listingloquacious

A note to my Blog

2012-02-01T14:12:00.000-08:00

Dear Blog,

I miss you.

It's been quite a while since I've paid you any attention, hasn't it? Let's see...about 3 1/2 months, actually. And there's so much to tell you, too! I'm so excited to share all the juicy details of Life these last few months, but I can't just yet.

I know. I'm sad, too. One of these days we should stay up all night, just you and me, catching up. We'll download pictures together, reminisce together and generally get all caught up. I don't know if the 'stay up all night' thing would really be a good idea, but who knows? Maybe it would...on a day when I can just let the kids watch movies until 2:00 in the afternoon and fend for themselves in the food category while I sleep in.

Why have I been so distant? Why can't I just stay and visit now? Hmm...let's see... I think I can help you understand this in the easiest way: A LIST!!!!

Priority Things To Do Either Right Now, Yesterday, Or A Week Ago:

have baby

feed baby

change baby's diapers

help get everything together so Hubby can start Nursing School

Christmas

more feedings

more diapers

referee a few fights...an hour

help get ready for NYE company

enjoy NYE company

recover from NYE company

get Hubby ready to move three hours away to start Nursing School

cheer and breathe a sigh of relief that he's IN!!!!!

change phone provider to save cashola

look for a job in a city three hours away

find desk

go through paperwork

renew life insurance policies for older 3 kids

get policies for younger 2

feed baby

change...well, you know the drill

start exercising

search online for good prices for cloth diapers

get overwhelmed at the options

decide which cloth avenue to go down

search more for cloth diapers

find em

find more

message and meet strangers to make purchases

start on the Cloth Diaper Adventure

do taxes

start exercising again

get paperwork to finish taxes

be a Mom

be a Wife (long distance)

celebrate an anniversary without a Hubby

finish taxes

You see...that's just a little of what's been on my plate lately. And for most of the time, I've also had a squirmy one on my lap. So my plate AND my lap are full. So are my jeans, for that matter--thus the exercise. My heart is full, too, of love and longing to have ALL of my sweet family reunited. ...and Lee reunited with his Mega Blocks which are in storage.

But very often during my day, my brain is full of you. Fun things to share with you. Cute pictures to post, adventures, emotions, successes...just EVERYTHING!

Miss you.

See you soon.

I promise.

Dyann

Proud of the Shiplap

2011-10-13T10:50:00.001-07:00

It's never too late to learn something new.

One of the families that Hubby was close to in high school had a dentist dad who added a wing to his house and built a cabin on their lake-side property in the woods. Ever since then, he's had a dormant bug for wanting to have the knowledge & skills to be able to do that. More specifically, we've talked numerous times about our family building our house. Live in an rv or job shack on our property until we get the garage built (with living quarters upstairs), then move into that while the rest of the house is completed. He dreams of being up in the trusses, calling out measurements to Abby so she can mark & cut the plywood that he, Alex and Lee are sheeting our roof with. (Age-appropriately, of course.)

I'm totally on board.

Alas, Life has delayed our plans by at least 10 years. Ah well.

However, I had my first taste of interactive house-building last weekend. Because we'll be here in the in-laws' basement longer than planned, and because we'll be joined by someone small & cute within a matter of weeks, Mom-in-law has decided that this is a great opportunity to replace the downstairs shower with a bathtub.

Hubby has been in home construction for the last 13 years, so he's got the tools & know-how. I've learned some of the lingo & rules & stuff from him talking about his day at work, but don't have any hands-on experience, except for wall-painting.

Until now.

Yes, that is me, 34 weeks pregnant, drilling holes through treated 2x4s and into the existing concrete. Afterward, I hammered anchor bolts in there and tightened them so the walls don't go anywhere! Yay me!

I also learned the correct way to mark stud positioning (besides just finding my husband), and wield a nail gun. Okay, that part was a little scary, 'cause not only is it heavy, it can cause serious damage if it misfires or someone is being stupid with it. I have a very healthy respect (fear) for nail guns.

Over the last 13 years, I've gotten used to listening to Riah's technical speak and letting some of it run by because I don't always understand how words like gable, popout, facia and witch's tit correlate. (I only wish I were kidding about the last one.) However, I've gotten better, and by asking a few questions and glossing over the details I can get the general idea. Friday evening he surprised me with something really random, though:

"See how (somethingsomething) post (somethingsomething) stud (somethingsomething) shiplap?"

"I'm sorry. Did you just say that, "...the post and stud are proud of the shiplap?"

*looks at me like I'm asking if he just said that the sun was yellow*

"Yeah."

"Honey, that's not English."

'Stud' and 'post' are words that I can understand. How they can be proud of something called shiplap was beyond what my "supeerior eentelect" could piece together. (Extra points if you can nail the movie quote (pun quite intended.).) So here how it goes:

See how the thick post on the right and the 2x4 studs just to the left are sticking out a little past the surface of the horizontal pieces?

It would seem that the tongue-and-groove horizontal pieces are called shiplap, and because they're recessed a bit,

the post and stud are proud of the shiplap! Who knew?

Well, I do.

Now.

And it seems you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Happy 3rd Birthday Cora!!!

2011-10-02T16:52:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday Little One!

Well, I can't really say that anymore, can I? You used to be a little one, though.

But you've gotten much, much bigger than you were...sometimes a little too big.

Despite the crazy ride that you've led us on, you really are a sweet, sweet princess.

Well, a princess with a twist.

From the very beginning you've been willing to try new things.

Some haven't been your favorite,

...but others you loved from the start.

You aren't afraid of adventure,

...and you know where to come for comfort when you need it.

You've always been loved, and always will be.

I've been noting things lately that you say, because you're just so funny. Today some of my favorites were:

"Mom pat."

"Honey, I'm not fat, I have a baby in my belly."

"No, Mom pat."

"Sweetie, I have a big belly because there's a baby brother in there."

thinks for a moment

"No, Mom belly pat."

"Evvybuddy tention!"

When Dad copied one of your cute antics:

"Dad! Topy me!"

"Don't copy you?"

"Don't topy me!"

After Lee 'helped' you color your picture:

"No! I mad you daw peypah!"

And when I took a picture of your 'mad pace,' you said, "Mom pictah me happy tung."

You make me laugh, Sweetie. You are by far the best surprise I've ever had.

Weapon of Mass Destruction

2011-09-13T10:45:00.000-07:00

I don't often watch Phineas and Ferb, but my children like it. Even Cora, who asks for "Pinnis Pehrb." (Pronounce it like Ferb, but without the clear 'r' sound. Hard to type.) When I do watch--or overhear--it, I like it. I like that it's clean, there are no questionable scenes, no teenage themes, no scary monsters, buxom lycra-clad heroines or bad guys. Well, except for this guy:

But honestly, I love him. Professor Doofenshmirz and Perry the Platypus are the best part of the show! Without them, it would be really lame. I love that every single episode he comes up with some sort of invention that does something terrible, and always ends in '-inator.'

--Metal Destructinator (turns metal into broccoli)

--Evil Perry the Platypusinator (creates evil clones of Perry the Platypus)

--Nannyinator (creates an army of babies because who's going to counterattack a bunch of babies?)

So funny!

Oddly, all this -inator talk reminds me of something that you wouldn't usually associate with destruction:

Yes, my own personal Destructinator. (Note the zero pieces of tomorrow's lunch that have NOT been nibbled.)

It began rather innocently, with her climbing out of her crib, unlocking the door, opening it and coming downstairs when she was supposed to be napping. We added those white childproofing door knob covers and they helped for a bit. I was very surprised at her solution:

I only wish I was kidding.

Soon her barely-2yo 'skills' progressed to removing the twisty tie from the hamster cage (even after I threw in a couple of half knots with all the twists) and after a while we had to lock the parakeet in her cage. Like with a padlock. And a key kept way up high. I really wish I was kidding.

She looks angelic, doesn't she? Just missing a halo. Right. Let me remind you of this fun encounter.

Don't even THINK of leaving an avocado on the counter to ripen.

When we moved into our bachelor friend's house, the fun really started. My favorite, of course, was hearing Alex outside yell, "Cora, No! Moooommm! Cora's on the roof!" Yeah. Nice. Did not take the time to grab my camera for that. (Did take an awful shot with my phone 'cause I'm an awesome mom like that.)

Other fun things were having her experiment with a b.r.a.n.d. n.e.w. tube of toothpaste

and bring the landlord's "toda" into the bathroom so she could have a drink.

(My all-time favorite.)

So I'm thinking that I either need to have Homeland Security keep an eye on her or borrow her. 'Cause she could do something crazy to some bad guy somewhere.

Professor Doofenshmirtz, you have met your match.

Coming out of the Closet

2011-09-07T10:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't been really consistent about my blog posts lately, and there are a few reasons:

--moving

--no internet

--moving

--looking for housing in a different city

--having such a bad attitude that I'd better just keep my trap shut so nothing horrid comes out

--taking lots of pictures, but losing my camera usb cable

They're all decent reasons, but in reality it all boils down to this one:

Yup. Surprise! (For the 2 followers I have who aren't family or friends I've seen lately.)

This pic was taken the last weekend of July. The girl on the left is my very own chicklegirl, who was sweet enough to swing over on her 'day off' because my Riah & his siblings were participating in a sprint triathlon close enough for her to visit. I sure love her!

So for all of you who are wondering, "Why on earth didn't I know? Or did I know but just forgot?" the answer is, "because Dyann is a little odd."

A couple of years ago I got a weird hair and mentioned to the Hubby, "I think the next time I get pregnant I don't want to tell anyone. I'll just let them figure it out."

I know. Who does that? Who keeps a pregnancy secret from everyone in the world except the hubby & the landlord? Well, I guess I do. This time. Hubby's mom found out when we moved to her neighborhood in June, and his siblings, dad & stepmom found out the end of July...when I was about 5 months along.

The ladies at church were asking around 2.5 months. Geez! That's what comes from having zero torso, I guess. My favorite conversation came from a woman my mother's age who watched me grow with Lee & Cora. She put her arm around me and said something lovingly prying. I responded that we're not announcing it yet. Her honest, fabulous answer was, "Honey, you did tonight." BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I love her.

Details: currently about 29 weeks along (6.5 months or so), due November 23rd. My ovaries, however, have not read the book about fertility and timing and such, so I'm calling it 'just before Thanksgiving.' Getting very large, but do not know for certain the gender. Want a girl, think it's a boy, will be happy with whatever we get.

So while the reasons above are perfectly valid, the main underlying one is the fatigue & nausea (1st trimester), low energy (2nd trimester) and reduced mobility (3rd trimester) that comes from growing another super cute Monkey.

I'm really looking forward to kissing that round little noggin.

Blessings in Disguise --or-- Public Pouting

2011-08-30T12:53:00.001-07:00

Warning--this post is negative, painfully honest and kind of a downer. Read at your own risk. Just so's you know.

~~~~~~

My sister-in-law has a really cute plaque in her really cute living room that reads,

Lord, grant me the patience to deal with my blessings.

Whenever I've seen it, I've thought of my children. They are huge blessings that also happen to require a huge amount of patience. Now, however, I'm seeing it from a different perspective.

Sometimes in life, the Lord sees fit to give us a blessing that feels more like a curse. I'm living that now. Without divulging the details that I would really like to vomit here on my computer screen, let's just say that I'm in a situation that could either lead to amazing growth or end very, very badly. It started as just a short-term thing. Manageable. But now it seems that it's going to be long-term. (By 'long-term,' I mean longer than I want--like tomorrow.)

When my husband suggested the possibility of short-term turning to the next 3-6 months, my first--and very honest--response was, "I really don't like how much sense this makes." And I've spent about the last week being just depressed. I cried for about 3 days whenever nobody could see me and filled in the rest of the moments being irritable and annoyed. I know in my head that my problems can only be solved by looking in the mirror and it will all turn out for the best and that I'll be a better person for it all. The Lord knows what he's doing and I won't be given more than I can take and I'm a wonderful, strong person who can handle things like this with grace and faith.

Blah blah blah. I'm tired of waiting and praying and working for ____________. (Enter any number of things I've waited and prayed and worked my butt off for but didn't get.) I want it now. So to be seemingly on the edge of forward progress and to be blessed with this load of garbage is a bitter pill to swallow.

The optimistic and hopeful thoughts in my head haven't yet passed to my heart, however, and it would seem that the Lord is getting tired of my rotten attitude.

Sunday was an interesting day. All during church there were not-so-subtle moments where He very lovingly and patiently whacked me upside the noggin:

--Paul instructing the saints in Corinth to be unified and not divided. (1 Corinthians 1:10) *sigh*

--Mosiah 3:19--"For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever, unless he yields to the enticings of the Holy Spirit, and putteth off the natural man and becometh a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father." Do I have to?

--And the piece de resistance: being put in a situation where there's no option to gracefully bow out of publicly extolling the virtues of the precise source of my irritation and annoyance. Really? Are you serious?

God's message to me: "Get off your high horse, knock off the attitude and deal with it."

I'll get there. I will. I'm just not done being mad yet.

(And another lovely reminder was a friend's blog post about waiting actively and faithfully on the Lord. PS--my troubles don't hold a candle to hers and her post is inspiring. Unlike mine. Which is pouty.)

Unblogged

2011-07-25T22:24:00.000-07:00

(Quick update because it's really, really overdue: moving is always a pain in the neck, but we moved mostly uneventfully from the temp place we were in on June 18th. Mr. Live-in-Landlord even took some time out from his father/daughter/grandpa time Father's Day weekend to come say his goodbyes. We moved into the really cute little rental owned by Hubby's mom, and just as we were really starting to get settled, we found out that it sold. We knew it was on the market, but all indicators pointed to 2-12 months of being able to stay there. No dice. July 17th had us moving into mother-in-law's basement just a few miles away. *sigh* I guess that's what happens when you don't really pray about what your major decision will be, you just move forward with what makes sense. So nearly all of our stuff is in a storage unit in the city where we'd like to end up (3 hours away), Hubby has a great temp job that is exactly what we need (we were praying about that one) and we're living in his mom & stepdad's basement. Anyone who knows me well knows that my relationship with my mother-in-law...well...it's come a long way. And judging from my irritation levels, it's got a long way to go yet. Well, I've got a long way to go.)

So here on the other side of the mountains life is different. The climate is different, the landscape is different, the lifestyle is different...it's just different. And while I've been internetless for a month during this most, uh, changing time of life, there have been quite a few blogs that have sprung up in my head. And stayed there. So for your reading pleasure...a few cliffnotes:

I Spy...

Things that I see where I live now that I'm not really used to yet

...way more than usual. Well, laterally. The Pacific Northwest is quite hilly, and those hills are generally covered by really old, really tall trees. Cedars, generally. But over here, the hills are more roll-y and spread apart, so I can see way further that I'm used to. And that means that I also spy...

...light coming in my bedroom window at 4:30 in the morning. Who knew that the sun was even awake at that time of day? Yeesh! Go hide behind a tree or something, and let me sleep!

...zero bicycle helmets. Lots of cyclists, but no helmets. Except on the noggins of my own children.

...more yard sales than I have seen in my life...combined...in one neighborhood in one weekend. And it happens every weekend!!!

...mercury. You know, that red stuff that usually hovers between 50 and 65 on the thermometer? It goes up. Did you know? Sometimes it even goes between 90 and 100. I kid you not.

...pedestrians jaywalking. Everywhere!

...vehicles stopped in a 5-lane road so that the pedestrians on the sidewalk can jaywalk. What??? I understand that you want to be considerate, but how badly do you want to be rear-ended?

...a thunderless thunderstorm. Really. I sat on the porch, enjoying a cool evening and saw lightning a few times, but didn't hear the thunder. Odd.

Move & Move & Move & Move

Okay, there's a line in Jurassic Park that I like to quote. I amend it to the situation at hand because it's such a great line. When that pesky T-rex is loose in the rain storm and the kids are in the car, then out of the car, then over the wall, then in the tree, then the car joins them in the tree and they have to climb down as fast as they can to avoid being smooshed by the car, then said smooshed car falls right over the big roots between which the kids & Mr. Scientist are cowering, the boy breathlessly states, "We're back--in the car--again." I've felt that this line has been rather relatable lately, except we were back in a truck instead of a car.

I was talking to someone recently about our situation, explaining that we'd like to move straight from the rental to our ultimate destination and just wait for Hubby to be accepted to the program there he wants. (Obviously, this was before we moved.) I said, "We'd just like to move once and not have to move again. Well, twice. We've already moved once." She must've been listening well, because she corrected me, "You don't want to move and move and move again." Yeah.

So when we've found a place that works for us, we'll be towing a trailer and I can say with all the breathlessness I want, "We're back--on the road--again."

Where Did I Put That %@!&# Silver Lining?

This was one witty blog title that I came up with during a less-than-optimistic moment. I'm a self-proclaimed optimist, and underneath it all I really am. But sometimes I just get tired of it all & want to crawl in a cave until my problems solve themselves. Sadly, that never actually happens. Dangit.

But during a significantly-less-than-optimistic moment, I realized that for the first time ever, I'm alone. I am without my support network. I don't live by my family. I don't have friends that I can call to arrange sanity-saving playdates for my children. I can't call a friend to have them watch my kiddos so I can go get my hair cut for the family pictures this weekend. I don't get calls from friends who are getting together. I don't have anyone to play with. Even my freshman year at college where everything was new and unfamiliar, my sister was just a phone call away. I'd even see her on campus occasionally! But here I really don't have anyone. And I get lonely. And it's sort of pointless to make friends because we'll be gone in a handful of weeks.

I can't wait to move and get settled. I want to put down roots and make connections and have the kids make friends and host a ladies' night. I want to move forward.

There's a silver lining in all of this muck somewhere, but right now I'm just too tired to look for it. No matter what happens it'll all work out. It always does. I don't know how or when, but in the meantime, I'm counting down the days until I go camping with my friends. I can't wait. I might just stay there forever.

So that's just a few of the blogs that have been rattling around in my brain. Not really happy-go-lucky, but whatever. When I finally have internet on MY computer (using my mil's now) I'll have better ones, and pictures! Especially of Cora's nutty antics during the short time we were living in the bachelor pad. Think independent 2yo and a fridge of beer. Good times.

And this has ended up to be some pretty long cliff notes. I'll try to be better about sorta' more kinda' consistentish blogging, and I'll get more light-hearted as we go. In the meantime, here's to not seeing the inside of a moving truck for a very, very long time.

Now & Later

2011-06-16T21:54:00.000-07:00

In the immortal words of Rafiki the blue-keistered babboon:
"It is time."

Today I packed, tomorrow I finish up.
Tomorrow we rent the truck & load it, Saturday we pull out, headed to our next big adventure:

Riah's mom has an empty rental not too far from where she lives now on the other side of the mountains, with a garage and a plum tree and a fenced flat yard that'll be great for Abby's slip 'n slide. The kids are already signed up for swimming lessons at the local pool, and are pretty excited. It'll be a great landing pad until Hubby is accepted into nursing school...whenever and wherever that is.

~~~

Now I will pack up everything that we've used and acquired over the last 2.5 months.
Later I will find that one purple, jewelled toddler sandal (I really, really hope).

Now I will get nearly everything in boxes so it can stack in the moving truck.
Later I will be glad that it fits & doesn't crush.

Now I will think about the task at hand.
Later I will think of the last seven and one third years and the amazing things I've learned from some of the most amazing women.

Now I will enjoy the goodbye parties and hugs.
Later I will more fully express my love and thanks.

Now I will blog lighthearted.
Later I will blog and cry. And cry and cry and cry. (I've gotten verklempt a few times, but no tears yet.)

Now I will be grateful for a gracious, accomodating landlord.
Later I will pay it forward.

Now I will step forward into the unknown.
Later I will look back with experience and wisdom.

Now I will trust in the Lord.
Later I will do it again.

