we arrived, it was just my dad and the girls. We went to finish up the last of their ride tickets, when suddenly I look over and there she stood. I almost gasped, as I had no idea she was going to be there, much less RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

She never greeted me directly, but kept trying to insert herself into my conversations and catch my eye. Shock took over, so I basically (as politely as possible) ignored her.

She had her camera, and every time I took a photo, she took a photo. Of MY kid(s). Is that weird to you? It was weird to me.

A few days later, we met my dad to go hiking. Oh, man, was I wishing on a prayer that she wouldn't be tagging along. That hike is... well, it's special to our family, and I simply didn't want it tainted. Luckily, she didn't show up. WHEW!

After our hike, we decided to go to a great nearby restaurant in Rockerville. I thought I saw my dad slink away at one point, so I suspected he was letting her know our dinner plans. Sure enough, once again, she appeared. I sat as far from her as possible, and didn't directly talk to her, but quietly tolerated her presence.

If she had been on that hike? She would have inserted herself into ALL of these photos. Blick.

The main reason I didn't go out of my way to talk to her is that I'm terrified of her. Specifically, I think she's CRAZY, but also I was concerned that she would want to hug me and/or take me aside to "have a little talk" with me and/or go into some elaborate "apology" that would end up forcing me to feel like I need to also apologize and/or something. Since I have vowed to never allow myself to be alone with her (I honestly need witnesses, or she gets all crazy in how she tells the story), I didn't want to face that situation.

Also? I don't need to apologize. Honestly, if my behavior warranted it I WOULD, but... well. It didn't. I don't.

(Luckily she didn't try to do any of those things.)

On our last morning there, we met my dad, Seester, and Kiner for breakfast. It was a Sunday morning, but I was still holding out hope that she wouldn't be there. No such luck. In fact, at one point when Marin was opening an early birthday present from my dad, she nearly did a swan dive over the table, in order to jump in the photo.

Seconds after I took this photo, she positioned herself- standing- behind Marin (mostly with her arms wrapped AROUND Marin) for the remainder of the breakfast. True story. Standing, you guys. STANDING.

I put my camera away.

The most important thing for me is having a relationship with my dad. If he chooses to be with her, than I will respect that in order to spend time with him. I cannot- and do not want to*- tell him who to date, and I don't want to make him choose between her and spending time with us.

*Ok, maybe I want to tell him who to date, just a little bit.

All in all, I think it went as smoothly as it could have (save for if I didn't have to see her at all). I can tolerate her presence, but I still don't trust her. When she's around, she's like... static. Annoying, but easily ignored. That sounds super rude, but. Well. There you have it.

And? I wish she wouldn't smother my kids so much.

Double blick.

Knowing a Place

2010-08-30T10:46:00.007-05:00

One thing that I have done, in regards to my "other home", is to try to foster a love for that place in my girls. Well, and husband.

True story- the first time I took David to the Black Hills with me, we stepped out of the car, and I said "Mmmmmm. Doesn't that smell heavenly?", and he said ".... I don't smell anything." He didn't know it at the time, but I've never been so close to dumping his ass as I was in that moment.

Because? The air there smells heavenly.

He's come a long way since that time, and while I doubt he'll ever have the same emotional connection to that place as I do, he at least has acknowledged that it's special. He even regularly comments on how great the air smells.

(Smart ass.)

(Everyone assembling at the base of the mountain before the hike.)

I started visiting the Hills as a small child, before we moved there when I was 14. By 6th grade, when I spent my first week in the Black Hills for church camp, I was totally, hopelessly in love.

So while David might be a completely hopeless (and sarcastic) case, I think there's a chance that my daughters will come to love the Black Hills like I do. One of things we've done as a family is go on the same hike every summer.

(Water break! As the girls say, "We always stop at this rock for a water break." Yeah, this rock and about 5930 other places, too.)

Since Kate and Joan have been doing this hike so many summers in a row, the trail is very familiar to them. They point out spots we've stopped before, or recall how this or that happened last year at this spot, etc.

(Marin, feeling victory at reaching the summit.)

"No, Mom, we're going the wrong way! Remember last year we did that too? That tree is the top of the other side. We have to go this way."

They forge ahead, confident, leading the way, the way only someone familiar with a place can do.

(You really can see for miles and miles and miles.)

When we reach the top, they are quiet, taking it in, at least for the first few minutes. We eat a lunch or snack, and take some photos, and muse over how far we can see. It's our special place.

(This year, we ran into a group of teenage boys, so we got a photo of our whole group. Besides, our family, there's my brother Kiner, Seester, my dad, and his beastly dog Chuck.)

I realized this year that by having this tradition, I've given my daughters a small piece of the Black Hills. They have ownership over this place. And memories. History.

And really knowing a place is a good feeling.

Home

2010-08-28T15:12:00.005-05:00

Being in the Black Hills this week has me pondering the definition of "home".

"Home is where the heart is."

"Home is wherever my loved ones are. As long as I have them, I am home."

Etc, etc. We've all heard those types of sayings so many times that we hardly even hear them- really hear them- any more.

For all intents and purposes, my home is in Minnesota. I've lived there since 1994, minus several summers during college. I've married a Minnesota native, we've been together for 11 1/2 years, we've purchased a house and own a business and given birth to three children in Minnesota. I've gone from really loathing Tiny Town to really loving Tiny Town. We have good people in our lives there- healthy, kind, supportive people- and we've created a community of friends beyond what I ever pictured.

And yet.

As soon as I start to see the outline of black against the horizon- those millions of Ponderosa Pines that give this area it's name; those Black Hills- something starts pulling at my heart strings. I have an emotional connection to this place that transcends any other place I've been or lived.

Now that I've been gone for so many years, I can see the flaws of this place; I have enough objectivity to see which parts of living here I'm romanticizing and which parts are truly awesome. But lists upon lists of FACTS of why living here would be a) impossible b) not that awesome and c) often downright miserable (see also: family drama), even the most rational and logical thoughts cannot make that ache in my chest fade.

I love it here.

This place is my home.

Yes, my home is also where my babies are. Where we've put down our roots and created a great life. It is, in fact, a life that I love. We are happy. I am happy. We are raising our kids exactly as I always dreamed of raising my kids, in an environment that is nearly idyllic.

But I think home is also knowing a place- forwards and backwards, the goods and the bads. It's knowing the back roads and the off-the-beaten-path ways; it's driving by a place and having a memory; it's the smells and the sounds and the happiness you feel smelling and hearing them.

It's the way the air feels on your skin after the sun goes down. It's the familiar act grabbing a sweatshirt when the thermometer says 102 degrees, because you know you'll need it later.

It's the curvy roads that you can drive a little too fast on because your body still has a cellular memory of them. It's the way you can still easily pick out the tourists from the locals; the way you still consider yourself a local.

I'm not sure exactly why I have such a strong emotional connection to this place. But I am truly, hopelessly, endlessly bewitched.

Visiting is bittersweet. I can't help but having several heart-quickening moments every day where I imagine us- really imagine us- moving here.

Moving home.

Yes, this is home. And yet tomorrow we will drive 550 miles back to the place that we live. A place that is also our home.

As I type this a thunderstorm is rolling in, and the pine trees smell wet and fragrant, and I have goosebumps. This smell? I think it even tops "newborn baby head" smell.

Arrived!

2010-08-23T08:04:00.002-05:00

550 miles, ONE stop (bow now, for yes, we are rock stars), 3 kids, 1 cat, 107 degree reading on our car thermometer, 1 barfing incident (albeit minor and brief, thank you jebus), and we are here!

We're here, we're here, and we're contemplating our Clipboard of Fun. We're also musing about the "dry heat" (go ahead, punch me in the face, but it IS so very different that our humidity at home) (and by "different" I do mean "doesn't feel as hot") (as I said, feel free to punch me now), checking out my mom's houseful of toys, and sleeping in. Well, that last one only David is doing.

More soon!

Camping Trip

2010-08-20T08:44:00.010-05:00

What do you get when you cross 12 adults, 14 kids, 7 tents, dozens of lawn chairs, a fire, mud, at least 6 coolers, and a guitar?

Joan helping Marin get ready to leave. (I love both this photo and how helpful my older girls are these days!)

It was a "walk-in" site, meaning we couldn't pull our van up and unload. Thankfully they provided these handy carts.

The kids could not be kept away from the fire. Here they are "roasting sticks".

I was just saying how I wish I had a friend who would play the guitar while we sat around the fire. And then TWO friends appeared out of the woodwork, with their guitars. HEAVEN!

This is a pretty accurate slice of typical camping life. Chaos and community...

All of the kids, minus one.

A camping trip to a group site, that's what!

So, we think a new yearly tradition has been born. Much like our traditional Father's Day camping trip, I think this group will (try to) get together each summer to go camping.

I think out of mostly sheer dumb luck, we've always been able to take our children camping without a problem, even when they were infants. The first camping trip we went on as parents, our twins were 5 months old, and we camped in a tent for a week. And it was awesome!

I think the camping is a wonderful way allow children the joys of being free in nature, much like many of us experienced during our childhoods. I may not let my children roam as far and as freely as I was allowed to roam my neighborhood, but when we camp, they are given a taste of that experience.

(Erm, not that we allow them to head off into the woods unattended. NOT SO. But they do get to get dirty and catch bugs and draw with sticks and go on hikes and hear forest sounds and smell nature smells... you get the idea...)

I was going to leave you a few tips for camping with kids, but then I realized I've already done that, and I'm quite happy with that list. The only tip I would add is this:

-Keep your camping supplies in plastic totes that close tightly. This will keep the rain out while camping. Also, when you get home, resupply the totes (garbage bags, toilet paper, and paper towels are things that get used up) and stick the totes on a shelf for next time. You wouldn't BELIEVE how much simpler it is to pack for camping if all the gear is kept in one place, ready to go.

You would think that camping with 14 children under age 8 would be sheer hell, and I wouldn't blame you for assuming that. But I swear to you- pinky swear, even- that it goes very smoothly. The kids kind of take on a "pack mentality" and find things to play with (sticks! caterpillars! mud!) and basically wear themselves into a exhausted, happy state... Many of us even got a decent night's sleep, if you can believe it.

Have you taken your kids camping? Any other tips?

Whirlwind

2010-08-19T09:40:00.002-05:00

My kids still have 3 weeks left before they start school, and I am so grateful! It seems like so much of the country is already back in school. We? are going to soak up these last dog days of summer.

This weeks should be filed under the "wha?" column, as so many little things are going on that I'm distracted enough to not have a CLUE as to the date, or day of the week, or time. One foot in front of the other, that's how it's rolling this week.

Our good friends moved (booo), but then Ruthie and her youngest (actually, her foster child) stayed here until yesterday. Ruthie had to work, and she had yet to find out if she could take her foster child out of state with her. This morning her 8 year old son started 3rd grade, so she really wanted to be there for that, ya know? However, she didn't know until YESTERDAY at 4:30pm if she could take her youngest with her. (She can, for now. It's still going to be a long process.)

It was so cozy and nice having them here. They were busy- she was working; he was at daycare- so I didn't need to entertain them. But then, late afternoon, she'd show up, and chop vegetables with me for dinner, or give Marin her after-nap cuddles, or crack open a beer. We'd make dinner and visit and pet the children if they wandered by.

Anyway, it was really nice and natural, yet hard to be too sad about the fact that she was moving since the bigger issue was obviously the foster situation. I mean, boo-hoo my friends are moving versus HOLY FUCK what's going to happen with this sweet 3 year old... hardly any competition, ya know?

Meanwhile, Kate and Joan are in a community play and have spent all week at rehearsals. Every morning one or the other has said "I can't WAIT for play practice today", and man if you haven't seen your kid doing something she really really loves... SIGH. These girls are getting so big, and I can sincerely say that I'm... honored, I guess, is the word... to witness them unfolding into more advanced versions of themselves.

It's a good think they love the play, because we planned our trip to Rapid City around it. The performances are on Friday evening and Saturday afternoon, so we won't be leaving until Sunday. Without the play, we would have jetted out of time sometime Friday, probably. I'm excited to see my family and visit my beloved Black Hills... but you can imagine after the Christmas Issues, I'm also slightly nervous and gun-shy.

Well, but we're going to have fun and ignore any drama/bullshit that gets flung our way. That's my sincere plan.

So that's basically it in a nutshell. It sure doesn't *sound* like a "whirlwind" when I see it all typed out. I think, perhaps, it's more of an emotional shitstorm than anything. Sad friends are leaving, worried about their foster child, relieved and lightened to know he can go with them, overcome with thoughts of them not being near anymore, pride in watching my daughters being so grown up, brain-buzzing with all of the packing/travel to-do lists, heart-swelling catching glimpses of the girls on stage performing, Nervous Tummy thinking about seeing my dad's girlfriend (or whatever she is, as they've "broken up but not really" kind of thing), bummed watching another summer slip through our fingers, shivers of anticipation thinking of cool fall weather and apples and clogs and sweaters, excited for our upcoming vacation...

I'm trying to give each emotion it's own little slot on a time card, so each can be felt and tended to with due-diligence. Still, it's hard to not let the all coming running at me at once.

Whirlwind.

Family Photo!

2010-08-17T08:45:00.004-05:00

Check it out. This past weekend, the planets aligned just so, and somehow- some miraculous, undefined force- allowed all five member of my family to be photographed. In one frame. Without anyone looking pained, grumpy, or passive-aggressively putting her hand over her face (ahemKATEahem).

Sure, the photo was taken while we were camping, thus ensuring that my hair is dirty, and the girls' faces are dirty, and THANK GOD YOU CAN'T SEE THEIR FINGER NAILS IN THE PHOTO, etc. (See also: the girls' feet, OMG).

Man, I love my family.

****Edited to add: Heretofore, this was the best family photo we've taken this summer:

The Rest of the Story

2010-08-13T14:42:00.004-05:00

Coco:

(Back story here and here and here. Oh, my.)

Here's a photo of Coco last moments with our family, before she found "a new home". (AHEM. Please do not blow my cover with the girls, brick-n-mortar peeps.) (Yeah, yeah, I'm likely to do that ALL BY MYSELF, I know.)

