Love That Bee

Happy Valentines Day!

2012-02-14T20:52:00.000-08:00

Because it is 'Second Tuesday' a monthly event where Brandon goes out with a close friend, we decided earlier to treat the boys to dinner out tonight. Unfortunately, we choose the same place as everyone else in town. Since, waiting an hour for dinner at 6:00 is not an option, we had to compromise *ahem* bribe the kids. We ate at a restaurant close to home and finished the dinner with their choice of ice cream: Molly Moons or Baskin Robbins.

Guess which one they choose!

And, yes, that is ice cream on his head.

Hope all of you are enjoying your Valentines Day!

My Valentines

2012-02-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

Look at these two adorable boys, all dressed up for Valentine's Day

Oh, wait, it's just their Christmas shirt, or as Finn calls it, "his ho shirt"

Well, at least it is red, that is somewhat valentine-related, right?

Two Things

2012-02-07T16:44:00.000-08:00

First, as I was walking near the mall today I saw this:

Sorry for the glare, but as I was taking this picture the boys were on their way to Target.

And I had to stop and take a picture, because REALLY?! Azteca is the #1 Mexican restaurant on our side of the mountains? I'm pretty sure the taco truck parked outside Home Depot has better food. Sorry, if I offended any of you die-hard Azteca-lovers, out there. But, it really doesn't qualify for the #1 spot.

Second, I did a double take at this:

Because I swear, this is something one of you serious DIY-ers would see, snap up, take before pictures of, reupholster in amazing fabric you have on hand, take after pictures, and post on your blogs. Then it would be pinned to Pinterest, because it would be that amazing.

I, on the other hand would haul it to my basement, where it would sit for years, until Brandon asks, "What were you thinking?"

Um, it had good bones? And it was free?

In other news, we had our first picnic outside today and it was marvelous. Made me wish this weather was here to stay.

Stop Following Me!

2012-02-02T14:36:00.000-08:00

Please, I am begging you! Don't follow me on Pinterest. I don't understand what it is, or what it is for, or how to use it, or really what the point of it all is. I'm not even sure how to say it. My mind immediately thinks: pine-trest. Which, obviously makes no sense, and also shows you my very week phonic skills. I think it is supposed to be: pin-terest. Get it, PIN-terest, something you are interested in that you pin?

I only signed on to Pinterest because a good friend of mine was on FB begging for an invitation. I had one in my inbox but had never finished the registration process, because it freaked me out. But that night I decided to. I went to the site, created a profile, and began pinning away!

But that is the problem, and the reason you need to stop following me. I have only pinned one thing. Some weird little candle votive idea that I needed for MOPS. That was the one and only time I have been on Pinterest. But everyday I get a new email that someone is following me.

Please, stop!! I have nothing pinned, I will have nothing pinned, I really truly do not get this whole thing that is Pinterest! You are just simply "pinning" pictures of things you like? Not the directions on how to do it, or even a reason why, aside from "so cute!" or "I love this" or "I want this". Which, is just really weird to me.

I've embraced the whole blogging world (obviously) which I use to think was bizarre, but this Pinterest thing, I just can not understand it.

P.S. Even though I just typed "Pinterest" 6 or 7 times, I still think it should be "Pine-trest". It's just easier to say. Maybe I'll start my own website, Pine-trest: dedicated to all those who struggle with phonetics and finding things to pin. Although, that may be a very small group of people. Like, just 1.

The Lotion Song

2012-01-29T22:04:00.000-08:00

When I had my first baby, everything was so fun and exciting. Brandon and I would fight over who got to dress Jack for the day, and then who got to do jammies at night. Side note: now we fight over who has to help the boys get dressed. Just kidding, sort-of. But when Jack was a little baby, dressing him was one of the highlights of the day.

It wasn't just dressing him, that I enjoyed, but also, rubbing baby lotion into his skin. Besides helping his dry skin issues, it also made him smell so yummy. Being by yourself all day with an infant, can make you crazy. Which is the only reason I can explain this song. You see, I couldn't just rub lotion onto Jack's legs, I also had to sing.

Lotion, lotion, lotion,
Lotion on your legs
Lotion, lotion, lotion,
Lotion on your legs

We've got to lo-tion up your legs
We've got to lo-tion up your legs

Lotion, lotion, lotion,
Lotion on your legs
Lotion, lotion, lotion,
Lotion on your legs

Additional verses:
Lotion on your arms...
Lotion on your belly...

You get the idea.

Why am I sharing this with you? Because, even though, I rubbed lotion onto each of my boys and sang them this sweet, lovely song, each of them has hideous dry skin. Jack and Micah are the worst culprits. Their hands feel like sand paper, with dry, red, chapped skin. I feel that it must hurt, and yet, I can not help them.

You see, as soon as I say, hmm, you need lotion. They run screaming the other way. Seriously.

I'm not sure if it's the way the lotion feels on their skin or if they are afraid I will break into song.

Every Now and Then

2012-01-24T15:04:00.000-08:00

For those of you who know me, you know my family lives a scant 45 minutes away. Considering that is the farthest we have to drive to see both sets of grandparents and the majority of our aunts/uncles/cousins (Sorry, California family!) we are very blessed. Or cursed, depends on the time of the year.

When I was first married, I was sure we would eventually move to my hometown. Even though my brand new husband had been very clear that we would NEVER live in such a little town, I was convinced he was lying. Well, he wasn't and 14 years later we are still living in the big city I moved to, just to go to college. But within this large city, we have created a community of friends, neighbors, preschool families, and now school-age families, that I could not imagine living without. It is a very different life then what I had pictured when I first got married, but it is a good place for us.

And most of the time I am just fine, living where we do, 45 minutes away from my mom and sisters. But every now and then I wish for the life I had thought was a given.

Last Wednesday, our entire neck of the woods was shut down due to a snow storm. And, yes, other parts of the country laugh at our snow-wimpyness, but seriously, we have hills and no skills! On our second day of snow, and no school, I called my mom to say hi. Just to see what she was up to. Oh, not much, just at work with both of my sisters and her best friend. Eating doughnuts, sipping coffee, and talking. It was too snowy for any patients, but the clinic must be opened just in case, and since all three of them live so close they were able to head into work together.

And that is when I wished I was there. Or close enough to pass the kids off to my husband, and walk up in the snow, to sit and chat over coffee and doughnuts. I envied my younger sister who has similar aged boys as she was away from them for the day. I envied my older sister who, even though, her kids had a no school day, they are old enough to be on their own and she too, left everyone behind. I was jealous that they were seeing other adults, talking, and laughing. I was also sad to miss out on the story telling, the laughing, the inside jokes that go with being a family.

I know I love where we live, the community we have built here, how close it is to Brandon's work. Whenever the boys say, "We want to live near grandma!", I list all the things they would miss from our town. But last week, when I hung up the phone and turned back to my boys, I would be lying if I said I wasn't sad. Just for a moment, I wished I did live on the same street, and work in the same clinic, and go to the same church....

Every now and then.

Snowed In

2012-01-19T16:55:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's been three days and the snow is still here. I was doing okay because in the back of my mind was the knowledge that I was leaving on Friday. A girls-only weekend was planned. I only had to get to 5:30 on Friday and I would be out the door. No kids, no husband.

But, the snow is still here. Plus ice and freezing rain. Which means, no girls weekend. Three more days stretch out with no real relief. We've done afternoon movie matinee, made popcorn, cleaned our rooms, played duplos and star wars, even completed a craft. And now I am done.

I love time at home, and I love the break from the constant running, but I am feeling a little bit of cabin fever.

I wonder if I go hide in my room if anyone will notice? I might give it a try.

Snow Day, Take Two

2012-01-17T13:52:00.000-08:00

30 minutes ago this post was going to look very different. I was forming the basis for what I wanted to say while ushering two wild boys into solitary confinement. What would have been our movie/rest time, was now going to be "Mommy's Alone Time".

I had already had a playdate with 2 friends from preschool, bringing the total number of kids in our house to 7. Driven in the snow with no phone or license to the bus stop, waited at the bus stop for 20 minutes, only to decide the bus was not coming. Driven home with a very sad 6 and 3/4's boy who desperately wanted to go to school. Continued the playdate that I had put on hold when I tried to take Jack to the bus stop. Found out that school was in effect cancelled. Made lunch, put the littlest one down for his nap, and reached my breaking point.

In my mind today was going to be a playdate with friends, Jack would be at school, tonight I would have Bible study with my friends, and tomorrow we would have a snow day. One day of planned activities, one day with the boys to myself! It was perfect. But then it wasn't.

After sending the boys to their individual quiet rooms, I made my lunch, and sat down on the couch with my blanket. I was trying to decide if I should:
1. Fold clothes and watch TV
2. Just watch TV
3. Read blogs
4. Write a blog

I was pondering my options when I realized what I should do was have a bit of a quiet time for myself. I opened the book, Jesus Calling, and read today's devotion. And then I stopped. Because, it was of course, exactly what I needed to read at this moment.