And again and again and again.

~~~

In the immortal words of my mortal father whenever it was time for us to get in the car...
"Saddle up!"

Listing busy

2011-05-23T11:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, so after my last post I DID make a few great lists: what was happening each day, what needed to be done each day, etc.

A quick synopsis, plus a few pics:

Thurs 9pm: Bountiful Baskets conference call that ended up to be an hour.

Fri 6:30pm: ward potluck

Fri 6:30pm: Double Dream Hands flash mob practice in Renton

(yeah, I know. there was talk of the practice being cancelled, so we did the potluck.)

Sat 10am: niece's baptism 45min away

Sat 12pm: Abby & Alex's combined birthday party at the aquatic center

Sat 3pm: take Abby to a friend's party

Sat 5:30pm: DDH flash mob final practice here in town

Sat 6:30pm: DDH flash mob performance at mall

Sat 7:00pm: pick up Abby from party

But as I lay in bed at 7:30 that morning thinking of the schedule, I realized that driving 45 minutes north, staying for the baptism, then driving 45 minutes back would leave us ZERO time to change, cut watermelon, gather last-minute things and get to the pool EARLY. Crud. So I called my sister-in-law, who was very understanding. Poop. I still didn't want to miss it.

We were 15 minutes later for the party than I'd intended (not my fault--lateness around here is due to certain people underestimating how much time it REALLY takes to get kids ready, rounded up, loaded & buckled up), so of course, I was snappy & stressed. Not too bad, though.

The party:

Get there, check in, find out I can pay for the total # of attendees later in the day when everything is more settled *whew*, send Hubby & kids to the pool with the 3 guests who arrived before us. Set up party room (thanks again, Marie!):

(cupcake idea courtesy of Family Fun magazine--of course!)

After a bit of swimming, call the kids in for a super-rushed cake/presents episode. Ab & Alex didn't get to eat. They blew out their candles, then opened gifts. Poor kids. I only rented the room for an hour, so I had to get our stuff out of there. Send the kids back to the pool for the last hour.

For the record, the party room came with the wall decor. I'm not completely nuts.

6 10-year-olds

6 8-year-olds

I cleaned & moved stuff frantically, trying to keep Cora with me. She kept leaving because she wanted to "tim. Dad." Of course! She had a blast, and so did Lee.

The older girls all spent most of their time in the deep pool & the water slide (Dad wins a huge award for taking Ab to the pool 4 times the week prior so she could pass her swim test. Yay Dad!) The boys hung out in the 3'-4' area, and the younger 2 needed to be within arms' reach all the time. That was boring, but it worked out okay.

In all, it was a fun party.

We got everyone showered, dressed and placed with the right parent, then came home. We brought one of the girls Sheri, then her mom took Abby and her to the other party while we put together Alex's new WWE toys. *eye roll*

I don't have pics or a video of the birthday flash mob, so I think I'll hold off until I do. It's the lamest, most ridiculous dance, but it ended up to be fun--anything is with my Ladies!

Listless

2011-05-19T10:04:00.000-07:00

Today is Thursday, May 19th.

Within the next 2 1/2 days, I'll be either throwing or participating in 4 birthday celebrations. There's also a potluck and a flash mob dance to practice (that's part of one of the birthdays).

And I haven't made a single list.

What am I thinking?????

The Miracle Unveiled

2011-05-16T10:28:00.000-07:00

So, living here in this smelly old house with ants as neighbors, drafty windows that are hard to open, and a definite settling problem has sometimes had me wondering where the miracle was.

I mean, God in all his omnipotence could have given us something way more upscale when we prayed for our miracle leaving our old apartment. But he stuck us in a bachelor pad, of all crazy places. Why, oh why, oh why?

It all became clear yesterday.

Our Live-in Landlord came home yesterday evening from taking his 5yo daughter back to her mom after her fun-filled weekend here. (It was a little crazy having 2 Abbys in the house, but the kids all enjoyed themselves...alot.) He then announced quite out of the blue that he convinced his parents to delay putting the house on the market for a few weeks so the kids can finish school here. My response went something like this:

Shocked pause
sigh
"Wow. Thank you. That would be great. I could kiss you, but that'd be weird.
"Did Riah say something to you?"
Him: "Nope, this is all me."

I don't know if he was just thinking of his own daughter or putting himself in Abby & Alex's small shoes, or if he overheard me telling the kids that I'd try to keep them here but we may pull them out early. I don't know. But I do know one thing--despite his imperfect halo, he's an angel!

So the kids can finish school with their friends (can you say, 'closure?'), they can complete their in-school projects, and we can go to all the end-of-school parties we want!

Thank You, Lord, for the miracle.

(And PS--it looks like we'll probably pack the truck the 17th (last day) & head to Spokane for the summer or forever or until Riah starts Nursing School...wherever that is.)

Locked up for Mother's Day...

2011-05-08T21:20:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day at our house usually consists of breakfast in bed, handmade cards, gifts purchased with Dad the day before, church, and me taking the rest of the day off of making lunch or dinner. I nap, I read the newspaper...basically veg.

This year started the same with cinnamon rolls, oranges eggs and toast--YUM, however, it ended really really different. And I'm glad.

The L-iL mentioned a couple of days ago that he was thinking of inviting friends over for a barbecue today. That meant smoking, beer and swearing--not exactly the best atmosphere for my children to be in, if you know what I mean. So I've been brainstorming Things To Do With The Children For Hours On End That Won't Drive Me Batty for a couple of days. Oh and PS--Dad's in school. So for Mother's Day I get to be a Park Mom (I am not, and have about a 10-minute park tolerance) AND a Single Mom in the same day.

Yay.

*groan*

I looked at zoos, aquariums, kids museums, etc, and no matter what I looked at, admission alone would cost over $50. No thanks. I decided on the Ballard Locks, a localish attraction that I'd been to on a 'field trip' with friends years ago. I distinctly remembered a few things about it: boats, green grassy areas, a fish ladder and NO ADMISSION.

So I packed a picnic, some sports equipment, umbrellas for the chancy weather, a blanket & tarp for damp ground, a few extra pairs of bottoms for Cora & we were off!

I really had no expectations, but it ended up to be a GREAT day! To start with, I went to pay for parking and it was a weekend!!! No parking fees on weekends!!! Yay!!!!

On the non-list of things to do (can you believe it? I didn't even have a list!!!) but what we ended up doing anyway because it just worked out that way:

1--Bathrooms (Cora's been potty trained for almost 2 months now. 'nuf said.)

2--Backtrack to the ones that we passed in the gift shop because the ones by the locks were closed for cleaning.

3--Be alerted by the employee outside the bathroom that Lee was not, in fact, with us--he was continuing on his merry little way.

4--Send Abby & Alex to chase him down because he's too far to hear me holler at him.

5--Have The Discussion with Lee. Again.

6--Juggle mens/womens bathrooms with 4 children in a gift shop while keeping someone on guard at the backpack hanging on the stroller. Are we having fun yet?

6a--Be complimented by a complete stranger in the bathroom that Abby is a really great big sister/helper. She was right. Ab did GREAT ALL DAY!!!! She was fabulous!

7--GET STARTED!!!!!

8--The thing that the kids were most looking forward to was the fish ladder. [The locks are really fascinating things to watch. Lake Union & Lake Washington are at a higher elevation than the Puget Sound (which changes, as it's salt water), but boats come & go all the time between them, so the locks provide a way for boats to overcome a varying-height obstacle. How it works: boats come in from the Ship Canal (the lakes), putt into a long, skinny enclosure & the doors are closed behind them. The water is then drained out until it's the same level as the water in the Sound. The doors in front of them open and then motor away. Sailboats, yachts, barges, tugboats...whatever can fit, goes. Check out the site. It's pretty cool, and it has pics of the actual location--I didn't take many pictures of that. Just my kids. And yes, Lee's feet are completely off the ground. The kids' just crazy strong.]

Oh--the fish ladder. There's one of those, too, with a viewing room where you can go down into a room next to the canal & look through the glass to see the fish swimming up the fish ladder. Well, you can if it's the right time of year. We missed it by a couple of months either way, but there was one little fishy hanging out there. It sorta looked troutish to me, but who knows? So the kids learned more about fish eggs, development, etc.

9--Then we went to look at the boats coming & going. It sort of takes a while, but it's still cool to watch.

10--The walkway from the locks to the fish ladder is wet & misty from the water being shot out of the spillway (check out the pics of it on the website), and the kids were fascinated with the rainbows they could see in the mist. It was also a bit of a game to find the one harbor seal that was hanging out looking for food. In salmon season the area's full of sea lions glutting themselves on the salmon waiting their turn to figure out how to get into the lake. Pigs.

11--Tire of hearing how hungry the kids are, so hit the bathrooms on the way to the car, where the food is.

12--Lunch was light, so we treated ourselves to an early dinner. Tarp. Blanket. Subs, Pirate's Booty, Capri Sun & chocolate covered mini-donuts. The dinner of champions.

13--Play. Wiffle-ball baseball, roll down the hill, climb the trees. Just have a good time. I found one tree full of a particularly adorable breed of Apple-Cheeked Monkeys. Love it.

14--Go for a walk. The signs boast of a world-renowned botanical garden, but I have to say that it doesn't really hold a match to the one up the road from home. Oh well.

15--Be told by the park people that we don't climb the trees. Oops. I didn't let them climb the one with the fence around it, and this one was definitely not fenced!

16--Continue on our walk. Stop beneath a cherry-blossoming tree to enjoy the 'snow' as it drifts down. The ones around Abby are from the handful she just tossed up. And I love the petals stuck in Cora's curls.

17--Have mild panic attack when Cora announces, "Mom! Pee! Mom! Pee!"

18--Score her first successful peeing in the woods.

19--All around the inlet from the Puget Sound are high, grassy, terraced hills. Perfect for rolling! Roll and roll and roll some more!

20--At the bottom, Lee found some mussel shell fragments left by the seagulls. He kept some for his 'collection.' He had more, but there was water, and it was within throwing distance.... Cora found some mud that collected in her crocs. "Mom. Luck. Toes." So her crocs & socs came off. I guess her pants got a little wet too. *sigh*

21--Put pants back on the child.

22--Standing here we were right next to the large locks, which hadn't been used the whole time we were there. But we waited just a bit to watch a big tugboat with a little tugboat tied on like a dinghy pulling a LOOOOOOOONG trail of logs. What they were for I'm not sure, but it was cool to watch.

23-Bathrooms. Again.

24--Make our way back to the locks, over the walkway, to the other end of the other side because Alex wants to go throw rocks from a sandy area he can see. Nevermind that it's 6:30 on a school night. Whatever.

25--Go even further because...well...I have no idea why. But we did. We eventually were under a train trestle climbing on barnacle-covered rocks. Abby--bless her heart--commented that it was too bad that we didn't have a garbage bag, because there was some litter lying around.

26--Get back from the stroller that was so loaded down with bags, coats & hats that it looked like our homeless shopping cart, give it to the kids to tidy up a bit.

27--Try to convince the kids to come back. (The pic was actually taken from the base of the train trestle because I couldn't see them around the corner & I was wondering what the heck was taking so long!)

28--Enjoy the view of a train passing RIGHT ABOVE OUR HEADS!!!!! So cool. (Notice how teeny Lee and Abby are compared to the trestle & train.)

29--Head back.

30--Watch boys race. Then notice them stop for Lee to pout because Alex is winning. Rinse and repeat. Again and again.

31--Let Abby roll down the other terraced hillside just once.

32--Request her to fetch Cora because while Abby was coming down, she was making her way up. To the top. (Boys are far ahead of me, girls are behind. Thank Heaven that most of the crowds were gone. They were home putting their children to bed.)

33--Gather everyone back together and make our way back to the car, saying goodbye to our friend the harbor seal.

34--Let the kids walk the railroad tracks that run the length of the parking lot for the 4th time.

35--Wonder where Cora's shoe is.

36--Find it about 25' away, sitting on a railroad tie.

37--Thank Lee for returning it.

38--Change Cora's wet pants. "Pee. Tain. Tack. Pee. Tain. Tack." Hey--you can't really expect to go for over 5 hours without changing wet unders once, can you?

39--Finish Pirate's Booty on the way home while listening to the kids declare that "This is the best day ever" (Alex). "This is the most fun I've had all month!" (Abby), and that I'm "...the bestest Mom EVER!!!" (Lee).

40--Put things away, collecting the important stuff: Lee's collection, and the bits of love they gathered for me all day:

(Today in church the line from the childrens' song choked me up as I thought of all the flowers Lee has brought me lately: "Dear Mother, I give you my love with each flower...")

41--Be thankful for the four crazy monkeys that call me 'Mom.'

I'm not dead yet!

2011-05-06T14:12:00.001-07:00

You have to read that in a British accent to fully do it right. I'm just sayin'.

Life is crazy sometimes. Our current temporary situation has its ups and downs. I love the big windows with windowsills where my African Violets are actually blooming again. I love that I can let the kids wander around the yard outside and my biggest worry is bothering the neighbors. I love that I don't have a single pressure to take care of anyone's needs outside of my family. I love that my phone is quiet. Dead quiet.

But it's weird.

The live-in landlord is great--he showed a really cool amount of interest in Abby & Alex's science fair projects, asking them what they were, how they worked, what was supposed to happen, etc. He's just...live-in. And he's a bachelor. So on a very small scale, my children are being exposed to life in a bachelor pad. Which is odd.

That's not what this post is meant to be about, though. I just figured that while I'm here, I should probably give you a little bit of a low-down as to our current state of being.

Frankly, sometimes I fall off the face of the earth and retreat into my own little world of me, the fam and the house. That's it. And I'm there. I have my own reasons (whether or not they make sense to anyone else is irrelevant to me) and I'll come out in my own due time. But for now, I'll just stay in my little Cocoon of Life, dealing with Life as it comes to me.

(Oh and PS we just found out that the house we liked way out in the boonies won't be ready until July/August & the guy bumped the rent from $800 to $1200. Yeah, maybe not. But our time here is still up May 31, as June 1 marks the day that Live-in Landlord's parents put the house on the market. It'll all work out...somehow.)

Today's post really is about my two youngest cute kids. Particularly the things that come out of their mouths.

A couple of weeks ago, Lee lamented that he didn't "...want Cora to grow up because she's so cute."

Just a few days ago, he announced, "Mom, I want to marry Cora when she grows up because she's so cute." Funny boy.

Then last night while he was folding his laundry he said, "Mom, we can pee in the ocean because it's already dirty." Um...yeah. That's true. I guess we can.

Cora is really starting to grasp onto this 'talking' thing, and cracks us up with her little mispronunciations. She's also really into the whole process and routine of whatever is going on. She knows that when I get out of bed, I pull on my purple fleecy pj bottoms and my big soft white robe. So a couple months ago, as I was climbing out of bed, she held up my pjs & said, "Dammies." When I took them, she ran to the back of the back of the bathroom door, pulled on the hem of my robe and said, "Dis." "That's Mom's robe." "Woe-bot." "Yes, it's Mom's robot." And it still is.

The place we're in has little sugar ants that come in to help clean up the floor underneath the dining room table. They're so helpful! The kids think they're pretty cool, and they don't really irritate, so whatever. Shortly after Easter, Lee was trying to convince one of his new little 6-legged friends to climb into his bug-magnifying container the Easter Bunny left in his basket. He said something like, "Come on Buddy. Go in." Now whenever he or Cora find one (they come through the bathroom heater vent, too), Cora picks one up and carries it around saying, "Buddy. At. Buddy. At." Unfortunately, she's not too delicate about her collection method, and often crushes them. Poor things. One time, she reported, "Boke-it. Buddy. Boke-it. Buddy." I looked and sure enough, its head was removed from its still-wiggling body.

About a month ago the kids were watching a nature program with Ryan, the L-iL. It had snakes and frogs & such. Her commentary:
"Mom! Wibbit! Mom! Wibbit!
"Wibbit. Walk. Wibbit. Walk.
"Mom! Take! Mom! Take!"
Then the snake caught & ate the frog.
"Take eat-it. Take eat-it.
"Eat-it. Wibbit. Eat-it. Wibbit...
She thought about it for a moment, then decided it was disgusting, because she then announced,
"GooOOOOOooooSSSSE!!!"

We all got a good laugh!

Here's your blasted update

2011-04-13T16:02:00.001-07:00

Okay, okay, I've had enough people whine and complain about needing an update that I'll give you one. Jeez! Only kidding. If any of my friends had a major transition in their lives and were subsequently as close-lipped (well, -fingered) as I have been, I'd have some ants in my pants, too. So here goes: We moved out of our 7-year home on March 31st. Well, moving never goes as quickly as it's expected, so we finished early evening April 1st, cold, wet and hungry. And that goes for all of us--not just the kids. As we are not currently in a life-situation that would work well with a standard lease or any home attached to another (preferred, for the sake of any neighbors), our options were limited--to say the least. There's a house that we really like that'll be ready in a couple months, so we don't want to get locked in and miss out on it. Our temporary situation is this: Hubby has a friend from work years ago (I know him too--really nice guy about our age with a little girl about Alex's age) who lives alone in his grandparents' 3-bedroom home and is allowing us to stay with him at a really, really low rent rate. We asked for a miracle & got it! Two sets of bunkbeds are all set up in one big room with toys, clothes & a 1/2 bath. We have a bookshelf in our room with clothes, and another with kitchen pantry stuff because the cupboards are already full. The house is in a great neighborhood, closer to the church & preschool than we were before, on a quiet little dead-end street where the kids can play. Lots of trees to hide in when spring finally decides to set in for good, too. The 'landlord' has been really gracious. He gives us a really, really wide berth & doesn't mind when he comes home & we're watching Dancing With the Stars on his big flatscreen tv, but visits for a few minutes, then holes up in his room & watches something else on his smaller tv. The whole situation is weird, but I'm trying my best--well, I'm trying--not to look a gift house in the mouth and ignore the odor and idiosyncracies of a 1950s original windows/wood paneling/wallpaper house. (His grandfather bought it in 1954 for $10,500. Excuse me while I go curl up & cry in self-pity.) To avoid too many transitions, we're driving the kids to & from the bus stop, have kept the same church attendance and aren't changing much...on the outside. So now you know. There will be many more changes as the months go on, and I'll keep you updated on those, too...I promise.

Hell in the Hallway

2011-03-11T13:40:00.001-08:00

Recently I posted a status update on my fb account expressing that my brain is worn out from working overtime ALL THE TIME to find a home, negotiate with the ex-boss, deal with normal day-to-day motherhood adventures, find a home, feed the family, keep house quasi-tidy and find a home. My dear, wonderful, very real friend Melani responded with a priceless quote:

"When God closes a door, He always opens another one...but it can be Hell in the Hallway."

I love Love LOVE this! Because I'm in the hallway.

My ex-boss has agreed to an eye-rollingly generous $75 rent decrease on this $1650 apartment we're in. Gee. Thanks. That helps us to be able to afford it a lot more. *sigh*

Riah & I have looked at no less than 10 homes sort of in the area that are in our teensy tiny budget and that have enough bedrooms for our passel o monkeys. The good ones were rented, leaving the ones that...well...could work if they had to. But if you're advertising a vacant duplex, please wipe the mud splattered on the wall, repair the hole in the siding & get rid of the mossy carpet on the slippery back deck. The one that we like the most won't be ready for at least 2 months. *sigh*

Have you ever tried to pack the contents of a cabinet with very interested preschool/toddler-aged children around? If you enjoy giving instructions repetetively, reorganizing the cabinet contents multiple times and packing the same doo-dads & trinkets 14 times, GO FOR IT!!! It's lots of fun. *sigh*

When something crazy and life-altering (not life-shattering, just altering) happens, there are normal stages of emotion that people go through: shock, anger, grief, avoidance, tantrums, pouting, etc. (Not necessarily in that order, and sometimes I go back for do-overs in some categories multiple times.) Through the hard junk, there's always prayer, and right when I feel like I can't persevere anymore and my long-suffering is stretched taut, I need to keep going just a little more. Just when I really can't go much further, the Lord provides His miracle.

I'm ready for my Miracle.

I know it's there, I know it'll be good, I know it'll be just what we need or will work for now until something better comes along. And I'd like it sooner than later, please.

'Cause this hallway sucks.

The laundry fairy

2011-03-11T13:35:00.000-08:00

You know, I really don't have anything better to with my time than sort dirty laundry multiple times.

Dontcha just love that charming little dimply smile? Goober.

The End...or is it just the Beginning?

2011-03-03T21:35:00.000-08:00

This is it.

Today is my last day managing this 45-unit apartment complex. In it, I've conceived twice, borne 2 children, taught 4 to stop at the end of the sidewalk before entering the parking lot, buried 2 pets, flushed about a dozen fish, mourned the loss of a 3.5mo-old angel nephew, rejoiced at the marriage of my brother and the birth of 9 other niecephews, taught 3 children to pee on the toilet, expanded the approved unsupervised play area from the backyard to the courtyard to the front parking lot to the swampy foresty area across the stream, learned to allow the big yellow school bus to take my babies, laughed, cried, and make a home. Albeit a neglected, dirty, biohazard of a home, but a home nonetheless.

Though we do not have a home to move into yet, and we aren't packed or totally organized, I am ready to hand over the keys to the kingdom that I have created here. (I have no idea how many leases I've signed or how many people I've moved out or how many apartments I've shown, but of the 122 people currently living in the 44 occupied units at this complex, there are 5 who were here before I was. 2 old bachelor brothers, 1 retired lawyer who signed a lease in 1987 (he still has chocolate shag carpet), 1 middle-aged single woman and the recently-fired maintenance lead who knows more about this property than anyone in the world.

I am...

...Feeling hurt, hopeful, angry, mournful, resentful, excited, nervous, relieved, frightened.

...Resenting the way that I was let go, without the personal consideration and professional courtesy that I deserve after the 7 years of sacrifice that my family and I have given.

...Celebrating not having to pick up other people's litter and cigarette butts, pick up after their lazy children, answer the door at every knock, forward my phone when I leave for vacation, and pussyfoot around a boss who may or may not be about to bite my head off at any given moment.