It took Joan and I a frustrating and sweaty amount of time just to catch the little wench to put her in her pet taxi. By then end of the ordeal, I was sweating and bleeding (from claw AND teeth scratches), and feeling rather DONE with this animal, as you can imagine. But then Kate (oh, Kate) got all sentimental and wanted a photo with her.

Well, I'll be DAMNED if we're removing her hissing self from that pet taxi, so this was the best we could do:

She was hissing as I snapped this, in fact.

I'm so sorry, Coco, that you were so miserable and that we failed you. And thanks for throwing me a bone with your rotten behavior.... it really did make things a teensy bit easier.

Land line:

Our cordless phone system is dying a slow, one-phone-at-a-time death, and rather than cough up money for more phones, we decided to cancel our land line. It was costing us $40/month, plus long distance. Since both David and I have cell phones, we decided it was unnecessary to pay for three phones every month.

Still, I was worried about what to do if the girls needed to make a phone call. David, boy-wizard, solved that problem by allowing the phone system at his office to have an extension ring in our home. We'll use our land line less now, and we'll still have the dying-cordless-phone issue, but at least our kids can call out if needed. He's so smart. (And it's free.)

The Tired and The Crazy:

Last winter I wrote a lot about being tired all the time and my decision of going off zoloft. (Here and here, for example.)

The tired has been much MUCH better since the seasons changed. I really need to consider SAD and how that's affecting my moods and energy. I still sliiiiightly anemic, but that's improved too. All around? I feel so much more "normal".

My decision to go off of zoloft was absolutely the right one for me. I feel fine, emotionally, for the most part. If I ever need to go back on something like that, I'm absolutely open to it, but for now I'm enjoying being med-free.

Anxious Kate:

Remember that trying little season we had with our darling Kate last spring? Well, this summer she has been fantastic. She's completely back to her old self, anxious-free, relaxed, happy. She's easy to get along with and cuddly. She talks about 2nd grade and school starting easily, without any worry in her voice.

I was so damn relieved for the school year to be over and for my daughter to be back to normal.

HOWEVER.

(There's always a however, isn't there?)

I got the letter in the mail today of class assignments, and Kate had a DIFFERENT TEACHER than the one she met last spring and has been planning on.

Needless to say, I have a brief hour of panic while I waited for the school to sort it out. We have a new principal this year, and he was very nice, and I explained that Kate already met her teacher and that she wasn't a child that could switch gears easily, and Kate is back in her original class.

CRISIS AVERTED.

(Oh, thank god.)

Finally, our friends are moving:

Yes, that's right. Our dear friends are still moving out of state. Tomorrow.

I can offer up one small tidbit of advice: if you are blue about your friends leaving, making them a photo book of memories of your families together will be hard. And sad. And somewhat therapeutic, yes.

We have photos of our kids dating back to 2004, and I've spent hours upon hours going through them all, uploading them, and making that damned book. I ordered one for our kids too.

We took this photo this morning, as I needed something for the back cover of the book.

I do miss them already.

Hats... and Mittens. Huh?

2010-08-12T08:20:00.003-05:00

It's been really hot and humid here. Like, steamy.

(As it has been everywhere else in the country, yes. I realize we are not experiencing a unique phenomena.)

However, my "must be outside all the time, no matter what" girls have changed their tactic.

They not only have been playing inside. They've been dressing up in their winter dresses, hats, coats, and mittens, and playing "snow storm".

They even requested hot chocolate for a snack. (They ended up with chocolate milk in a mug to pretend it was hot chocolate.)

(Marin's sad face was fake... she was pretending to be a "sad baby".)

(Also, these new hats are part of what inspired the game, I believe.)

While I'm not at all craving winter, I'm sorta thinking fall sounds crisp and wonderful about now. Not that I'll ever admit to that again. Fall's biggest downfall is obviously that it precedes WINTER.

Despite the sticky miserable weather, the garden produce right now? Like no other, any time of year. Which means, summer is still my favorite.

Food Fights

2010-08-10T09:33:00.003-05:00

The Girls Who Wouldn't Eat

Anything

Once upon a time, there were three little girls that were extremely picky eaters.

Like, E-X-T-R-E-M-E-L-Y picky.

Their sweet, educated, smart, funny mother knew better than to make An Issue of it, so she she fixed them healthy meals and tried not to get her feelings hurt when they whined, complained, and usually flat-out refused everything, save for the six or so "approved food items".

("Approved items" included apples, cheese, bread, grapes, and candy. Oops, only five items were on the list.)

Their sweet, educated, smart, funny mother knew how difficult The Food Issue could be, and was very nervous about Doing Something that might, in the future, cause Catastrophe. As in, for example, an Eating Disorder.

So she lived with three picky, whiny, meal-refusing little ingrates.

For YEARS.

And YEARS.

Until one day she snapped. During that week, her angelic (looking) daughters had refused: cheese pizza, macaroni and cheese, homemade bread, and sandwiches made exactly how they (used to) like them. During that week, they also (of course) refused all of the other food that was offered (anything that grew in the ground or on a tree for sure, plus all kinds of other stuff). But it was the "kid friendly" and previously acceptable foods that, when now snubbed, made her loose her mind.

Just a little.

Right then and there, she decided that her children were going to EAT their MEALS including VEGETABLES and that was the end. of. the. story. She was willing to go to any measure to FORCE them to eat, including but not limited to: mean threats, scare tactics, and force feeding.

The children, at first, balked. Who was this woman, who was now MAKING them eat delicious, organic, local, and freshly prepared meals? Where was the processed food of their dreams? Suddenly, that mac-n-cheese was looking mighty tasty.

Luckily for everyone, the little girls were bright children, and it didn't take them long to realize that MOMMY WAS SERIOUS. Had they read The Divine Secrets of the Ya-ya Sisterhood, they may have had visions of rubber-hose beatings dancing in their heads. But they hadn't read that book. Even so, they had the good sense to realize that Pushing Mommy Further might not be a Good Idea.

So, they ate their vegetables and their meals.

And they did not die.

In fact, the vegetables actually tasted... well, if not DELICIOUS, then simply good. Fresh. Crunchy. (Not that they would ever openly admit this. They did, after all, have reputations to consider.)

Their sweet, educated, smart, funny mother knew that, according to each and every child-expert, forcing a child(ren) to eat was a bad idea. She was, as previously mentioned, educated and smart (as well as sweet and funny). Therefore, she tried not to gloat too much over her success.

However, less than a week after Operation: Forcing Them To Eat began, she couldn't help but feel smug when her precious daughter opened her beautiful mouth and uttered More green peppers, please.

In fact, as she fell to the floor in shock and pride, she watched with fascination as the heavens parted and the angels began to sing.

The End

I KNEW IT!

2010-08-05T22:27:00.003-05:00

You guys, I'm pretty sure Dooce is reading my blog and copying my writing style.

I published my last post at 8:15 am this morning. In it I stated that my friend had an "Idea with a capitol I".

At 4:06 pm this afternoon, Dooce published this, using almost similar wording when talking about "The Office. Capital T. Capitol O."

Coincidence? Or is she reading my blog for inspiration as we've all suspected all along? We all know she's off in New York, probably having a fantastic time, and certainly feeling the pressure to come up with something witty to say. And then perhaps remember that awesome blog she found? That was full of Ideas?

I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

Blogher Smoke Screen: Park Palooza

2010-08-05T08:15:00.005-05:00

First things first: I'm not going to Blogher, and now that it's upon us, I'm bummed that I didn't make plans to go.

The problem is, I didn't know I wanted to go- like, I really wanted to go- until... um, yesterday. Or perhaps it was the day before. But now that I'm seeing all the posts and tweets about it- YES! I COULD share a cab with you!... er, wait. I'm not going. Boooooo.- well, it seems like a silly, fear-and-anxiety-induced decision not to go. More boooooo.

So! Next year! (<--do you like how confident and concrete that sounds?)

(Anyone want to be a Blogher virgin with me? I'm really outgoing and tend to make even very introverted people feel comfortable and/or more extroverted than they are...)

So, blah blah blah blogher blah blah. Got that out of the way. Next!

My brilliant friend and fellow playgroupie had an awesome Idea- with a capitol I- that I'd like to share with you, so I can distract myself from Blogher Woe.

Her Idea was to celebrate the end of summer with a Park Palooza. The Friday before school starts, we are meeting at a park in the morning for breakfast and a "opening ceremony" (rumor has it there will be a balloon-release-type of event). Then we'll spend the morning going from playground to playground around town. We'll have lunch at a different park, take a break for afternoon naps, and resume the park-hopping after naptime.

The plan is to end the day at the local waterpark, where we're then going to ditch the kids with the dads and go have dinner/drinks together (just the moms).

There are six families included (if everyone can make it), so we're splitting up the meals and snacks between us.

Besides the fact that our kids are going to LOVE it, I really like doing something ceremonial to end summer. Especially living in our climate- where our winters are long and cold- it seems like a celebration to honor the end of our summer is perfect.

Aren't you glad I'm telling you about this, so you can copy the Idea?

+++++++++++

I was so sad about Coco. And feeling guilty and like we colossally failed her.

However. The first morning of No Coco felt... really good. I was just so relieved that it was decided and over and done. I was so goddamn happy to not wonder about where she was going to pee next. I was so glad that my house no longer reeks. (David worked some awesome cleaning magic.)

I realized that she really wasn't a pet to us anymore. With all of her hiding and her slow decline over the last several months to being an almost-complete recluse... well, I can't say we really miss her. She was never around, anyway, unless she was peeing or hissing.

So, thanks for all the kind words. I'm feeling less guilty all the time.

Cat III

2010-08-03T17:47:00.003-05:00

She's gone.

After talking it over more with our local humane society, their recommendation was to put her to sleep. She's terrified of noise, so even if she did eventually find a new home, she'd spend the next days/weeks terrified, probably amping up her issues. Plus, being aggressive makes her harder to rehome, and the likelihood of finding someone who was willing to deal with the aggression, potty issues, and a terrified skittish cat?... it was looking fairly hopeless.

They said it seems more humane to sedate her and then let her go.

We feel awful.

And for the record, we simply told the girls that she found a "new home". They were sad but accepted that explanation.

Cat II

2010-08-03T15:14:00.004-05:00

(Back-story here.)

In a few minutes David will be home to pick up Coco and take her to the vet's. To be put to sleep.

I'm absolutely SICK about it. I don't want to do it.

She's still peeing everywhere, and my house reeks. But the past few days, she must have sensed her number was up because she's been so sweet. Last night, she lay curled next to me on the bed, purring. Of course, the kids were asleep and the house was quiet.

"Perhaps things will be better when school starts soon. The house will be quiet more often, then..." I thought.

I've tried everything to find a home for her. I've ran numerous ads on both petfinder and craigslist. I've received several emails of people interested, but no one follows through.

I've contacted 2 shelters; our local humane society and a no-kill shelter. Neither can take her. One offered me guidance in rehabilitating her. I read and read everything I could find online about how to cure her peeing habits. I could possibly handle to poop on the carpet, but the pee? No.

(There's ~~little~~ no info on how to stop cat aggression. Especially on a formerly "tame" cat.)

I devised a plan and was all set on keeping her. I put her on the wait-list for the no-kill shelter.

But then, she attacked me again, hissing and being really weird. And when I yelled "No, Coco" out of alarm? She pounced ON TOP of Marin, who was sitting on the floor.

I've had pets my entire life, and I've never once been afraid of any of them. Until now. I'm actually afraid she's going to hurt one of us. Several years ago, a friend had a cat-bite puncture wound that was HORRIFIC. She showed it to me a couple of times... and I can't stop seeing it now.

We're calling the local shelter one last time to see if they have room for her. One way or another, she's in her pet taxi, ready to leave our house. My fingers are crossed... and my stomach is hurting.

Please, let there be a suitable home for her, somewhere out there!

Weekend of Sloth

2010-08-02T11:23:00.010-05:00

Does anyone else have a hard time finding that balance between being busy and having free time?

If we are really busy, I'm generally happy. You know, busy people are happy people, and all that jazz. But we inevitably overshoot that invisible mark that lands us in the "too busy" square, and we all end up tired and crabby and craving some down time.

So then, some down time happens. We laze around the house, staying in our jammies. We let the kids watch lots of tv and play lots of Wii, while we tool around on the internet and/or read. It feels glorious at first, but by late afternoon? I start to feel all yicky and grumpy. We need to DO something, SEE someone, have something accomplished for this day.

So we swing, back and forth. Too busy, too bored. We hit the sweet spot once in awhile- the place where we're happily balancing the two. But it seems like that spot doesn't have a magical set of coordinates that we can navigate to; we're always struggling to find it, and it always pops up someplace new.

All of that is to say, our weekend was pretty slothful. We did so little on Saturday that I can't even recall our day. By 4 o'clock I was feeling outright GLUM. We rallied though, packed up a picnic of sandwiches and orange soda and fresh cherries and strawberries and headed to a nearby beach.

Spending the evening swimming and laying in the sand? Reading a book and taking photos of my babies? It's my new favorite.

[Edited to add, for clarification: the evening at the beach was our least slothful part of the weekend, and I felt rejuvenated and happy. I don't regret one minute of swimming or beach bumming... it's all the OTHER minutes of the weekend that were too under-productive. I don't think I articulated that well originally. Sorry!]

Sunday was much the same as Saturday. We did manage to dash off to church at the last minute, making our morning seem less wasted. But largely, we were aimless and lazy, mixed with a restlessness that none of us could identify.

We thought about hitting the beach again, but it was already too late in the day to make it worth it.

In the end, we spent the evening cleaning the basement. Joan shop-vacing the cobwebs, Marin using baby wipes to clean the top of the washer and dryer, Kate humming while she used soapy water to wash the stairs. David and I, and our three kids, finding peace in a dirty, yucky chore. Who would have imagined?

My weekend slothdom can be measured by the fact that I finished the last half of Girl Who Kicked the Hornets Nest (oh, man, LOVED. And I saved the last 30-50 pages to finish the next day, so I could savor it. I miss Lisbeth and Micke!) AND read The Hunger Games in it's entirety (disturbing premise but couldn't put it down).