I want you to rejoice today, refusing to worry about tomorrow...... I can weave miracles into the most mundane day if you keep your focus on Me. (Jesus Calling by Sarah Young)

Instead of moping and complaining that I have everyone home today, and most likely tomorrow, find the blessing in that. Even when Jack and Micah are crazy wrestling and someone is bound to get hurt, enjoy the time with them. Instead of looking ahead to the long stretch of time before dad is home, plan something out of the ordinary to do. Pull out the tents they got for Christmas, make a huge fort, make popcorn as a snack, get out the water colors. Or just watch a movie.

I am a planner, have always been and always will be, I have my week's outfits picked out on Sunday night even. But I have to learn to be flexible with my plans and to know that in the end, I have absolutely no control over what happens day to day.

And to be okay with that.

15 more minutes and the older two boys will be out of quiet time. Take a deep breath, drink more coffee, gather myself together. And be ready to enjoy this unexpected day with my boys.

What's For Dinner?

2012-01-11T21:39:00.000-08:00

This is one of my least favorite questions. Ranks second right after, "are you going to try for a girl?". And it is a question that I am asked daily, sometimes more then once a day.

Tonight I made a new recipe, Curried Noodles with Tofu. I actually was going to make this last night, but at 5:45 when I started cooking, I realized that I was missing the key ingredient: coconut milk. That combined with my husband calling me to tell me he had his second flat tire and was walking to a local bike store, I decided to ordered pizza.

Tofu, take two. When dinner was done, I realized it hadn't made as much as I expected it too. This may surprise you, but Brandon eats ALOT. I dished up small plates for the boys and myself, and a big plate for Brandon. Two out of the three boys were not impressed and refused to even try it. Jack was the only one who ate it but that was with the promise of a popsicle.

It wasn't awful, it actually tasted just fine. But halfway through my plate I had a thought.

"Why am I eating tofu, when I have an absolutely delicious pot roast turned french dip, waiting for me in the fridge?"

I ate a few more bites of cabbage, while debating if I wanted to give up my planned lunch for tomorrow.

Tofu or beef. Hmm, tough call. I looked at Brandon and said, "You know..." and he said, "You've got a roast in the fridge." God, I love that man.

I put my fork down, jumped up and quickly began to assemble the best french dip sandwich in the world.

While the boys played, I savored every last bite. Did I feel guilty about eating a fat slab of meat on vegetarian night. Um, sure, but seriously, did I mention how good it was?

Beef, it's what's for dinner.

Best. Gift. Ever.

2012-01-08T22:41:00.000-08:00

At Thanksgiving, my mom asked me if she thought Brandon would like a backyard fire pit for his Christmas present. Mmm, I think so, we don't have one, so sure. My mom and step-dad, love Black Friday shopping and stood in line to get not one, but two, of these fire pits, to give to their son-in-laws. I totally forgot about the gift until Christmas day when we opened presents. Brandon was thrilled. It was what he always wanted.

Unfortunately, I forgot that I have not one, or two, but 4 pyromaniacs. I'm not so sure giving a fire pit to this group was such a good idea.

Micah is very protective of the firewood

Anticipation!

Blowing on the flames to 'help' the fire

Safety is our first priority

Gratuitous shot of Elsie

Star-gazing

With the help of the iPhone app

Bliss

Watching the boys dance around outside, waiting for the fire pit to be put together and then the excitement of lighting the log, was priceless. The boys begged to eat dinner outside, because we had the fire to keep us warm, unfortunately, I was too late with dinner and the fire was out by the time it was ready. Such a shame.

Brandon and Micah sat outside together, poking the fire, looking at stars, and making "magic" according to Micah. Right there, I realized Brandon was right. This was: The. Best. Gift. Ever.

Thanks Mom and Randy!

Date Night

2012-01-04T21:04:00.000-08:00

It's a "Where's Waldo" moment

A few weeks ago I wrote about taking Jack out to lunch, just us. Now, I am not obsessive about making sure everything is fair and equal among the boys. This may not seem like a big deal but I come from a family where fairness means everything. My mom used to count each piece of chocolate candy that would go into our stockings, just to make sure they were the same. I don't even give the kids the same amount of gifts at Christmas. GASP! I can see my sister cringing, she who uses a spreadsheet to keep track of the equality of the Christmas gifts among her kids. While I may not make everything fair and equal, I do know that one-on-one time with any of my boys is something very special.

Checking out where the ingredients comes from

So the other night Micah and I went on our date. Earlier in the Advent season, I had mentioned something about Molly Moon's ice-cream. I think I was just wondering if they had a peppermint Christmas ice-cream for the holiday season. Micah suggested we go to Molly Moon's and look at Christmas lights. Just us, he said. And so we planned to do a date night, just Micah and Mommy and some yummy ice-cream. Life being what it is, the date was postponed many times, but the other night we finally made it happen.

And it was good. Cold ice-cream on a cold, wet night, means no line. We sat at the bar, watched them make sundaes for customers, and even watched one of the workers make a grilled cheese sandwich on the waffle iron. I ate maple bacon ice-cream, and Micah had kiwi sorbet. We both agreed the other person's choice in ice-cream was terrible. When it was over, we grabbed a pint to-go, and hurried home to the rest of our family.

Blink and you will miss him

When is it Finn's turn? Well, about that. Being the youngest means he has three days a week where it is just the two of us. Mostly we are at preschool, running errands or cleaning the house. But every now and then we sneak in a quick stop at Top Pot doughnuts. See, I can be fair and equal with the boys. Sort-of.

What's In a Name

2011-12-31T10:11:00.000-08:00

Bringing home a new puppy is very similar to a new baby, except that the baby doesn't run, chew things, and poop on your rug. Both wake you up at night, luckily for me it's the hubby's turn to deal with midnight wake ups. Both tend to be most alert at the exact time you want to sleep or get something done. Both are pretty cute. But I have to say, I like babies more. While Brandon is completely in love with his little girl, I come and go. She's very cute, love how soft and snugly she is, but I seem to only get to spend time with her when she is at her most wild. Right now, I thought we would snuggle on the couch together, maybe watch a show while I sipped my coffee and enjoyed an hour at home with no kids. Instead, Elsie bit the computer, bit my pajamas (yes, I'm still not dressed), jumped off the couch, and is currently chewing a cardboard box to pieces.

As Brandon left he said he was sure she was ready for a nap. Not so much. She will probably fall asleep right when I get up to start working on the house. Then she will curl up in the nice warm spot on the couch and sleep away. Oh well, if worse comes to worse I can put her in her crate. Can't do that with a baby.

A couple of people have asked about her name, particularly her middle two names. So here goes. Ever since we decided to get a new puppy, which was probably 1 day after Nemo died, I started thinking of names. I am always obsessed with names and would do the same thing through each pregnancy. This time, thinking of a girl name, seemed so easy. I really wanted Mae, because that was what I would have named a daughter, but that just didn't seem to work for a dog. I suggested Elsie and Brandon loved it, but the boys were not so convinced. Jack even said it was too fancy of a name.

Of course, Jack's only suggestion was "Henry", because that is what we name everything. I explained that we would probably have a girl, and that Henry wasn't a girl's name. So we suggested Henrietta, but not as a first name, because that is too hard to say. Or yell. Once we picked Henrietta, Jack once again suggested another name. Ice-cream, because everyone loves ice-cream. Okay.

The day we went to get Elsie all we talked about was what her name should be. By then we had three names on the table.

Elsie
Eva
Dory

Eva was suggested because the boys love Wall-E, but I could just see myself yelling, "Eeee-VAaaaaa" in my best Wall-E impersonation and I thought that might get old. Dory was offered to continue with the Pixar/Disney theme and name this new puppy the companion to Nemo's dad in the movie Finding Nemo. Both Brandon and I liked it, but the boys thought it was weird. So we took a vote. Several times, in fact. And, considering the only one who really understands voting is Jack, Elsie won with the most votes.

That is how this little puppy became Elsie Henrietta Ice-Cream Lonac.

It's a .... GIRL!

2011-12-27T20:43:00.000-08:00

Some of you may know that I have been having serious baby-lust lately. When Finn turned 1, I thought that was the worst of it, but I was wrong. When he turned 2 and I realized we were leaving babyhood behind, I once again wanted another baby.

Crazy, I know.

Plus, living in a male dominated house, I really wanted a girl. Change the ratio, just a smidge. With each pregnancy I had prayed and prayed, not for a girl, but for the perfect addition to our family. And God provided. I would not change my family one bit. But that does not mean I do not long for a little pink here and there.

I have been told that puppies can help to fill in that space inside that always longs for a baby (you of course must like dogs). I also know the only way to be 100% guaranteed of a girl was to adopt.

With that being said, meet the latest addition to our family:

Elsie Henrietta Ice-Cream Lonac

She is so tiny that she almost fits into her food dish.

We have already had a first bath, which was a little traumatic. Elsie has pretty much been asleep since then.

The best part is how much the boys already love her. We had to say good-night to Elsie before we could go to bed tonight. Plus, hearing Finn say his version of her name is pretty adorable.

Now, I am off to fight Brandon for whose turn it is to hold her. He has claimed rights to Elsie, which I am good with as long as it involves taking her outside, feeding her, bathing her, and getting up with her at night. But when she is asleep and all snugly, then she is mine.