...Anticipating teaching my children what a clean house is, spending more time with them, staying on top of the laundry, getting more disciplined about using my time wisely, playing outside, teaching Lee to read, and having more time doing what I want to do, which is be a fabulous mom.

A handful of years ago, Abby was next to me as I was working at the computer and asked, "Mom? When we buy a house will you not spend so much time on the computer?" At that moment, I knew that my job was affecting my family. They notice the time away from them. They notice that I put them off because I'm working on something. They notice.

While the title of this post could have been "Up Yours" or "Kiss Off" or some other genteel ladylike phrase (and it would have if I had posted this morning), I recognize that Life may currently have me looking at an end, but it's also put me right at the beginning.

Of something.

On the ball!

2011-03-02T07:53:00.000-08:00

This morning our friend Mei is visiting for a short play date. Lee invented a game called "Stand On The Basketball Behind The Couch Then Fall Off Dramatically And Make Mei Laugh."

It's a pretty good game.

As I sat and watched, cuddling a grumpy wakey Cora, I almost made a comment about Lee's fleeting proximity to the ball, and I caught myself, noting the idiomatic play on words that would go right over his head.

And that got me to thinking.

Why the heck does "on the ball" mean being in control, and having everything going the way you planned it?

Because as I watch my son stand on the basketball--using the back of the couch for support--it sure doesn't look like he is in control! When a person is standing on top of a ball, balance is elusive and gravity becomes the seemingly most powerful force, wreaking havoc on the grace, control and 'plans' that the person atop that orb may try to possess.

Which gets me thinking about my own life and its current events. And you know what?

I'm totally on the ball!!!

Cranky Pants

2011-02-28T20:36:00.000-08:00

Today is February 28th.

My job ends in 3 days. I don't know where we are going to move. I don't know how long we will be able to stay here. I don't know how we are going to pay rent. I don't know how we are going to pay off the van and reduce bills and save money before Steve goes to school. I don't know if I'm going to need or be able to find a job. I don't know if I should concentrate my efforts on subsidized housing, apartment managing, vacant home care, renting a FSBO home, or what.

I don't know.

I don't know!

I DON'T KNOW!!!!

And you know what? I'm gettin' a little cranky.

I'm annoyed that my boss will chat with the other manager about day-to-day business on the same phone call that we were fired in, then take 4 days to answer my response to her "I'm not going to call you back, but you can email me your questions" email. I'm ticked that even though I asked a few months ago to be kept abreast of any potential changes, I was given 14 days to tie up loose ends at work, pack my house, find a new home and move. I'm peeved that I'm not given the personal respect and professional courtesy that I deserve, and that everyone around here recognizes that EXCEPT MY BOSS!!! I'm irritated that after 7 years, we aren't as close to financially stable as we should be, and as I want us to be.

You remember that peace that I was blessed with a month ago? A week ago? It's being slowly but surely replaced by nerves and fear. I'm going backward. My peace and joy and smiles are giving way to apathy, snarkiness and snapping at the people I love. It's pushing 'kiss mine.'

And it sucks.

Solution: MAY I PLEASE MAKE SOME SORT OF FORWARD MOTION IN FINDING A HOME FOR MY FAMILY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Yep. That'd help.

Fired.

2011-02-17T13:21:00.001-08:00

I have 2 weeks.

I knew it was coming, but it totally stinks that after 7 years, they give me 2 weeks. Thanks a lot.

So after I prayed for direction and guidance and forgiveness because I'm angry, I had the thought, "I need to read my scriptures." Fortunately, Lee's cleaning his room (translate: he & Cora are playing upstairs) so I had a couple of quiet minutes. I opened my scriptures to anywhere, and read 1 Timothy 2. It was all pretty much unrelated to what I need right now, until I came across verse 8:

"I will, therefore that men pray every where, lifting up holy hands (cross-referenced to Psalms 24:4 talking about clean hands and a pure heart), without wrath and doubting."

God's message to me today: Keep praying, let go of the anger and frustration and hurt, do what you know is right, don't doubt, and I'll provide.

Amen.

Love & Laughs...

2011-02-15T21:36:00.000-08:00

...Or Creativity & Craziness

So the other day I was searching for something among my archived emails and found a copy of an i.m. conversation that I had with my sister a couple of years ago. (She & I get a little bit silly sometimes. A little.) It brought a smile to my heart, so even though it's a bit belated for Valentine's Day, I hope it brings a little smile to yours, too.

And maybe even some wonderings about my oddities.

Whatever.

d: Today's learning moment: Don't try to make a triple batch of Grandpa Cookies in one bowl...even it's a really big one.
L: your cookies overfloweth?
d: yea, my bowls do overflow and my kitchen is abundant with dirty mixing bowls.
L: yea, and my sister said unto me LOOK! and I looked and beheld a mighty mountain of cookie dough. And behold it was my desire to partake thereof. For I beheld that it was good.
d: Yea, and as they did partake of the goodness of the cookie dough, the sons of the household did lick the beaters even until they were clean, and the flour powder did settle upon them like unto snow.
L: And the daughter, upon returning to her home, finding much abundance of cookies, did cry forth with a loud voice, unto the declaring of the desires of her heart. For lo, she did desire a cookie. And she did ask for milk, as it goeth with cookies, much like our forefathers of old did find land flowing with milk and honey.
d: But the childrens' mother did deny them. For she was a mean mother.
d: And she said unto them, "The cookies are for Valentine's Day, which is two days hence. Look, and behold, there are cookies for your class, and they number three dozen."
L: and behold, there was much weeping and wailing on behalf of the uneaten cookies. For lo, they seeketh to partake.
d: And the mother sent forth an invitation: "Come, sit, frost these the rest of the cookies with us. For thy brother is ready--armed with sprinkles and candies and all manner of instruments of cookie decorating. But we must hurry, for the youngest of thy brothers doth nap, and it is the desire of my heart to finish before he awakes."
d: "But take comfort, for after we do set aside cookies for thy class, and for thy brother's class, and for our many friends--yea, after we do give cookies unto everyone else, there will be leftovers. And ye may partake. For thus I planned it."
L: And they did with haste put frosting upon the cookies and sprinkle them, and put all manner of tasty trinkets on them that they may be a joy unto those who partake. And verily verily they did frost for the space of many minutes and did do all that was good to the cookies.
d: And their fingers were sticky and they did lick them off.
d: And their mother did remind them time and time again to wipe their fingers upon a wet cloth for the cookies were to be given away and their tongues were laden with much germs.
d: But they, being a forgetful generation, did go forth and lick their fingers.
L: And when their father did return to their dwelling, he beheld the cookies of such curious craftsmanship. And he did put forth his hand to partake. And lo and behold, my sister did send a cursing upon him who doth partake too soon, lest he put forth his hand and dwindle the number set for for his childrens' classes. But verily my sister did repent of her chastizing and did offer him thus a cookie from those which had been set aside for his partaking. And he did partake and it was good.
d: Yea, and their father said unto his wife, "See the abundance of the cookies. Yea, there is such an abundance that one will not be missed by the classmates of the children."
d: And his wife did sigh and give him one of the broken cookies.
L: Behold, canst thou not hear the voice of one crying in the classroom? That lonely mortal who consumeth not a cookie?
d: But the mother, with all the concern of her heart, did take from the plate of the father and did give to the lonely child with no cookie. And it was good.
d: And thus is the account of the twelfth day of the second month of the two thousand eighth day since the coming of our Lord. And the household was blessed with much sweetness in preparation of the day to celebrate love.

And these cookies taste waaaaaaaay better than they even look. So yummy!

Demoted

2011-02-03T21:35:00.001-08:00

March 1st marks my 7-year anniversary as resident apartment manager at my current job.

When I started this job, I had zero experience. My Property Manager--we'll call her Tanya--liked that because she could train me her way. Even at the very beginning I'd ask a question and Tanya would answer something like, "Do what you think is best." Over the years she trusted me even more, I learned to trust myself, and we developed a friendship. When she walked in the door for our weekly meetings, she would turn to toddler-Alex and exclaim, "There's my boyfriend!!!!" She was too busy to eat sometimes, so I'd make an extra sandwich at lunchtime and have it ready when she got here. When Lee was born she gave me plenty of time to get back into my groove, and cooed and coddled him like he was her own. She taught me how to be a fabulous manager, put me up on a pedestal, assigned me to train 3 other managers, and asked my husband for permission to clone me.

Tanya was the best boss in the world.

But I've been demoted.

Now I'm the thorn in her side. When I was bumped from my pedestal, I didn't mind. (My pedestal replacement is a friend, supermom, and someone that I absolutely idolize--she's fabulous.) I understand that when the housing market tanked and I suddenly had 8(!!!) apartments to rent Tanya was put under a lot of pressure by the owner. I understand that the cost of gas changed our weekly meetings to bi-weekly, then monthly, then electronic-only. I understand that her responsibilities have increased exponentially in just the last few years. I also understand that my personal responsibilities have increased just as exponentially, and that there are certain aspects of my job where I don't excel (vacuuming common areas weekly, walking the grounds picking up garbage and cigarette butts, checking competitors' rates monthly).

What I don't understand is how I've fallen so far from grace. I still do my best to keep my apartments full, I still collect rent on time, I still send her the weekly information she's requested, I still answer the phones--mostly, I still advertise vacancies, I still address tenant concerns and do my best to resolve them. And yet, a recent email from her stated that my actions were causing "...chaos and confusion."

"Can I clone you?" ------> "Chaos and confusion."

That's quite a fall.

I'm angry. And I'm hurt.

What do I get for my almost 364 weeks of trying to do what she taught me? Staffing changes without my knowledge (for security purposes I sort of need to know who's coming & going), procedural changes in the middle of doing my job, responsibilites quietly being removed from my plate without telling me, and other w.e.i.r.d. things happening right under my nose that are kept confidential...like who's living 3 doors down from me. (I'm pretty sure I know, but can't figure out why it would be a big secret--he's already on the maintenance team.)

It's frustrating, it's maddening, it's ridiculous, it's a myriad of other things that ladylike fingers don't type.

But honestly, mostly I grieve for a lost friendship. My heart breaks that Tanya is so busy and overworked and focusing on the negatives that she's forgetting that I love her. My heart breaks for her because of the voids in her heart that she feels compelled to fill with work.

This hard thing has been a source of fervent--and sometimes angry--prayer. Prayer for Hubby to get into Spring quarter enrollment so I can get the &%$ out of here; prayer for my job to outlast his program start; prayer because I'm ticked off; prayer for peace for me and for her.

I prayed for peace and I received it. I am at peace. I have no idea what the next few weeks/months will hold. I have no idea where we will end up. I have no idea what the heck the future holds.

But He does. He knows, and I trust that--as always--Heavenly Father knows me, loves me and has what's best for me up His omnipotent sleeve. The faith-in-waiting game isn't an easy one to play, but I know that because He's in charge, it will be okay.

Whatever that is.

It has begun.

2011-01-21T08:16:00.000-08:00

When Abby was about 3 she loved all things frilly and poofy. Ruffles? check. Sparkles? check. Plastic jewels? check. Ready for the day.

At the same time, my most-fun sister was living half a continent away. Boo! We still kept in touch, but it wasn't the same as having her right here. One of the ways that she kept in contact was by finding fun stuff on ebay that she thought we needed. Raincoats, clothing, flying batman monkeys...you know--the necessities!

(Really. Two of them. My first response was, "Holy Flying Monkeys, Batman!" They're actually pretty fun, and when another sister found out that Lara had bought them for only the younger cousins, she was kinda jealous.)

So when Auntie Ebay found out that Abby loved frills and ruffles, she set to work and found something wonderful. (I've looked all over & can't find a picture of her in it, or one of a friend's daughter lying in a toddler bed wearing it, while Alex, dressed in Superman jammies, was leaning over to give her a Sleeping Beauty kiss. So priceless, and so elusive.)

Anyhow--Abby was thrilled to open the package that came in the mail. Before it was even all the way out of the padded envelope, she happy exclaimed, "A ballet!!!" Alas, it stank of cigarette smoke, so it hung on the back porch for about a week. (The previously mentioned friend's mom thought it was a mid-pregnancy announcement that Lee was a girl.)

Abby loved her 'ballet', and it was a great dress-up dress until she grew out of it.

And now--

--it fits. Enough.

Cora has started being picky about what she wears, but it's no surprise that she loves this dress. It doesn't match her jeweled sandals (I kind of have shoe envy over these), but who cares? When she's dressed like a princess and elicits admiring smiles wherever she goes, batting her beautiful dark lashes at smiling strangers, all I've got to say is, "Bring on the floof!"

The Thrill of the Kill

2011-01-06T22:58:00.000-08:00

I need to take a triumphant moment to celebrate and brag.

Last Christmas I was given two gifts that didn't quite work. One was a purse from my wonderful husband that was cool, but I couldn't imagine myself actually using. The other was a fun fleece jammie set from his mother in a Junior's size small...which I was, but am no longer. Boo x2.

So today I set about to exchange.

Stop 1--Kohl's to get bigger sized jammies. Alas, it was a seasonal gift set & there were none. So instead I hit the clearance racks because paying full price seems like a waste to me. I found a few things I liked, tried on plenty that didn't work, and came out with this:

Funky patterned shirt that does a fair job of being stylish and as flattering it can get with what it's got to work with (4 pregnancies and lots of Christmas goodies). Regular price $36.00--I paid $7.20. The bracelet was a cool find that goes really well with the shirt. Reg $18.00-->$3.60.

I always adore cool jewelry, clothes and shoes on other people kristenandaubrey, but don't even imagine wearing the same sort of stuff myself. I'm just a jeans & t-shirt sort of a girl. But I've decided that it's time to start stepping out of the Frumpy Zone.

This will help, I think. $18.00-->$3.60.

This one's the best. Not because it'll be my favorite to wear or get the most compliments, but for sheer value. Up close they look like shimmery little lip glosses or eyeshadows. $16.00-->$1.60. Oh yes, you read that right 90% OFF!!!!!

And the super crazy part is that the returned jammies in all their warm coziness came to the EXACT SAME AMOUNT as the shirt, necklace and bracelets. I could not have planned that any better! The Type A voice in my head is still giggling about that.

(Please excuse the lack of spaces between paragraphs here. I've got about a dozen in the html, but they don't show up. Pooh.)

I took my awesomeness right past the Lotto stand (where maybe I should have stopped) to Dress Barn to exchange the purse. I'd never been in there before, but have always wondered why on earth any woman would want to shop for clothes in a place with the word 'barn' in the name? mooooo. They must have amazing clothes, because the name is terrible!!

Anyway.

The selection was way smaller that I'd hoped, but I did pretty good, I think.

The skirt is fun (my boldly-fashioned sister really likes it), the pants are boring, but a sensible choice and came up at $9.00, about 1/2 of what I thought! BONUS! Thanks to the discounted pants, I had a little left on the you-can-only-get-in-store-credit-for-this-return-even-though-your-husband-paid-cash-for-the-purse card, so I headed over for the jewelry department. Fun there, too.

The matching earrings are sort of tempting me to finally get my ears pierced. We'll see...

Pants: $29.99 -->$9.00

Skirt: $29.99-->$12.00

Necklace/Earring set: $16.99-->$6.80

Total value: $164.97

Total 'paid': $43.80

Actual out-of-pocket expense: $3.09

Now is when I would normally invite you to bow down and worship the Bargain Queen, but my sister (who became engaged yes.ter.day) dropped by unexpectedly this evening to show me the GORGEOUS, modest, only a little too small plus-sized wedding dress that she found on Craigslist and picked up today for $150 PLUS found the exact same one at the Deseret Industries thrift store in Federal Way just a little smaller so if they need to alter the bigger one it can be from the same fabric/beading/etc for $60. 2 identical wedding dresses for $210. The day after she was proposed to. You can all bow to my toes & butt, 'cause I'm on the floor in front of HER!

Huh?

2011-01-05T15:12:00.001-08:00

I like to take amusing pictures. Well, I like to take pictures of things that I find amusing. They've been collecting, so I just now decided to put them all in one blog post.

(See? I can be spontaneous!)

This one isn't funny until you realize that this WAS a photo studio and was almost done being renovated into a pizza joint. The sign states, "NO CONSTRUCTION PARKING"

I was passing through over a year ago & did a triple-take of this sign, then had to turn around to get a picture. "The economy stinks, housing prices are falling and you can have this lot + house for only $1.3 million!!!" It wasn't even a great location!

I could use a cherry pitter, so this caught my eye. Until I noticed that the descriptive sentences under the three smaller circles read:

"Taller Trays to Fit Larger Gourmet Frosted Cupcakes" (for the berry colander)

"Removable Cupcake Trays are Perfect for Presentation"

"Features Finger Indents for Easier Cupcake Removal

oops.

This one's dark, so look closely at the arrow sign on the left.

Psst! Beef, Bacon and Turkey aren't technically vegetarian.

3.5

2010-12-10T08:00:00.001-08:00

3.5--hours of sleep I got after I went to sleep at midnight
3.5--what time it was that Lee came in to tell me that he wet Alex's bed...with Alex in it
3.5--hours of laundry that it'll take to recover from his recent bedwetting spree
3.5--gadzillion times I wondered why I wasn't sleeping
3.5--snowflake designs I envisioned
3.5--Christmas gifts I mentally hashed out while lying on my pillow
3.5--hours until the 7:00 alarm
3.5--hours of sleep that I did NOT get
3.5--web pages visited looking for hubby's Christmas gift. Hey, I may as well.
3.5--minutes spent chatting with an overseas Irish friend who wondered why I was up
3.5--hours of a nap I'd like to take this afternoon
3.5--chunks of 10 minutes that I'll likely get
0--late-night snacks I ate while I was up.

Hooray for life's small victories!

Now will someone please give Cora a dvd tutorial and direct me to my bed?

Happy Almost Blogiversary

2010-12-09T09:49:00.000-08:00

It's been nearly one whole year since I started my blog. Now that I'm pushing a year, I've made some discoveries, have tentative goals in mind and come up with a few queries to myself.

First and foremost, I'm wondering...why on earth did I start a blog in December? What the heck sort of loony nutcase am I? December isn't busy enough already, I guess.

When certain friends of mine would hint strongly that they'd love to read my blog, I always responded that with 4 children and 45 apartments I didn't have time. I was right. I don't. For a while there I was blogging almost regularly, but as of late, I haven't. There are a couple of reasons for that, though, and they come in the form of other realizations:
--I can blog or read. Not both. My recent lack of blogging was superceded by Catching Fire, Mockingjay and the Warriors series that Abby brought home from the library.
--The oldish Thumperism "If you can't say nuthin' nice, don't say nuthin' at all" applies to blogging. When my mood or stage in life is tainted with an undercurrent of malaise, hopelessness or tickedoffedness, I don't blog. Like that bag of feathers released into the wind, I'd rather just shut my e-trap & err on the side of non-offense.
--Blogging is an evening activity for me. When the kids don't get to bed on time or if the hubby's home, blogging gets put on the back burner.
--Or if I'm frantically trying to get Christmas crafts completed by my deadlines.

I do blog in my head, still, and have lots of pictures that I take and think to myself, "This'll make a really great blog post." Then I don't.

Another discovery I've made is that even though I dream of being a fabulous blogger with tons of followers and regular comments, there is a sacrifice required that I'm not sure I'm willing to make. It entails first becoming a regular follower and commenter on multiple other blogs. And that takes a lot of time. So I'm not sure that dream will ever come to fruition in this stage of life.

In the meantime, I'll keep going forward, treating listingloquacious as what it truly is: my own personal public journal. And because I want to blog more frequently, I will.

After Christmas.

Maybe she's born with it.

2010-11-09T12:08:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's Maybelline.

Letters On the Road

2010-10-22T15:28:00.000-07:00

Linking up with Julie at Foursons for this week's...

Dear Pedestrians,

You have the right of way. I am bigger and faster and deadlier and will keep an eye out for you and your well-being.

I am aware that when you're in a crosswalk, it is illegal for a vehicle to drive through that same crosswalk. But when a car is stopped, backing up traffic, waiting to turn until you're safely across the street, do you mind picking up the pace to a walk instead of mosey?

Sincerely,
Itchy Right Foot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Bikers,

I will share the road.

I don't mind it. I think it's great that you are getting exercise, reducing emissions and saving the world. Good for you! I have no problem with you on the side of my lane, and I will always make sure that I give you a little extra space. Heck! Certain areas in Seattle now have green boxes at the intersections that are only for cyclists!

That said, as long as you're throwing a tantrum to be given equal rights on the road, do you mind obeying the rules? If I did half the ridiculous things that I've seen you do, I'd have my license revoked! That big red roundish sign with the little corners and white letters means STOP!!!

Sincerely,
Equality means Equality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And though not a letter, a conversation with Lee that fits the theme:

"Mom, that girl just ran across the street."
"Yep. She made it safely, but probably should have waited until we passed."
"Yeah. Just like on Frogger."

Good News, Bad News

2010-10-19T17:09:00.001-07:00

Today's Good News, Bad News is prompted by the search for items for Abby's Halloween costume...

Good News: I found my purple & white flag team (dance team) skirt.
Bad News: She doesn't want to be a cheerleader this year.
Good News: The skirt still fits me and is a touch loose.
Bad News: I only put it on one leg.

Perfectly Imperfect

2010-10-16T15:24:00.001-07:00

My dad teaches an early-morning scripture study class to a group of high-schoolers in my hometown. When we visited a couple of weekends ago, he mentioned that he needed a completed piece of needlework for an object lesson that he was going to use in one of his lessons, where he could show these teenagers the front AND the back.