We have a busy month coming up, with lots of weekend obligations, some time out of town, and 2 doula clients due, so our laziness these last couple of days was probably wise.

However, I can't help thinking we wasted precious time that we should have been doing yard work, house projects, garage cleaning, etc. Gah.

Cat

2010-07-31T11:07:00.002-05:00

So.

What do you do with a cat that you no longer can provide a home for?

Because the cat is a) a miserable recluse living in fear of ANY NOISE, and you happen to have 3 noisy children. b) so miserable that she has taken to peeing on things, especially when you are WATCHING, and also pooping on things. c) has started attacking the children- unprovoked, like they are just walking by- with a vicious sounding noise and intent to hurt. d) also attacked your head and hurt you while you were simply sitting on the sofa.

She's healthy- at least physically. A month or so ago I put an ad for her on craigslist and petfinder (before she started the peeing/pooping and mean attacks) trying to find her a quiet home where she could be happy. Even without the litter box and aggression habits, I wasn't able to rehome her.

Peeing on things (and thus, in many cases, ruining them, as cat pee smell is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to remove) (and some of the things she's already ruined include the original hardwood floor of the office) is a deal breaker. I hate to sound like a total animal-hating dickweed- and I can assure you I really abhor ANY kind of animal abuse or neglect- but I simply can't have a cat pissing on things, especially when there's no physical reason for doing so.

She can't go to a farm because she's TERRIFIED of the outdoors.

Seriously, what do you do?

Because David emailed our vet's office about euthanasia, and that might be the only option we have at this point. I mean, it's hard enough to find a home for a healthy, friendly KITTEN, much less a scared, aggressive, pissing CAT.

(It's our cat Coco- pictured here as a baby- who started off shy but sweet but has slowly spiraled to her current state...)

Mommy Guilt

2010-07-30T16:01:00.003-05:00

So, before I launch into my planned soliloquy of how horribly guilty I've been feeling as a mother, I want to clear up something about yesterday's post: there's absolutely nothing wrong with bragging about one's kid, and I didn't mean to say that there was.

The bigger point I was trying to make was that often parents (I include myself in this, most definitely) orchestrate these odd little things- the things I listed- so that their kid reflects a certain... image, I guess, is the word, to the world. And I find it funny and amusing that we parents (especially at the beginning of our parenting journey) find our children to be such a mirror reflection of ourselves and of the job we are doing as parents. Good, polite, early-learning, variety-eating, potty-trained-as-babies kids means that we are smart parents that are doing an excellent job in raising our child.

The irony, of course, is that our children are NOT a mirror image of us, and the rate at which they reach milestones has virtually NOTHING to do with how well we parent.

Also, as I said, I was definitely guilty of doing those types of things when my twins were little.

Anyway.

This morning I was sitting with all of our playgroup friends- a fantastic group that I don't give nearly the accolades in this space that they deserve- and the older half of the kids announced they were doing a "show" for us. (Sound familiar? My poor friends, whose children are suffering from the influence of my children.)

I think it's important to note that I was up very late last night (3am-holla!), having some lovely porch time with Tea and Beautiful Neighbor. And while I a) didn't intend to stay up that late and b) none-the-less didn't mind staying up that late, for the company was worth it, I was feeling a maaaaajor sleep hangover this morning.

So, I'm sitting there on my friend's couch, ready to be mildly amused and also mildly irritated at the "show" (those things always cause me to roll my eyes at least once), when the group of little girls started dancing. They had worked it out so they were doing these actions in unison, and it was really amazing, actually, since they put the whole thing together themselves in about 5 minutes. One of the moms said "Can you guys just picture them in a few years, as high schoolers?"

Well. I think about that kind of thing ALL THE TIME, but something happened in that moment, and I suddenly so very clearly COULD picture it, and the next thing I knew I couldn't stop crying. And then the other moms were getting teared up, and I thought for one brief second that I might go into the Ugly Cry, and wow.

It just came out of no where. How fast it's going, how they are only "mine" for such a little time. How they (Kate and Joan) will still reach for my hand in a parking lot, still want to be tucked in at night, still sit on my lap. HOW MUCH LONGER WILL THEY HOLD MY HAND?

And I was bowled over with guilt. Because these beautiful, innocent, precious girls deserve only the best, only the happiest and most pure experiences in their childhood.

But you know what? Aside from my brother (the jerky one) growing up, no other humans on this planet have seen me at my most vicious and ugly and angry. I have not been so boiling hot mad at ANYONE ELSE, at least not to their face. These little girls- that I undoubtedly love more than even I can understand- are some of the humans that I treat the worst.

No really. I would not treat anyone else in the world how I sometimes treat my kids.

And I know, I KNOW, that our kids push us to places that we've never been before. Caring for them is a relentless and extremely taxing job that never ends and never gives us a break and always demands more from us, even when our wells have run completely bone dry.

And I know that there's no lack of love in my children's lives. We have happiness and laughter and silliness and affection...

But I don't get so pissed off at anyone else in my life. I am not so impatient and unkind, rude and harassing to ANYONE like I am to them. I don't snap at my friends, or hurry my friends through a meal, or say to my friends "BECAUSE I SAID SO. JUST DO IT" in a rude exasperated tone. If a friend asks me a question for the third time, my blood doesn't boil, I don't feel LIVID at ALL THE TALKING.

Even my husband- who can be annoying as fuck sometimes, I assure you- doesn't illicit this kind of response in me.

Why do I treat my children that way? Why? Why, as a mature, educated adult who wanted these children more than anything in life, do I treat them so poorly sometimes? There is no one else I love as fiercely or entirely, as completely and unconditionally, as I love my daughters. AND YET.

All of this was causing the tears this morning. It was very humbling to see those little bodies, dancing and grinning, perfectly perfect in every way. To realize that tomorrow- TOMORROW- I am going to wake up and it will be July 31, the year of our lord 2020. And those little gap-toothed faces will be 17 year old seniors in high school.

This season in our lives is so short. It seem long when we're in it, yes, but when viewed in the context of an average human lifespan, it is honestly and laughable short.

I want to do better at honoring my girls- even when they are being annoying little shitheads- as people who deserve respect and kindness and patience.

And I feel so guilty that I haven't been doing that all along.

Things Parents Do for Bragging Rights

2010-07-29T10:16:00.003-05:00

The longer I'm a mother, and the more parents I talk to (or read), the more I see it: things parents do so that they can brag up their kid. Sure, they may sight lots of logical reasons for doing these things, but underneath it all- if they were to be completely honest- they are doing it for bragging rights.

These things include:

-early potty training their kid ("Well, my daughter was potty trained at 15 months!")

-extra focus on teaching young kids-or babies!-their letters/numbers/colors/shapes (He's been able to write his letters since he was 2!") ("She knew all of her colors by 13 months!")

-feeding babies and toddlers unusual fruits and vegetables, possibly even things the family didn't eat much of before baby came on the scene ("If you ask her what her favorite food is, she'll say fennel!")

-using complex words for things that have a more common and simple name ("She said to me the other day 'Mommy, I need to use the commode.'") ("He loves to sit in the barcalounger so much that barcalounger was his first word!")

-insisting the child be absolutely accurate in their vocabulary, even when they are just learning to talk ("No, sweetie, that's not a puppy. It's a dingo.")

-taking away things that most babies/toddlers still need or use ("He's been using a cup exclusively since he was 9 months old!") ("She moved to her big girl bed on her first birthday.")

Sure, some kids are just bright or ahead of the curve. But the thing that seasoned parents know- and new parents quickly learn- is that, for example, the age at which a child is potty trained does not have much at all to do with how smart he or she is.

I was definitely guilty of a couple of these things, especially the first time around. How about you? And what did I miss? There must be more that could go on this list...

Old Clothes

2010-07-27T21:20:00.016-05:00

I love old things. Have I told you that before? It's sometimes weird with blogging, the things we share and the things we don't, and how sometimes we assume that our readers just know things, but we've never actually written about them. Like, my girls (the twins, especially) being terribly shy. From my photos and posts, you were not able to gather that information, and yet everyone that knows us in person knows this, because, in person, it's totally OBVIOUS.

So, anyway, I like old things. Table clothes and aprons I'm especially drawn to. Quilts too. I also love old furniture, but have much less of that due to it costing so much more than a table cloth, ya know?

Recently, David and his siblings decided to finally go through the attic at their childhood home.

David's mom died when he was a baby (he was around 18 months old). He was the youngest of six children. After her death, they did what an good old fashioned MN farm family would do: they packed up her stuff, carried on with their lives, and rarely mentioned her again.

The attic was left nearly completely untouched for the past 35ish years. When David's dad remarried (he was 6), his step-mom packed away a few additional things: mostly clothes and toys that the children had outgrown. She added these things to the attic stash.

Since most of the stuff was not packed in a preservation friendly way, much of it was ruined from the extreme temperatures of the attic, the dust, and even the mice. They were able to salvage some fun things though. David brought home 3 large boxes of his childhood: mostly toys and clothes.

A few things are precious keepsakes that will be gently cared for, but most of it is hardy, well made things from the 70's that we can allow our children to enjoy.

Many of the clothes are fantastic. Our girls have been having a blast dressing up. Several of the pieces will also become part of their daily wardrobe.

Here's Marin in David's old snow suit. I think she'll probably actually wear it for playing outside this winter:

These two outfits seem perfect for playing doctor. In this case, Marin was the doctor, and Joan was the candy stripe:

At first I thought this dress would be for "dress-up only", but once I saw it on Joan, I loved it. So did she:

I DIED when I saw this shirt. Most of this stuff is homemade, and the store-bought stuff is missing tags, so I was so excited that it actually fit Marin:

This one is a great dress-up piece. Raggedy Ann, no?:

Marin wore this orange sundress all day today. It has rick-rack and a sash!:

Oh, my. The pattern on this dress features CHICKENS!! Can you even stand it??:

Do you guys remember wearing slips like these? I totally do, and yet in my 7 years of raising daughters, they've never owned a slip.:

This dress is probably my favorite of them all. It's almost... flapperish (?):

When we moved into this house, we had wallpaper almost exactly like this. Funny, but I like the dress version much better:

This outfit was one of David's all-time favorites. It fits Marin perfectly. It even has his name stenciled on the back!:

Either Grant's mom or his sisters made these kerchiefs. They will get plenty of use around here, seeing as how Little House is making a resurgence.:

Oh, man. Old things are such fun.

(As usual, there's more photos on Flickr.)

Personalities

2010-07-26T10:28:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, I finally got around to taking a Meyers/Briggs-type personality test. My friend Tea has been encouraging me to do so for years, and David has also taken it a few times, and I was so thrilled to finally be participating. (I took this one, which isn't- as I understand it- the "full" or "real" one, but yields fairly accurate results, I'm told.) (If you're curious about taking it, this version only takes a few minutes.)

According to the test, I'm ENFP. I found the descriptions eerily accurate, to the point where I had to laugh. "Has lots of great ideas but lacks follow-through." YES. You see? I can't help it! I'm an ENFP, and that's just how we are! We are, after all, the champions.

All snort-chuckling aside, I found it very interesting to read/see/validate certain traits of my personality. I hope to use the information not as an excuse for my actions, but rather to recognize my own strengths and weaknesses. I think that's exactly what the results did for me: articulated parts of my personality that I had not seen/heard articulated before.

When I posted it on facebook, I got tons of people sharing their personality types. I found this very intriguing. David couldn't remember his type, so he retook the test as well. It wasn't a surprise to us that we are almost exact opposites.

Have you ever taken a personality test? Do you think they hold any credibility?

Recipe: Sausage, Potato, Kale Soup

2010-07-21T11:35:00.006-05:00

[**Edited to add: this is my favorite soup recipe. EVER. And I? I like soup.]

This is supposed to be the recipe for Olive Garden's Zuppa Tuscana. It's close, I think.

Sausage Potato and Kale Soup

1 lb mild ground Italian sausage

1 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper

1 large diced onion (red or white; I usually use red)

4 TBSP bacon pieces (optional)

2 cloves minced garlic (or 2 tsp garlic puree)

10 cups water

3 TBSP chicken bouillon (or about 5 cubes)

1 cup heavy cream (8 oz)

1 lb sliced potatoes and/or a few turnips

(I don't measure this; I just use whatever amount of the two I have on hand; usually about 4-6 cups, chopped)

1/2 to 1 bunch kale, chopped

*brown sausage with red pepper and set aside

*in stock pot, saute onion, bacon (if using), and garlic for about 15 minutes, until onions are soft (if not using bacon, add a glug of olive oil)

*mix chicken bouillon and water, add to onion mixture and bring to a boil

*once boiling, add potatoes and turnips and cook until soft (about 1/2 hour; less if potatoes/turnips are sliced thin)

*add heavy cream and heat through

*stir in sausage

*add kale just before serving

I usually slice the potatoes and turnips quite thin, to speed in cooking. Especially in the summer, I don't love standing over a hot pot any longer than needed.

Most of the time, I don't bother with the bacon. If we happen to have some bacon pieces (like for salads) I'll add them, but I haven't noticed that it makes a huge difference either way.

Last night, David added about 2 bunches of kale (at least twice the recommended amount) and it was still awesome. I actually loved the extra kale.

(SmugslashBrag Factor: the onions, garlic, potatoes, turnips, and kale were all fresh from our CSA, which a) is awesome and b) is so damn lucky. All of these, ripe the same week!)

Oh, Lordy

2010-07-21T10:11:00.003-05:00

Yesterday and today have been the type of day where a 7-hour-school-day-sized-break from the children seems juuuuust about right. I guess I should be proud to have made it to the half-way point in the summer before feeling like this, but mostly I'm just wishing I weren't so damned SICK OF THESE KIDS.

BUT! David's sister has left the state, and the disturbance in the force is GONE, and WHEW.

Several of you said that you'd love to hear some crazy SIL stories, so I'm trying to figure out a way to tell them to you without a) boring you to tears with all the back-story explaining and b) making this blog a googling bulls-eye for SIL to find.