And It's Over

2011-12-25T21:45:00.000-08:00

Currently I am laying on the couch in my post-Christmas stupor watching Top Chef. Reflecting on how this year went and already planning on how to make changes for next year. Christmas is always such a blur for us, no matter how much we agree that this year we will slow it down. It doesn't help to have three very EXCITED boys who rip the paper off the gift before you can even blink. All in all it was a good Christmas, but I am so glad it is over!

So excited for the brother's gifts to each other.

Thanks Finn.

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Am I Foolish?

2011-12-23T14:15:00.000-08:00

As I type that I can see some of you nodding before I have even finished the question. Brandon and I may be impulsive about cars, frantic trips to California, and needing another dog ASAP, but this time it is all me.

Last night Brandon was lamenting the fact that we can't put presents under the tree. I quickly pointed out that I had, just then, finished wrapping and put the presents under the tree. Won't the boys be into them? He asked me. Hmm... I hadn't thought of that.

But I left them, because I wanted presents under the tree, and because I was tired of storing them in various places around the house. The presents weren't for them, I'm not that foolish! But I did think it might be a little tempting.

Update: Presents are still there and wrapped. No one has tried to open and re-wrap the presents like my sisters and I did. Oops.

Table for Two

2011-12-20T20:58:00.000-08:00

Today I had the chance to go on a lunch date with Jack. Last week, I took his brothers to McDonald's after a crazy day running Christmas errands. I'll admit it was a bit of bribe for the last store. It was one errand too many, but it needed to be done, so a quick "be good and I'll take you to McDonald's" and we pushed on. Errand accomplished, McDonald's drive-thru and we were home. But we had evidence of our trip with the arrival of two new happy meal toys in our house. And of course Jack noticed and commented on them.

Seeing as how this was Winter Break, I promised him a date with just mom at McDonald's. I thought he would like the idea of McDonald's, but I didn't realize how much he would like the idea of a date. All day he kept saying, "when is it our date mom?" or "are you excited for our date?".

At the restaurant he told me we would sit in a both so we could look at each other and talk. He choose the perfect booth, one that held exactly 2 people and was blue because that is his favorite color. Jack refilled his drink, got napkins, and requested extra ketchup, all by himself. The only thing he was too nervous to do was to ask for a new happy meal toy. We received a girl one, and that was not acceptable. After getting in the car, I get a big hug and kiss, and I love you mom.

While I personally hate McDonald's, going and sitting with my first born was one of my favorite things we've done. Time with him is rare, especially alone time, and being able to sit (even if the conversation was a little stilted) was awesome.

I love this boy.

Santa Claus is Coming to Town

2011-12-18T22:02:00.000-08:00

Today we had an unexpected visitor to our house..... Santa and Mrs. Claus. Micah had been very clear that he needed to sit on the pretend Santa's lap to tell him what he wanted for Christmas. Not the real Santa, because he is at the North Pole, obviously.

Our first ever Santa picture of all the boys:

Thanks Santa (and Mrs. Claus)! We love the treats and the great visit!

Party Like It's 1999

2011-12-17T23:14:00.000-08:00

This weekend we had two holiday parties to go to. The first one was Brandon's office party, which always has good food and an open bar. The second one was a 1960's sock-hop inspired theme for my Mom's 60th.

Both were fun, although in very different ways. Friday night I was wearing nylons, heels, a dress, and sparkly jewelry. The boys in my house said I looked pretty. Even with the nylons, I got a "still pretty" from my oldest. Not sure what he meant by that. Tonight it was a jeans, sweater set, pearls, and headband kind of look. Apparently, my dress from the night before was a really big hit as my middle son asked why I did not wear it to grandma's party.

Friday night I laughed, and ate, and even drank some. I also asked a women when she was due, only to find out she had had the baby. Open mouth insert foot.

Saturday night I chased my boys, made small talk, and ate lots of caramel popcorn. I tried to start the dancing, but shockingly no one joined in.

The best part of my weekend was arriving at a tent city and opening up the trunk of our car. We had so much food left-over from my mom's party, that we were joking we would freeze it for Christmas Eve. Instead, we gave corn, rice, chicken, and rolls to extremely thankful people at a local tent city.

As we drove away my oldest son who was still awake, said: "I've got an idea let's bring another meal tomorrow!" Made my heart swell; after two days of wonderful parties, celebrating this season with lots of food, drinks, music, friends and family, nothing compared to seeing the joy on the people's faces as we handed over pan after pan of food.

And knowing that my son (at least at times) recognizes how truly blessed we are.

On Bullying and Knowing When to Step In

2011-12-15T14:39:00.000-08:00

The title of this post makes it sound like I will have all the answers to this topic. I'll just tell you now that I don't, not even close. So if you were excited to read this and find out how to handle bulling in your own child's life, then stop reading right now. Just letting you know.

A little background: Jack has been riding the bus since the first day of school. In fact, he had wanted to ride the bus TO school but I said no. One of the few times I have put my foot down. I will drive my firstborn to his first day of school, sheesh. But he did ride it home, and was the only one in his class who did. Since then we have had days where I've picked him up, for whatever reason, but the bus is his main mode of transportation.

And I love it. I love putting the younger boys in their coats and loading them into the stroller at 4:00 to walk to the bus stop. I love seeing the bus turn up our street and knowing it's Jack. I love greeting him at the bottom of the steps with a big hug and a kiss hello. (Complete honesty means I need to tell you that only happens sometimes, most days he gets off the bus with the question: What did you bring me to eat?) Every time we start our walk to the bus, it makes me feel like I live in a small town. Silly, I know, especially since we cross a major road, but the act in itself reminds of where I grew up.

But soon after school started, the bus ride home became something of a problem. It seems that a couple of kids on the bus were not so nice to Jack. But they were fellow kindergarteners, including one from his own class. They were kids he considered friends, and wanting to be included, he would always try to sit with them or near them.

At first it was 'little' things. Not giving Jack candy when it was being shared, or telling him he was evil, which in retrospect should have been when I stepped in. Instead, I tried to encourage Jack to sit somewhere else on the bus, find another friend, read a book, look out the window. ANYTHING that would distract him from this group of kids. But everyday he would get off with another story, or the complaint that no one would sit with him even when he asked them too.

But then last night as we were snuggling in bed, he told me the kids on the bus had taken his stuff. Even when he asked for his backpack and lovey back, they wouldn't return them. As we left the room, Brandon told me that the day before the same kids had said to Jack they were going to kill him.

That was my breaking point. And yes, I know some of you may have stepped in earlier, but I always struggle with when to let Jack work things out and when to intervene. This morning I stalked the teacher and her intern before school, literally. We parked next to them and followed them into the school at which point I said I needed 5 minutes of their time. This was increasingly awkward because last week I asked the student intern how old she was and if she was single. But that is another story.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Can (the intern) walk Jack to the bus after school?"
Teacher: "Sure, no problem."
Me: "Great because one of the students in this class said he was going to kill him"
Teacher: "WHAT! Oh, no, we have a zero tolerance rule to bullying. Let me tell you what will happen to those kids.
Me: Gulp
Teacher: And for the future, anything that happens that you are concerned about, either in class, or on the bus, please call me or email me right away. I am here, not only for your child, but to support you. There is no such thing as a 'small problem'
Me: I think I love you.*

*Just kidding, that would be really weird.

Within minutes the teacher was meeting with the principal to plan next steps for these children and their families.

I walked away, once again, questioning if I should have stepped in sooner. Did I cause Jack unnecessary stress by not taking the situation seriously? Should I have him stop riding the bus and begin to pick him up every day? How do I let him know he is an amazing boy who does not need to be treated that way by so-called friends?

A friend of mine said, "I want our kids to all be really young again!". And while, at that time I thought I was going to lose my mind, I agree with her. When the biggest worry was protecting nap time, or how much TV is too much.

I would trade these problems for those, any day.

Makes Me Proud

2011-12-13T17:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday and today, Micah has created a new game for us to play.

Library.

He is the librarian, I am the patron. It is very serious business, being a librarian.

There are cards to stamp, books to check out, books to make. And sometimes even books to buy.

Then of course you must always be vigilant about the noise level.

Quite please, he tells me, no sneezing in the library.

My library days are most likely over, but maybe Micah will carry on the tradition.

Day of Firsts

2011-12-11T20:31:00.000-08:00

Today was a big day in our house. Full of many "firsts".

It started with the first (and hopefully only) time we had 5 kids to get ready for church. And not just any church, but the kids Christmas Program Sunday.

Showing off our gingerbread houses.

Then, for the first time in our family history, all 3 boys participated in the program! And by participated, I mean they made it on stage. That was my only goal today, and we were successful! We even had some actual hand motions, and Jack sang a verse or two. In between winking at me, raising and lowering his eyebrows, and yawning, of course.

Watching his brothers 'perform'

Can you find Micah?

And there it is, my three boys up on stage. I was beaming! And sweating.

Continuing with our Advent activities, Brandon and I decided to do something crazy today. After a sleep-over, and a busy morning that started pretty early, we skipped naps and went to the movies. For the first time as a whole family.

I think I laughed harder then the boys, but seriously when the chickens sang Cee Lo Green, I thought I was going to pee my pants.

Now it is 8:30, the boys are all passed out, and I am watching Once Upon a Time. Again. I seem to be addicted.