He didn't explain the symbolism, but there was no need. Everyone judges the front of the stitchery, noting the beauty, complexity, deciding if they like it or not, often commenting, "I could never do something like that." Maybe even feeling jealous that another person has the talents & skills necessary to complete such a work of art.

Rarely is the back side given a second thought.

The back is usually a mess. There are knots everywhere, intentionally placed so the stitches hold fast. In some places, there are large, clumpy, accidental knots of thread, bunched together in unattractive 'oops'es. Where the front may have delicate French knots or ordered stitches, the back is riddled with seemingly random lines stretching from here to somewhere inexplicable. And the stitches behind the lettering only vaguely resemble the inspiring words on the front.

The front would not be near as presentable if the back was not so imperfect.

We're all like that, though. Every single one of us has knots, 'oops'es and scars that we hide from others. They're past experiences, lessons learned, lessons still being learned, struggles that mold us and form us and make us into better versions of us. The problem comes when we see the back of our own tapestry in all its funkiness and compare it to the beautiful, finished front of everyone else's.

I had an oddball thought as I was driving down the freeway this afternoon. What if we all wore t-shirts that showed our struggles?
--Doesn't feel loved.
--Scared of job loss.
--Molested as a teenager.
--Not good enough.
--Afraid of doctor's test results.
--Marriage on the rocks.

What if we decided that our knots, scars and missed stitches are okay? What would happen if I wore a shirt that said, "Worried about money; Concerned that I'm screwing up my kids instead of teaching them right; Keep forgetting to put my husband first in my life."? Okay, it'd have to be a dress, but you get the point.

Would we think less of each other? Would the world be a better place because everyone just gets it out there & doesn't have to struggle alone? Would it be way more pessimistic and we'd all just concentrate on our woes instead of being grateful for our blessings? (There would be some benefits, because it would be easier to protect ourselves from criminals and the like.) But how would it all work out? Would we run to others to alleviate their pains and uplift them? Would be reach out to strangers to help bouy them up and lift their droopy souls?

Would we forget our own woes as we love & serve & help others?

Of course it's a fantastical idea, unrealistic in many ways. I just wish that there wasn't such a negative social stigma to seeing a therapist or being on an antidepressant or...being imperfect! I don't know a single person on the earth today who's perfect.

There's only been one, and it's good to remember sometimes that He loves me, knots and all.

Umm...

2010-10-13T19:17:00.000-07:00

Do you see it?

I had this super-mega bottle of bubble solution for months before I noticed it.

Gotta' love the power of the brain. And someone on staff who reads English.

Prayer & Pom Poms

2010-10-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Don't care who ya' are, ya' do, and I am no exception. Interestingly, some of the strengths that I really admire in other people just happen to be the things that I absolutely, completely, positively suck at.

Prayer is one of those things.

Not that I don't pray. I do it all the time. "Thanks for the green light. I really needed that, I'm almost out of gas." "Please help me find the van key because it's the only microchipped one we have." "Thank you for watching over Cora because she just woke up from a nap and pulled a penny out of her mouth." That sort of thing. Lots and lots of thoughts, emotions and requests sent heavenward.

It's the prayer prayer that I'm terrible at. Like the consistently-get-down-on-my-knees-pour-out-my-soul-leave-my-burdens-at-His-feet-and-let-Him-fill-me-back-up prayer. All too often I feel like my relationship with my Heavenly Father is like the dear friend I see very occasionally for a couple hours of good catching up, but otherwise just touch bases through facebook.

Nothing to be proud of. And I'm not.

Last weekend as I watched and listened to His word for me, I was lovingly nudged back to Him, and reminded that He wasn't the one who got lazy. So I've been thinking of ways to keep myself motivated and on track. I think I've found what will work for me until it becomes a habit:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's a reward jar. I figured if the kids can get stickers for using a potty, peanuts for quiet mornings or raffle tickets for positive behavior, I can work toward filling my own jar! To make it attainable, I'm using craft pom poms first, then beans later. (And yes, siblings of mine, that IS the smallest and last-remaining of the glass set of canisters that Mom had on her counter for years. I kept it. I have no idea why, but I did. And now it has a purpose.) It was a bit tricky coming up with a reward, because I can get a donut or quarter or new headband whenever I want. It's one of the glories of being a grown up. After a bit of thought, I decided that my reward would be a record of progress.

So this morning as I let my fingernail top-coat dry, I very carefully wrote my State of Being: where I am in all aspects of my life...physical, relationship, financial, spiritual, etc. (And then I prayed, earning me that first big, sparkly puffball. Not remotely coincidentally, the kids & I had one of the best house-cleaning days we've ever had for the most part. I was full of praise and patience, Lee didn't have a single time-out today & he behaved better than his older siblings!) When my retro jar is full of colorful puffiness, I'll record my State of Being at that time, and again when it's full of beans.

I look forward to looking back and seeing the distinct differences in pretty much all areas of my life, because this one thing touches everything in large and small ways. That will be such a great reward. So wish me luck.

Bag that. Just keep me in your prayers. You'll be in mine.

Kitchen Milestone

2010-09-26T22:14:00.000-07:00

Waffles are an art.

Well, they are for my husband. When I make them, I make pretty much the same batter as I would for pancakes, but a little thinner & just throw it in the waffle iron. Riah, however, takes the time to separate the egg whites, beat them into a beautiful, soft-peaky froth and fold them gently into the rest of the batter. The work is worth it, because he makes the best waffles ever! They're light, fluffy, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Warm, butter, syrupy heaven.

The Waffle Master has taken on a young padawan, and today she passed her first Waffle Test.

Very often when the children are hungry and ask that eternal question, "What's for lunch?" we respond, "What are you making?" Another derivation is, "Can we have _____?" Typically we answer, "Sure! You makin' it?" They usually just react with mild exasperation or maybe to insist, "Mom! I don't know how! I'm not big enough!" (Our children will either grow to be incredibly sarcastic or able to not take themselves too seriously. I hope it's the latter.)

Today, however, when Abby reminded me that we had recently promised waffles in the near future and I countered with the "You doin' it?" question, she very matter-of-factly and responsibly replied, "Yes."

And she did.

She wanted no help, not even when Alex begged to crack the eggs. It was hard for me not to volunteer help or give tips. I stayed out of the kitchen so as not to interfere. (She did need a little help, as the recipe mix needed tripling, and multiplying fractions isn't something that this 4th grader has mastered yet. But other than that, she was good!) She measured, she beat, she mixed dry and wet in separate bowls, she cooked...she did everything! (She used a mix, not the from-scratch recipe that her dad does...that'll come in time.) Besides the occasional sandwich, she's never taken on a beginning-to-end kitchen project before.

She was quite proud of herself, and so are we.

And the other munchkins liked them, too.

Cora's was half eaten during the prayer.

I Yam what I Yam and that's all that I Yam.

2010-09-13T22:57:00.000-07:00

I am...logical.
I am...pragmatic.
I am...creative.
I am not...Shauna.
I am...funny.
I am...witty.
I am not...the life of the party.
I am...young and vital.
I am not...the reflection in the mirror. Who IS that???
I am...accepting.
I am...forgiving.
I am...confident.
I am...insecure.
I am...34.
I am not...pushing middle-aged.
I am...frugal.
I am not...flamboyant.
I am...God-fearing.
I am not...God-fearing enough.
I am...smarter than your average bear.
I am...smarter than your average 34yo MWF.
I am not...a genius. But don't tell the kids.
I am...a party planner.
I am not...Aubrey.
I am...organized.
I am not...CDO (OCD, but put in alphabetical order, the way it should be).
I am...a mother.
I am...a daughter.
I am...a wife.
I am...a sister.
I am...an aunt.
I am...a friend.
I am...a Princess, as my Father is a King.
I am not...perfect.
I am...loved.

TYVM--Warning!! Yuck factor below...

2010-09-02T20:23:00.000-07:00

I'm linking up to Kmama's blog, via Rachel's blog. Never done it before, so let's hope it works!

Thank You Very Much is a fun way to administer a bit of sarcastic self-therapy.

My Dearest Cora,

For not throwing a fit when I removed your sister's underwear out of your hands while I was sorting dirty clothes and being satisfied with the little princess pair that I pulled out of your own drawer...

...Thank You Very Much.

For waiting until I was out of the room to remove the rest of your clothes, including your diaper...

...Thank You Very Much.

For fussing nervously to alert me that your way was blocked and you couldn't get your naked self down from your sister's bunkbed...

...Thank You Very Much.

For pausing on the second rung up the ladder to attend to a certain natural process, leaving a ginormous pile of it on the ladder, unknowingly barricading yourself on Abby's bed...

...Thank You Very Much.

For leaving little poo spots all over the mattress and bedding (including big fluffy comforter) that I just washed...

...Thank You Very Much.

For putting your perfectly clean diaper in the garbage as you nakified yourself...

...Thank You Very Much.

For doing it again in the hallway mere hours later...

...NO Thank You Very Much!!!

What do YOU do in the summertime?

2010-09-02T19:47:00.000-07:00

There is a song that I sang as a child at church. I could never remember all the words, because there are so many, and not necessarily linked together in any manner other than rhyming. It lists things that you do in the summertime, and it's a cute song. I've often wished that I knew the lyrics better so I could sing them at will.

A few weeks ago, our Primary music leader, Shauna, made the comment, "I wish someone would come up with new words to this song." That set my wheels a-turnin, and as soon as we got in the car, I challenged my kiddos to think of things that we do in the summertime. I set them to rhyme, emailed them to Shauna, and the next Sunday, guess what we all sang?

Oh, What Do You Do In The Summertime, AbbyAlexLee-style:

The pictures that she came up were amazing, of course, because it was Shauna.

Oh, what do you do in the summertime, when all the world is green?
Do you walk in the park? Stay up after dark?
Pick blackberries for a pie?
Is that what you do? So do I.

Lots of syllables in this one--gotta' sing it fast!

Put the emphasis on 'on.'

(In Primary, she prefaced the song by explaining that she'd been sitting up front, watching Lee launch from his seat and belly flop spread-eagled on the floor again and again. She wondered what he was doing (besides being a squirmy 4yo boy), but when we sent her the lyrics about the Blue Angels, she knew--he was being a Blue Angel! The kids thought it was cool that everyone was singing a song that we created from our own family's experiences, and Lee absolutely lit up when the part about the Blue Angels--his contribution--came up.

I love Shauna.

Are you a Good Witch, or a Bad Witch?

2010-08-09T22:57:00.000-07:00

Recently a friend posted on facebook that her wings were in the shop getting re-glittered, but she had her broom. I laughed because it was relatable. All to relatable.

Today this was me...

Absolutely, totally, 100% Wicked Witch of the West. I'm not even sure why. Maybe the headache, maybe the fatigue, maybe the asking-six-times-to-get-dressed-and-an-hour-later-you're-all-still-in-jammies got to me. Whatever it was, my Patience Meter was definitely in the red.

I had to run a work-related errand, so figured that while I was out, I'd take the munchkins to the library to turn in their summer reading charts. It went fine, but afterward we sat for at least five minutes in the parking garage waiting for Lee to buckle his seatbelt. I tried to be patient, I really did. For a while. Then the Wicked Witch lashed out and I hollered at him to just buckle his seatbelt!!!! Finally Abby begrugingly acquiesced to my request to help her brother buckle up. Nice of her, because earlier in the trip he noted that he didn't want to sit by her because he didn't like her. Charming.

I am afraid that I was rather unkind to the others, too, so I put myself in a Mommy Time-Out when we came home. Tired, headachy, cranky mommies sometimes best serve their children by removing themselves. So I did. I told the children that I was going to rest and they needed to stay downstairs. Lee came in FIVE TIMES! Each time I made it clear that he needed to leave, trying to be conscientious about my level of rudeness. As it turns out, the older children were sending him in to ask if they could watch a movie because they "...didn't know 'resting' meant 'sleeping' " and because they didn't want to come in themselves. Stinkers. I gave up on my nap, but was a little better.

Every now and then when I have days like these when I wish that I could be alone. Sometimes I sort of envy my husband just a little bit because he gets to leave for hours on end and not hear the bickering and arguing and whining and yelling and and and... Immediately I feel guilty about it because there are numerous people in the world who would give anything to be me. Today I drove past a Boys & Girls Club and saw a whole passel of kids proceeding on to some activity. I had a fleeting desire to send my kids there instead of keep them home all day. They'd have a lot more fun, that's for sure! Of course, the desire was fleeting because I chose this and this is what I want.

I want to teach them. I want to see them learn and hear them play and witness when Cora reaches out and gently caresses Alex's cheek.

I really hate when I'm a total swear word to them. They're so trusting and loving and malleable. I don't want them to look back and remember Mom as being volatile, impatient and cutting. I want to be good, kind, patient, uplifting, beautiful, helpful, steady and an emotional rock that they can depend upon. I want my Munchkins to run to me, not away. I want to be Glinda.

I am learning...

2010-07-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

...that I don't need much of the stuff that I possess.
...to let go of the things that I don't.
...not to do it when the children are around.
...that even though summer is too hot, it is also too short. I don't have the time to schedule all the park play dates and take (send) the kids on all the fun adventures that I'd like.
...that Vacation Bible School is a great, inexpensive way to entertain the children for a week.
...that jumping in is better that wading. But I'm too much of a sissified ninnymonger to do it that way.
...Harry Potter is cooler than Twilight.
...ebay can be profitable for others, but mostly it's a waste of time for me.
...you can get screaming deals on ebay, like $.99 for a handful of Italian-made clothes.
...that showering on a daily basis is not a necessity.
...deodorant is.
...that red meat gives my daughter stinky pits.
...to bring 2 barf buckets on road trips.
...to push ginger herb tea & ginger cookies to avoid the use of the barf buckets.
...about plenty of the things that I did as a young mother that are proving to be the wrong way to produce the results I desire.
...that it's too late to fix some of them.
...not to beat myself up over mistakes of inexperience.
...how to love other people's children that I don't particularly care for.
...that talking to children about sex isn't really so bad if you start early and treat it simply and matter-of-factly.
...some things that I keep learning over and over and over again.
...that even though 35 is the new 25, my body is still out of shape, has borne 4 children and badly needs chiropractic care. But it's not too late.
...that eating sugar makes me break out.
...that my husband's Love Language is not the landslide that I thought. He's got a close second that explains a lot.
...that things change, times change, situations change, and no matter how hard you can try to make it work, sometimes it's just best to cut ties and walk away, even if you're walking into the unknown.

And it's okay.

Missed-Nap Love Letter

2010-07-13T20:20:00.000-07:00

Today you missed your nap.

Well, not really. I did lay you down. Twice. But you climbed out of your crib, unlocked the door, opened it and came down, happy to tell me about your achievement. You really should have slept, but I figured that the 'lock you in' trick wasn't working, so I gave up. Anyway, how can I put something so smart and determined and happy and CUTE back to bed?

Instead, you played outside with your siblings and helped me make applezini muffins--by "help" I mean that when my back was turned, you stuck your chubby fingers into the applesauce, shredded zucchini and batter to get a nibble.

After dinner you started screaming. I checked your bum, and found a mess that was really irritating your ouchy rash. During the diaper change you writhed, screamed and wailed. Not even a cool cloth on your burny nether-regions convinced you to turn off the tantrum.

So I did the only thing that I could think of. I held you. And rocked. And quietly sang the songs that bring me peace in times of turmoil and tantrum: I Am a Child of God, I Know My Father Lives, Teach Me To Walk in the Light, Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam. It worked like a charm, as usual. You didn't mind the number of times that I changed keys or cracked or simply struggled to hit the right note. There's just something about Mom's soft voice singing songs of the Spirit that brings quiet.

After a while you fell asleep.

Your full lips were just the right shape for kissing, so I did. Again and again and again and again. Your long, dark lashes don't all lay the right way, did you know? Some curl before they reach the length of the others. I'd never noticed before. I kissed your tear-wet eyes, too. Your face was a total mess. I think that crusty blob in your eyebrow once originated in your nose, but it could also have been batter. Probably batter. We never did get you your bath today, so your hair still smelled faintly of the stick of butter that you quietly demolished this morning.

As I rocked you, the evening sun cut through the blinds, the stripey shadows moving across the contours of your soft, round face. And in that lighting, the oils in your skin shattered the sunlight into spectrums of rainbows shimmering across your cloud-soft, perfect, dirty little face. Your chest moved rhythmically up and down as your breathing relaxed and deepened.

I wanted to capture the moment, so when Alex came in, I sent him to have Dad bring me the camera. He brought it and the others came to see what was camera-worthy. Each of them paused to marvel at your cute sleepihood. They adore you. We all do.

Thank you for coming to our family. You were--and continue to be--the best surprise I've ever had.

Laundry Letters

2010-07-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Children,

Laundry is not done magically. Your dresser drawers are not bottomless like the drinks at Red Robin. They do not automatically refill when they get low on clean clothes.

Do you notice that your father and I share a laundry basket? You each have your own, but we two grown-ups with grown-up sized clothing have one.

Abby, please explain to me why I wash clothes every couple of weeks that I never see actually draped over your body parts. How does that work? And the next time I sort stinky, folded shirts, I swear, girl, you're doin' your own!

Alex, I am rather frightened that I wash a week's worth of laundry and fold two pairs of little unders for you. You have plenty. Wear them. Please.

Lee, considering that I have to beg, plead and order you to wear them at all, why am I folding a dozen of yours? And 'how because' your laundry pile is twice as tall as anyone else's, excepting Mom AND Dad's basket of three-times-as-large clothes?

Cora, thank you for your "help" sorting. Moving already-sorted laundry from one basket to another, however, constitutes UN-sorting. You're a very good helper. Now stop. And unless you're developing some sort of nighttime podiatric braille-reading program, get your cute, chubby, jammied foot off the book!

And everyone, the water stays in the tub. Towels may be used more than once. Unless, of course, they were used to take care of the water.

Much love,

The Laundry Fairy

Summer Conundrum

2010-07-06T15:31:00.000-07:00

Summer should consist of two months of sending the kids out to play. (Well, really it should be three, but that's for the school district to decide.) They should be spending their time making daisy chains, swimming, creating elaborate plotlines in the woods with their friends, sitting in the shade eating popsicles, living in flip-flops, running to show me blackberry-purple fingers, turning the sidewalks into chalky art, sending bubbles into the atmosphere, lying in the grass watching it grow, running, biking, scootering and feeling the freedom that summer embodies.

After their chores are done.

I think it's only fair that if they contribute to making a household mess, they should learn to be responsible for cleaning it up. I feel that it's not a large expectation for them to spend a little time in the mornings completing their small chores on the job chart (30 minutes), making sure that their bedroom floors are tidied (10 minutes, they're not very dirty), keeping up on school skills (15 minutes) and practicing piano (10 minutes).

So why is it almost 4:00 and they're not close to going outside?

I've spent the last 5+ hours reminding them, steering them back on course and redirecting their Distract-O-Selves. That and breaking up fights. And trying not to listen to the tattling.

I'm completely irritated because I've got days of work to catch up on and they're screaming and fighting in the background. Do I give up my requirement that they contribute to the well-being of the household and send them outside so that I can have some quiet? Or do we spend the rest of the summer inside, attempting to teach them that it only takes a long time when you lie down and complain about it for 45 minutes. If you get up and do it, it should take about 10 minutes. If I send them outside, it sends the message that the prerequisites don't matter and don't listen to Mom because she'll cave anyway.

Mean Mom with children who grow up to be responsible, capable adults?
Fun Mom with entitled children who take for granted what they have?

How do other parents do it? How do you teach your children to just get their stuff done so they can play? Or do the whole of the household responsibilities simply fall on the parents?

Either way, summer ain't shapin' up to be fun for anybody!

LegoBug

2010-07-02T00:42:00.001-07:00

Alex's Lego Ladybug:

Not the way that I would've constructed it, but he's proud of it. And that's what's important.

Lost & Found

2010-06-22T22:38:00.000-07:00

Lost:
Youthful Midsection. Does not extend further than bra in profile photos, bloop over waistband or measure larger than bust measurement. Last seen with Hips that Hold Up Pants.

Found:
Slightly deflated pool floaty filled with Jell-O.

Please contact me to claim your dumb floaty. It looks ridiculous on me.

Can you hear...what I'm saying?

2010-06-21T23:09:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm about to reveal my true level of geekage.

I loved Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Jean-Luc Picard with his Earl-Grey tea, Ryker, Worf, LaForge and his cool visor, Westley--I loved the whole lot of 'em! Alright, I still do, but not on a weekly basis. Anymore. Often I think of Deanna Troi, and not simply that it was wrong on so many levels that she chose Worf over Ryker, who was handsome AND human. How could she even be attracted to Worf's cold, warrior, ridged-foreheaded self? Okay, Ryker had facial hair that would chap her lips from time to time, but at least his teeth weren't all pointy and he at least smiled!

I digress.

Deanna Troi was an Empath. She had the ability to sense others' feelings, thus the very ingenious name of her humanoid race. But when she was with other Empaths, like her nosy mother, they had a telepathic connection.