In other news (and I use the term "news" very loosely here), our CSA produce is coming fast and furious, and we're enjoying some truly delicious meals. There is something so... honest about freshly harvested food. I really like planning our meals around what produce we need to use up before it liquefies in the crisper, and a year or two ago I wasn't sure I'd be the type of person that *could* enjoy that kind of meal-planning-restriction. So, there's basically a large Smug Factor that plays a part, yes.

Last night I made our family's favorite sausage/potato/kale soup (and by "our family" I mean "David and me" and NOT the children, because the small people of the house firmly believe soup is poison in a bowl). And while soup is, in fact, ideally served on a crisp fall day- perhaps the first snow fall of the year- summer soup is something that must be embraced, due to the garden-fresh-ingredient-factor.

Tonight we're having grilled chicken on a bed of either steamed or sauteed chard, baked summer squash, and fresh cucumber slices. Tomorrow we're having lemon and basil pasta, and I'll make some pesto for the freezer.

And really, this talking about food was just a smoke screen to distract myself from the bickering/hitting/scratching/pinching/screeching children. And it worked, for a moment. But NOW, I really DO need to go see what in SAM HILL is the problem FOR THE LOVE, can't we all just GET ALONG???

Crazytown

2010-07-16T13:28:00.016-05:00

In order to distract myself from David's crazy sister, who is currently making her yearly visit from out-of-state and nearly driving me MAD with her insane antics, I've been editing our photos from the fair.

Seriously, she's crazy. And a little manipulative and mean. But mostly just diagnosably-something.

Anyway, I guess we're lucky to have the county fair in town to distract us from HER.

And we love the fair.

After a brief-but-intense cloud burst, we were rewarded with a rainbow (above and below).

On a mission to find their favorite snow cone stand:

A teensy baby, with FAIR HAIR! (I asked permission to photograph her):

Checking out my photo (we are dorks, yes):

Holding puppies:

Getting 3 quarters at the kiddie coin find:

Concentrating on bingo:

And winning!:

She was so excited that she had several people chuckling:

Not being sure about holding a chick:

But with Daddy's help, warming to the idea:

Leaving with sore feet:

G'night, Fair!:

So...

2010-07-15T07:46:00.002-05:00

I got a blue ribbon (1st place) for this photo!

Which was the one that received the most votes, so you guys were supah smart, as per usual. AND it was one I probably wouldn't have entered if I hadn't done that little poll, so. Internets = awesome.

"Marin" was "dying for a snowcone" yesterday, right around 1pm, which just happened to be when the buildings opened. My other girls were at a playdate, so I did what any good mother would do, and stopped at the fair to get "Marin a snowcone". And, ah, walk through the buildings, natch. ;)

(I still can't believe that I actually got a ribbon!)

And then last night after dinner, when we took the whole family to the fair, we played bingo at the bingo tent, for 25 cents/card. We played 4 games, and both Marin (slash David) and I got a bingo, and won $5 each.

The Tiny Town Fair... it's off to a good start.

The Fair (an Update)

2010-07-14T08:18:00.015-05:00

Reading everyone's comments on which photos were your favorite was so much fun, and as a bonus, had surprising results.

Since a single favorite didn't seem to clearly emerge, I decided to tally all of the votes. I also asked several people IRL and added their votes to the tally.

So the options were:

1. Twilight:

2. Tree lover:

3. 4th of July:

4. Easter Morning:

5. Miss Daisy:

6. Childhood:

At posting time, my favorites were 4th of July and Childhood. But I was also strongly considering Miss Daisy. And I loved Twilight, but was less confident about a landscape photo...

Here's how the tallies broke down:

1. Twilight: 9 votes

2. Tree lover: 16 votes

3. 4th of July: 6 votes

4. Easter Morning: 4 votes

5. Miss Daisy: 12 votes

6. Childhood: 5 votes

So my top favorites had some of the least votes. Hmmmm.

After picking up the printed versions, Easter Morning was clearly out of the running. The rest cropped ok, but I didn't love how 4th of July and Childhood's crop changed the photo quite a bit. Actually, I didn't love the cropped version of ANY of them as much as the originals, but. My fault, yada yada. Should have found a better printer than WALeffingMART and printed them sooner than the day before the deadline blah blah blah.

(Will I ever learn not to procrastinate? Yeah, probably not...)

Also, I was so surprised that Tree lover had the most votes, and by quite a bit. I love that photo of Marin, but I wasn't even strongly considering entering it at that point.

Twilight was a favorite of mine all along, and I was pleased that so many of you liked it too. And Miss Daisy... ahh, I love that photo too, but I was a little bothered by the focus not being really crisp and clean.

Basically, after seeing them printed, it was between Twilight, Tree lover, Miss Daisy, and maaaaybe even Childhood.

I played with putting them under the frame's mat. Tree lover was my (new!) favorite. Twilight also looked great matted, but I was lacking confidence in that one. The newly-cropped Childhood was ever-so-slightly more cropped under the mat, making it unacceptable.

Miss Daisy was great under the mat, even in it's cropped version. While I don't think that photo is the best in terms of quality of photo, I think it has the most appeal.

So. I ended up submitting Tree lover and Miss Daisy. Which are exactly the two with the most votes. Thank you so much for your help!

+++++++++++

As I stood in line with people holding loaves of bread, vases of flowers, needlework, vegetables arranged on paper plates, and all kinds of framed art work, I marveled at this thing called a County Fair. I've never entered anything into a fair in my life, but for many small-town people, it's something they've been doing since early childhood. Like my husband, for example.

I learned that only one person judges. And the judge remains anonymous, even AFTER the judging is over. I learned that artists' names are hidden during the judging, and then revealed afterward for the fair-goers to see. I learned that ribbon winners actually earn CASH MONEY. (Grand prize is, and I'm not joking, $2).

I left chuckling to myself and feeling like REAL Tiny Town dweller and small-town girl, now that I've entered something into the fair.

+++++++++++

The judging happened last night, and the fair opens today. Tiny Town County Fair week is my favorite time of summer, and we go to the fair nearly everyday that it's here.

Tonight when we get there, I WANT to be all cool and nonchalant... not all mouth-breathing and rushing to the Creative Arts building. I want to wander around, enjoying the sights and sounds, and not snapping at the kids to WALK FASTER and NO WE CAN'T STOP AND SEE X because we have to get to the Creative Arts building RIGHT NOW.

(It's funny how I really don't care if I "win" or not... and YET. Once I started the process, I started to care. Ya know?)

Despite how I want to act, any bets on how things actually go down?

Halp!

2010-07-12T15:02:00.013-05:00

*****UPDATE: I decided to print them all 8x10 to help me decide. HOWEVER, #4 Easter Morning and #6 Childhood were significantly changed when cropped to be 8x10 (and printing 8x12 isn't an option). With #4 both girls on the sides are cut in half. It might still be an ok photo- I might even like it BETTER- but it might look really odd. It was hard to tell. With #6, I had to chop off the little boy on the left side completely.

Does this change anyone's mind??

(Original post:)

I know I'm not giving you very much time for this, as I have to submit my photo(s) TOMORROW. But I thought I had it figured out and now I don't know and AEIIIIIII.

Ok, so here's the deal. Tiny Town County Fair is coming to town this week, and I am entering 2 photos- just for fun- into the Creative Arts building "contest". Meaning: all the photos entered will be judged and ribbons will be awarded.

I really don't care much if I win or not (like, at all), but if everyone I know in Tiny Town is going to potentially be SEEING my photos displayed on the wall, then I want to make a good selection.

So, here's what's in my pool of possibilities. Please vote for TWO. Please? (And thank you.)

(If this kind of thing makes you squirmy, leave me an anon comment.)

Option 1: Twilight from my front step:

Option 2: Tree lover:

Option 3: 4th of July

Option 4: Easter morning:

Option 5: Miss Daisy:

Option 6: Childhood:

Thanks again, ya'll.

P.S. Whatever I choose will be printed (at Walmart, UGG) as an 8x10.

P.P.S. The judges are folks from the Tiny Town Art Council. I have NO IDEA what they look for, if these particular judges will happen to know lots or next-to-nothing about photography, or if it's mostly "professionals" that enter vs. amateurs. I always look at the photography display, but though I can't recall with complete certainty, I remember it being mostly less-professional looking photos...

Time Alone

2010-07-10T21:53:00.002-05:00

*Reading The Girl Who Played With Fire

*Visiting a new local winery with friends

*Taking a phone call from my sister instead of sleeping in

*Running away- for the day- with Tea

*Eating fish tacos, outside, near waterfalls

*Watching a storm roll in... and leave again just as quickly

*Spending birthday money from my dad on camera stuff

*Finding some fun, cute things on clearance on Target

*Trying "salt-ice cream" for the first time. And dying. OBVS.

*Sleeping with the tv on, so as not to hear little noises and scare myself

*Marveling at the only messes that are being made are MINE

*Walking on a wooded path and smoking (a few) cigarettes with a friend... and feeling bad

*Contemplating entering a photo (or a few) to the Tiny Town County Fair

*Turning lights on before dark so that after dark I don't scare myself

*Watching the cats pace the house, looking for the girls

*Hoping to sleep in tomorrow (hint, hint, Seester)

[David took the girls camping this weekend (he and his sister take all the nieces/nephews every summer), so I've been on my own... and loving it, of course.]

Party On My Porch

2010-07-08T13:03:00.010-05:00

Yesterday was my birthday. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to tell you how old I am, but I can tell you that this particular birthday made me feel O-L-D.

David invited all of my Tiny Town friends over for a little celebration. He put on a nice spread, no?

Ok, fine. I was involved in making the table look pretty. But he's totally responsible for ordering that yummy cake from the Tiny Town Bistro.

Several of my friends brought flowers, usually picked from their own gardens, which is probably one of my favorite things in the world. A bouquet, picked and arranged from one's currently-blooming flowers, is just so... honest and simple and pretty to me. LOVE.

Although my little rugrats were hanging around for the (beginning, at least, of the) party, everyone else left their kids home with their husbands, and came over for cake and wine after dinner.

Here's my girls, before they got booted back into the house, for the bothersome offense of "hanging over the cake". Those were my exact words, I believe.

(But hey, it's my birthday, and if I don't want three little girls breathing all over and poking my cake, that's my right, right?)

They were, however, allowed to eat a piece of cake. IN THE HOUSE. Actually, as I was falling asleep last night, I felt bad for how I treated them. Shooing them away from the party like they were untouchables or something was not my most proud birthday moment.

On the other hand, BACK AWAY FROM MY CAKE, LADIES.

Anyway, it was a good party. As in: 11 bottles of wine good. As in: that's how much this group consumed throughout the evening.

Well, actually, couple more ladies came after this photo was taken. By then, I was ~~shitfaced~~ tipsy enough that I didn't think to take another photo of the whole group.

David had requested on the invite "no gifts" but many of the ladies brought wine. I thought the supply we had on hand was plenty- about 4 bottles, if I remember right- but boy was I wrong. Wine toting friends, FTW!

But seriously, it was very sweet of my husband to plan this. I'm going to have to think of something equally satisfying for him, for his next birthday.

(11 bottles of wine!)

P.S. I'm 35. Thirty five. Which is closer to 40 than I'd like. Which makes me feel like AAEEEIIII I'm old. Which is unusual, since birthdays (or my age) usually don't bother me at all.

Blogger Spacing Issues

2010-07-03T15:38:00.002-05:00

I installed Google Analytics on this blog shortly after I began writing here, and I'm sad to report that I have basically NO IDEA what to make of all that data. I do click over there once in awhile (weekly? biweekly? not very often, anyway), and I like to see where people are viewing my blog from and which google searches brought them here.

Over the years, my most common search is "I have blogger spacing issues" or some variation thereof. I did, in fact, do a post about that long, long ago, but I offered absolutely no solutions for such problems, and I assume when people search those words, they are looking for solutions.

So, I thought I'd give all those google-searchers some REAL knowledge... except for that I STILL have blogger spacing issues, and I still have no idea (usually) how to fix it.

Here's what I do know:

1. loading photos messes everything up

2. switching back and forth between "edit html" and "compose" mode also messes things up- most notably the font (both type of font and size).

When I load photos, I load them in reverse order of how I want them to appear. The photo I want to end my blog post with? I upload that one first. After I upload all the photos, THEN I write the post. I've found that trying to add photos into already-written text just causes headaches.

If I've already written a post and then decide I want photos, I'll add the photos (again in reverse order) (they will automatically load at the top of the page, with all of the text being shoved to the bottom). Next, I'll cut and paste the text around the photos, instead of trying to move the photos around the text.

I only use "edit html" mode if I'm adding html code, and if it messes up the font type or size or any of the spacing, I usually just publish it that way. Sometimes, I can go back to the "edit html" mode and muddle my way through fixing some of the spacing things, other times I cannot.

So, there you have it, google searchers. Good luck!

P.S. My other two main google searches are "ballerina hair" and "define gossip". I've mentioned each of those topics exactly once (here and here), but I'll save you the clicks: I know absolutely NOTHING about ballerinas OR hair, much less how a ballerina styles his or her hair, and my post about gossip is, well, it was written a long time ago, ok? And honestly I have no idea what it says, because I was cringing so much reading the ballerina hair post that I didn't (re)read the gossip one...

Day's End

2010-07-02T22:54:00.005-05:00

I ended today, laying (lying? I never know for sure) on my porch swing with Marin, watching the fireflies and bats, and smelling her sweet scent. She smells like apples and bread and... baby powder (?) and oatmeal. I think. It's hard to describe.

We both dozed off- it was late; 10ish- and then we roused ourselves, and I carried her into the house. Then I asked her to walk so I could carry a basket of clean laundry upstairs, and she happily agreed, but only if I'd lead her by holding her hand, because she "was asleep" and therefore couldn't "see anything".

She easily settled into bed, and then I called my husband, who was driving home from an adventure with Kate and Joan. I talked to both of them about their day (there was swimming! with a teen aged cousin!), and I was so happy to hear about it all. But they were squabbling back and forth- nothing serious; just the normal- and I had to pretend that Kate didn't tell me that Joan swam without a life jacket, because Joan wanted to tell me that herself, and...