Happy Sunday to all of you!

What Do You Do With 5 Kids?

2011-12-10T22:31:00.000-08:00

Good question.

How about gingerbread houses? Frosting, candy, a serious sugar-high, what could be better?

At least it kept them entertained for 20 minutes.

Plus I got to dip into the candy stash whenever the chaos overwhelmed me.

Still Sad

2011-12-09T22:21:00.000-08:00

Even though we have had a dog (and at one time two) for the past 10 years, I would never call myself an animal lover. Sure, I like puppies, but who doesn't. They are so cute, and small, and cuddly. But then they grow up and become dogs. Big or small, they are still dogs and the affection I felt for the puppy doesn't transfer to the dog.

So, it has come as a surprise to find how much I still grieve the loss of Nemo. I still rush to answer the door before anyone can ring the doorbell and cause Nemo to bark and wake up Finn. I still open the door when we return home and expect to hear him give one of his full body shakes as he rouses himself from his nap. I still walk carefully through the yard expecting to step on land mines that Nemo had left for us.

I still question if we did the right thing.

Today I read this. We still miss Nemo, we still grieve the loss that seemed to happen so quickly, we still remember standing there holding him as we said good-bye, we still can't believe he is gone.

Saying Goodbye

Writer's Workshop

2011-12-08T22:22:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago Micah asked me if he could have a desk like Jack. You see, this fall when Jack started Kindergarten, I rearranged his room and made him a desk where he could write, draw, create. He got a new little stool, markers, and big-boy scissors. It was very exciting.

When Micah asked for a desk I kind of ignored him. Sure, one day, I said, but really didn't give it much thought. Next thing I know he was carrying his little Ikea chair upstairs. When I asked what he was doing, he explained he was making himself a desk. Apparently, Micah picked up on my hesitation to rearrange his room and create a desk area, so he took the task upon himself. He cleared out his nightstand, took out all the legos, books, pictures, and toys he had stashed in the drawer and cubby. He moved his chair right up to the nightstand and put his pencil and drawing pad in his drawer. Then he sat there and drew pictures while Finn and I played. He couldn't take the time to play with us because he was writing. Just like Jack.

That was several weeks ago and I promised him we would paint the nightstand one day. This week I decided it was time. I still remember buying this nightstand, along with a dresser, at a garage sale when I was 13. I proudly painted it peach and moved it into my bedroom. When I got married, it came with me, still painted peach. It stayed peach until I decided it should look 'antique' and I very poorly distressed it. For the last few years it has bounced between bedrooms, playrooms, and basements, being used in a variety of ways. But now that it was Micah's desk, I felt that it needed to be painted, once again.

After a quick trip to Ace, we had our paint color, and yesterday I (with a little help from Micah) painted it

I love it. I was really worried when I opened the can of paint, but after 3 coats, I completely fell in love. It helps that Micah's room is blue with similar green accents. It, as Brandon would say, POPS. I love seeing the bright splash of color in the corner of his room. I would take pictures of his room, but that would require cleaning it, hanging a new lamp, and actually attaching the knob. I just taped it on for the picture.

The best part is Micah loves it. When Brandon got home he was so excited to show him his new desk. Now, if I could just teach them we draw on paper, not on walls, I would be good to go.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

An old nightstand

A sick kid

A favorite DVD

A crazy color

Finished project coming soon.....

Guilt

2011-12-06T17:00:00.000-08:00

I've got 22 minutes to write this blog post and return home. I just spent 4 minutes unwinding the tangled mess that is my earbuds so I can use them. The coffee shop I go to is full and the conversations are distracting. With only 22 minutes I need to focus and write. So, earbuds in, Head and the Heart on, and now I am ready (I hope).

As I walked out of my house and shut the door behind me I was consumed with some serious Mommy-Guilt. I think you know what I am talking about. The guilt that consumes you whenever you think you've done something that hurts your child, when you make a tough parenting decision, when you choose yourself over your kids. And so on.

It started when my oldest stepped off the bus and immediately asked for a snack. I was on the phone with my sister, even though I knew I needed to hang up as soon as I saw the bus. I wasn't able to give Jack my full attention or the snack he so desperately wanted. When we finally walked in the door he is an angry mess and I've got one foot out the door again.

Today is the day that I get to have 45 minutes to myself. A baby-sitter the boys love comes over after school and plays with the boys while I walk and get a cup of coffee. After the trauma of not having a snack at the bus stop, Jack was really unhappy to see that the baby-sitter was here.

"I don't want you to go!" he cries.
I hug him, use my soft mommy voice to try to console him. And give him 3 Christmas cookies, because I really wanted to get back out the door. 3 cookies was not enough and more crying, and hugging, ensued.

"Mason wouldn't sit with me on the bus." he says as I am trying once again to pry his hands off of me.
Oh, honey, my heart breaks. I hate the bus and the kids on the bus. Maybe I should pick him up from school for the rest of year. Or, maybe I should keep him home from school so he will never meet a mean kid and deal with rejections. Or, maybe, I should just hold him as he cries and tell him, what, I don't really know.

I look at the clock, I've got 30 more minutes before my baby-sitter leaves. I give Jack one more big squeeze and pick up my purse to leave.

"Don't go!" He cries.

And this is where the guilt comes in. The terrible soul crushing guilt. I give him one more hug and I leave. I walk out the door and shut the chaos inside. Does this make me a terrible mother?

I could have stayed and started dinner while the baby-sitter played with two of the boys. I could have continued to sit on the floor and hold Jack. I could have made a million other choices. But I put myself first and I left. Instead I have 11 more minutes to sip my hot coffee, to listen to my music, and to take a moment to breathe. Jack will still be upset when I get home, Micah and Finn will still be hyped up on too much sugar and too much time inside, and I will still have dinner to make.

I will also have space within me to meet the needs of my boys. Tonight, I put myself first. I feel guilt for that. But I don't feel guilty for the complete moment of zen I am experiencing right now. Good coffee, awesome, music, and no one needing me.

3 more minutes and I am back in the thick of it. Wish me luck.

Monday Blues

2011-12-05T21:37:00.000-08:00

Tonight I am feeling completely uninspired. I've got some ideas but I can not seem to get the words from my brain to my fingertips.

Instead I am watching Once Upon a Time (which is a getting a little weird) and changing the background to my blog. I think I am finally happy with it (my blog, not the TV show), but who knows. I change the furniture in my house at least once a month.

I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully with more creative juices flowing, and a real blog post for you. But for now, I'll leave you with a new background and some pictures of my boys at the tree farm. Why these pictures? Um, no reason, except I think my boys are super cute.

Music to my Ears

2011-12-04T20:23:00.000-08:00

Today this arrived in my house:

If you are thinking, why the heck would you add a piano to the chaos of your house, that is a valid point. But I have a slight hoarding nature and whenever I hear the word 'free' it seems like something I would need.

This piano has been in my mom's house since I was in the 5th grade. It has moved to Alaska and back, and then in at least three houses in my hometown, before landing in it's current spot. No one plays it at my mom's anymore. Just the grandkids banging away, during the already over crowded and much to loud family parties. Both of my sister's have inherited pianos in different ways, so this was a lonely piano, needing a family to love it.

Luckily, that's me. Well, me and my three boys. Today my husband, his very good friend, and two 16 year old boys (my nephew and his friend, not some strangers because that would be weird) moved this piano out of my mom's house and into mine. As our friend said, "It was easy"! I am glad he thinks that, and I am glad (and a little nervous) that this is in our home.

My oldest son has expressed an interest in playing an instrument. His choice would be a guitar or the drums. Well, we have a piano. A piano that was for the most part free - except for the lunches, the gas money, the tip for the teenage boys, and the stress it caused my mom. Now to find lessons for this boy. Because until then, I've got three boys who completely believe they know how to play the piano and sing. All at the same time.

No Kids Allowed

2011-12-03T22:39:00.000-08:00

This weekend we find ourselves kid-free, again. Normally sleep-overs for the kids are few and far between, but for some reason we have had 3 (almost) in a row. This will be the last one for a looooonnnggg time so you would think we would be living it up!

But we are not. In fact, the reason for this sleep-over was two-fold. First, Jack really wanted a sleep-over just him at Oh-cho's house. Since Finn was born, Jack would go to Grandma's and Micah would go to Oh-cho's every time we needed a place for them to stay. He was very clear it was his turn to go to his aunt's by himself. Second, we had two holiday parties scheduled for today and we usually cough up quite a bit of money to pay the babysitter. It seemed like a win-win.

And it is, except we are not at the Christmas parties tonight. We are home. Truthfully, we are currently sitting in separate rooms typing on our laptops. Not very romantic, or exciting for a kid-free Saturday night. But this week I started getting sick, and by Friday I was just counting down the minutes until I could go to bed. Looking ahead, I saw the weekend scheduled out almost to the minute and I was overwhelmed. Knowing how quickly Monday would come, a busy week, tired kids, Christmas fun, the right decision would be to stay home and rest.

So here we are. Saturday night, no kids, missing two of our favorite holiday parties, and sitting in separate rooms in the house. Not what I had planned for my last kid free Saturday night. But, tomorrow, when the boys return I hope to be feeling better, or at least not more worn out, ready to greet them with a smile and a hug, ready to get down on the floor play trains, read books, and celebrate one more Advent activity.