Which is the part that I think about far too frequently than I should admit.

Wouldn't it just be so much easier if we all knew each other's thoughts? Dating would be much simpler, I think. No more "'My stomach has felt funny since our date last night.' 'Mine too, I ate 3 plates of spaghetti at my dad's house'" miscommunications. How would marriages fare? Would the divorce rate decrease because we knew our spouses' thoughts or increase because, well, we knew our spouses' thoughts? Who would our elected leaders be if we could skip over the rhetoric and understand directly their genuine thoughts and motives? Lawyers would be out of a job. Lying would be obsolete and I'd know exactly who didn't flush and CLEARLY didn't wipe.

There would be no surprise parties, which would be a bummer, and Christmas morning would be a total bust. American Greetings would go out of business, because what would be the point in wrapping paper?

I watched parts of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs the other day with my kiddos. One of the inventions that the main character comes up with is a thingamadealio that allows us to hear the thoughts of his pet monkey, Steve. (Steve!!!) Interestingly, the same technology is used in Disney/Pixar's Up to translate dogs' thoughts--squirrel!--, but without the stylin' headband that Steve gets to wear.

I'd seriously like one of those. Or to be an Empath. Or something so that when I try to have a difficult conversation with someone we can just strap on the groovy headband & actually communicate! I'd love to skip over the discrete phrasing and wading through a range of emotions to get to the one that's just right and finding the best word for it that will properly and effectively communicate to the other party exactly what I'm thinking and feeling without offending or stepping on toes or having to backpedal because that word wasn't quite the right one and you interpret it to mean a certain thing but because of this life experience I had it means something just a little different and while it's not catastrophic to me, it seems to be a big thing to you. Phew! Can we just get past the formalities and connect?

That's what I want. I want to be able to know what you feel and have you be conscious of my thoughts.

But I don't want to have to kiss a Klingon.

PS--Extra points if you can identify the song that the post title came from.

My Summer Plans

2010-06-19T19:40:00.001-07:00

To do this Summer:
--teach Lee his numbers with the memory game I made for him
--when he knows 1-5, start him in piano lessons (he wants to)
--teach Lee a lot of his letters with the same sort of game (he loves memory)
--have play dates with our friends before they move
--schedule a weekly park day with school friends to solidify friendships before the first day of school
--okay, that one's partly for me, because I want to hang out with the moms, too
--have daily 'summer school' for 30 minutes or so
--do summer reading programs & get lots of rewards
--daily multiplication & division drills with Abby
--enlist the neighbor to do it with her, because it's more fun that way
--have fun
--heap praise on my children for the good things that they do and for the good people that they are

Am I the Only One?

2010-06-19T19:08:00.001-07:00

Today is Saturday. Thursday was the last day of school: the beginning of summer, the end of confinement and the commencement of freedom from homework, early waking and daylight bedtimes.

I'm ready to send them back.

It's been two days and I've already had my fill of bickering, fighting and wailing. I've overheard too many times:
"MOM! I ACCIDENTALLY BUMPED LEE AND NOW HE'S TRYING TO HIT ME!"
or
"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE PLAYED WITH IT!"
"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT IT AWAY!"
"WELL IT'S NOT YOURS, YOU SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH IT!"
or
"ALEX I TOLD YOU TO GO LIKE THIS!"
"I ONLY WENT LIKE THIS!"
"GO LIKE THIS!"
"I WAS, BUT IN FAST MOTION!"
smack
"OW!"

That's my favorite. "Ow." We hear it a lot around here, because it's a direct result of the way that Lee processes his displeasure. By hitting. There are not words to fully communicate how tired I am of hearing, "Lee's trying to hit me with a stick!" Aren't they supposed so play nicely if they're outside?

A great indication of the frequency of verbally-expressed frustration around here is Cora. Her first word was "peekaboo" followed by "nonononono," "num," "Mommy" and her newest: "bobbip." Stop it. No kidding. No joke. No exaggeration. The child with less than 10 words in her vocabulary says 'stop it.'

Lee expresses everything in physical ways. Alex and Abby are tired of being pushed around by their little brother, so treat him less than respectfully. Abby talks to him like he's a germ. In turn, he pesters them more, pokes them oftener and hits them harder. He's mean to them, so they're rude to him in return. It's all a wicked downward spiral, and Cora's catching on. Ugh. One day (inabouttwentyyears) they'll realize that the golden rule really does work, and that he'll begin to treat them nicely when they're nice to him for more than 5 seconds. And he'll realize that hitting them isn't producing the desired result of obesiance.

And in the meantime, I'd like to enroll in year-round school. Starting Monday. Can Lee start kindergarten a year early?

SEVEN???

2010-06-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Alex!

This morning you did the funniest thing. Abby had already gotten you up because she was excited to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. You two were downstairs rummaging for clean clothes and you said, "Let's check" and held out your arms for a measuring hug. I sensed a little disappointment, but it didn't last long after you noted, "It doesn't feel much different." Funny boy.

You were thrilled to help put together your class birthday treat last night, and you were excited to show it to your teacher and classmates. Not a single crumb came home, so it must have been a hit. Nice selection.

I can always count on you to make a selfless decision when you're given the chance to make your own choice. When Dad almost had to work this evening and miss your birthday waffle & sausage dinner (plus cake & presents), you were really sad until he suggested that maybe you could go do something special later with him. Thanks for being willing to let him go do what he needed to do. Your huge smile nearly brought tears to my eyes when you found out he didn't have to go.

You've always been like that, though. Even before you were born. At 37 weeks you were sitting contentedly upright in my belly, not upside-down like you were supposed to. I sat with headphones in my lap for a couple of days and even tried turning myself upside-down. (Besides being a feat to get myself there on the couch, I almost suffocated once your baby weight was pressing on my lungs. That didn't last long.) You never did turn, so your Dad & I went in to have someone turn me into human play-doh and try to move you from the outside. Lo and behold, you had turned overnight. I didn't even notice it!

You talked when you were good & ready, you potty-trained when you wanted to. When you were small and Abby swiped a toy, you'd scream and yell about it. But after I intervened & gave the toy back to you so she could ask nicely, you happily gave it to her.

Perfectly willing to cooperate...on your own terms.

You've always been on the small end of things. I think it's because when you were a baby, you wanted to eat on your own terms. You wouldn't eat baby food unless you could control the spoon. By yourself! So we sort of skipped the baby food stage, and you went straight to finger foods, even though you didn't have teeth yet! Just before you started kindergarten, I told your Aunt Carin that I was concerned about you being so small. Her response changed my whole understanding of you: "Yeah, but only on the outside."

She was right. Not including your body, all of you is big: you think big, you feel big, you love big, you play big, you have big expectations and big frustrations. You feel all of your emotions to their fullest, and I love watching that.

Alex, you bring peace and joy to my soul.

You are kind, loving, selfless, giving, happy, obedient, helpful, smart, funny and such a handsome guy!

(It's no wonder that you're Cora's favorite.)

Even if you never do grow to be very large, you'll always fill my heart.

I'm not dead...yet!

2010-06-06T20:57:00.000-07:00

Today my sister posted that she's going through blog withdrawal. I've been very conscious that it's been weeks since I posted anything, and I'm trying to figure out why.

Maybe it's because...

...my boss has once again raised the axe above my job status and reminded me that I need to do ALL of the agreed-upon parts of my job, in addition to the other requirements that have been added 1 or 4 at a time over the last 6 years. Back to walking the property picking up trash daily (with kids), vacuuming the 3-story secure building & washing windows weekly (with kids) PLUS mailing monthly renewal letters PLUS emailing certain things on 4 certain dates during the month PLUS scanning & emailing documents to her 2-3 times a month PLUS PLUS PLUS... Oh, and when people come to the door, close it behind me because my house is too messy for potential tenants to see.

...I've been trying to get some semblance of an exercise schedule down because in less than 6 weeks I'm doing the 3-mile running leg of a mini-triathlon. (I can't currently run more than 1.5 miles at a time, and there'd better be no uphills!)

...we've recently implemented a new positive-reinforcement discipline strategy with the children in order to combat the craziness that is my home.

...Thursday mornings now find me sitting in on Abby's math lesson so I know what the HECK they're teaching so I can help her when she's lost in her homework that afternoon. (last week it was right, acute and obtuse triangles followed by equilateral, isosceles and scalene triangles. i.n. t.h.i.r.d. g.r.a.d.e.)

...her teacher and I have been meeting, emailing and rallying the troops to get down to the bottom of why on earth Abby won't ask for help, contribute in class, finish her homework and complete any sort of project in a reasonable amount of time. It's involving meeting after school 1-2 times per week with the school's math specialist and even with the school counselor! Figure it out and try our darnedest to start remedying it.

...my husband is home from his working-abroad stint which means that I'm spending more time with him in the evenings, instead of with my keyboard and glowing monitor.

That just might be it.

This month could be better. Or worse. So far:

June 1--be surprised that it's already June. I think we skipped a couple of months since January.

June 3--do the math & realize that I need to plan 2 birthday parties...like NOW. love evite all over again.

June 4--purchase bridal shower gift, get so soaked in the rain that the handle pops out of the Crate & Barrel box. really.

June 4--stay up until 4:00 in the morning with coughing, wheezing baby. sleep mostly upright with baby on my torso so she can breathe.

June 5--make Saturday appointment for hubby to take baby to doc

June 5--attend bridal shower

June 5--sign new lease

June 6--visit with mil & step fil for a few hours on their whirlwind grandkid-visiting weekend

June 7--deposit remainder of rent & post notices for any unpaid

June 8--go to school early to set up kid-sized tepee & tent in Alex's classroom for Camp Learned A Lot

June 8--make cool cookie/frosting/licorice centipede to take to Alex's class tomorrow

June 9--Alex's 7th birthday (get gifts & make cake prior)

June 9--possibly skip church ladies' group evening of book sharing and strawberry shortcake...we'll see... I really deserve that shortcake by now.

June 10--take birthday treats to Abby's class because June 27th is after school's out

June 10--attend Abby's class's musical production of The Internal Organ Hall of Fame

June 10--take hubby to the evening production, too

June 11--field trip with Alex's class to the park. take younger kids with. yay!!

June 7-11--prepare for big party I'm throwing that was supposed to be in May because June is way too crazy but key characters were a) out of the state b) out of the country c) having a baby d) all of the above. yeesh! (don't feel guilty, aubrey. your mother's hip replacement is much more important than my insanity, and I'm glad it went well.)

June 12--sign new lease

June 12--start showing apartments that haven't been vacated yet

June 12--set up for & enjoy party, see friends I haven't seen in a few years

June 14-16--plan 2 birthday parties: outdoor-activities for boys & kitchen science for girls

June 15--sign new lease (will someone please tell my boss that I'm rockin' my job?)

June 15--man the egg-on-a-spoon booth at field day

June 16--take veggies to Alex's end-of-year pizza party

June 16--Alex's birthday party

June 17--last day of school

June 17--Abby's birthday party (yes, they're back-to-back. sometimes it's easier that way.)

June 19--attend baby shower

June 19--sign new lease (hello?? 4 leases in a MONTH???)

June 20--Father's Day, get with friends & have missionaries over for dinner

June 21-26--take a very, very small breather

June 25--head to Spokane for Hoopfest

June 27--Abby's 9th birthday (have gifts & cake arranged prior)

June 27--come home... or maybe we'll just stay forever... It's too crazy at my house!

'One of these things is not like the other.'

2010-05-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

Imagine for a moment that you are in a room full of 6-year-olds. Now imagine that you ask for one volunteer to go to Disneyland with you. It's easy to envision the excited cacophony that would ensue, each first-grader jumping, squealing, raising his or her hand high enough to (nearly) grab a handful of moon rocks. They so badly want to be the chosen one.

It's kind of like that every time I walk in my front door. Except my willing participants are not excited kiddos, but tasks yelling at me to be completed. It makes it rather difficult to look forward to coming home from anything. Friday morning I dropped off Lee and his preschool carpool-mate Lily to have their heads filled with wondrous things by someone other than their mothers. A few blocks from home I started the process of deciding what I'd do with the two hours of 'free' time that I had in front of me. There were so many options to consider that I did the best thing I know: I made a list.

Possible things to do before the preschool pickup:
-shower
-shave
-kitchen
-walk through now-vacant apartment 404
-check rent
-ready deposit
-go to bank
-pick up YMCA enrollment paperwork
-drop off 6 big boxes of donations at the church parking lot across town
-11:10 preschool show
-vacuum living room
-plant primroses that have been waiting over a month to go into the planter box on the property
-weed the front bed
-balance checkbook
-load 6 big, heavy boxes into the van
-vacuum property common areas
-walk grounds to pick up trash
-post online ad for Riah's van
-balance checkbook
-pay bills
-pick up priority mail boxes at post office for ebay stuff
-plan healthy menu
-vacuum last-last-weekend sand from van and remove towels we've been sitting on
-gather tax info to file (we extended)
-remove dead rat under the porch (thanks, neighborhood cat)

In a way, the list is daunting. It's nowhere near my insanely overwhelming Master List of Things to Do, but it's relieving that these are merely options of things I could choose to do in this short amount of time, not things required to complete by a certain time. There's no way that they'll all get done, but they all sit and holler at me to be completed. All day, every day they and their Things to Do compadres yell at me to be worked on. Sometimes I just want to stick my fingers in my ears, close my eyes and scream at the top of my lungs for them all to just shut up. Except we don't say that at our house. It's not kind.

Here's what DID get done:
-shower
-shave
-tumble back seat and shove 6 big boxes into back of van
-check rent
-ready deposit
-walk through now-vacant apartment 404
-call tenant to notify her of the apartment's condition
-call power company to put power in business name
-call tenant to ask that she take power out of her name the day she moved, not a week prior
-call tenant right back because I forgot to get her forwarding address
-call blind company to find out why they charged us for a vertical blind header repair and replacement
-show tenant in 502 where the extra storage is
-rearrange 3 storage units so that I'm taking up only 2
-move shelves out of the unit 502 wants to put into my bedroom (yay!)
-sweep out that storage unit
-begin to remove moving boxes, coat hooks and full-length mirror from 404
-go down to maintenance office to find fully-charged drill to finish the job
-notice that it's 11:00
-drop everything and go to preschool show
-drive across town to drop off boxes
-wait a bit because the trailer's not there yet (we were 20 minutes early)
-kill time at Subway getting lunch
-make note to never, ever feed Cora a part of a sub with too much mustard in a restaurant booth
-clean up the best I can
-be thankful I'm wearing black jeans that don't show mustard...much
-go back to church to drop boxes
-pick up YMCA membership paperwork
-go back to church to drop boxes
-wait for truck to bring trailer
-get call on cell from Wendy at 12:20
-rush home to get fax for the tenant she's moving in 10 minutes

Okay, the boxes never did get dropped off, as the trailer never did show up. I eventually had to rearrange them to un-tumble my back seat so I could pick up Abby from Student Council meeting, after which I eventually deposited the rent checks. You may have noticed that List A did not precisely match List B.

My life kinda works like that. Every day. I did get 7 things from List A finished. The others weren't on that list, but they were either already on the Master List or were about to add themselves. Some tasks jump to the top because they are a high priority (clearing up the mis-billing), others get chosen for reasons inexplicable (like blogging right now).

As I sit and think about my list of today's possibles, I wonder: how do I get picked to go to Disneyland?

Full circle with a twist

2010-04-27T21:38:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things about being a mom is listening to the kids play. I love hearing pretend diabolical plots unfold, personal experiences and issues emerge and creativity blossom. When they get to a certain age it sounds something like this:

"Let's say my name is Fire Ninja because I can fight with fire with my Fire Powers."
"And my name is Ice Ninja because I have Ice Powers."
"Yeah, and I was captured by the bad guys so you have to save me. 'Ice Ninja! I'm over here! The bad guys captured me! Come save me!'"
"And I freed you (you're free), but when I was getting you out of being captured the bad guys captured me and took me over here and put me in a jail made of lava."
"And because it was so hot you couldn't use your Ice Powers, but I can use my Fire Powers (enter verbal sound effect of the Fire Powers), so I saved you and we got away..."

What I especially love is the "and you said" part, followed by the other person actually saying those exact words. But I think the underlying reason I love it is because I did the exact same thing! We even had powers and bad guys and there was almost always lava! Admit it. You did it too.

Like jinxing and rock-paper-scissors, it's one of those things that gets passed on from kid to kid (not parent to child) with very minimal changes.

But the other day as I stepped outside to check on my monkeys I overheard a play conversation between a couple of the neighbor kids:

Sheri, carrying a bag of mini-marshmallows: "And I texted you to ask if you want a snack."
Mike, standing about 20 feet away and responding on a pretend phone: "And I texted you back 'not yet.'"
"And I texted that I'll be over here when you want it."
"And I texted you 'okay.'"

Even re-reading it it makes me chuckle. Naturally play reflects real life, but it's still funny to me. What will parents overhear in a hundred years?

"And I got in my hover car, but the dilithium crystals were gone."
"And you said, 'Now I can't steer my hover car.'"
"Now I can't steer my hover car, and the bad guys are right above us."
"But if you go down you'll fall in the lava."
"So I use my Wind Powers to blow us over the lava."
"And your Wind Powers blow lava on the bad guys so we're safe."

Duo-lly Noted

2010-04-21T22:36:00.001-07:00

Dear Po,

I love your movie. I love nearly every single nanosecond of it. Except one part.

Did you really have to go there? Now my boys (especially my 4-year-old) run around the house, yelling, "OH, MY TENDERS!!!" A shot to the gut or face would have sufficed, in my humble opinion.

Sincerely,
An Over-Tenderized Mom

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dear Boys,

I realize that particular part of the movie is funny. I also realize that your father nearly needed CPR from laughing so hard the first time or two that he watched it. And I really, really realize that your not-yet-manly parts are vital to you in ways that you have not yet even begun to realize.

I understand that you are boys, and that part of being a boy is--ah...bodily awareness. So are throwing rocks into water and turning anything imaginable into a gun. But I'm very tired of hearing the words 'tenders' and 'weenie' when you are playing. Enough already.

And that goes for you, too, sis.

Love,
Your Tender-Hearted, Weenie-Roasting Mother

My own little zoo...

2010-04-20T18:56:00.000-07:00

I was at the park today with my two youngest. I watched a man release the leash of his Jack Russell Terrier just long enough for the dog to terrorize the too-tame city ducks, sending them to wing in a flurry of ducky panic.

Honestly, we were headed to do the same thing, but the dog beat Lee to it by about 45 seconds. In the few moments it took for the dog to clear the grass of ducks, I had an epiphany:

Lee is my Jack Russell Terrier.

He is cute, smart, funny, active, and if he doesn't have a constructive, positive outlet for his energy, he destroys things.

That got me to thinking. What animal personalities would personify my other children?

Alex was the next easiest. He would be a Labrador/Rottweiller mix. I've always mused that he and my sister's golden lab are kindred spirits; he's intelligent, happy, loves to play, loves to please and thrives on a good belly rub--I mean, snuggle. But even as I type this he's upstairs screaming in fury at Lee, which doesn't really exude Labrador. So even though I adore Carl, there's a bit of Rott in there to explain his sometimes fiery temper.

Yeah, I know it's a Retriever. Close enough.

Abby would have to be an African Grey Parrot. She's beautiful--though not flashy, loyal, smarter than the dickens, doesn't perform on command and can tend toward the talkative.

At first I pegged Cora as a kitten: cute, active, quiet, inquisitive...but then I thought better. The adorability, mischievous smarts and quiet activity that teeters precariously between curious learning and plain ol' stinkerhood is more accurately embodied in a Capuchin Monkey.

Wonder what I would be...

(Thanks to bing search for online images.)

Weekend in San Juan--Part II: The Bright Side

2010-04-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

As promised (though as it turns out it's less regaling, more recounting and rather long):

We've been missing Riah during the weeks ever since he started working up north. He wanted us to come visit & see the beauty that he sees all around him every day, so we did.

Overall, I was prepared. Of course, I made lists: lists of things to eat, lists of things to take to Riah, lists of clothes to take, lists of other things to remember...lots of beautiful, organized, categorized lists. I listed listy. Friday morning dawned early and I got up with it to bake, cook, clean and pack. I posted a picture/word list of things for the children to gather (two pants, 3 pairs of underwear...etc), complete with boxes for each of them to check off when they're done. They love that.

My goal was to pull away at noon, and I would have almost made it, except that the dumb battery was dead. So I ran (literally) to a friend's apartment, borrowed her keys, jumped my van, ran the keys back and was on the road at 12:17. Not bad. The grocery store stop was really, really fast, we skipped the gas stop and kept going. The ferry terminal is just on the other side of Anacortes, and I was confident that we'd make the 2:45 ferry. Cora was screaming because she was sick & tired of being stuck in her seat. Just this side of Anacortes, however, we found out that she really was sick--carsick. Gross. But we were so close to the ferry that I didn't stop; we could clean her up there. (Are you nominating me for the mom-of-the-year award yet?) It turns out that she really was sick & tired, because after she tossed her Lunchable (no cookies) she fell asleep in her muck. Grossity gross.