Well, and that's when it hit me. I never got a peaceful night on the porch, lazily watching the summer creatures, with the older two. Because there were TWO of them, each on a constant vigil to ensure she was getting her due attention.

It's the plague of twinhood, for sure, the never being able to be just ONE. I mean, we do make an effort to do things with them individually, but the score-keeping that goes on! And the one-upping! It's exhausting. The path of least resistance (and the most peace) is to treat them as a two-piece unit that must be equally tended.

I am not proud of this. I, in fact, cringe to write that sentence. I don't want to treat them as a two-piece unit. And yet...

I remember when they were newborns... I would nurse one of them, and she would fall asleep in that perfect, heart-squeezing way that only newborns can do. And she'd be all curled on my chest- damp and comfy and softly breathing- and I'd want more than anything to just hold her like that until she woke.

But I couldn't. Because her sister needed to eat.

So I'd pull her off my chest and reluctantly either settle her elsewhere or hand her off to David so I could repeat the process with her sister. And then her sister would fall asleep, but I couldn't just cuddle her either, because either I needed to pee, or I needed to eat, or the other baby needed me now.... And if I *did* manage a few extra cuddles with one or the other, it never felt quite right. It felt either unfair or like someone was missing.

The prevailing feeling of those early days was that there wasn't enough of me to go around. Even though there was, technically. Everyone was being fed and bathed and changed and loved. But my attention was constantly being torn in two places.

And dividing my love and affection between my twins is very different that dividing my love and affection between one of the twins and Marin. It's something about being at the same age, and having the same needs... Marin's needs are so different from theirs, that it's easier not to get into a "IT'S NOT FAIR" contest with her.

I've comforted myself by saying that what they didn't have in undivided attention from ME (or David, or whomever), they made up for by having this really special twin relationship. I do believe this to be true, in many respects.

But as my youngest dozed in my arms tonight- lightening bugs twinkling in the yard all around us (and her elbow lodged firmly in my ribcage); me with no place else in the world I needed to be- I hoped upon hope that what my twins got (and continue to get) from me is enough.

Man, I hope it's enough.

Question

2010-06-30T09:16:00.004-05:00

For book club this month, we read The Necklace by Cheryl Jarvis. It's about 13 women who buy a rilly rilly expensive diamond necklace (it's worth, like, 30k) and share it.

Honestly, it's not my kind of book. I'm not into fine jewelery, so the premise really didn't interest me. However, I found the story interesting (though the actual writing was not good). These women- some in the group are strangers in the beginning- come together and create a community around the ownership of the necklace.

They also use it for all sorts of community good: fundraisers and such, and the question of materialism is brought to light. Just letting others around town WEAR THE NECKLACE was a big deal, which, huh? It's just a necklace. But it really did make a difference in people's lives.

Since I don't consider myself a very materialistic person (by American standards, anyway), I thought that part was interesting. And it got me thinking: what things do I own that I put a high value on?

Aside from people and pets (in case you file those things in the "possessions" column), family heirlooms (grandpa's watch and the like) and personal mementos (photos, coming-home baby outfits, etc), what do you own that you value? What's your most prized possession(s)?

[Edited to add my answer: I turned this question in my head again and again, and I'm not sure what thing(s) I value most in my life. I mean, I love lots of our belongings. I love our bedroom set, and I love my red cupcake stand, and I love Marin's bedding, and I love owning so many books. These things could all easily be replaced though.

I love our house- oh, how I love our house. There's so much yet to be done here, but the character, the woodwork, the built-ins... And I love the location of our house; I love our neighborhood, our grown trees, the sidewalks... However, we don't technically OWN our home. Hrrmph.

I think my final answer is my camera. Just like Erin! And my camera would be fairly useless to me without my laptop. And I use my laptop for so many other things (hello, Facebook? blogging?). So my camera AND my laptop. ...AND my internet connection.

In trying to answer this question, I've realized just how disposable our culture is. If our house burned, along with all of our stuff, I'd collect insurance money (I am, after all, required by law to carry insurance on my property) and go about replacing all of our STUFF. Even my camera and laptop are technically replaceable....]

Shy Vs. Stage

2010-06-29T12:28:00.003-05:00

I've woken up the past two days with a slamming headache, which says Good Morning like nothing else, ya know? There's something about having severe headaches/migraines that makes life during those times feel foggy and surreal. Reminds me of childbirth, actually.

So the fact that our friends are moving seems unreal right now, as does the post I wrote about it, along with all of your thoughtful comments. I'm actually appreciating a little distance from that reality, so, you know, silver linings and all that. (Seriously, thank you for your kind and understanding words.)

But still. Headaches suck. Especially when you live in fear (actual FEAR) of that headache crossing some invisible yet very noticeable line into Migraine Territory.

Aaaaanyway, moving on.

My big girls are taking a theater class this week. I'm not sure if I've ever described their crippling shyness on this here blog, but it's true: they are horribly, painfully shy. Even with people we know really well, if we see them out of the girls' normal "comfort zone" (like at the grocery store), they hide behind me and refuse to speak.

But they also have this inner desire to perform. They love High School Musical, Camp Rock, and the like, and easily memorize songs and lyrics, which they belt out with an amazing accuracy and heartbreaking earnestness.

(If you've ever had dinner at our house, you know this. Because it's inevitable that at some point during the evening, one of the girls sidles up next to me to whisper "We're having a show. It starts in 10 minutes."

And then our poor, unsuspecting dinner guests are ~~coerced~~ invited to watch the girls' performance. Sometimes, it's just singing. Other times it's dancing or gymnastics. Lately, they've been into writing up simple "plays" to perform. If our dinner guests have children, those kids are dressed in costume and given parts as well.)

This theater class is so good for them- and fun for me- because they get to wrestle their inner desire to perform with their shyness. It's fantastic to see them become comfortable enough throughout the week to overcome The Shy and participate in a short play. On a real! stage!, no less.

As I watch them up there on that stage, I see them shed another thin layer of their babyhood, revealing- if even just a tiny bit- the confident, self-assured young adults of their future-selves. It's magical; you'll just have to trust me.

P.S. I'm happy to report that upon completion of this post, my headache seems to be GONE! I'm sitting here happily eating a wrap, stuffed full of CSA veggies, and feeling (as I often do after a prolonged headache) on top of the world. I can do anything! My head doesn't hurt!

Tender at the (Everyday) Heart

2010-06-28T09:20:00.004-05:00

So our friends, our good, lives on our block, spends holidays and birthdays together, swaps kids back and forth often, have been hanging out together since our oldest were babies, friends... are moving.

Moving. As in, moving away. To another state.

On August 1st.

Ruthie, Dan, and JJ will no longer be our go-to friends, for borrowing sugar, or borrowing company for a bonfire, or nada.

And we are all just so sad about this; it's really a sight to see. I am not a weepy person, and there has been weeping. In fact, the tears keep sneaking up on me, which is really wigging my shit out, but there they are, filling up my eyes, making me feel like there is a GIANT SPOTLIGHT on me and everyone in the whole entire world- or at least everyone in this zip code- can see me sniffling like a jerk.

And my kids are sad, sorry, little sacks of bones. I told the girls about it a few days ago, and big crocodile tears rolled down their cheeks. And I honestly can't even type that without getting all choked up myself. The sweet self-talk (but JJ will still invite us to his birthday! And we can go and visit him! Road trips are fun!); my girls trying to make it all ok.

And really? birthday parties? My girls- in their lack of understanding- are worried about JJ's birthday party? They have not yet absorbed that he won't be here, just a few houses away, for whenever they are bored and/or lonely or have a great idea for a game or want to have a lemonade stand. That he simply won't be here at all. His birthday party is, like, 2 hours out of the year that is probably the least quality time they spend with him all year.

I know it's not about me- not about us- at all. I know. And I'm happy for them, for I know Dan has been unhappy here in his profession for awhile. His new job is perfect for him and is a excellent career move. The area they are moving to has countless amazing opportunities for all of them. They need to do this, and they will be happy there.

But it sure seems like it is about us. I suppose that was mourning does- it makes you lose perspective, or at least not be able to logic-talk yourself to a place of peace. The sadness has to come; it's how the process works.

The thing is, we have so many wonderful friends here. In fact, Ruthie isn't even my best friend here. Nor is Dan David's. But the ease in which JJ slips into our family life, the way they all fit around our dinner table- unplanned, usually- so perfectly, the simplicity of Marin joining their pew at church, the way being in their home or hanging around their yard is so comfortable... It's all the most natural, beautiful thing. As a family, they are our closest friends, because being with them just makes sense.

When we are with them, or they with us, there is no disruption... it's just smooth and normal.

So while I feel so fortunate to have so many other friends here- and you can ask the other Tiny Town peeps, because we are all just amazed that there are so many cool people here, and that we have found each other- Dan, Ruthie, and JJ 's leaving will be felt deeply by our family.

I'm not even sure we understand it yet.

The weird thing is that I've been so shy around them about how I really feel about them going. I mean, they know I'm sad, but I haven't been able to say to them how broken I- we- feel. I guess I'm just being... what? strong? for them? Or, maybe I don't want to talk about it for fear of Teh Ugly Cry? I'm not sure.

I was putting Marin to bed tonight, and she had big fat tears and a quivering bottom lip. My three year old. Who I didn't even realize understood that they were moving. Was crying about missing Ruthie. Ruthie, Dan, and JJ have always treated Marin like the family pet (ah... we all sorta do that) and have always had a huge soft spot for her. I just had no idea that she felt the same way about them, or that she would be able to be feeling that way now, before they left. I mean, she's THREE.

We'll still seem them, sure. They have family in Minnesota. We're still planning our annual camping trip. We will go and visit them. Road trips are fun!

But the things I love the most about them- how our gatherings are spontaneous and fun, how we just see each other while going about our normal lives, how we are raising our families together, how none of it takes any effort- are the very things that are not possible living far away from each other.

I like coming downstairs to find JJ smashed between my girls on the sofa, watching tv. Or to hear a man's voice and peek into the family room to find Dan chatting with Marin. Or to look out my window to see them walking by, glancing at our window, and waving hello.

I'll miss their seeing their faces as regulars as the filmstrip of our lives rolls by. I don't want guest appearances; I want them as everyday cast members.

Storm's Passage

2010-06-25T20:56:00.007-05:00

Right now, outside

there is a large, vivid, double-rainbow arching over my house

the trees seem to be glowing

and the light is magically glowing both greenish and yellowish at the same time.

The storm has passed, the sirens are quiet

and sun is setting.

Storms make my blood pump- in an exciting way- and rainbows give me goosebumps- in a this must be meaningful way.

Both in one night? Cozy and delicious...

What Keeps Me Laughing Lately

2010-06-23T13:42:00.003-05:00

I know I am about to share something that a group of pimply 7th graders would love, and perhaps beneath it all, I am just a bezitted 12 year old. However, anecdotal evidence suggests that there are a bunch of us (us meaning ADULTS) that find this song to be... oh, man... just so funny.

(Coughcampingtrippeoplecoughcough)

So I'm sharing it with you. Judge me if you must, but my god, at least watch the video through the first chorus before you make up your mind.

And keep in mind that each chorus gets better and better.

Oh man. Pounding the rocket! Smacking the cracker! Attacking Peru! Juicing the mango! Orbiting Venus! Driving Miss Daisy!

I'm wheezing over here, folks, and I have a side ache.

And since I'm on a roll, may I also suggest this perennial favorite:

Related: Garfunkle and Oats' song "Pregnant Women are Smug" reminds me of you, Swistle. Specifically, their line about "Can't wait 'till somebody says, don't care if it's limbless, don't care if it's brain dead if it has a penis". (Link here.)

I know, I know, this blog just took a turn... for the douche.

(Saucing the taco! Taming the shrew! Oh, you guys...)

Oh! And FYI:

2010-06-21T14:25:00.005-05:00

I forgot to mention to you that my children, after spending 4 days camping were NOT TIRED. I'm not sure if you've encountered NOT TIRED yet in the children in your life, but in case you have not, I thought I'd give you a brief summary.

NOT TIRED causes many children to bicker their little hearts out until someone forbids them from speaking, in which case, they then fall into a decidedly NOT TIRED stance such as:

Of course, NOT TIRED related bickering lasts long enough that the alternative NOT TIRED stance is not reached until the children are a mere 15 minutes from home. And then NOT TIRED causes children- blurry-eyed and falling asleep into their dinner plates- to declare with an admirable earnestness that they are indeed NOT TIRED.

Just a little heads up, from me to you.

(The little boy pictured is our neighbor, who is basically a member of our family, and who rode with us camping so that his parents had more cargo space to haul more of our combined camping gear.)

Camping...

2010-06-21T11:52:00.012-05:00

Catching toads,

eating s'mores,

taking walks in the woods,

hanging out in large groups, with lots of other kids to play with and torment,

posing for a family photo, to make your mama happy,

going into town to check out the marina where the sailboats live,

wearing goggles for the fun of it,

enjoying blue skies and deep, cool waters,

swimming while sailboats float slowly by,

watching gorgeous sunsets every night...

Camping is good for the soul.

They Left, on a Jetplane

2010-06-16T16:50:00.002-05:00

Oh, what a whirlwind, you guys. My dearest friend in all the world (known here as East Coast Anne) was here visiting and now she's not and it went way too fast and it was kind of a stressful visit in terms of caring for our combined FIVE children and we didn't get to talk enough just the two of us and I can't believe the effort she went to, to get here (and then HOME AGAIN) alone, on a plane with a 4 year old and a 1 year old and I'm so sad she's gone.

And to top it off, I forgot to ask her permission to post photos of her kids here, which is really too bad because you guys? They are GORGEOUS.

So they left this morning and we leave to go camping tomorrow for 4 days and we haven't packed or figured out food/meals and I probably need to do laundry before we go and my house is showing the effects of having FIVE ~~feral children~~ little sweeties underfoot for 5 days.

Also? I miss EC Anne already, and she's probably not even back to her own house yet. And I feel sad that there wasn't more blissful fun moments but proud that we team-worked parenting our kids. It sucks that I won't see her again for probably at least a year, and who knows if next time we'll get all of our kids together or if we'll just say fuck it and meet somewhere, just the two of us. Which would be awesome, but then I won't see her kids (nor she, mine) for MORE THAN a year, which just seems wrong and BLERG.