That is my hope.

Advent Update

2011-12-02T22:02:00.000-08:00

I am going to say that Day 1 of Advent was a complete success.

Prep and Landing. Obviously, a huge hit in our house.

Let the Countdown Begin!

2011-12-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

In case you are unaware today is December 1st. The Advent season has officially begun! At least in our house, maybe yours started November 1st, to each his own.

Today feels like the new year because I have several resolutions that I have made. Which is ironic since it is the last days of 2011. I should be thinking ahead and making resolutions to start 2012 off with a bang. Instead, I am going to focus on these last days in December.

Resolution #1:
Write daily on this blog. I did it in October and most of the time I enjoyed what I was writing, with just a few days of nonsense writing thrown in. But November hit me hard and I lost my writing mojo. My sister continued to write daily and was even featured as the blog of the day on BlogHer. Yay Michelle! Only slightly jealous, like 60% happy for her and 40% jealous of her (BTW can you guess that butchered quote?). Back on topic, I am hoping by setting the goal of writing daily I will once again find the little moments of joy within my day. Also, I am copying another friend of mine who is also trying to write daily.

Resolution #2:
Celebrate the Advent season with my kids. This may be a big "duh!" to many of you, but in our house Christmas wavers between excitement and completely overwhelming stress. There is so much to do, so little time to do it, and I begin to feel my energy quickly circling the drain. This does not transfer into fun family events, but instead, can mean: mom yelling, kids crying, dad not understanding and then waking up to realize Christmas is over.

Last year on some after Christmas sale, I found little red stockings and I decided to buy them and make an advent chain with these stockings. Yesterday I went and bought twine to hang the stockings on. I had already picked out the perfect place; hanging from our mantle, never mind that it is already full of real size stockings. Today I spent my hour of free time obsessively matching up each Advent activity with an appropriate day. All I have to do is print, cut up strips, stuff stockings, and voila! A new Christmas tradition is born!

Except that I only bought 18 stockings. Not sure if I thought there were 10 in a package, I bought 1 more package and lost it, or actually bought them in the middle of December last year intending to use them RIGHT AWAY. Whatever happened, I am left with 24 days of activities and only 18 stockings. Working on a solution for that right now. Well, not right now because I don't want to, but soon. Definitely soon.

Resolution #3:
Just say No! to drugs. Okay, not drugs exactly, but to over committing. I love the holiday parties and events we are invited to (except Brandon's work party, karaoke + free alcohol = shudder inducing memories) but I can not do them all. I don't even have a valid excuse for saying no. Except that I am working so hard to remain healthy and whole for my family. Social gatherings, while fun, take a lot of energy and I am finding myself not as willing to expend that energy as much as I used to. I love my friends, I love seeing everyone, but I love my family more, and I really love being alone most. So this year, I vow, to say no. Even if it means missing out on fun events, or disappointing people. I don't want to wake up Dec. 26th and feel relieved that everything is over and done. I want to wake up and feel that my family created memories and traditions that will last. And that we did it with minimal fighting, crying, yelling, or arguing.

I may have more. But my time is up. I need to go back to my boys, pick up my oldest at school, cut bookmarks for the book fair, hang posters around school, make dinner, and I almost forgot, hang up the Advent stockings so we can begin our countdown to Christmas.

One fun, memory making, family event coming up! Fingers Crossed!

What Makes Me Feel Better

2011-11-28T22:45:00.000-08:00

Mondays in general are not my favorite day of the week. Mondays after a holiday are even worse. The boys are off schedule, no one wants to get up, including myself. Combine this with a cold and a house that is in a serious state of chaos. It looks like Santa threw up in here. That was my Monday.

My mom helped by coming down and moving almost all of my furniture. I now have a new playroom/office and a new living room. The addition of the Christmas tree always causes some furniture re-arranging, but this was an extreme move. By the time the kids were all tucked in bed, my amazing husband was off grocery shopping, I found myself wrapped up in a blanket laying on the couch.

Nothing on my DVR, nothing on that I wanted to watch, but then I remembered a preview I had seen:

Dirty Dancing in HD

Watching this movie, crushing a little on Patrick Swayze, singing along with "I've Had the Time of my Life", makes me feel better.

That and I don't have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

Something To Be Thankful For

2011-11-23T16:42:00.000-08:00

I still remember how on the day before Thanksgiving two years ago, Brandon came home early. Everyone in the house was asleep, including me, and I woke up to find Brandon downstairs. He had arrived home earlier but found us all asleep and he didn't want to wake us. Seriously, one of the best days of my life (not counting my wedding day or the birth of my children, of course). I didn't know he was getting off work early, and normally, the anticipation of the event is almost better then the actual event, but this time the surprise of him being home, filled me with joy.

Today finds me once again, on the day before Thanksgiving waiting for Brandon's arrival home. This time though, it's not from work. Finding ourselves with extra vacation days that had to be used before the end of the year, Brandon decided to take this whole week off. That, combined with Jack also being on vacation from school, has created this little bubble of bliss. This is the third day we have been home together, co-parented together, took turns cooking dinner, cleaning up, and putting kids to bed.

But at 3:00 this afternoon I was done. I spent the day baking an apple pie that my MIL has just informed me is not needed. Burned the pecan tassies that were needed for Thanksgiving. Attempted a Thanksgiving craft that left 2 of the 3 boys in tears. Mopped my kitchen floor and only had to dump the water twice because it was so brown. When Brandon returned from running errands, which thank god included a hair cut, I was already packed and ready to go.

As I ran out the door, I called back over my shoulder: "The boys need to clean up the craft mess, pick up the duplos, eat a snack, and NO TV. Bye, love you!"

Two years ago I was so thankful that Brandon was home to help take care of our then 4 year old, 2 year old, and 5 month old. This year, I am thankful that Brandon understands when I say I'm leaving and his only comment is: "Go get a pedicure and a manicure!"

Love him and love this time I have because of him.

Trading Places

2011-11-22T21:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I once again sat at a table for Parent/Teacher Conferences. For several years I was on the teacher side of the table, sitting there with the report card and samples of student work. I really liked that side of the table. I liked being in charge, knowing what information I was going to share, answering questions for parents, and building relationships with the families in my class. I do not like being on the other side of the table. Waiting outside in the hall for our turn to come in. Sitting down in the two empty chairs, while the teacher pulls out a pile of my child's work. Waiting for them to tell me how my child is doing. It doesn't help that my first parent/teacher conference left me completely shattered.

I still remember walking into our first conference, naively thinking this was going to be a piece of cake. We would hear glowing reports of how brilliant our child was, how popular he was, how he was the teacher's favorite student. I was not prepared to see 1's and 2's as scores for my child's academic progress. I was completely unprepared to see the words:

This child is not recommend to move into kindergarten next year.

As a reader who always skims to the end of the page first, my eyes were drawn to the comment section. At once my heart dropped, my arms crossed over my chest, I leaned back in my chair, and my face became set in a very harsh look. I knew it, but I was furious, this was not my child. This was not in my plan for my child. As the conference continued, I uncrossed my arm, I stopped shooting daggers at the teacher, and I began to cry.

It was with apprehension that I went to the first conference for this same child who is now in kindergarten. As always, Brandon and I went together, for moral support. I had joked to the intern on Friday that I tended to cry at these conferences, but I would try to keep it together. Don't worry, she told me, they always have a box of Kleenex on hand. I'm not sure to be relieved or even more worried at that news.

This time, I was able to sit back and listen to a glowing report about my child. Two teachers who appreciate his quirky sense of humor, recognize his sensitivity, and see him as a unique individual. This time as I skimmed the report card looking for the comment section, I had no reason to move into warrior mode. This time the comment was:

This child brings joy into the room each day. He is bright, funny and sincere.

My heart swelled with love for my oldest son. And, a deep appreciation for these two women who understand and truly like my son.

Although, I would still rather trade places and be back on the other side of that table, any day.

Well, That Happened

2011-11-18T18:57:00.000-08:00

Today is Friday and on Friday's I try to dress a little nicer. It's hard enough as a stay-at-home mom to rally and pull out the good jeans for a "roll around on the ground" day, and it's even harder when two days are spent wrangling 10 two-year olds at preschool. So, Friday is my day to dress up.

Today I was sporting a new Old Navy t-shirt and an old skirt. I paired the skirt with my brown tights and my new-to-me suede brown boots. (Seriously, I love my boots). Everything looked good, I felt good, except for one small thing. The skirt is an old skirt, pre-kids even, and has a bit of a tear in the back. It basically makes the split reach into some dangerous ares. But that is okay, because I only wear the skirt with my leggings. See, that way, if the split is a little high, all my parts are covered in a non-see through legging. Today, though I choose tights. Dark tights that look like leggings, so I thought I was good to go. When showing my outfit to my spouse, he did mention that maybe I would want to sew that rip. Hmm, maybe it is worse then I thought.

I still left the house, hurried the kids to school, and continued on my day. Mid-way through, I realized it was feeling awfully cold on my backside. I quickly felt the back of my skirt, and all seemed good. I did as subtle as a check as I could, while walking down the hallway at my son's school, and everything still seemed fine. Must just be really cold, I thought. Still, as the morning went on I became more apprehensive that something was terribly wrong.