We pulled in just before 2:15 and I told the lady in the booth that we wanted the 2:45 to San Juan Island. I think she laughed inside when she responded that if I wanted that, I'd need to be here at least an hour early. The next boat was 4:35. You're kidding. One of my children just fell asleep (albeit in her own barf) and you expect me to keep the rest of them contained, quiet and alive while we wait for TWO HOURS?????

Years and years and years ago back in the olden days when I was a teenager, my family took the same ferry to the same island to go whale watching. We ran into the same problem: missed the boat, gotta' wait. We couldn't go outside, though because there was a frigid wind blowing hard. But we could only take so much sitting in the car. My brother, who's always been a little...umm...different...(he's 2 years younger than I) sorta' lost it. The cabin fever and frustration and boredom took control and to this day we laugh at the memory of him climbing up onto the roof of the car and crowing at the birds. It was funny and frightening all at the same time. Fortunately this time the weather was nicer and we didn't have any lapses of sanity.

After we parked in line for the later boat we made our bathroom trips (one was a sprint and a trip, complete with a bloody knee), cleaned up the now-awake Cora, changed her clothes, put her carseat on top of the car to dry in the sun and wind (really intended to get a picture of that...would've been a great photo of the beginning of our adventures) and went to the beach.

The children were of course, asked to stay dry. We only had 2-3 pairs of pants per person for the whole weekend. Cora, evidently didn't get the memo.

pair of pants #2

She did, however, have a great time throwing rocks & sand in the water.

Lee was in heaven, taking his own sweet time walking up the beach throwing rocks. (How I don't have pictures of it is beyond me. I know I took some!)

Alex walked way up the beach on his own, throwing rocks and being himself. (I'm beginning to see a trend here.)

Abby was the only non-rock-thrower in the group, because she had quest: to find sand suitable to build a sand castle. With a little help from yours truly after I'd given up on keeping Cora dry, she achieved her goal.

I tried to get as many good pictures as I could. It's funny, though, how the best ones are the ones that happen with little to no help at all.

Even though I was bummed that we missed time with my sweetheart, I am glad that we had that beach time. It was great. We got back to the car with just enough time to change Cora's clothes again and it was almost time to load, so I forgot to take a picture of the carseat. We were finally off!

I love riding ferries. Even if it's chilly, I love to stand out on the bow, soak in the gorgeous scenery and let the wind blow new life into my soul. My children love ferries, too. They love the wind, the water, the birds, the seats, the vending machines, the bathrooms, the upper deck...everything! I explored a ferry more thoroughly that Friday afternoon that I ever had in my life!

You may notice that in order to preserve pants,I just put her in jammies. She later leaked out of them. Glad I had a 2nd pair.

By the time we docked we were really excited to see Dad. We met up with him and followed him to the trailer that would become our weekend home. (He'd been staying in an old Silver Bullet with two of the other guys that he's working with, but the thing's a dump. Through the church members on the island he found a newer, cleaner trailer to move into, just in time to have us move with him. The family that was using had 4 kids and had been staying in it until their house was finished; they had just moved out of it. It was perfect!) The super-long trailer had a queen-sized sleep number bed in one end, and the other end had been retrofitted with 4 bunkbeds!! The kids loved them.

There was a fire pit outside, a clean hot shower with a tankless water heater...I could live like that while I built a house. The kids helped Dad unload scrap wood from the job site for the fire pit. Way more than we would ever need, but they enjoyed helping.

We didn't dock until 6:00, so bedtime came way, way too late that night. Saturday, however, was fun.

Some of our fun was planned, some wasn't. A neighbor of Riah's from the Silver Bullet (which is a 4-minute walk from the clean trailer) had met the kids Friday night when they went to borrow some salt; she invited them back the next day to feed the cows. As much as I didn't want to share my Riah time with anyone else, she was generous and the kids really had a good time.

On our way to Lime Kiln Park, the best place to watch whales from the shore, we stopped so Riah could treat us to the island's donuts. Little, light, donuts. Oh, wait, no. These are big, heavy, dense buttermilk donuts.

(Quite concidentally, he saw a teenager in the store that he recognized from the church there. He needed someone to jump his car.) The kids shared a ginormous cinnamon roll, which didn't combine well with the curvy roads. Alex started in with his trademark pre-carsick whining and we found a place to turn off real quick. It ended up to be one of the best mid-trip stops that I've ever taken!

The turnout was actually a parking area for a little trail through an area that SJ citizens had bought to preserve the wildflowers.

(That's Victoria in the background.)

"Daddy, Daddy, wait for me!"

We just loved exploring the rocks.

I learned that Abby has inherited her mother's mountain-goat-like proclivity for rock-hopping. Even though she made me nervous and I tried to rein her in, I totally understood the desire to climb higher, race faster and explore further. Totally and completely.

And she tried to climb every single tree that she could.

Later in the day when we actually made it to LK park, we found out that we're about a month early to see the orcas. It was a little disappointing, and the wind was cold, but we still had fun. Riah took the kids down on the rocks below the lighthouse, where Abby accidentally kicked the shell off of one of the hugest barnacles I'd ever seen. I've tried & tried to see the inside of a barnacle to no avail. She did it, but threw the shell in the sea.

Poor Cora. Her nap schedule had been interrupted so many times on this trip. When he was done exploring below the lighthouse rocks, Riah came up and zipped cold Cora into his coat. I'm not sure who likes that more: him or her. Definite symbiosis. He went up to sit at a picnic bench in the sun while I took over explorer patrol. We had fun. I was standing by a tide pool that seemed rather lifeless until I took a closer look.

We saw a fish, snails, limpets, and this guy, plus about 50 of his friends:

When we'd been down long enough that I was sure Riah'd be bored and ready to go, I coaxed the kids back up the steepest rock wall they could find. (They couldn't take the easy way, that would be way too simple!)

Riah was gone.

I didn't panic, nor was I irritated, just a little concerned that we may spend too much time chasing each other in circles. He'd had a really tiring week at work, and sleeping in that dumpy trailer was uncomfortable. I knew he was exhausted, so I figured that he'd gone back to the van to sleep. I herded the kids back up the trail, trying my darnedest to keep them off the rocks and driftwood. (Ever seen anyone chasing chickens? It was like that in slo-mo.) Just around one of the bends I found them.

And it was perfect. You can see that her face is buried in his coat and her little foot is sticking out at his waist. This bench is around bends on either side, so it's shielded a bit from the wind, and Riah told me that he heard at least one person come down the trail, see them and utter a heart-softened, "aw."

You may recall that I mentioned a fire pit. Dinner was a no-brainer.

Cora, it would seem, prefers her smores open-faced. Foreseeing a mess, I conveniently 'forgot' to add the chocolate. Good thing.

We went to bed exhausted and totally content to have finally spent some recreative time together as a family in a part of the world that is breathtakingly beautiful.

Sunday was relaxing. Good because the branch of church members there meet at 8:30! In the morning! Coughs and goo prevented us from staying all 3 hours, so we skipped out after the first meeting. I'm glad. We had a very laid-back day.

After leaving church we drove around and explored just a little bit of Roche Harbor, which has prettier architecture than Friday Harbor, but the views from the west side of the island are unbeatable. It's still weird to me to stand on an island and look south at the Olympics. Can't quite wrap my brain around it. We lured the children back into the car by reminding them excitedly that we were having waffles for lunch! It worked, and they were yummy. That afternoon we took a short walk, watched the kids run in a field and walk along old telephone poles.

At one point in the day I was in the trailer and Riah and the kids came back from wherever they had gone. Abby came in and reported that she saw some animal that looked like a cross between an anteater, wolf and raccoon. I was baffled. Even after I saw it I was baffled. Turns out it was a gray fox.

It rummaged around under the table looking for weenie-roast leftovers until Cora chased it off. She didn't mean to. She just wanted to pet it. Nevermind that it's a wild animal. I was simultaneously amused and freaked out.

The end of our weekend trip came far, far too quickly. At the ferry terminal Riah decided to ride the ferry with us. When we were on our way to the island, he expressed a little disappointment that he was missing the fun that they were having. So he came with us and witnessed the fun that they had this time. And there was plenty of it.

I guess that it wasn't as great an idea as I thought it was, because Lee surmised that since Dad was on the ferry with us, he was coming all the way home, too. We said our good-byes, then heard the call for all walk-on passengers to board. Think of the worst, most dramatic freak-outs that you've ever seen in a movie. Lee's hysterical sobbing and screaming put them all to shame. All I could do was hold him as we watched Riah walk along the sidewalk and out of sight around the bend, mingling our tears. I had to pull over before we were even out of sight of the terminal because he'd unbuckled himself and was walking toward me inside the car. After I cried with him for another few minutes, I got him re-situated and started back down the road. We pulled over in someone's driveway so we could watch Riah's ferry pull out and start back toward the island. It was a beautiful, sad thing to see; the ferry's lights were all on and dusk had definitely fallen. The boat glowed a fluorescent yellow against the grey-green of the water, islands and sky's waning light.

Fatigue and heartbreak are volatile bedfellows. Lee cried and wailed for about 20 minutes, until he was jammied at the gas station and we drove long enough for him to fall asleep. It was sad for me, too, but given the opportunity to do it again, I'd do it in a heartbeat!

It was wonderful having time away from the rigamaroll of home, doing nothing but spending fun time together as a family.

This is one of my new favorite pictures.

Weekend in San Juan--Part I: The Dark Side

2010-04-12T16:33:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was great.

I packed up the kids and left Friday to visit Riah on the island where he's been working. We rode the ferry, roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, clambered on rocks, explored tide pools, made waffles, saw beautiful scenery and surprising wildlife. I spent two days holding my hubby's hand and wrapping myself in his arms whenever I saw an opportunity. I always feel warm and secure in his embrace. Like so many good things, it went by way too fast and had to end before any of us were ready.

This isn't the first time that Riah's worked in a location too distant to warrant a daily commute. Last winter he commuted 2+ hours on Friday nights, then left again Sunday night for quite a few weeks. It's not fun, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the better good. (By 'better good' I mean paying the bills.) I tell people that it's not easy, but it's not forever.

So yesterday he decided to ride the ferry back to the mainland with us, then be a walk-on passenger back to the island. It sounded like a good idea because he'd get a kick out of watching the kids on the ferry, plus we'd get an extra hour with him. The part I wasn't expecting was the 'good-bye.'

Lee was really upset (understatement of the year), which triggered the tears that I'd been working so hard to keep oppressed. Mine rolled down my cheeks while I held my sobbing, heartbroken 4-year-old, two sets of eyes fixed on Riah walking down the sidewalk onto the ferry. The screaming and wailing lasted until Lee fell asleep, and this morning he was as chipper as usual. I, however, haven't quite recovered.

Today as I drove around town I felt like I was in a daze. The pink popcorn blossoms, beds of tulips bursting into bloom with daffodils and bluebells, the shetland ponies in the pasture...it's all blah. Even the water in the bay doesn't look nearly as beautiful and shimmery as usual. The wonderful city in which I live lacks today something it had when I left Friday. I drove automatically, wondering what the difference was and I realized what was missing.

I left my heart on San Juan Island. It walked down the sidewalk and boarded the 8:10 ferry from Anacortes.

(I promise to regale you with happier tales of our weekend adventures. For now, however, I just need to have a good cry.)

Should I tell them?

2010-04-08T16:56:00.000-07:00

So about 20 minutes ago, the kids started playing hide-and-seek.

Abby's got a friend over, and Cora was asleep, so it was the two girls, Alex and Lee. (They actually let him play!) After a couple of go-rounds, it was Lee's turn. He dutifully hid his face in the couch with minimal peeking and counted his own 4-year-old way, then took off to find everyone else.

He's not a very good finder.

He looked all over downstairs, then proceeded upstairs. A couple of minutes later Abby, her friend Sheri and Alex came back down to find new hiding spots. I told them that it's cheating to move your hiding spot, but they did it anyway. Ab & Sheri are in the crowded under-stairs water heater closet; Alex found a cramped little nook by the filing cabinet.

Judging by the amount of time that it's taken for him to come downstairs and by the happy sounds of a wakey baby, Lee got distracted and is happily playing with Cora. So the older kids cheated and are now abandoned in their hiding spots.

Serves 'em right.

Tough Luck

2010-03-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

This morning I rotated the laundry, dumping a big, warm load of towels on the couch. As I did, I had the urge to burrow underneath.

And stay there.

Today is a fleecy jammies, hot chocolate, good book day. Well, it should be. I forced myself into the bower (Abby's coined term for a bath/shower), got dressed & ran 4 quick errands: deposit hubby's paycheck, drop letters at post office, return 2 library books, put a couple of sheckels in the gas tank.

I thought myself pretty lucky when the motorcycle police officer pulled over the car right in front of me. My luck only lasted about a half a mile to the gas station, where I ran out of gas. Before I got in the driveway. I tried and tried, and despite the moral support of the honking behind me, I just couldn't will the car to re-start and make it to the pump. Luckily, a guy filling his car was watching and ran to my aid when I flagged him over, and another one came to help, too. Lucky, because we were pushing the blasted thing uphill.

Ya' know in movies when an apparition or ghost appears, then as it leaves it gets all misty and dissipates into the air? Well, I envision my luck to have done that same sort of thing. Those two, wonderful, helpful, thoughtful good Samaritans (Lord bless them!) got me pushed up to the gas pump and I grabbed my purse. No debit card. I emptied the umbrella, sunglasses, planner, receipts and all of the miscellaneous cards that Cora recently 'reorganized' and that are currently wandering willy-nilly in the expanses of my bag. Still no debit card.

Before the last smoky wisp of luck blew away, I scraped together a dollar bill and eight quarters, put a single gallon of gas in my tank and went directly home. I think that I'll stay right here, because I've used up all my luck for the day. Now where's that load of towels?

(Author's note: I put no merit at all in luck, and am counting my blessings for the many little parts of my morning that could have been way, way worse!)

Pupas, tadpoles and a Mother Hen

2010-03-28T21:45:00.000-07:00

Recently I told my husband that I remember standing in front of the mirror and practicing my smile when I was a kid. I think that we had a family portrait coming up or something, or maybe it was school pictures. I don't remember. But what I do recall so clearly is that feeling of not knowing what my REAL smile was.

I smiled with teeth, grinned broadly but closed-lipped, curved the corners of my mouth into subtle upward curves, threw cheeseball smiles...you named it and I tried it on for size. When all was said and done, I felt a little...worried? nervous? that none of them felt good on me.

Dorky, I know.

But in retrospect, I realize that as I left Little-Kidhood and entered Bigger-But-Still-Little-In-Some-Ways Limbo Land, I was searching for my identity. Not my parents' identities, not who people had always described me as or expected me to be, but ME. The me that had been a seed and was just starting to sprout and take shape. Far from 'teen' and not yet 'pre-teen,' I was still making--and noticing--changes that were unfamiliar and unsettling.

Of course, Riah laughed at me. I would expect nothing less. Not "you're so stupid" laughing, but "I bet you were so cute" and "that's pretty amusing" laughing.

As I told him about it, I reflected that Abby's about the same age. And in the same boat. It's simultaneously fun and painful to watch.

It's great to see her develop her skills and interests. She likes reading and loves science. Butterflies, rocks, the solar system...whatever they're doing in class, she's completely into it at home. She's not yet aware that boys exist for any other purpose than to be a friend or a tormentor, and this previously boy-crazy mother is immensely grateful.

(This is one of my favorite pics of her. She's 2.)

But she's taken to belching. And laughing about it, even when I affix her with my most serious look. You know the look. The one that's supposed to cause your insides to shrink? Yeah, she giggles. Dangit.

She's pretty self-conscious, and I hate it. She comes by it naturally, but still it kills me to look back on my own life and see so many opportunities I missed just because I was too scared to try, then look at my own daughter and see her make the same stupid decisions! For Pete's sake, child, if you want it, GET IT! And don't think about what other people think because THEY DON'T CARE!!! They're too busy thinking that you care about what they do! But no. She shies.

inhale, exhale

Sometimes she's just about the most irresponsible person around, but other times she'll change Cora's clothes so that her dress doesn't get dirty, buckle her into her high chair, put on the bib, click the tray into place and slice a banana because the soup's not cool yet. (I make sure that I praise those moments. A lot.)

Her sense of style is developing, as well. So is her need to shop. I can't tell you how many times we've gone somewhere and she's begging for shoes to go with the dress. Or a necklace. Or a headband that's exactly the same color. One day, when we are made of money, I look forward to teaching her how to make it stretch and find just the right accessory. Her style certainly isn't honed. Today she wore to church a beautiful, silky, fuschia and chocolate dress with pink ballet flats. Looked great! Until she added frumpy, brown cotton leggings with stripes & multicolored flowers. Ah well. We're getting there.

And at bedtime when she was supposed to be getting into jammies, I couldn't get her out of my heels! It would seem that my brown boots are her favorite, as she tried to wear them around the house.

I've got an up-and-coming shoe diva on my hands, I think.

As nervous and uncertain as she is, I think that I'm meeting her on each emotion. The next handful of years are absolutely crucial to her end result. When she's an adult, will she exude confidence and poise or be the girl that always dates controlling, abusive creeps? Will she want to emulate her parents' example or write a book? I have such an influence that in so many ways I could unintentionally go very, very wrong. One of the hazards of being the eldest is that your life is a series of experiments. She's a guinea pig.

I think my solution is Girl Time. At the current time, she likes me. If possible, she'd run every errand with me and while we were out, we'd stop for ice cream or call a friend and go get hot chocolate. If I could stop time and do nothing but crafts, puzzles and outings with her, she'd be thrilled. We'd be fat, but we'd have great memories. Last night I was out and she went to return a couple of movies with the estrogen half of the husband/wife duo that watched the kids. She commented that she really liked Girl Time because sometimes she "...just needed to get away from the crazy boys."

And I fully intend to do what I can to make sure that we always have good Girl Time. That way, I can be there as she figures out which smile fits her.

Good News, Bad News

2010-03-27T12:53:00.001-07:00

Bad News: my old comfy jeans have bitten the dust.

Good News: Value Village $0.99 Monday, Baby!

Bad News: the 'new' ones have a waist that is too big & they keep falling down.

Good News: not too tight, not too loose everywhere else--and they're a petite length!! (Who designs these things, anyway? If my gut's gonna' fit them, you'd better believe my booty & legs won't!)

Bad News: I can't find my belt.

Good News: I found a good one that fits and is in good shape.

Bad News: It's my husband's.

*sigh*

To Lee

2010-03-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Lee,

You turned 4 today.

And it was a big deal. When you woke up this morning, you stated that you felt bigger. Then you very politely asked me to "move out the way" so you could go downstairs to eat "bressfist." The only thing on your mind was your birthday cereal, the choco-peanut-buttery crunchy goodness that you chose yesterday.

You were stunned and awed with the balloons and crepe paper streamers in the dining room...just the reaction that I hoped for.

Dad made you a green smoothie topped with green sprinkles, then added your name in green icing. It was really, really cool, but due to the cereal plus the eggs & hash browns that Dad also made for you, you didn't drink it. Eventually Cora did, and she enjoyed every last drop.

At preschool you had St. Patrick's Day treats and your teacher made you a crown, which you wore proudly!

When the mail came, there were three cards for you. Watching you open them was so much fun. Each tear of the envelope ignited the air with excitement. One had a chimp holding a gift, so you said, "And I get to open a present!" Very funny. Grandma & Grandpa P and B each sent a crisp 5-dollar bill, which was thrilling. You have no idea what exactly it means, but you do know that it's pretty cool.

Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean that you were immune from punishment. You still had some wall time when you punched Alex as hard as you could right in the eye. Even though he said something rudely, you may not punch.

After you blew out the candles, you loved the cars from your siblings, the SpiderMan "fishing pool" from Nick & Grammie and the SpiderMan shoes from Dad and me. (Every time we passed a body of water last weekend, you asked, "Mom, is that where fish are?") When you put your jammies on, you pointed out that they're SpiderMan just like your "fishing pool" and your coat and your shoes. You're so smart!

Your day ended with a 'just for Lee' story. I can still feel your warm ear against my jaw and your arm curled snugly around my neck. On every page you had something to say, explain, ask or point out. Sometimes it was just something silly that you noticed.

Lee, you drive me bonkers. You laugh at discipline, run when you're in trouble, knock your sister down, chase your older siblings, bite chunks out of my produce, scream and cry if I leave without you blowing me kisses, have more energy than will fit into your little body and keep me running (and hollering) all day.

And you mean more to me than life itself. You make my world turn in crazy, kaddywompus ways. Thanks for the ride. It's been a great 4 years. I look forward to another 104 with you.

I love you, ya' crazy monkey!

Mom

How to Make a Bed

2010-03-15T22:43:00.000-07:00

There are a few things that you must know about my mother-in-law:

1--she is one of the most generous people I know.