I'm just a little bit pissed (read: MAJORLY PISSED) that life put us a couple thousand miles apart.

HOWEVER.

This time tomorrow night I'm going to be sitting by a campfire, with all the planning and packing behind us. And I'll take some photos of the sunset, and hug some friends that I don't see often enough, and watch my kids run in wild little packs, like hyenas, complete with maniacal laughing and mangier-by-the-moment fur.

And by Sunday, I'll be a whole new person. I'll still be missing my friend, but with more perspective and clarity, and less raw emotion.

I hope.

Strawberry Picking

2010-06-13T15:56:00.005-05:00

Delicious! Need I say more?

Neighborhood Excitement

2010-06-09T10:26:00.002-05:00

A manned, black car has been sitting outside my house for the past 3 days.

I had noticed the car, but didn't realize there was someone inside it until my neighbor called to ask me what was up with Mr. Black Car. And then I was all that car? has someone inside it? Welllll, that's a game changer...

I was actually pissed off, if I'm being honest. So without Thinking It Through For The Love (sorry Tess!), I put Marin on my hip and marched out there, knocked on the window, and said "DUDE. You are freaking me out. WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"

He was nice, very polite, and explained he's waiting to serve papers to someone "down the street".

I found out my neighbor called the cops on him, and he was permitted to stay, so he must be legit.

But now the neighborhood is all ABUZZ with who is he? what's he REALLY doing? who do you think he's watching? Etc.

I doubt he's watching our house since he's so totally OBVIOUSLY parked in front of our place, and parked in a place where there's never cars parked. There are plenty of places he could watch us (creepy!) and be more incognito, ya know? And besides, David and I have nothing going on in our lives worth surveillance.

As weird as it is, I have to be honest that's it been kinda fun. I really want all my friends to go for a walk by the car, knock on his window, and ask him what's up. (Poor guy... just trying to do his UBER BORING job...) David wants to make him feel really welcome (read: uncomfortable) and bake him cookies or something.

He showed up again this morning briefly and then left. Boo! (Maybe he'll be back?)

Last Day

2010-06-08T09:57:00.011-05:00

Today is the last day of school here in Tiny Town. Oh Emm Gee, that did not come fast enough, especially in light of Anxiousgate 2010. But we made it! I am so looking forward to peaceful mornings with Kate, instead of tears and woe, tears and woe.

Here's what we did for teacher's gifts this year (inspired by Joy Unexpected's teacher gift):

Each of the girls' classroom teachers got a pot of begonias (um? I think?) with two little plant markers in them. The girls wanted to paint the pots, but I didn't come up with an option that wouldn't wash off if the pot got wet. And besides, this way, the pots are reusable.

The plant markers are little rectangles of wood that I got at Hobby Lobby (4/pack for $1.99, I think). The girls painted them, and then I added their photo (mounted on card stock) (ha, ha, "mounted" sounds all fancy... how does "glue-sticked" sound?) . I let them write the little note, though I was tempted to do it myself. (You know, CONTROL, and letting go of it.) Then I taped a colored wooden stick to the back and stuck them in the dirt. Easy-peasy.

I like how they turned out. They meet the Teacher Gift Criteria of being a) reusable b) homemade; original, and c) not something the teacher has to keep around for years to come (read: apple themed knick-knacks). Typically, I like to give something consumable, and I guess you "consume" flowers by enjoying them, and- unlike a houseplant- you can get rid of them after a season.

Of course, the girls also insisted on making our usual teacher gift of note cards. They love making them, and above any other gift we've given, these are the best received (cute! original! consumable!). They made one set for their classroom teachers and one for the teacher's aide.

I think teacher's gifts are the hardest to get right. I mean, how do you really thank someone for nurturing and teaching your kid for 7 hours a day for the past 9 months? Are there even words for that? I feel like I could spend my summer weeding their gardens and cooking their dinners and serving them iced cold pitcher of mojitos, and it STILL wouldn't be enough.

And then throw a kid like Kate into the mix- a kid whose teacher has sent countless emails to me and on her behalf, who has comforted her and joked with her and made her feel happy and safe, who has racked her brain and gone out of her way on several occasions to come up with a solution. In short, a teacher who has taken a personal interest in helping my kid.

How do you say thanks for that?

(Spoiler alert: I have NO EFFING CLUE.)

So anyway... the last day of 1st grade. (Last day of Kindergarten here.)

Don't you love how Kate (in green) has a worried look on her face, even NOW, on the LAST DAY?

Tomorrow morning, I am going to sit on my sunny porch with the girls, and I am going to watch Kate happily devour her breakfast, and then I am going to take the girls strawberry picking.

Oh, man, we made it, you guys!

Baby Steps

2010-06-07T14:52:00.003-05:00

AHA! I can finally get on my blog! Oh, Blogger, you are not making any friends by acting up all the time.

Anyway, what I wanted to talk about today was Thing We Can Do To Be Green(er) This Summer. I've been a part of many of these types of convos here on the Interwebs, and I think we can all agree that Baby Steps is where it's AT, in terms of being more environmentally conscious.

This topic is on my mind because 'Tis the Season for BBQ's, picnics, porch meals, neighbors over for grilling, camping, etc. And we all know that the average Use Of Disposable Products increase- drastically- for these kinds of events.

So it works like this: I tell you the accumulating baby steps we've made to our lifestyle, and you tell me the baby steps you've made to yours, and then we all have ideas for more baby steps.

Baby steps! That's all it takes!

*We don't use disposable products- at all... ok hardly ever- anymore. We started by buying a stack of plastic plates (12, I think) to go with our already-in-use kids' IKEA plastic plates, and also kids' and adults' size plastic** cups. The cost was similar to buying packages of paper/plastic/Styrofoam dinnerware, and we've been washing and reusing ours for several years now. "Outdoor Dishes", FTW!

(**I know, I know, I'm a self-proclaimed Plastic Avoider. But I made an exception for our outdoor dishes, since plastic is SO MUCH easier to carry back and forth to picnics and porch dinners that our regular dishes. The regular ones are too heavy!)

*We use cloth napkins 100% of the time now. Except for when we use paper towels. Which isn't very much, I swear. I've purchased most of ours at thrift stores. We probably have 30? 40? I'm not sure, a big ol' stack. I have about 12 nicer ones that I "save" from the rest in case we have company for dinner, but that can be used if our regular stash runs low before I do laundry. (I keep a laundry basket at the top of the basement stairs to throw the dirty cloth napkins in. Also, wash clothes and dish towels. When we start running low, I toss the load it in the wash.)

*We don't buy bottled water all at anymore. Ever. Well, ok sometimes we do. But it's expensive! We all have reusable water containers that I keep clean, and sometimes I keep filled and in the fridge for easy grabbing. For times when we have more than just our family in the house, I fill a pitcher with ice water and add some lemon or lime slices. Since we have lots of big plastic cups, this works well.

*We use reusable containers or wax paper bags for packing lunches.

*Last summer we started composting. We compost anything raw (egg shells, fruit and veggie scraps) as well as coffee grounds and the occasional paper towel. It's really easy to do (it goes in an ice cream pail in the counter, and then is carried out to the pile as needed) and has noticeably reduced our weekly garbage quantity.

*We don't buy individual packages of chips, pretzels, raisins, etc. Instead we just throw in the big bag/box, and bring home what we don't eat. I buy the string cheese that comes in one big block, instead of wrapped separately. (We DO still rely on individual yogurt tubes. They are just so! easy! for the kids to grab...)

This summer, my baby step is going to be not buying juice boxes/pouches. I think that spending 60 seconds to mix up a pitcher/thermos of juice and grabbing a stack of kids' glasses will be not too much extra effort... and will produce much less waste.

So, what are your baby steps?

Sports

2010-06-04T08:12:00.004-05:00

I have a couple of friends with older children- middle school/high school aged- and all they do is sit at their kids' games.

Softball, soccer, baseball, basketball... every evening, on the bleachers. Weekends? Tournaments. One to two FULL DAYS of more bleachers.

And I want my girls to have the opportunity to play whatever sports they want, and be in choir and band and school plays, and join clubs etc. But with all of those things- minus the sports- it's just a matter of getting the kid to and from the practice/rehearsal/meeting. Any sort of performance happens once a season- at most.

Sports, though. Ugggg. It's like, a game a minute or some shit.

When I was growing up, I wasn't into sports much at all. My dad was a long-distance runner, my brother was in wrestling and cross country, and I ~~stood around in left field with a glove on my head~~ played softball. My younger two siblings did a few sports too, but I was out of the house by then.

I don't even remember if my parents were at my games. I mean, I know they came to some... Then again, I was probably hoping they WOULDN'T come; less witnesses when you strike out and all that jazz.

My own daughters are not exactly athletically inclined either. Their Phy Ed report cards always make David and I laugh: O+ for attitude, participation, etc*. Wonderfully cheerful comments punctuated with SEVERAL!!!!!! exclamation points!!!!! about how lovely they are to have in class. And then, you flip to the other side and see they ran the mile in 18 minutes and could do less than ZERO pull-ups.

(*O is for outstanding.)

For now we have a "one activity at a time" rule. This winter it was gymnastics (which they love and are average at.) Over the summer we relax that rule a little, since lots of things overlap. They are taking tennis, swimming lessons, and a theater class.

I know that at some point, however, they may find a sport that they love. And of course, we'll back them 100%. I'll even buy a big ol' bag of sunflower seeds and one of those fancy bleacher chairs with a back. I'll cheer my little heart out.

(Wait... are the sunflower seeds just a stereotype, or are they actually required? They make my tongue hurt...)

But I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

I can think of 48592904 other things to do with my evenings/weekends. Ya know?

Lessons

2010-05-30T19:45:00.007-05:00

Watching the clouds gather, I think of how my emotions towards my daughter flop, flip, flop, flip- a fish on the shore- compassionate, frustrated, tender, exhausted.

The storm is gaining momentum. The sky rumbles.

+++

She's crying again, and my eyes are itchy from exhaustion. I feel a weariness come over my body, and I roughly shove it away.

I make her lunch, ignoring that she's not eating her breakfast.

I count the times she woke me in the night, anxious about going to school. I am mad. Hardened. Forcing patience out of my pores, with my fingers crossed that she doesn't know how sick of her I really am.

I slap her sandwich together and shove it in her lunch box.

Flop.

+++

She smiles up at me from the crook of my arm. Her laugh comes from her belly, or maybe her toes. Her sense of humor is acute and delightful, perfectly pitched to my own sensibilities.

Flip.

+++

"Young children have more fears and phobias than adults, and experience the emotion of them more intensely." The manila envelope containing the Anxiety Care handout from the school counselor greets me when I open her backpack.

I scan through, heart rate quickening, hopeful- oh so hopeful- that the answers lie within.

The fetid smells of institutional learning flicker through my mind, taking me back. I am in a Psych class, in the basement of an old brick and stone building.

The answers are no where to be found.

+++

3:27 AM

My own anxiety keeps me awake at night, my brain flicking around, not actually worrying, not actually solving anything, but awake. Body begs brain to turn off. Brain lets out a belch and keeps whirring. I feel my breast, detect the one small spot where the "tissues are thickened". The C word drifts around, but I never allow my brain to pull it into focus. Not tonight.

3:36 AM

My daughter is standing by my bedside. She too is awake, always awake in the night when I am. ALWAYS. Her intuitive nature intrigues me, maddens me, and guilt washes over when the thoughts she gets this from you whisper through my head.

"Gobacktobed" I murmur, frustrated.

Flop.

She disappears.

+++

I watch her through an upstairs window. It's the weekend, no school in sight, and she's jumping on the trampoline while the soaker hose mists her with cool water. She is vibrant, her cells so full of energy their communications are nearly visible.

Her laughter drifts up, up, up, and I remember her first laugh: her drooly chin and gummy mouth agape. The heavens opened for an instant that day and jolted me with the sheer joy one feels when hearing the angels sing.

I so easily can recall all of the times I rocked her in my arms, smelling her curls and stroking her cheek. All the blankets I have tucked around her, to comfort her, to keep her warm. All of the times I have set her gently in her bed, my own shirt damp from the fact of her.

Now, looking at her out the window, one would never guess that for the last 4 weeks she has been in tears, morning & night, about going to school. The bright blue sky behind her confirms my belief: my girl is happy.

That night, as I pull the covers around her once again, I get a whiff of her baby-self.

Flip.

+++

*Bing-ping* The almost daily email from her teacher arrives. "She's settled in fine." "She's happy and talkative today." "She's doing fine here. I wish we could read her mind!"

Her teacher likes her, I can tell. Once she's at school, her days are good.

I sip my hot coffee, burning my tongue a little. While I rub the raw part over my teeth I breathe a sigh of thanks that she has the teacher she has.

+++

I ask about her day; her eyes twinkle. She tells me about the special sticker she got, what she did at recess, the funny thing a boy said to her. I watch her closely, quietly wondering if something at school is making her upset.

As the stories bubble forth, I know in my heart that everything at school is just fine. I can feel it. My girl is anxious, but the answer is not so simple as someone picking on her.

Relief and frustration have an equal hold on me.

Flip. Flop.

+++

I may avoid plastic, drink from jelly jars, buy local foods, live in a small town, cherish girlfriends, advocate for birthing women, teach breastfeeding class, and take lots of photos.

I also go to church even though I'm not sure I'm a "Christian", am terrible about returning phone calls, yell too much at my kids, and crave cigarettes whenever I smell one being lit. I'm anxious, have had anxious thoughts and tendencies most of my life, and most prolifically after my twins were born.

But I am not Anxiety.

+++

The rain stops and I step outside to look for a rainbow. My bare feet get wet and a little muddy, but no matter where I search the sky, there are no rainbows in sight.

The way the sunlight is bursting through the clouds, I am sure that someone is seeing a rainbow right now. I wonder who they are.

+++

Slowly, slowly things are getting better. The more back to her old self she gets, the more I realize how much I missed her.

And the more of her that comes back to us, the more I remember. She is not Anxiety either.