Finally, I was home, and after getting kids settled into rest time I went to investigate the situation. First I checked my skirt, yep, hole still there but not any bigger. Next, I checked my tights. Uh-oh. I forgot this pair has a relatively large hole in the. um, back of them. And of course, that hole lined up perfectly with the aforementioned tear in my skirt. What I had just discovered was that, no, I was not covered up, and yes, you could see my *ahem* backside when I bent over.

Great. It's not like I just spent my morning shelving books. Crawling on hands and knees, bending over, and, dare I say, squatting, in the library at my son's school. Oh, wait, yes I did. Now, most people would quickly change, but really I was home for the day and I was already dressed, so why change. Although, I would have to walk to the bus stop later. But who will really notice as I walk quickly by? Maybe the two guys who stopped talking and watched me push the double stroller up the hill to our house. Feeling a little exposed, in more ways then one, right then.

The skirt has now been moved to the sewing pile. Which means it will never be worn again.

Why My Boys Will Need Therapy

2011-11-17T21:37:00.000-08:00

They are still babies, to me at least, but I think this week I may have set them on the path to therapy. Not intentionally of course, but with choices I made, I may have caused some serious scarring.

It started on Saturday. In wanting to put some closure on the loss of Nemo, Brandon and I discussed spreading his ashes somewhere he loved. We knew right away we wanted to do it at my grandparents' farm. It was a favorite place for Nemo, and it made us happy to know a part of him would always be there. We talk about death a lot in our house, not by choice, just the way it has been here. I try to answer questions honestly, but without scaring anyone. Well, have you ever tried to explain cremation to a 4 year old? Give it a try, I dare you. If you come up with a way to do it, please let me know. I tried to explain in a vague way how exactly Nemo would be returning to us.

Everything was moving along fine, even though we were standing outside in the pouring rain, until I poured some of Nemo's ashes into a cup. I thought it would be easier to have the boys spread a little bit by pouring it from a cup. Big mistake. In my mind, it didn't bother me to hold Nemo's ashes, to look at them, to talk about them, until I poured some out. Cremation ashes are NOT like fireplaces ashes at all. That's all I'm going to say. I started crying, Jack started crying, and Brandon started crying. Micah made a sad face, but it tends to be his fake-sad face, so I wasn't worried. Until he began to sob. I knelt in the wet grass, holding on tight as my 4 year old wept in my arms. I thought he was just grieving the reality of the loss of Nemo. As we drove away he cried, "I don't want to leave Nemo like that."

My heart sank. Maybe having a final good-bye, along with pouring Nemo's ashes from an urn was a bit too much for my little boy.

Then, in continuing our week of trauma, we knew we had to take our keys to the car lot that was holding our used to be new car. We also knew that we had left two very important stuffed animals in the car, the night of the accident. Two birds with one stone: drop off car keys and pick up the stuffed animals. Brandon, rightly so, realized that taking the boys to the car might be a bit traumatic. So, we weren't going to. But they really wanted their birds and I finally gave in and said we would go by and see if we could get them. Well, we could, and we did, but not with some more sadness thrown in. When I first returned to the car after retrieving the birds, their smiles went from ear to ear. But as we started to drive away, Micah once again started to cry. "Why did we get in an accident? Dad shouldn't have been at that stop sign? And so on. We once again had to relive the accident and how we were glad we were all okay, even though the car wasn't.

Our birds were safe, although a little wet, but seeing the car again was a bit too much.

It's okay boys, I've got the name of a good therapist. Just let me know when you want to go.

Feeling Like a Country Song

2011-11-13T21:04:00.000-08:00

Have you heard this joke, goes something like this: lost my dog, lost my car, lost my wife, lost my house .... I honestly don't know the punchline but I know it related to how that was almost every country music song ever written.

Well, my life these past two weeks have felt like a slight version of that joke. Only not funny, at all.

On November 1st, we had a very sad day at our house. My husband and I had to make the very painful decision to say good-bye to our beloved corgi. Nemo was only 8 years old, not young but not old, we were not quite expecting him to go so soon. Unfortunately, since the beginning of October, Nemo has had trouble walking. He lost the use of his back legs, they came back briefly, only to disappear completely. We waited, we hoped, we wheelbarrowed him in and out, we held him up to relieve himself, we cleaned him up after his accidents, and then we finally said good-bye.

Besides the circumcisions for each of my boys, this was the hardest thing I have ever done. He was our baby, I still remember seeing him for the first time and thinking, "oh, my, look at those feet!". He was not the smartest dog, but he was very kind and very lovable. He loved everyone (except the UPS guy) and thought everyone would love him, too. Coming home for the first time to an empty house was heartbreaking. For the first few days, I kept expecting to hear his nails clicking on the floor, his deep bark when the mail arrived, and his snoring when he fell asleep. I didn't realize how much a part of my day Nemo was until he was gone.

We had just started to regroup after spending a few days, crying, eating, talking about Nemo, crying some more, when....

BAM

Literally. 5 days after losing Nemo, 7 days after buying a brand new car, Brandon decides to take the boys to the park. Within 5 minutes I get a phone call asking me to come to the stop sign and get Finn. I assume the boys are fighting and that Finn is getting booted from the car. But I can't find the car. I go to one stop sign, then walk to the next stop sign, and finally start to head down the hill to the last stop sign I can think of, when I see lights. Flashing blue and red lights. My heart drops and I start to run.

I am greeted with the sight of our brand new car smashed on one side, windows broken, and my husband standing next to it looking dazed. He points to a house and I run in and find my three boys crying in the arms of strangers. It was a rough night. Thankfully, aside from sore muscles, everyone in my car walked away. Not such good news for our car.

In one week, I lost my dog, I lost my car .... what's next?

What's Grosser Than Gross?

2011-11-09T21:40:00.000-08:00

Do you remember playing this as a kid? Trying to think of something more disgusting to one up the other person? Well, I have one for you.

What's grosser than gross?

The homemade fruit fly trap that consists of a mix of wine, dish soap, and swollen floating fruit flies, that lives on my counter?

OR

Finding out that my two year old has been drinking said mixture?

I'll let you decide.

A Bit of a Break

2011-11-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

I made it through all of October and only missed one day! I feel pretty good about that record, not that all of my posts were thrilling, or that interesting, but I did not quit!

But now I am taking a small blogging break. Just for a couple of days. We had a wonderful Halloween, but a very sad beginning to November. As much as I want to write about it, I need a day or two before I can form my thoughts.

Tonight I am snuggled on the couch with my firstborn, loving having some time with him. Then I am off to watch some TV and snuggle with my spouse.

I will be back later this week. But for now, thanks to everyone who actually checked in and read all 30 posts. It means the world to me that people actually read and (at times) enjoy what I have to say!

"That's Not a Real Costume"

2011-10-31T20:35:00.000-07:00

That is what my oldest said to me after he saw me dressed for our first Halloween party. I thought I looked pretty good, especially considering the choices I was given for costumes. A few weeks ago when we were discussing Halloween costumes, Jack asked me what my costume was.

"I'm not sure", I replied, "do you have any ideas?"
"Tinkerbell" Ok, not so bad.
"A Ferry Boat" Wait, what?!
"A Naked Mole Rat" Um, yeah, not going to happen.

I thought maybe he meant a fairy godmother or something, kind of along the Tinkerbell route, so I asked him to clarify what he meant by ferry boat.

"You, know, it's big, white, and fits lots of cars on it."

What a lovely Halloween costume. I would love to go around dressed as a ferry boat! By the time Halloween came, and I had finished all the costumes for the boys, I was out of creativity for myself. A headband and my old Halloween shirt from last year and I was good to go.

Plus I had to help my spouse with his costume. On Sunday I came downstairs to find this:

What?! Apparently, after I went to bed my husband decided to begin shortening his beard in preparation for his costume. Ugh, is all I had to say.

Then at 8:15 on Monday morning, when I should be leaving at 8:30 for work, Brandon asks me to help him transform his sideburns into "star-burns". That did not work so well. Unfortunately that destroyed his idea for Halloween and we had to improvise.

Well, hello, Ron Swanson.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Selective Sharer

2011-10-30T18:49:00.000-07:00

This is the post where all of you will finally agree that I am a terrible mother. It's okay, because in this circumstance I am one.

Years ago I had a friend who told me I was a "selective sharer". I thought for a minute before wholeheartedly agreeing with her. I had just offered my friends some Starbursts and they were surprised to only find cherry ones in the package. Did I happen to find the only package of all cherry flavored Starbursts? No, I had just eaten all the other flavors. I hate cherry, but instead of throwing them away, I offered them to my friends. See, I was sharing them. What does it matter if I was only sharing the candy I did not like.

Unfortunately this practice did not stop when I had kids. Candy is stashed on the top shelf of our kitchen, the kids know that, but what they don't know is that the only candy there is the candy I hate. Kit-Kats, Hershey chocolate bars, suckers, if it is chocolate or a hard candy it is there. But, what the kids do not know about is my secret stash of candy and cookies. The candy I love is hidden in a different place altogether.