2--she loves to shop.

3--it's important to her that her guests are comfortable.

When we visit, we invariably stay up too late. Who doesn't when they chat with rarely-seen family? At the very end of the day, retreating is a treat. I can't decide if climbing into her guest bed is like wrapping up in warm, well-risen bread dough (though significantly less sticky), lying down on an oversized pile of cottonwood snow (minus the itching and sneezing) or if it feels more like Zeus going to sleep in Fantasia, disappearing as he pulls a corner of his thundercloud over himself. Either way, it's a welcome relief. As I was making the beds before we left this last weekend, I discovered her secret, and I'll pass it along to you:

Ingredients for a Comfy Bed:

1--a good mattress.

2--allergen-protective cover

3--padded mattress cover

4--high-quality matching sheet set

5--knit blanket

6--another knit blanket, doubled over

7--add a third for good measure, doubled over

8--for loft, spread a vellux blanket

(8a--if on the queen sized bed, replace two of the blankets with a thick down comforter)

9--cute bedspread

10--fluffy pillow in coordinating case

11--second fluffy pillow with matching sham

12--just in case, fold an extra blanket at the foot of the bed

13--repeat with matching blankets and bedspreads for second bed in room

(Riah prefers to sleep with fewer covers, as he gets uncomfortably warm. I, too, get toasty, but would rather awake sweating than chilled.)

Add to it that the queen-sized bed in all its cozy, enveloping splendor is in a room far from any windows. When the kids have snuck off to ambush Grandma & Grandpa awake, succumb valiantly to a tickle fight then help make french toast, I could sleep all day in that dark fluffy world!

And now I retreat to my own bed with its soft sheets, single blanket, bedspread and doubled-up flat pillows. I'll sleep well, but I think I know what I'll dream of...

Sweet dreams to you!

Ode to the Coxsackievirus

2010-03-09T21:11:00.001-08:00

(prounounced kok-sacky-virus)

Little pink dots on the cheeks and the nose,
Spreading o'er belly right down to the toes
What did we eat? Who fed you what?
What's up with the pimply spots on your butt?

Keeping an eye out, what will it do?
How will it change--crust over or goo?
Allergy? Illness? Change in detergent?
Hope of all Hopes that it doesn't get urgent.

No fussing, no pain, no attitude changes,
Of stories I've heard, this one's not the strangest.
Wake up in the morning, now there's--Good Land!
Bubbles and bumps on my little one's hands!

Off to the doc to solve the odd mystery
I'd like to sit back and just let it be history.
Don't touch the fish tank, you may be contagious.
Normally quick, this time it takes ages!

Finally in, lots of questions, now look.
Bad sign when the doc must reference "The Red Book?"
Hand, Foot and Mouth Disease spreads like a weed:
Sneeze, cough, rub, ooze, touch, pick, kiss, drool or breathe!

Send out a warning, then keep to ourselves.
We don't want to meddle in other friends' healthz.
Coxsackievirus, your name's fun to say,
But leave us alone. You're not welcome to stay.

Refocusing

2010-03-05T08:37:00.000-08:00

Last week was crappy.

Like crawl-in-a-hole, tenant-moving-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-there-goes-my-occupancy-bonus, the-checkbook-needs-CPR, don't-hug-me-because-I'll-cry crappy. This week I'm recalibrating. Instead of focusing on the things that I don't have, I'm focusing on the things that I don't have.

Re-read that as many times as you want, it really says that.

I don't have a body that prevents me from taking care of my home and family. I don't have non-functioning appliances. I don't have an abusive dictator of a husband who punishes me for imperfection. I don't have children with an unhealthy example of parental roles. I don't have a small social circle comprised mostly of acquaintances. I don't have children who resent me and yell that they hate me and threaten to run away. I don't have alcoholism and drug addiction in my home. I don't have collection agencies calling me all hours of the day and night. I don't have gangs and drug dealers and hookers out my multi-locked front door. I don't have to walk miles to find potable water. I don't have bombs exploding and sniper fire shattering the night.

I do have tenants breaking their lease under cover of darkness, a checkbook that needs CPR, and days that I'd like to rewind and sleep through. I do have a dirty floor, a baby with a nasty chest cold, a 3-year-old with a short fuse and violent temper, a 6-year-old with a short fuse and a less-violent temper, an 8-year-old who keeps asking when we can go to Maui, and a husband who plays online chess at (I think) inopportune moments. I do have great friends who love me and would do anything they could to support me, extended family who would do the same and then some, and a knowledge that my Heavenly Father knows me, loves me and is taking care of me.

Especially on crappy days.

My Hero!

2010-03-05T08:30:00.001-08:00

It seems that this morning I poured myself too much cereal. I was not aware that I had, but thankfully I had someone to save me from my folly. He even ran to get his own spoon.

Here's to the selfless, omniscient people in our lives. May you never dribble milk down your chin.

Responsibility Tax

2010-03-02T21:30:00.000-08:00

So we all know that the economy's been a bit thin...

Well, not that thin, but certainly less than robust.

When the going was good, I really wanted a house. Heck, I STILL really want a house. But even though we could've qualified, it would've been a really stupid thing to do, given our in-flow, out-flow, escrow, and all the extra things you don't know to prepare for before you own a house. So we didn't. When the housing bubble burst, the economy tanked and my husband lost his job, I was very, very grateful that we did not own a house. We would have been one of the sad statistics.

I could work outside the home. I've got a degree that would allow me that. And if I worked hard at it, I could be making some pretty decent dough! But we decided that the best thing for our children would be to take the financial hit and have me stay home to teach, raise, nurture and nourish them. I can work later. Now is the time for molding miniature superheroes.

We all know that using your credit cards when you don't have the money to pay the bill isn't a wise thing. If used correctly they can do good things, and if used in an emergency they can help keep us afloat for a short time. We've made some poor decisions, but have stopped using them and are getting close to having them paid off.

We've tried to be responsible.

And here's what I've learned: Responsibility Sucks.

The Goverment (taxpayers) gave the greedy banks and lenders kajillions of dollars.
Our commander-in-chief wants to pay working moms for childcare costs. (I clearly just sit on my tush eating bon-bons all day.)
I hear radio commercials for up to 50% relief for people who have over $10,000 in credit card debt.

So for being prudent, responsible and frugal my reward is to struggle alone? That stinks.

And I'm pouting.

Potty Mouth

2010-03-01T17:24:00.000-08:00

I just stepped out quickly to help a tenant who was having trouble with her key. We chatted a bit, then I dropped a couple of work orders in the maintenance office and returned.

When I walked in the door, I was notified that my children had changed their names to Peeing Eyes, Pooping Ears (due to earwax), Tooting Mouth and Drooling Nose.

Gotta' credit their creativity!

Unearthed Essay #3

2010-02-24T17:06:00.000-08:00

What if...

My kids are awesome. Just ask them, they'll tell you. Kids are like that, though. They look at themselves in the mirror and see something amazing. He doesn't see that his mismatched clothes are stained. She couldn't care less that her ponytails are crooked. And what's wrong with the dried peanut butter on that cheek next to the snotty nose? When my children look into the mirror, what they see is paramount to perfection.

Take Alex. He's always been on the small end, but don't try convincing him of that. When he flexes his biceps to show someone how strong he is, I'm pretty sure that when he looks down he sees a sea of rippling muscles waving up and down his scrawny little arms. Once he scolded a complete stranger for calling him "little."

What would the world be like if the general adult population were more childlike in this way?

Future Employer: What assets do you possess that would benefit this company?
Childlike Applicant: Man, I rock! I'm a super-stapler, I can work all day and all night and all day, and I'm the fastest typer in the world!
Future Employer: No, I'm the fastest typer.
Childlike Applicant: Okay, we can be the fastest together.

Now, I'm not really imagining that the UN would give tyrannical dictators a timeout then require an apology to the country's oppressed population...though that would be interesting, wouldn't it? I'm just thinking on a micro-level here. When a friend asks how I am, all too often I begin a discourse on what's vexing me currently or the various and sundry ways that my children are driving my batty. But what if next time I followed the lead of the smallest in my life? What if I answered enthusiastically, "Last night I made this pasta alfresco dish that my husband raved about and kids devoured! Even the vegetables! OH! And my waist measurement is down 2 1/2 inches! I don't always like getting up to work out, and after-dinner snacking is hard for me, but here--wanna' see the notches in my belt?"

Now usually when one brags about one's achievements, one is perceived as arrogant or self-centered and looked down upon. It wouldn't take long before one's social circle started shrinking. But what if that changed, too?

What if in response to my excited report of achievements, my friend answered, "Good job! I found a wallet at the mall full of cash and returned it to its owner. He sure was glad to have it back. Wanna' take the kids to the park?"

Really, the repercussions of this simple concept are widespread. Honest expression of emotion or desires, more emphasis on being fun and happy, willingness to befriend and accept those who are different, swiftness to forgive and forget...

I'm usually caught up in the attempt to mold my wonderful children into good citizens and modeling appropriate behavior: respect others, speak kindly, use good manners, blah blah blah. Every now and then I just need to put down my fork, use my hands and appreciate the sensation of applesauce squeezing through my clenched fingers. Perhaps the next time I see my friend I'll say, "check out how great I look in these jeans!" Chances are she'll laugh and congratulate me, because that's what friends do.

Who knows? Maybe one day I'll even look down and see rippling muscles.

Unearthed Essay #2

2010-02-24T16:52:00.001-08:00

This one really explains a lot about my living room:

The Balance of Mediocrity

To all those single mothers who work full-time and parent their children full-time and run a home full-time, I tip my hat to you. I don't know how you do it. Every now and then I send an awe-filled moment of silent respect your way. You are incredible.

I'm a working mother. I haven't always been, and I didn't plan on it. In fact, I had intentionally tried to avoid it, but Life tends to look at my plans, giggle, and rewrite. One really long story accentuated with a litany of informational tangents later, I am here. At this stage of life I'm an onsite apartment manager of a 45-unit complex. I advertise, show and lease apartments, resolve tenant concerns, oversee a maintenance staff, collect rent...the list goes on. I work an incalculable number hours; incalculable because they're scattered throughout my day. Answer the door and make an apointment during lunch, sign a lease after dinner, post notices on tenant doors before naptime to help the baby forget that he's fussy, touch bases with the maintenance lead while I'm checking rent after taking Abby to the bus stop in the morning and answer phone calls while changing a diaper, writing the message on the bathroom mirror with a dry-erase marker. It's my way of contributing to the financial stability of our family while still being our children's primary caregiver.

When I started this job, it was my #1 priority. I jumped up and ran whenever the phone rang, interrupted Alex's nap for an impromptu showing and worked any hours convenient for everyone else. I also cooked, cleaned and paid bills while parenting Abby and Alex, who were then 2 1/2 and 9 months.

Then I broke.

In a crying heap in my living room after the kids were asleep, I fell apart. I was going full-steam ahead and ran smack into the Wall of Personal Limitations. Riah, who works full-time outside the home, was patient and sympathetic as I picked myself up from the harsh realization that I couldn't do it all. Graciously, he agreed to accept the responsibility for the kitchen and bathrooms. (Especially gracious because he hates cleaning the kitchen.) That took a load off and I began the process of finding balance.

I've been managing for 3 years, and over those years the balance has shifted. Sometimes my apartments stay vacant for too long because I'm playing with the kids and not answering the phone. Other days the house is clean and my to-do list full of checks, but my children are horribly neglected. I'm glad, to say, however, that I have found balance in mediocrity.

By nature, I am not a person who settles for mediocrity. It goes against my upbringing. I was taught to take pride in my work, do it thoroughly and do it well. The standards I have set for myself are high, and I have typically achieved them--so to settle for mediocrity was a hard pill to swallow.

Nowadays 'doing the laundry' means getting it clean and sorted into each person's basket. 'Cleaning the kitchen' means getting a load in the dishwasher. (Yes, it's Riah's job, but when he's swamped I step up.) I vacuum once a week when I'm lucky, my bills are frequently late, my tenants don't get immediate return phone calls, I don't take the kids to the park every day during the summer and I haven't the foggiest idea what my girlfriends are talking about when they chat about the latest novel they've read. I wonder who has the time to read much more than Click Clack Moo.

But we have a home, we have food to eat and clothes to wear, we are warm and dry, we feel love and are at peace, we have loving friends and family and we have each other.

And that's good enough.

Unearthed Essay #1

2010-02-20T22:32:00.000-08:00

So, I was doing some very overdue cleaning and found some essays that I'd written about 3 years ago. Lee was around 9 months old or so, Alex was 3 1/2 and Abby was 5 1/2. I enjoy them, and I hope you do too...

Apples, Oranges and Bananas

It continues to amaze me just how diverse siblings can be. I marveled when my oldest nieces were little, and now that I have my own brood, I'm still struck by their differences. Yes, there are obvious gender differences, but it goes beyond that.

Abby is a thinker. She loves puzzles and word games, doesn't like physical play so much, and corrects me whenever I misspeak or the message gets garbled somehwere between my brain and mouth. Her sparkly red shoes from Halloween are now part of her everyday wardrobe and if she had her druthers, she'd wear 3 to 4 different outfits a day. Alex can kick and throw better than I can, getting him out of his caped Superman jammies is almost impossible and anything--and I do mean anything--is fair game to become a gun or a sword. I'm pretty certain that if I should allow him to peruse my feminine hygiene drawer he'd devise a sword and a shield in no time. Lee's still hard to tell, but so far I can tell he's an antsy boy. He just wants to get going. I can almost hear the dialogue in his head: "Ooh! The stairs gate is open! Here I go!" or "You know, Mom, I'm 5 1/2 in dog years, so I really am old enough to have my own steak and shrimp." Soon, he'll navigate us into the uncharted Sea of Lee and we'll swim in yet another beautiful, shimmery pool of unfamiliarity.

It's not like they have different parents. (Granted we're a lot less neurotic than when Abby was an infant, but everyone is allowed a fair share of paranoia with their first child.) We've learned and changed and grown, but all in all, we're still us. I'm sure that their unique characteristics are innate; they came with them, like a package deal where you can't substitute curly fries or leather seats or the ability to sleep through the night.

Come to think of it, some of these distinctions were manifest in various ways even before the children were born. My pregnancy with Abby was absolutely, 100% normal. By normal, of course, I mean the first trimester I missed every other day of work due to the constant nausea, I gained too much weight, and I was so swollen that I could barely squeeze my wedding ring onto my pinky finger. While pregnant with Alex I only threw up twice (dealing with Ab's um, messes), I swelled moderately, gained 5 less pounds, and he was frank breech at 37 weeks. By the time Lee came around I figured that because my previous pregnancies were so dissimilar I'd be able to predict the gender. No dice. I never threw up and the nausea wasn't as severe, but it lasted 4 weeks longer than the other two! My weight gain was spot on, and I wore my ring the whole time because I didn't swell a bit. When people asked what I was having, I responded that I was having an alien; only partly in jest.

Abby talked early, Alex talked late. Abby was painfully shy, Alex and Lee have always been gregarious. Abby only cuddled when she was sick or hurt, Alex and Lee are snugglebugs. Abby wasn't really an orally tactile, Lee's a human vacuum cleaner. Alex is fiercely independent, Lee clings. Alex enjoys playing with Dad, Abby not so much. Abby loves tomatoes, Alex hates them. Lee just wants everything...except the mixed vegetable baby food that has spinach in it; can't force that one down.

Of course there are similarities, but I notice the differences more because they pose challenges in the problem-resolution part of my brain. Reasoning, discipline, play, explanations, motivations, optimal shapes of sandwiches...everything needs to be customized to fit the needs of each child.

Sometimes I muse that motherhood would be much easier if I could just do the same things with each child at the appropriate stages in life. But where's the fun in that?

Memo to me...

2010-02-19T18:05:00.000-08:00

Always check the washer before I put a load in.

Yep--that's a sippy cup, alright. And it'll be nice & clean, too!

Laundry time

2010-02-18T12:08:00.001-08:00

Hmm. Is it time to fold and put away the laundry?

Maybe.

And the Coolest Mom Award goes to...

2010-02-17T20:52:00.001-08:00

During Abby's parent/teacher conference last fall, her teacher expressed concern that she doesn't participate in class much. He'd like to see her raise her hand more, volunteer more and contribute more to the small-group book discussions. (I'd like to say this was a surprise, but she seems to be growing into some of the same stupid insecurities that have plagued me all throughout my growing-up years.) He suggested that if she get to know some of the other girls in her class better, she may be more confident in class.

Last week I finally got around to acting on that intention.

Very often when I do something, I do it big, and this was no exception. I sent out an evite to all of the girls in her class, bought a very few supplies, baked some cookies and cleaned furiously.

After school the girls rode home on the bus, and it was highly amusing to see 8 girls running down the sidewalk toward our house. (I timed it so Cora was napping and I sent the boys to a friend's house.) As soon as they got in, dumped backpacks, adored the hamster and washed hands, they sat down to a snack. A very cute one, if I do say so myself. I got the idea from Family Fun magazine, and after a little experimenting, it worked great with homemade pizza dough.

Due to life-changes in my friends' homes, my once full well of child-swap options has rather shrivelled up. I no longer have anyone to trade childcare with to go volunteer in the kids' classrooms. It kills me. I'd love to spend an hour a week in each classroom, but no dice. As a result, I don't know the personalities of the other kids in class: who is a good kid, who to avoid, who to invite over, who to avoid...you get the idea. This party was a great way to easily and quickly size up the girls that Abby talks about every day after school. It was an unexpected bonus for me.

When they were finished with their heart-shaped goodness, I steered them into the bathroom to wash their hands again then let them loose in the living room to make valentines. Cardstock, sequins, scissors, markers, glue, pompoms, pipe cleaners, googly eyes, construction paper, doilies...the works!

I learned something great about this age: I can give simple instructions and step back. No once did I help anyone with anything. I actually returned a few phone calls in the kitchen while eavesdropping on the girls in the living room.

I also learned that some things stay the same over the generations. Jinxing someone will still render them mute until their name is uttered.

After the whirlwind of third grade creativity was beginning to wane, I redirected them back into the dining room to decorate sugar cookies.

Frosting in many hues: pink, purple and white, sprinkles, non-pariels, red hots, little shapes...lots of yummy fun, and a few nibbles.

I really thought that the girls would frost a bunch and take them home, but no. With only a few exceptions, they frosted and binged right there, fighting over the red hots. One girl had a particularly long attention span and frosted 14 cookies to take home, even after the rest of the gaggle had migrated upstairs to torment the hamster again. (After washing hands, of course!)

The most frightening thing about throwing parties is down time. Down time in which energy is high and control is low. Fortunately, with this party only lasting from off-the-bus o'clock (2:45ish) to 4:00, we only had about 5-10 minutes of chaos. And most of that was handled gracefully by Maxo, our unwilling but very loved rodent.

In all, it was a great day.

Really?

2010-02-11T22:24:00.000-08:00

I opened some junk mail the other day and was highly amused by a solicitation that my husband received. I saved it just because it made me laugh out loud. Check out a few snippets of his 8 page personal, pre-sorted first class letter:

"Riah, please forgive us, but we have just taken a closer look at your profile. It turns out you're more special than any of us imagined! Did you know that you possess some very rare, hidden traits? In fact, there is a famous person (someone you would instantly recognize, he's on TV every night) who possesses theses same special, incredibly rare traits. ...It turns out that people who possess these same rare and often hidden traits that you do are some of the most famous and successful people on this planet! Riah, you are indeed blessed! I know those around you don't know this yet, but they will! Down deep, you sense it, too. Right? I'm so excited for you!"

[This trait wouldn't happen to be gullibility, would it?]

Later...

"Here's a fraction of what you'll learn...
--Learn where the profits are and where they are not in all games of chance, poker, bingo, blackjack, lotteries, casino games or any gambling situation.
--Learn how to transfer all money, power, prestige from the uninformed to you...instantly.
--Learn how to use this new scientific knowledge to begin generating huge sums of money within hours...automatically...without even trying.
--Learn how to win any lover in any situation or how to regain your ex-lover.
--Learn how to lose all the weight you want or eliminate any addiction.
--Learn to control anyone, man or woman, anywhere.
--Learn to easily beat any opponent in your life...in any situation.
--Learn how to make your new powers render all others helpless.
--Learn how to be more intelligent.
--Learn how to make everyone you meet want to be your friend.
--Learn how to make your every relationship better and more fulfilling."

It's signed by John. No last name, just John.

And it's FREE!!!

I'm convinced. You?

The Big Brag

2010-02-02T18:42:00.000-08:00

An email received today from Alex's first grade teacher:

Hi Dyann,
I just wanted to send a quick note to say what a joy Alex is to have. I don’t always get to tell parents these things in the hustle and bustle of the day and pick up and the rest but wanted you to know that you have truly raised a boy you should be SO proud of. He is so respectful, kind, helpful, hardworking…he’s an absolute teacher’s dream. Thanks for sharing him with us. We’re so blessed to have him!
Be proud!!
Lisa

We are.

Ugh.

2010-02-01T20:17:00.000-08:00

It would seem that tonight I'll be working on my filing. Not that I wanted to, and not that I'd even been planning on it. But simply because I don't have a key to the filing cabinet.

Our Tenth Anniversary: a TragiComedy in two parts