There are no boxes for my girl- We are not putting her in one, her teacher is not putting her in one... Her daddy is downstairs making pancakes with her. I hear them laughing. "You are my expert egg cracker," he says. I imagine her grinning, and I think she IS good at cracking eggs. The thought makes me smile, and I click over to facebook to look at a favorite photo of her.

The flip/flopping recedes, and I resign to riding this out.

+++

An unexpected kindness on a dark day has become a tentative friendship. She has looked cancer in the face and has come out on the other side beautiful, with sparkling eyes.

"Will you tell me your story?" I ask. And her teacher smiles.

I have so much to learn.

+++

The sky is yellow now, or rather the light from the sky is yellowish pink, making the trees seem to glow, tricking my eyes to think the light is coming from inside their leaves. It's evening, and the rain has stopped. I still don't see a rainbow, but the light is so unique and magical I realize I'm no longer looking for one.

Something on my cheek tickles, and as I go to itch it I realize is a little spittle from her joyful goodnight kisses. She went to bed so happy, it was just like old times.

Long Weekend

2010-05-29T15:13:00.003-05:00

The other day, I took a look at our calendar and was startled to discover that starting next weekend, we do not have a free weekend until mid July! While all of our plans are highly anticipated, it was still a bit of a shock to see half of the summer zip by in a string of fun-filled weekends.

So this weekend, we are laying low. And by "laying low", I mean "doing 39 (kazillion) household chores and projects". We may be the only ones in the country that don't have any big camping/traveling/grilling plans, and we're absolutely gleeful about it.

And by "no plans", I mean "our weekend is busier than we thought". Funny how the times fills up even when you plan to keep it simple. Last night we had a bonfire at friends' house. Tonight we're doing homemade pizza and beer here with another family. Tomorrow afternoon we have a birthday party for David's niece. Monday there's a Tiny Town parade and a traditional lunchtime picnic at the neighbor's house.

Actually though, have these things peppered throughout helps us to be more productive. Yes, MORE. Both David and I are more efficient when we have pressure or time constraints. If our entire weekend were truly empty and stretching before us, I think we'd waste a great deal of time, just because "we have the whole weekend to do X"...

Look! We got our porch all ready to use for meals this summer.

Instead we are grabbing the pieces of time between activities and making the most of it. And while doing chores is sort of a huge drag, it is very satisfying to systematically scratch things from our list. I've even written a few things on the list that were half done, simply because make that strike through it is so gratifying.

Additionally, the weather here is absolutely perfect. High 80's, slightly breezy, bright blue sky, lowish humidity. For someone who's mood is so directly effected by the weather, I sure picked the wrong state. Well, except for this time of year. Early summer, FTW!

What are your plans for the weekend? And how do you best accomplish household projects and chores?

Keeping On

2010-05-27T09:02:00.005-05:00

First of all, thank you for all of your book ideas. (If you are looking for something to read, check out the comments section of that post.) I am bringing the list to book club tonight to help us choose.

Fair's fair, and since I asked what your favorite novel of all times is, I feel as if I should share mine. But wow, that's a hard question to answer.

I have a long list of favorite books and authors, but I guess if I had to pick one book it would be Barbara Kingsolver's "The Bean Trees". I've read it several times- but not for years now- and discovering that little book opened up a whole new world of books and authors for me. Plus, I must have been about 19 or 20 when I first read it, so the "coming of age" aspect really hit home. I should read it again and see if it still holds that same magic...

Other authors/books I love: Wally Lamb, Richard Russo, all of Barbara Kingsolver's books, Anne Lamott, Ruth Reichl, The Red Tent, A Million Little Pieces, Memoirs of a Geisha, Little Bee, Three Cups of Tea, and Water for Elephants.

I guess I wouldn't say that's my ultimate, lifetime-of-favorites list... more like things I've read in the last 10 years that I've loved the most. Actually, more like what-I-can-think-of-off-the-top-of-my-head.

Also, nearly every book I pick up is because someone I know (or someone I read) recommends it. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever just walked into a book store and browsed books and chosen one that I'd never heard of.

(It's not too late to tell me about the books you love! That's basically what I'm saying!)

+++++++++++

Anyway, other things around here have been more-or-less the same. Kate is still crying every morning before school, still refusing breakfast. She's sleeping better, and the intensity of her anxiety has waned a bit, I think, but no major improvements there.

I am feeling better (and more at peace) about the whole Breast Diabolical. It still worries me, and I'm still having a little insomnia and days without appetite. Overall, though, I'm just willing to ride this out. Whether or not that "thicken area" is cancer or pre-cancer is already drawn out in the cards, so worrying myself sick about it isn't going to help. I'll continue to be proactive and stay on top of it, but I can't control the outcome. Ya know?

Oh, but hey. I did realize something about myself the other day. I STILL- after 34 trips around the sun- have trouble asking for and receiving help. With Kate, for example: I feel SO indebted to her teacher, to the school counselor, etc for having to "deal" with Kate and with me, for the time extra time it takes for them to email me etc. I just feel sooooo guilty for "taking up their time".

What the hell is THAT all about? I mean, I know it's their JOB, a job they get paid for... and yet.

(Please feel free to psychoanalyze me in the comments section.)

+++++++++++

I am sitting on my screened porch on a really idyllic summer morning, typing all of this out. I feel happy. Content. Peaceful. Grateful. Calm.

In the moment, it seems as if a post about books, breasts, anxiety, asking for help, and a beautiful summer day makes perfect sense.

Funny how life is woven together like that.

Books

2010-05-23T14:12:00.002-05:00

Questions: What's the best fiction book you've read lately? Also, what is your favorite novel of all times?

I am looking for a couple of good books for our book club.

Thanks!

Camper Cabin

2010-05-21T08:22:00.003-05:00

(Image courtesy of Teh Internets.)

Today, I pack- for just myself!- and head to a state park with four of my local friends. A "Girls' Getaway", I guess you could say.

Kate is a mess about me leaving- oh, Kate- but she is off at school now, so the worst of that is over. (The worst for her is separating from me.) She'll be fine, and maybe even have fun, while I'm gone.

We have very few plans for ourselves: hiking, camp fire, wine, maybe a movie... The weather is warm and summery... I have a new(ish) camera to play with... There will be no cat purring my face off at 4 am...

Happy weekend, friends. Hope yours is lovely too!

The World, It IS A Good Place

2010-05-19T08:50:00.004-05:00

Oh, man.

Things have been... very stressful here at Chez Verde.

For the third week in a row, my anxious daughter is STILL crying every morning before school and most nights before bed. She's clingy and fragile, and frankly? Driving me crazy. I'm trying to be compassionate with her, but that has been steadily fading away, replaced with exhaustion in dealing with her.

Amidst Anxiousgate 2010, I also developed another round of mastitis, making it the third (3rd!) time I've had it since January, and the second time in so many weeks. The last two times I didn't develop the tell-tale fever, which really had me freaked out. (Let us also take a moment to note I have not breastfed a child in 2 years.)

Had my doctor freaked out too, if she were being honest with me.

So I had a mammogram (procedure itself was no big deal! really!) and a ultrasound. Everything looked fine except for an area of "thickened" tissue that is "probably" from having a recent infection.

And now several brick-and-mortar people are going HUH? CAN'T BE. Marie never stops talking... and she hasn't said a word about this! Yeah, sorry about that.

You see, I've been a leeetle bit- shall we say- anxious about all of this. Wasn't sleeping well, could hardly eat (severity? 9 lbs in one week gone- HEY-O!... not that I recommend the Do-I-Have-Cancer-AEEEIIIIIII Diet).

I'm better now. I ate a normal dinner last night. And I slept well the last couple of nights. And we are "watching" that thickened area of my Left Texas, which is really all that can be done at this point.

But you know what? During all of this, I received so many wonderful surprises, all from people that had no idea what was going on.

*A friend dropped by with bagels and coffee, totally unexpectedly

*A different friend called me just to say what a good mom I was, which was really nice to hear and totally out of the blue.

*My daughter came home with a "thank you" package from her classroom (for volunteering). The bag was chocked FULL of lots of wonderful treats, many of which were my ultimate favorite, which her teacher had no way of knowing.

*My poppies- my favorite!- bloomed, and much MUCH earlier than usual:

*On Sunday, a friend called and said "We have ribs and strawberry salad that we want to share with you. Can you come for lunch?" Um, yes, YES WE CAN!

*Two different people stopped me at church to compliment my children. One woman said: "We've just so enjoyed watching your girls grow over the years." I resisted the urge to say "THESE LITTLE SHITS?" and simply smiled and thanked her.

*I received fresh flowers. TWICE.

I feel humbled... honored.... grateful... that when our family was falling apart, the universe smiled on us. And sent us so many kindnesses.

It blows my mind, really.

But mostly it made me sure that the world really is full of good things. And by things, I mean people.

Place Holder

2010-05-14T21:37:00.009-05:00

I'm posting these images

Of our crab apple tree, in bloom

From a few weeks ago

Because this week, it was hard

Due to my janky breast and lots of stress

(Wamp, wamp, sad trombone)

But I'll write more about that later, when I'm not so exhausted

So for now, enjoy these photos of our crab apple tree in bloom

Because these pink flowers mean it's officially spring in Minnesota.

(and it has been for a few weeks. Happy!)

The Next Stage

2010-05-08T11:36:00.004-05:00

Last night, I found myself sitting in a darkened auditorium here in Tiny Town, with lots and lots of familiar, friendly faces sitting around me, and one of my three daughters on my lap at all times.

We were at the high school Variety Show, which is basically their spring choir concert.

We go to this show nearly every year- as do many other people in town that don't have kids performing in the show. It might sound odd, but that's how we roll here in Tiny Town. We always know several of the kids on stage, and we are friends with both choir and band directors, and the show is entertaining and kid-friendly.

Often at these shows, I have moments where I am a mess: I can see it so clearly. In a matter of years/days/HOURS, it will be MY suddenly teen-aged daughters on that stage.

But last night, as I watched those teenagers perform- so ripe with youth and possibility- I had peace about it all. Yes, my children were going to grow up and become lanky and mysterious creatures.

But it's ok. Moving through the stages of life is right and beautiful.

Instead of clinging to their baby-ish selves- for even at ages 7 and 3, I can still sniff their baby-selves on them once in awhile- I can let go. I can- and will- still hold them close and smell their necks and cherish these wonderful years of their young lives. But I can also let them grow and change and blossom and become.

I still want another baby- and THAT jury remains hung- but I had a moment of clarity about that too: Babies are easy and safe and what I know. I'm excellent at babies. I can snuggle a baby and nurse a baby and keep a baby warm and dry.

And while the parenting of my older children is scary and new, I crave returning to my familiar safe-haven of babycare: something I am good at, someplace where I can- without a doubt- give my child all she needs.

But as I sat in the auditorium last night- the heavy weight of each of my daughters filling my lap in turn, making my legs ache- I had peace about moving past what's comfortable. It might be scary and lonely and even awful at times.

But it will also be wonderful to watch these girls grow into their own.

Glorious, even.

More Barfing

2010-05-06T09:01:00.004-05:00

So, I mentioned this in the comments of my last post, but ANOTHER child puked in Kate's class yesterday.

And then last evening guess who else threw up? (Nope, not Kate, THANK YOU BABY JEBUS.)

ME.

And I was home alone with the kids, and *I* was nearly PHOBIC- not about barfing- but about my kid finding out about my barfing. (I'm fine. It was head cold/heartburn related, I think.)

Kate handled herself well during the school-barfing incident yesterday. She held her breath and said she felt shaky for about 5 minutes. The teacher said she was laughing minutes afterward, and later in the afternoon, her teacher had her send me an email.

Success, right?

UM. NO.

Yesterday afternoon Kate and I had a long talk about it. And I just want to point out that I'm very aware of putting too much energy into something like this, and then having what was once a legitimate fear transform into an attention seeking behavior. So it's not like I'm constantly stroking Kate over this fear, or make a huge deal about it, or whatever.

In fact, after the panic attack, we never really talked about that incident again. Kate is an intuitive child, and if I asked her about it she'd probably extrapolate that panic attacks are WORRISOME and that she better start WORRYING. In fact, I never even told that that incident was called a panic attack. I remember from by brief foray into psychology that often times panic attacks are caused by panicking over having a panic attack.

But anyway, I did make a point to talk to her yesterday. Thanks to many of your ideas (thank you thank you thank you!) I suggested things she could do if someone was throwing up (close her eyes, turn away, cover her ears, go into the hallway).

I told her that she has been handling herself GREAT, and that she should be proud of how well she's dealt with it. She told me her teacher said the same thing, and that she DID feel proud of herself.

We talked about how LOTS of people are afraid of throwing up, and how most people are only really afraid of it for awhile and then the fears go away. (See what I just did there? AM GENIUS).

We talked about getting a book about the digestive system to help her understand why people throw up.

She even said that perhaps she would stop asking her friend to describe the vomit color to her. This actually made me laugh.

It was a good talk.

But by bedtime she was a MESS. Sobbing, not wanting to go to school. Wishing school had never been invented. Wishing she was her little sister so she could stay home with me.

(She would have been acting this way with or without our "talk", I'm positive.)

This morning she sobbed all through getting ready, didn't eat a thing, and was begging to stay home. She said she was sick. I made her go to school anyway.

In fact, I took her to school. She refused to get out of the car, so I helped her out and agreed to walk her into the building. Usually at this point she pulls herself together, but today she was clinging to me and sobbing. Her teacher "invited" me to stay and read to the students (I was in yoga pants, a baseball cap, with totally unwashed face and teeth. GAH!). I read for awhile, while Kate cried.

She kept insisting she was sick. Her teacher and I insisted that she try school for awhile and if she still felt sick she could call me.

And then I left. And she cried some more, hugging her teacher.

But I can't let her stay home for feeling anxious because that will create a huge problem. Kate is an anxious kid by nature, and would rather NEVER leave her mother, and man. It felt harsh, but I knew she just HAD to go.

Plus, her teacher is about the awesomest teacher EVER, so I know she's in good, loving hands.