Every now and then I will make a pot of coffee in the afternoon and with it goes a girl scout cookie or a piece of caramel. The boys always ask where those came from and I just say they are mommy's. They look at me longingly with big eyes while I drink my coffee and eat my yummy treat.

The worst offender by far is my grandma's caramel corn. I get a one gallon bag each year on Halloween. I am a little obsessed about this treat, and will not share, even with my husband. I put it way up high on the shelf, planning to eat it after the kids go to bed. But my oldest saw it and asked if he could have some in his lunch on Monday. Um, no. That seemed mean so I tried to say it was because he will be having enough sweets and treats at his party in his classroom. He didn't need to add caramel corn to the mix. But secretly, I was thinking, oh no, this is my bag of popcorn!

See, what I mean by being a terrible mom? I know my sister, who is already completely upset that the boys wear used underwear, will be horrified to know I do not share with my kids. She, who gives up the last piece of cake to her kids, will not understand my unwillingness to share.

In my defense, there is a piece of apple pie on the counter. It has been there since Friday and I have not eaten it in secret, after the boys are in bed. I am working on being an adult and sharing the treats with them.

Well, that, and I don't really like apple pie that is bought from a store.

See, what I mean? Selective Sharer.

It's Complicated

2011-10-29T21:58:00.000-07:00

I know families can be made up in all sorts of ways. The traditional family is not what it used to be. But even still, I think my family is kind of complicated.

Today I went to a funeral. It's easiest to say it was the funeral for my sister's grandma. At least it seems easier. I could also say she was at one time my grandma, but hasn't been for 19 years. Although, I still referred to her as grandma, even after she passed away.

Then there is my other sister. Who is not my sister at all. She was my step-sister, but again, isn't anymore. She still refers to me as her sister and depending on what company I am in, so do I. In explaining my weekend plans I referred to her as my ex-step-sister, and the person I was talking to said, "I have one of those, too." So it's not just me.

At the funeral my other sister (that would be a different sister all together) and I were given the option to sit in the family row. Even though we weren't family, our younger sister was, and we were at one time. But where does our mom sit? She really isn't family anymore, but she is our mom so we want to sit with her.

See, what I mean by complicated?

In the end, my two sisters, along with their spouses, my mom and my step-dad, and myself all sat in the third row from the front. It wasn't labeled "Family Row" like the first two were, but it was close enough to be considered family. And it had room for all of us.

My younger sister, her spouse and her children were listed in the obituary. So was my older ex-step-sister. But not my slightly older sister or myself.

That's okay. I knew we wouldn't be, and between the divorce and the wedding announcement fiasco, I didn't expect to be. It still felt weird.

What is the point of this post? I don't really have one. I wish I had some insightful conclusion about families being what you make it, or some such drivel, but I don't. If you ask me what I did this weekend I'll say I was at a funeral. What I won't say is that it was the funeral for my grandma, who is no longer my grandma, but is my younger sister's grandma.

It's complicated.

The Jokes Just Keep Coming

2011-10-28T22:03:00.000-07:00

A while ago I wrote about the skill my boys have with joke telling. Well, its been a few months and our joke telling skills have marginally improved.

They finally have mastered the first joke Brandon taught them.

Guess What?
What?
Chicken Butt!

They are slowly getting the knack of telling a knock-knock joke.

Knock-Knock
Whose There?
Orange
Orange Who?
Knock-Knock
Whose There?
Orange
Orange Who?
Knock-Knock
(Just keep repeating that for infinity)

And then, of course, nothing is funnier then just yelling: UNDERWEAR! Because 'underwear' is such a funny word to say.

The other day Jack says to me, "I've got a joke for you." Okay, let's see what it will be this time.

Why is 6 afraid of 7?
Because 7 8 9!
(Get it? 7 ate 9!)

Aahh! Yes! That is a funny joke, good one!

Then of course it turned into several variations of that same joke.

Why is 1 afraid of 7?
Because 7 8 9!

Why is 3 afraid of 5?
Because 5 7 9!

Etc.

Last night we are driving our car and Jack starts telling this joke again. The first time he nails it, after that it starts going downhill again. Then Jack tells a new joke.

Why is Sam afraid of Susannah?
Because Susannah ate Sam!

Jack pauses and then says, "I made that one up."

Thanks for clarifying, I never would have know.

My Eyes Were Too Big

2011-10-27T13:44:00.000-07:00

Today was my every other month visit to Costco. It also coincided with my husband taking the van to a school field trip, leaving me with the Golf. As we got there, I said to the boys, we can't buy too much because we have to fit it all in the trunk of the Golf.

The Golf

The trunk of the Golf

My list was small, I was not to be sucked into unnecessary purchase, I was on a mission. And yet, by the time I pushed my way to the check out stand my cart was overflowing. Ever the optimist I was sure it would all fit. Then I looked down and realized there was more stuff under the car. Seriously? What happened. I think my eyes were too big for my car!

All the groceries that needed to fit inside the car.

Success!

Who says we need a bigger car? A VW Golf seems to fit our family of 5 just fine.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

Popcorn, Take Two

Smothered in extra butter and salt.

Need I say more?

Impulse Control Issues

2011-10-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have serious impulse control issues. We try to hide them, ignore them, pretend they are not there, but every now and then they raise their ugly head.

For instance, we booked a trip to Italy because I read a fictional story about a couple traveling through France. I don't remember the story, but I do remember them driving from small town to small town eating these amazing meals. Along the way they fell in love. How does this relate to Italy? The description of the towns and the food they ate made me long to travel. So one night I said to my husband, I wanted to go to Italy and he booked the tickets. Swear to god. Since I was terrified of flying, any opening my husband had that got me to even consider flying across the ocean, he would take. We went and it was one of the best experiences of our lives.

We also bought a house one day, simply because I had been at a playdate with a friend who had a recently remodeled kitchen and a full basement. I loved her house, but that wasn't why we bought. On the way home both boys fell asleep so I was killing time as I drove. Once I parked the car, the boys would wake up and it was far too early to have a 2 1/2 year old and a 6 month old up. So I drove by a house I had seen for sale. Once there, I parked, peeked in windows, walked around the house, peeked in more windows, and called our realtor. We went to see it the next morning, and made an offer that day. Never mind the unlivable condition the house was currently in, without even a functioning bathroom.

Mostly, though, our impulse issues relate to cars. We have, on several occasions, bought cars in the spur of the moment. One day we were driving around our town, it was sunny, and for some reason we decided to look at Jeeps. Just cuz. But of course, we drove one home. We once had a couple-friend who were deciding on buying a second car. This decision was literally taking months! We laughed at them thinking, what is wrong, just buy it already! (See, serious lack of impulse control!) After our last impulsive car purchase *ahem*toyota-highlander-hybrid*ahem*, we swore never again.

Unfortunately, that impulse to buy a new car is back. It has a pretty strong hold on my husband and is beginning to stretch it's tentacles to me. The shiny new paint, the new car smell, the clean interior, sigh. I know prudent people would continue to drive the silver mini-van into the ground, but we are not prudent people.

I think the fact that we have owned 11 cars and have been together 15 years speaks for itself.

Hi, my name is Amy, and I am impulsive.

Rescued Again

2011-10-24T22:05:00.000-07:00

There are times when living near both sides of our family can be tough. Making sure each family gets equal time at the holidays, is always a tense discussion between my spouse and myself. Trying to remember whose turn is it at Thanksgiving, can we even try to host it this year? But for all of that, living near family has some pretty great rewards.

I have called my mom, more times then I can count, to help me out in a bit of a jam. Mostly, when I have been sick and I needed help with the kids. I remember calling a few years ago when my husband and I both woke up with a terrible stomach flu. I called my mom and asked how soon could someone come pick up the kids. Grandpa arrived within two hours and whisked the boys away.

My mom has always made me soup, starting from the time Jack was born. Last year, coming home to soup after a long day at work was always so nice. I didn't have to worry about what to cook for dinner, or if I could justify ordering pizza. Dinner was on the stove, and all I had to do was make biscuits.

But tonight my mom rescued me yet again. Right before she was supposed to leave, she asked me a question about the Halloween costumes I was planning to make. What was my plan? Um, I don't really have a plan. I got sucked in at Joann's and went way outside my comfort zone in my plan for the boys' costumes. After a busy weekend, I knew I had 5 nights to figure out how to sew these things. But I was tired, so tired. Finn woke up this morning at 5:15 and never went back to sleep. Combine that with picture day with the 2 year olds, and one boy who is deathly afraid of cameras, and you have a mom with no motivation at all.

My mom offered to stay. It will be easy, she says, we will be done in an hour. Are you kidding me? I planned 5 nights of intensive sewing to get this done. But, I know my mom had a house in disarray, and a friend coming over to watch DWTS. I wanted her to be on her way, back to the peace and quiet of her house. She starts to give me few pointers and then says:

"Oh, just turn on your machine, I want to do this!" Don't have to twist my arm!

An hour later I have 3 fantastic capes: two batman-to-be capes, one vampire cape. The boys are running through the house with capes flowing behind them. I was in awe. She was right, in one hour, I had three capes that only need slight modifications to be the costumes my boys dreamed of.

And then as she is leaving she says, "Thanks for letting me stay!" Letting you stay, are you kidding me?! No way would I have even attempted that basting thing you did!