2010-01-29T23:13:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, January 28th was our tenth anniversary. We had glorious plans...well, not glorious, but the kids were going to be at my brother's for the weekend, which is glorious enough. But as plans often do, they got a little, um, complicated as the nailing-down process got underway. So the children stayed put.

Plan B.

We took advantage of a friend's generous heart and three-hour availability and left the younger two with her, then went to lunch. Lunch and a movie or lunch and roller-blading. (Glamorous, no?) So we ended up eating at a tasty little Greek place, picking up a hand-dipped ice cream bar with almonds at the uber-chic Costco restaurant, and wandering the lovely wearhouse whilst we nibbled. Then we drove to the waterfront, gazed at the skyline over the lake and dozed. I'm kidding. Mostly. It sounds anti-climactic, but it was great to spend 3 hours together without crying, tattling, screaming, time-outs or other familiar interruptions.

The real fun was that evening.

After giving the children VERY clear instructions that this evening belonged to their father and me and that anyone out of bed would be flogged, I headed downstairs to join my sweetheart. We plopped on the couch and watched some dumb TV show.

About halfway through the 10:00 news we heard a really big crash upstairs, followed by Lee screaming bloody murder. If my legs were longer, I would've taken the stairs 3 at a time. As they are not, I settled for 2. I burst into the boys' bedroom--which had the light still on--and the first clue my Sherlockian eyes noticed was the large, white bunkbed headboard in the middle of the floor, not too far from where Lee was standing, shrieking, holding his finger.

"One! One screaming child, ah ah aah!"

His index finger was missing a few layers of skin and I expected it to start bleeding at any moment. One of the children had a wet cloth on the dresser (don't recall why), so I wrapped Lee's finger in it. It was already beginning to swell and had a distinct purple tone. Naturally, his wailing and shrieking woke up Cora in our room.

"Two! Two screaming children, ah ah aah"!

Lee's attempts to answer my questions were untelligible, so I had to procure from Abby and Alex what on earth had happened. It seems Abby wanted privacy from the boys, so had pulled the headboard out and leaned it against the corner of the dresser and the edge of Alex's bed to form a small triangular shaped hideaway. I didn't get this at all, because she's got plenty of privacy past the foot of Alex's bed. And the other weird thing is that she wasn't even in it! Lee was in it, and so was Alex. Alex was supposed to be in bed, but got into Lee's little fort because he was invited in. That makes total sense, you know? "I had to, Mom! He invited me!" What?

So at some point Lee was standing up and had stuck his finger in the hole on the top of the bedpost that's intended for a pretty little bedknob. The precariously-leaning headboard got bumped and it left, attempting to take Lee's finger with it. He could bend it, so I was satisfied.

Now before I go on, I need to explain something about Riah. He loves his family. He's also protective of us. When one of his children is hurt--really hurt, he has to supress the urge to go all King Kong and rip apart whatever caused his family pain. (Interesting, because I've never even seen him really lose his temper. Never.)

So I'm peeved that there was so much egregious disobedience. He's ticked that Lee is hurt. I'm irritated that Cora's awake. He's controlling his inner Hulk.

As we attend to the most pressing issue, Lee's finger, we interrogate the children: why is the light on? what happened? what did you see? why is this item of furniture in the middle of the room? You get the gyst. As the tale of misfortune unfolds, we see that Lee wasn't the only one making really dumb decisions. So we turned to corporal punishment.

Our current form of corporal punishment for the older three children is to do something so terrible it's genius: wall sits. Like the ones you had to do in junior high gym class. The kids hate it and we can administer the torture calmly and relatively devoid of emotion. It was Riah's idea, and though unconventional, it works for us...for now.

Anyhow. When the multiple dumb decisions were exposed, it was decided that the whole room was reeking with fault. So Abby and Alex were given wall sits. Now generally they whimper and whine, but due (I think) to the fact that it was after 10 freakin thirty, they wailed, too.

"Four!! Four screaming children, ah ah aah!!!! Four children screaming in the meeddle of the night!!! Ah ah aah!!!

As Lee cried in my lap, his older siblings cried near the door and Cora cried down the hall, I looked up at my dear, wonderful, 10-year husband. I gave him a grim half-smile and said with all the dryness within me,

"Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart."

Bucket List

2010-01-22T12:18:00.000-08:00

In no particular order...
*learn Portuguese
*vacation in Brazil with my husband
*swim with dolphins or whales or something
*throw a party where my guests eat flowers...and enjoy it
*play the piano well
*snorkel in tropical waters
*learn to do things the Laura Ingalls way: raise chickens, make cheese, darn socks, etc.
*go skydiving
*have a wedding reception yard
*take a pottery class
*read the New Testament in Hebrew
*tour Europe
*ride in a hot air balloon
*take horseback riding lessons
*surf
*be a great photographer
*develop a tradition of giving at Christmas (adopt a family every year?)
*be a millionaire
*communicate with family members in American Sign Language
*take a family backpacking trip
*visit:
--the tropical rain forest
--Ireland
--Machupichu
--All 50 states
--All 7 continents. Well, maybe not Antarctica.
*go on an African safari
*have nights set aside in the house where we speak specific languages that evening
*ice skate backward and have it look like I'm doing it intentionally
*make my house the area's cool teenage hangout spot
*get paid to write
*volunteer regularly
*play my flute in a community orchestra
*learn to play the piccolo

What are yours?

Heavenly Insights

2010-01-21T21:41:00.001-08:00

Today I was making lunch for a munchkin. An emaciated, near-death, starving Ethiopian munchkin. Maybe not, but from the whines and complaints, it sure sounded like it! After all it had been a whole 3 hours since his last sustenance.

As I was grating cheddar for a quick turkey/cheddar quesadilla, I said calmly, "Sweetheart, I am aware of your needs and am working on it right now."

A few moments passed and my husband noted, "I see a parallel there." I did, too. Even as I spoke the words I noticed and felt the parallel.

How often do I complain to my Maker that I'm at the end of my rope? It seems that I can't last another millisecond without the financial stability/house with a yard/etc that I've been asking and working for.

S. Michael Wilcox gave a really great talk entitled Fourth Watch. The basic gyst is that when Jesus Christ's disciples were being lambasted by the storm in the sea, Jesus was on the mountain praying, but didn't come to them until the fourth watch--or some time between 3am-6am. He knew what was going on. He knew their fears, He saw their struggles and decided to let them grow and learn before He walked across the water to them. But He came.

And now I see a little more clearly that He's up there responding patiently and lovingly, "I am aware of your needs and am working on it right now. Just let me finish cutting your quesadilla."

Fat Breath

2010-01-16T12:13:00.000-08:00

So, Riah & I are eating pretty healthily right now. Like, really, really healthy. We're both pretty tired of the jiggle.

The other night he was complaining that he had bad breath. Mine, too tasted rather steamy & stale, like on days that I'm fasting. Normally when my mouth tastes like that my solution is to cleanse my palate with some sort of yumminess (which explains the jiggles), but lately my solution has been a bunch of cold water.

Something, however, was squirming from the back of his mind and he Googled 'fat burn + bad breath.' (And how cool are you if you invent a product that becomes a verb? I mean, really.) What he found was an article that explained that when you burn fat, you release ketones, which cause bad breath. So our untasty halitosis was a result of fat cells shrinking and melting like the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, not exactly like that, but it makes for a good visual.

So next time you're tasting stale, steamy and stinky, grab the gum and BRING ON THE FAT BREATH!!!

Sleep, shmeep! (or "When It Rains, It Pours")

2010-01-13T14:14:00.000-08:00

Last night I was Florence Nightingale reincarnate.

It started when I should have been in bed, but was blogging and watching an episode of The Office with my husband. (He’s trying to convert me.) Lee came downstairs wanting to snuggle—not unusual—but complained that I was too hot and left to the couch—unusual. Shortly thereafter he started crying that his ear hurt. Sure enough, when I palmed his forehead, it was warm.

Side note: I read about some findings that a Mom can gauge her child’s temperature by hand within a degree. I’ve tested it since, and I’m usually pretty on. How cool is that?

After convincing him that Tylenol is a good idea and warming up a rice bag for his ear, he went back to sleep. He was sleeping so well that we left him downstairs on the couch (with the bathroom light on).

I finally climbed into bed after midnight, but climbed right back out to prepare warm honey/lemon water for a croupy Alex and to bring pillows to prop him up.

Before I could get in bed, Cora woke up feeling icky. She joined us in our bed, but couldn’t get comfy. Especially after Lee came upstairs and they were sleepily vying for the coveted spot next to me.

The rest of the night is a blur: Lee waking Cora because she squirmed and pushed him; Cora fussing and waking Lee. Cora being moved back to her crib so she could get comfortable. Taking Lee downstairs so his intermittent crying wouldn’t wake Cora; sleeping on the couch toe-to-toe with him. Abby coming down to tell me that she couldn’t breathe; me dozing back off before she even turned on the nebulizer for her inhaled albuterol treatment. (I love that she’s old enough to do it herself!) Waking up to Cora crying upstairs; bringing her to bed and soothing her back to sleep. Did I nurse her? I don’t even remember. Lee rejoining us; Riah reheating his rice bag; rearranging so they both could be by me…

Awake, asleep. Awake, asleep. This morning Riah reported that he feels rather foggy. I can't imagine why.

When my alarm went off at 7:00 I stayed awake long enough to call the school attendance hotline. Then I went back to sleep…until the children woke me up to save them from imminent starvation.

I wonder when Ms. Nightingale slept.

(Postscript—this morning the pediatrician, Dr. Lampet, proclaimed that Lee has a “real ear infection, not a pretend one.” Good. Now we’ll give him some real antibiotics.)

Funny Man

2010-01-12T21:48:00.000-08:00

Lee and I are different. Very different. We have our struggles because of it. But no matter how frustrated we can be at each other, he has one positive trait that is undeniable:

The boy is a crack up.

As parents we're not allowed to have favorites. But it's perfectly okay to prefer one of someone else's brood over their siblings. That's Lee. I've had people say, "Of all your kids, Lee's my favorite." I've also been told, "He makes me laugh. He doesn't even have to do anything! Whenever I look at him I want to laugh." Twice, actually, by two different people.

I've witnessed his gift a few times of late.

I took him to preschool and dropped him off at the door of his teacher's basement. He was hunched over doing his imitation of a robot, because that's the way all preschoolers walk into the classroom, isn't it? Wordlessly and sans eye contact, he had all 5 of the little girls there giggling and tittering because he's so funny. Amazing.

One day last week Riah & I took the younger two to run some errands before the older kids got off the bus. While I was being helped at the counter at Discount Tire I let Cora wander. Enclosed room, lots of windows, nothing to do but walk, touch smelly tires and look out the windows. As I was finishing up, I turned around to see Lee hauling his little sister to me because 'she needed to be by Mom.' I thanked him for being a good big brother and let him know that she was fine and to please put her down. He's a muscly brute, but he still has to lean back to counterbalance the fact that she weighs over half what he does. The lady behind me watched him trudge and stagger across the floor and laughed out loud.

On to Costco.

I've decided that future Costco trips will be during preschool. This time wasn't too bad thanks to the advantageous parent/child ratio. At the register, Riah took the kids & headed out to get a jump start on the car seat buckling. And to get the children out of the store. Mostly the latter. I ended up walking directly behind them out the door. I wish I had a camera.

Strong, broad-shouldered husband, carrying sweet baby with Cindy-Lou-Who hair in his left arm; holding hand of tow-headed 3.5 year-old son in his right. Said son happily walking hand-in-hand with his dad, too-big jeans bunching over too-big black galoshes; big red Spider-Man coat clutched in right arm, blue mittens-on-a-string dangling below, almost dragging on the floor. All the while he's musically moving his voice up and down as his tongue bobs quickly back and forth past the opening of his O-shaped lips, making a cute, typical, untypable sound. (Pretty sure you just tried it.)

The receipt-checker lady watched them walk out, then looked at me. I offered, "We're never bored at our house," which triggered a short conversation as she compared my cart with my receipt. Her end comment was uttered through a laugh: "He's hysterical."

He didn't do anything. He simply walked. And it was hysterical.

Aging awakening

2010-01-08T18:13:00.000-08:00

Often when we arrive at the bus stop in the morning I take a moment to zip zippers, put up hoods and make sure that everyone is protected from the elements. It is January, after all. Just yesterday as Lee was running out the door to "go scootering," I intervened to remind him to wear a coat. He resisted strongly, insisting, "But if I wear it, I can't go speedy!!" After that I pulled Alex inside because he wasn't wearing one at all!

I remember wearing shorts on chilly, drizzly days in high school; begging to skip a coat on Halloween because it would cover my costume (blasted late-October nights); and going without a toque (hat) out in the snow because it would mess up my hair.

And that makes me wonder...when did I get old?

Now before I go to the bus stop I put on my scarf, ball cap, heavy coat and gloves. My only concern regarding my looks is yesterday's mascara.

I can't properly pinpoint when I shifted from "nonchalant and cute, but cold" to "who cares what I look like? I'm warm." And I'm not exactly sure what I feel about that.

Cursed, blessed Sunday afternoon nap

2010-01-03T22:37:00.000-08:00

I love Sunday afternoon naps. I took one today, and limited it to just under 2 hours. I forced myself not to doze back off too many times after I woke up so I wouldn't be up late, un-sleepy.

Didn't work.

I was so pleased with myself that I was getting into bed by 10, tomorrow being the first day back to school after Christmas break. Ah well. Too many things in my brain:

Mmm, bed. Warm. Comfortable. Sleep. Should I tackle Abby's room tomorrow? It'll take a couple of weeks to clean it up and get it rearranged to put Cora in it. No, better do the dining nook/game closet downstairs first.

Roll over

I need to advertise my vacancies first. But the last ads I posted got no hits. I need to visit other complexes to figure out how low I can drop my prices. Hm. Tomorrow would be a great time, because the kids will be in school and Riah's not working. I could go alone!

Snore from beside me.

We should take pictures of us at our 'before' state. How actively do I want to get this weight off? I hate jiggling. Gross. Slim Fast for the intense drop then eating right later? Unhealthy. I'll take the big plates out of my cupboard. Use only the salad plates and no seconds.

Snore.

What to eat? Buy that program I saw online? No. Maybe just pull out all of the eating plans that we have already--SouthTurboHipHopBeachZone Diet, here we come! Wonder if I can find a Joel Fuhrman book at Half Price Books.

Snore.

Exercise. Need to do that. Rollerblade tag was fun New Year's Day with the kids on scooters. Maybe I could use the kids' new jump ropes. If I don't get in better shape before I get pregnant again, how miserable will that be? And Riah's sure he'll kick up early if he doesn't decrease his gut.

Cough from down the hall.

Crap. I hope Lee's not getting sick. What bills are due before we get paid? Wonder which is righter: the checkbook or the bank? How long will the spare tire hold out on the van?

Snore

Rustling sounds from the crib at the foot of the bed, accompanied by light whimpers.

Snore, followed by a gentle-ish jostling from me.

"What?"
"Shh."
Irritated "Why?"
"The baby's sleeping lightly and you're snoring loudly."

Deep breathing

Why am I not sleeping? This is annoying. I'm tired, why can't I sleep? Hope the baby doesn't wake up.

Snore

Jacob or Edward? Who would I choose if it were me? Edward's got dazzle, but Jacob's good to snuggle.

Snore

There are a lot of group camping sites in the state without running water. Wonder why that is. If there's a group of people doing actual tent camping, I'm pretty sure that they'll want water. The vault toilets last year at Fort Flagler were barely less icky than a sani-can, but I can live with that. Water, however, is a must.

Cough

Someone recently posted something about putting menthol on foot soles for coughing. I should look that up.

Snore

I love aubreyannie's blog. I really like the personalized touches she added. Chicklegirl just made some changes, too. How do I do that? I need to have aubrey over for an afternoon so she can tutor me. I'll bribe her with some sort of yumminess. And a play date for the boys.

Cough

Snore

I've heard that if you can't sleep that you should write down all the things in your brain and throw them in the garbage or burn them or something. Maybe I should just make a list of things to do. Or maybe just blog them...

So here I sit, 40 minutes later. Only time will tell if it worked. What do you do when your brain won't shut off?

Note about Abby's room:

2010-01-03T22:36:00.000-08:00

Abby’s room has been a storage room for the last 5.5 years. Okay a junk drawer. Just last spring we rearranged it so we could fit a twin bed & some cute girl furniture in it. It’s never been her room, per se, but an oversized closet that she sleeps in. Not ideal, but hers. Partially. Before Thanksgiving I was looking for something in the closet that is still full of my stuff—mostly crafts & infrequently used items—and was pulling out photo boxes, projects, etc and putting them on the bed. Curious Cora got to them a few days later. Photo boxes of ordered, unlabeled pictures + Toddler – Lids + Floor = Ugh. It started there and has become my “I’m taking care of it later, so this can go here, too” spot. Ugh ugh. So it’s now the new year & Ab’s been sleeping on the boys’ floor since before Thanksgiving. The new plan is to do a major overhaul, move Cora in there so Abby’s not alone (she hates that) and make it a girl room. The storage stuff will move to my room. (One friend emphatically insisted that I not turn my bedroom into a storage room, which makes sense. Another quietly pointed out that boxes won’t wake me up in the middle of the night. Hello food storage!)

A little out of order...December 21, 2009

2009-12-29T17:56:00.000-08:00

Hmm, I wonder...

So, after a morning of screaming, scowling and fighting, the boys spent an hour outside doing who-knows-what, involving rocks and sticks. Lee now has a scratch on his nose--but doesn't care a whit--and they're both pretty dirty.

And they're getting along swimmingly.

They're happily cooperating setting up Lee's recent favorite pastime, Memory, and Lee has said no less than 10 times, "We're having a fun day, aren't we?"

So now I wonder: If we had a backyard, would my children like each other more?

A little out of order...December 19, 2009

2009-12-29T17:48:00.000-08:00

Now I'm feelin' it.

Today is December 19th. Christmas is in 6 days and I'm almost ready.

Around the 5th or so, I had the feeling that December was spiraling wildly out of control and I was struggling to grasp anything I could get ahold of in order to establish some semblance of control and order. Weird, because it was only the 5th.

So I got busy making plans, wish lists and charts of who would give what to whom. A good list always brings relief. I also organized it by deadline: family gifts for the exchange at the annual Christmas dinner the 12th (brunch this year), gifts to ship by the 14th...you get the point. Then I got busy getting busy. Finding just the right recipe for an "in-the-jar" gift for just about everyone, ordering a game, making rice bags, deciding what "make, have or do" gift would be best for each family, etc.

Though I'd done a good job of making sure things were done on time (mostly), I just wasn't feeling it. I wasn't feeling the excitement, the joy, the giddiness...I was missing the Spirit of Christmas. I've been listening to Christmas music since before Thanksgiving, I've been making Christmas plans, watching Christmas movies, reading Christmas books. Even eating Christmas treats! But I wasn't feeling Christmas.

Until today.

Today my sister came to watch the kids so Riah & I could go out for a couple hours. Date, shopping, puddle-stomping, whatever! Because he's been gone all week working 2-1/2 hours north, we opted for the shopping option. We went to Michael's, then Jo-Ann Fabric to find just the right supplies that we still needed for Abby's gift to Alex, then to Fred Meyer to pick up our gifts to the kiddos. We were in Michael's maybe 15 minutes when Riah reached his craft store threshhold. It was visible. And funny. He started getting antsy and looked like he was going to be sick. So I did what any good wife would do: I laughed and dragged him to Jo-Ann's.

After dinner we got to work on the gifts. Riah & Abby were downstairs sanding, gluing, nailing and staining a new chessboard/box for Alex's recently acquired chess pieces. Alex & I gathered the necessities and constructed a work area up on my bed (upturned laundry basket covered with a towel...good enough). Alex & I drilled, cut, covered, twisted and hot-glued a padded, fabric-covered necklace/hairclip holder for Abby.

It was fun to see Alex's excitement to use the drill, cut the fabric and batting, screw in the cup hooks where I got them started, decide how many ribbons would hang down for the hairclips and even use the hot glue gun! Any time anyone needed to go upstairs or downstairs, there would be a little scramble to make sure that nobody saw something they shouldn't. There was excitement in the air. Secrecy. Fun. Giving. Service. Happiness. Love.

It spread.

So now I'm feeling it. My tree is lopsidedly lit thanks to a faulty string, my house is a mess, I still don't know what the kids are going to do for their dad and there's no way that I'm going to get the usual lavish goodie plates out to my friends this year. But it doesn't matter right now. Right now I'm basking in the magic of Christmas.

This really shouldn't be that hard!

2009-12-28T18:52:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to start a blog for quite a while. With a husband and children and the property and a home and church responsibilities, I've been avoiding it. I simply don't have the time! It's the same reason that I didn't belonging to any social networking sites. After a while, aubreyannie convinced me to get onto Facebook. It took a while, but I finally caved. Once there, it was a short journey over the border into BlogLand.

I found myself blogging in my head. All day long.

So I sat down to set up a blog, and frankly, it was frustrating. Almost infuriating! All of the good names are taken, and half of those lie unused! At least half of THOSE blogs don't have anything to do with the witty blog names that I came up with. Why on earth would 'peppermintcocoa' lead me to a blank blog with nothing but Joe Schmoe's name on it? It seriously took more than 6 weeks to come up with my name.

But it fits.

Why? Two reasons. Those who know me know that I'm talkative. So much so that it's not uncommon for me to be in a group conversation and not ever get to my point because I felt like I needed to explain way too much of what I call the backstory. I'm getting better. The other reason is that I love lists. Lists help keep my life in order. If it doesn't get onto my list, it falls out of my crowded brain. Lists can be on my computer, a beat-up spiral notebook, a post-it, the back of a receipt, the bathroom mirror...it doesn't matter.

So the double-meaning of 'listing' and my acknowledged loquacity make this blog name good for me.

Plus I love alliteration.