But you know what? If she IS sick, I'm going to feel like the BIGGEST ASS EVER.

(And PS to the teacher's aide: Thanks for giving me that "Tsk, tsk" look and saying to me "You just need to leave" and saying with your eyes that my presence was making it worse. I needed to feel MORE LIKE SHIT, standing around in my furry teeth and yoga pants, about how the morning was playing out. Having my kid clinging to me and sobbing is not exactly MY IDEAL MORNING, either.)

(And PPS- I'm going to marry Kate's teacher, just as soon as I can get up the guts to ask her. I've never proposed before... ideas?)

My "Middle" Child

2010-05-05T11:09:00.004-05:00

Being born 2 minutes after her sister and 3 3/4 years before her other sister, Kate is our family's "middle" child.

Kate is by and large my hardest child to parent. She very sensitive; she thinks about things and worries; she needs more "Mama-time"; she struggles with anxiety, especially when it comes to separating from me.

And lately, her strong dislike of barfing (either for herself OR others) has ratcheted itself into a full-fledged phobia.

About a month ago, she had- literally- a panic attack when her tummy hurt a little and she thought she was going to throw up. It was intense and scary to see, not to mention disturbing and heartbreaking. I was suuuuuuper calm while it was happening and was able to get her to breath more slowly. I taught her to "breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth" and we talked about thinking good things when we breath in and breathing out the bad thoughts.

The whole thing lasted about 1/2 hour, at which point it was bedtime. Kate had calmed down and was breathing normally, but was still upset and clingy. David took over putting her to bed, as I needed to debrief from the whole thing.

At that time I decided not to seek professional help for her- for an isolated incident- as I didn't want to slap a mental health label on my 7 year old child.

But on Monday, a child threw up in Kate's classroom. Kate came home and cheerfully told me about it: how she heard the girl coughing and turned herself face the wall because she just knew the girl was going to throw up, how then she "can't remember what happened next" but the next thing she knew she had peed her pants.

That's right, my girl became so frightened that she can't remember what happened AND she wet herself.

Though she was cheerful and matter-of-fact about it that afternoon, by the next morning she was a mess. She didn't want to go to school (for fear of that child being there and puking again), she wouldn't eat anything, and she cried through the entire morning routine.

For some reason, this time I'm very bothered by it all... more so than even the panic attack. I feel heartbroken for my girl, that she had to experience that away from home. I feel stupid- and like a novice mother- for not telling her teacher about her fear, for not having an adult in that school building that had any idea that she might need some help.

I feel like maybe we do need to look into some help for her.

Or maybe we don't? Am I making a big deal out of something? Starting my girl down a path of drugs and shrinks and lobotomies and that she doesn't need to be going down?

I'm too deep into this to have any kind perspective. I did talk to her teacher this morning, and that helped me feel much better. Her teacher is going to ask the school counselor what his advice is.

And this is why parenting doesn't get any easier. Sure, there is less physical demands of a 7 year old- by god, I think she's even wiping her own butt 100% of the time now- but these mental gymnastics and the worrying... The constantly having to watch what I say and how I react and how my attitude is effecting her....

Oh, you guys... I'm worried about my girl.

Oh, You Guys (I'm Fine)

2010-05-02T07:28:00.003-05:00

So Friday I really thought I was going to die. Which was an unfortunate waste of time, since it turns out I'm not!

A couple of things happened. First, I emailed a friend who just happens to be my previous OB/GYN and basically asked her if I had cancer. And she responded- immediately- that based on what I told her (and you'll have to trust me that I went into an embarrassing amount of detail) that I DEFINITELY DID NOT have IBC. Which I found reassuring since I thought for sure she'd say "It's probably nothing but you should be seen by your doctor", or something along those lines.

Second, I woke Saturday morning with all the redness and streaking gone. Now do YOU think IBC would make such miraculous improvements in such a short time? (Actually, I have no idea if it can... and I'll be damned if I'm going to try to find out.)

So anyway. No more internet doctoring for me. A bid you adieu, Dr. Google.

Additionally, I can't believe it's Sunday night already. I'm feeling like a jerk for being all "Zoh! I zink I haz da CANZER!" and then disappearing for 2 days.

But truly, we were home for about 10 minutes- total- this weekend. And do you want to know what we did in those ten minutes? (Spoiler: I'm going to tell you anyway.) We mowed the yard, washed/folded/put away 9 loads of laundry, cleaned our house from top to bottom, and completely rearranged/cleaned/organized Joan and Kate's room.

In TEN MINUTES.

Which just goes to show you (well, ME) that when we want to be productive, we can be productive. I think perhaps we had so much momentum, that it never even occurred to us to slow down.

[We also put around 200 miles on the minivan, participated in the MS Walk, went grocery shopping 2x, delivered around 15 May baskets, drove the girls to Barf E Cheese for a bday party, had an art show (for J & K) and a gymnastics class (for M), and had dinner with friends.]

We are definitely a family that works best- and most efficiently- under pressure. Which makes me wonder how many days of retirement it'll take us to transform ourselves into gelatinous balls of goo, due to lazy, unscheduled days...

So, anyway, here's to ending a busy and happy weekend thankful for good health and deliciously tired. Cheers!

Just Another Friday... OH WAIT

2010-04-30T16:18:00.004-05:00

So, I have what appears to be mastitis again. And I haven't breastfed in 2 years. AND I don't have a fever, which is a prerequisite for mastitis, doncha know.

So, it's either mastitis or IBC.

I made the mistake of googling "mastitis vs. IBC"... BIG MISTAKE.

Because it turns out that if it's not mastitis or an inflamed/plugged duct, it's cancer. You know according to the Mighty Internets.

And it's not just any ol' cancer, it's a cancer that one site said had 100% mortality rate, and another site said it USED TO have a 100% mortality rate, but now it's "just" something like 50%.

OMFG.

My doctor is out of the office today (of course... OF COURSE SHE IS), and I don't see the point of going to Urgent Care just yet (because of the no fever thing) (and because of the general "heads up their asses" thing).

I do however have body aches and general malaise... so I'm sitting here telling myself that it can't be cancer if I feel achy. And then alternating that thought with OMFG my symptoms sound an awful lot like IBC.

A friend just called and talked me off the ledge, at least a little bit.

But I can tell you one thing, I'd feel much better about this whole "mastitis" thing if I had a raging fever.

Land Line

2010-04-29T08:20:00.002-05:00

So now that I have a new! cell phone that actually works, I've been thinking about What To Do About Our Phones.

We still have a land line, with a phone number that's been ours for at least 12 years. My phone usage is about 85% land line; 15% cell phone. I have many people that I keep in touch with mainly via phone, and I do nearly all of these correspondences on my land line. Also any of my local friends always call our home number if they are looking for me. I like that having a home phone especially since it's sort of "old fashioned" now.

Also, a land line seems safer, specifically thinking of if the kids ever needed to make an call. The older two are just getting to the age where we feel like we can leave them home alone for a few minutes, and that "home alone" time will only increase over the next few years. I'm certainly not ready to get them their OWN cell phones but maybe wouldn't want to leave them my phone in every circumstance.... Besides, if I left them my phone, and there was a problem, who would they call?

David has been wanting to cancel our land line for awhile now. He uses his cell phone for at least 90% of his calls, and he's not here at home as much as I am, so our land line has very little value for him.

Also, we've been wanting/needing to cancel our cable (simply because we don't use it enough to justify the cost), but since our services are bundled (phone, internet, cable and DVR), canceling cable might actually cost us MORE since we'd have to pay for the remaining services individually. At the very least, canceling cable wouldn't save us much.

HOWEVER, if we canceled cable, and our phone line, we'd only have to pay for internet. Our savings would be significant. And it does seem sorta silly to be paying for a total of three phones (my cell, D's cell, and our land line).

Also, our home phones are dying, one by one. We have one of those "systems" of cordless phones, where a whole bunch of cordless phones are connected to the same base. However, the display screen is broken on all but one of them, which means you can only see the caller ID (another service we are paying for) on the one remaining working phone.

I'd hate to buy new phones, only to decide to cancel our line, so I've been putting up with these broken/half working pieces of shit for awhile now.

So tell me, do you have both a land line and cell phones? If you only have cell phones, has there ever been any problems with this? What do you do about leaving the kids or a babysitter at home with potentially NO PHONE?

Please advise.

Trailer, Phone, Class, Seester

2010-04-28T09:09:00.004-05:00

First order of business today is for you to watch this trailer for the new movie "Babies". Please note that SQUEEEEEEE-ing will be not only allowed- but encouraged- in the comments section. I simply can't wait to see this. It's like Children Just Like Me, only in movie form and with wee ones! (Babies are my Thing... but you knew that, right?)

(Looks like you have to click through from Google Reader to see the trailer...)

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Secondly, I got a new phone yesterday. One that I am highly under-qualified to operate. Like, I'm not even sure how to make a call. But I did figure out the camera and managed to shoot not one- but 85- photos of Kate giving me a crusty look. Man, I love her.

(It's the HTC Hero... Um? I think? It's a Hero-something.) (My phone, that is.)

Fun fact- we do not own- nor have we ever owned- a SINGLE piece of Apple* technology! Not an IPOD, not a Macbook, not an iPhone.... nada, zip, zero, zilch. I know some of you just played a little sad trombone for us, but I assure you it's easier to not own any of this technology than listen to my husband rant about it. He's a PC man. (RAWR!)

*Is "Apple" even what the kids are saying these days? Is it even the right word? I mean, for all I know, "apple" refers only to reminiscent elementary school "open-apple a" functions...

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Third: last night David and I took our first DSLR class. The class came free with our camera purchase, so I was a little worried about it. 1) I thought it might be suuuuuuuuper boring 2) I thought it might be one long product placement and/or 3) I was worried it would be waaaaay over my head.

I was pleasantly surprised that it was none of those things. I thought it was full of useful information (format your memory card EVERY TIME! Who knew???), had ZERO sales approach (in fact, the instructor often told us "don't buy that" instead of the other way around), and I was only slightly overwhelmed by the prospect of taking my camera off auto-mode.

We get to take one more free class, which is much more technically based. I also signed up for their Photoshop Elements class, as I think it will be 50 bucks well spent. For anyone out there trying to get the hang of their DSLR, I'd highly recommend taking a class. (Ours were through National Camera Exchange.)

Between my new phone that I don't know how to use (I can tweet from it! And do facebook too!... wait, how do I turn it on?), and the camera class, my brain! is! full!

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Lastly, Seester was here this past weekend. It was awesome, and I wish she lived here.

We stayed up late, laughed too much at David (he's an easy target), went geocaching (where we were zero for two on finding the geocaches, but Seester did teach the girls how to make ~~daisy chains~~ dandelion necklaces.

We had a great time, and it sucks that she had to go home so soon. I hate living so far from so many of the awesome people in my life. Boo!

(Photos from her visit are here.)

Smile

2010-04-27T09:17:00.005-05:00

Our crab apple trees are blooming! It's officially spring!

I'm entering the I Heart Faces weekly photo contest with this photo of Marin. The theme is "Smiles".

Sunday Bike Ride

2010-04-20T20:55:00.010-05:00

On Sunday when David and I announced that we were all going for a bike ride, all three of my children burst into tears.

Don't get me wrong, they like bike rides. In fact, I can safely say that riding their bikes is one of their hands-down favorite activities. From the time the weather barely gets warm enough, until well after the first snow fall, my girls are outside, on and off their bikes for hours/days/weeks at a time.

New bikes from Grandpa!

These are physical girls that love to play outside.

Even Marin gives her "big girl bike" equal time as her beloved tricycle. (And please note that in our driveway, our girls don't always wear helmets, but we're religious about it on bike rides.) (And I KNOW they should in our driveway too, but it's frustrating for them to get them on an off, and I'd rather they ride and be physical than be frustrated or avoid their bikes because of the Helmet Hurdle.)

Anyway, on this particular day, they were playing! in! water! for the first time this season, and none of them could bear the idea of being pulled away from that activity. Water play trumps biking... who knew! (They had a bowl full of soapy water and were washing things.) (SUPER thrilling, I KNOW.)

After calmly listening to their protests, we gently insisted that yes, we were still going for a bike ride, and yes they were all coming along. And oh, by they way, we'll also stop at the Drive-in for dinner on our way home.

They had their helmets on in 45 minutes, flat. Give or take.

So we started off. And this is where I realized just how much we forget to explain to our children sometimes, and then how often we get frustrated with them for not understand the very things we didn't explain.

First, we didn't communicate that we had to go around the lake first, before dinner. That dinner was our reward for finishing the bike ride. The Drive-in is quite close to our house, so they were confused by our direction.

Second, we didn't explain that the lake is a circle, and that NO, we don't have to bike ALL THE WAY back around it to get home. After we eat, we are almost home.

My girls are smart cookies, but never having to drive themselves around town, and not having a Map of Tiny Town imprinted on their brains, these things were not obvious to them. When I told them it was about 5 miles to the Drive-in, they thought it would then be 5 miles home. (It's about 6-8 blocks home).

Man, being a kid is hard!

We had to stop half way around the lake to discuss all of this because the MOM MOM MOM's were driving me batty. And I can't really talk to them while biking. Because we bike single-file. Because I don't quite trust them to NOT cut me off and cause a huge bike accident.

(It should be noted that Marin, though pictured riding her bike above, rides in a bike trailer or bike seat- we have both- on these sorts of rides. Her bike is for around our neighborhood only.)

So anyway, we made it to the Drive-in. It's one of those retro old-fashioned places where you pull up and place your order from your car. And then they bring you your food on a tray that clips to your window. Sometimes they bring your tray wearing roller skates.

(Marin and Daddy, waiting for our food. Gratuitous lake view in background.)

Though, since we were on our bikes, we ordered and then ate our food at one of the handful of tables they have for this purpose.

(As usual, more photos on Flickr.)

Corn dogs and french fries and root beer, all under a rainbow colored umbrella... YUM.

By this time, the girls were happy and hungry. They understood we were almost home and didn't have to bike all the way around the lake again to get there. And that their soapy water was waiting for them, right where they left it.

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I've left several responses in the comment sections of yesterday's post about moving.