Rescued, once again, and tonight, I am thankful we live so close to family.

Don't let the scowl fool you, he loves his cape!

Letting Go

2011-10-23T13:26:00.001-07:00

This is the first time in 10 years that I am not in a classroom when fall began. I knew in June that I would probably not have a job this year, but I still held onto hope. When school started and I had not heard anything, I felt my hope start to disappear. But I still clung on. I kept my computer and my school bag packed. I checked my work email daily, just in case, and was thrilled each time I could still log on. But then October came, and with it, no job.

When the phone rang last week and it was the school district, I was giddy. In my mind, I quickly started re-arranging my week, thinking of childcare, ready to take whatever job they were offering. Then I listened to the message. They were not offering me a job, in fact they had finally put into affect my full time leave, but that message did not make it to payroll in time. They accidentally paid me for September and would like their money back, please. Ugh. The next week, the district called again. Call me foolish, but once again my heart leaped, maybe this was a job! No, this time they wanted their computer back. Oh yeah, I forgot, I still had the computer in my bag. Oops.

This week I drove across the bridge to return my computer. I had made that drive daily for 4 1/2 years, then part time for a year, and then just one day a week. As I drove, I thought of all the drives before; carpooling with Brandon, listening to John in the morning, driving and talking to 'the nubbin' who was to become Jack, driving with Jack to drop him off at childcare, crossing the bridge with a flat tire that I didn't know I had. I have made this drive countless times and for 9 years to the exact same destination. My school.

I miss my job, I miss my seeing my friends, I miss the feeling when it all comes together and you know you did a good job, I miss the kids. I miss having something that is just for me. Somewhere I can step away from being a mom and a wife, just for a moment, and be a teacher.

I miss my job.

Don't Be Nervous

2011-10-22T18:28:00.000-07:00

That was the pep talk I was giving myself as I took Jack to his first girl/boy birthday party. The party was for a fellow classmate, and most of the party guests were from Jack's school. That was good, it's what we want. But as I was driving Jack there, my stomach was tense with knots.

Jack kept up a steady chatter; who was going to be there, what the movie was going to be, who he was going to invite to his birthday in March. As we were getting closer I gave him a few last minute tips on how to behave in society.

"Remember to cover your mouth when you cough"
"Wash your hands after you use the bathroom"
"Don't forget to CLOSE the bathroom door, remember we aren't at home!"

As we pulled up to the house and parked, I took one more deep breath before getting out of the car. As we walked to house, holding hands, I gave him one more bit of advice.

"Try not to suck your thumb. I know it's hard, but maybe not at the party."

We walked into utter chaos. The boys that were there were wrestling and yelling "George Washington!", the girls were just standing around staring. Jack looked in the room and then stepped back.

"I'm scared" he said. As the only parent there, I tried to figure out how to gently nudge him into the room, but not traumatize him. He saw his friends from school but was still too overwhelmed to go into the room. I stood there with him in the hallway, frantically trying to think of what would help. Luckily, the mom hosting the party announced it was piñata time and everyone headed upstairs. I walked behind the group, still there if Jack needed me, but trying to stretch the umbilical cord, just a little.

Once upstairs, I got a quick "I love you", before he was running outside with the rest of them. As I walked away, he was on the peripheral of the group. Still not quite sure how to join in, but ready to take a chance.

Don't be nervous, I thought as I left. He will be fine, he will have fun, and he will make friends. I know that to be true, but I still feel the need for a stiff drink.

Finally Friday

2011-10-21T17:57:00.000-07:00

Growing up I listened to KMPS faithfully and I can't even type the words "finally Friday" without hearing their 5:00 song playing in my head. That is how I feel right now. Finally Friday, the weekend is here.... (not really sure what comes next).

This has been a long week. I don't know why exactly, but I am so glad to know that I am in the final 15 minutes before the husband walks in the door and the weekend can officially begin.

Monday was my quote/unquote bosses birthday so I made her cupcakes to celebrate. And then ate at least 5 of them in secret. But they were funfetti and so so good.

Tuesday started off great. I had 2 hours to myself at my favorite coffee shop at the beginning of the day. Groceries were delivered that day, and I had an impromptu lunch date at Red Robin with two of my boys. But sometime between lunch and my small group that night I fell apart. Not sure if it was the cold that was just beginning, but my friends who saw me that night can very clearly state: I am not a pretty crier.

Wednesday was the day I drank a whole pot of coffee and then ate the rest of the box of girl scout cookies, the ones I had hidden in the back of the pantry. Okay, not all of them. I was down to the last one with Micah came out and saw what I was doing. Needless to say I had to share.

Thursday, well, Thursday started off with the unfortunate incident I wrote about here. Then a trip to Joann's where I, for some crazy reason, believed I had some skill with a needle and thread. I proceeded to buy $50 worth of stuff to make Halloween costumes. What started out as a simple cape with a glued on logo, now has a utility belt that I am going to construct with removable parts. Um, right.

Friday is finally here. I had a great time volunteering in the library at my son's school today. It was one of those moments where I was silently patting myself on the back for how well behaved my two-year old was. I was even thinking that the librarian herself must be impressed by me. Who else could shelve all the non-fiction books, in under an hour, with a two year old sitting quietly the whole time. I MUST be amazing. Since I had that thought, I am sure the next time I go will be a complete disaster.

I have just finished my short NF double shot cappuccino and I am feeling fine! The boys are watching their dinner show, said dinner is on the stove cooking and smells okay so far, and I now have only 8 minutes until their Dad is home.

Friday, I am so happy to see you.

The One Where I Apologize to Everyone

2011-10-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

First, I have to apologize to Nemo for assuming it was his poop on the living room floor. In my defense, it did not occur to me to even question who the 'pooper' was. Your tack record speaks for itself. I also apologize for sending you outside and leaving you there, when you were barking to be let back in. Lastly, I apologize for referring to you as "dumb dog" while I cleaned up the mess.

Second, I apologize to Brandon for yelling, "Whose else would it be??!!" when he asked the not-so-obvious question.

Third, I apologize to Micah who found the poop accidentally when he stepped on it. I also apologize for not checking your hands after you came to tell me about the poop.

But, I do not apologize to Finn. The actual culprit in this disgusting tale. The one who managed to unfasten his diaper, but leave it on, as to give the illusion of being clean and contained. You, I do not apologize to. Especially as you still firmly blame Nemo for the poop on the floor. Even after it very obviously came from you.

Last, I apologize to you, dear readers for reading this post. But that was my morning and I had to share.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

2011-10-19T17:43:00.000-07:00

A glimpse into my life. This is where I spend every Monday and Wednesday morning.

Happy Hump Day!

And yes, I stole this idea from here!

Why I Love AmazonFresh

2011-10-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

Obviously I love waking up to groceries on my doorstep. No awful trip to the grocery store with two tired, sick, cranky, kids in tow. Being able to order my groceries while watching a movie with said sick toddler, is also very nice. But there is another reason I love AmazonFresh.

The hours of amusement the boxes provide my boys. Today they used the boxes to build a house.

Complete with a kitchen, living room, and bedroom.

Night-Night Finn.

A Consequence

2011-10-17T21:33:00.000-07:00

In our house 'consequence' is a common word. Lately, we are beginning to hear: "I hate consequences". Kind of the point, I thought. We try to use natural consequences for most things, but as you know, that isn't always possible. Tonight though, the tables were turned on our typical consequence discussion. Tonight, Jack was the one to decide the consequence for his dad.

Let me explain. It all started simply enough, with a question.

"Jack, how did you get to the bus stop today?" I asked.
"I rode the trail-a-bike," Jack replied.
"Oh, cool" See how bland the conversation was.
"Dad didn't wear his helmet."
"WHAT?!" I stopped what I was doing and focused all of my attention on Jack.
"It's okay, because he didn't get hurt"Jack explains.

I will not bore you with the exact wording of the rest of the conversation, basically it was Jack explaining to me that Brandon didn't wear a helmet when they rode their bikes to the bus stop. At this point, you could be thinking, what's the big deal? The bus stop is, what, like, 3 blocks away? Let me pause a give you a brief history of my bike riding relationship with Brandon.

His first bike accident occurred probably 11 years ago. He called and asked me to pick him up because his bike wasn't working. When I got to the intersection he was at, I was waved through by a fireman, as I saw Brandon being loaded onto an ambulance. At which point I started crying.

His next accident happened 7 years ago when I was at work. He called, told me he fell on his bike, but he was okay. I asked if I needed to come get him, as I was headed to a holiday party, and he said no he was fine. Hours later he called and asked if I would pick him up at the doctor's office. Okay, this time I pull up and he comes hobbling out on crutches.

His last accident happened 2 years ago, on his way home from work. Once again, he called, indicated he had fallen while riding his bike but he was okay. I asked if I should come get him, and he said no. Could I meet him at the hospital instead? He was quick to reassure me that he was fine, it was just a precaution. This time I walked into the ER, with a 4 year old, 2 year old, a 3 month old in the car seat, and carrying 2 happy meals. We all traipsed into his room to find doctors working on him, and blood pouring down his face. The boys are still scarred.

As additional background information, there have been several fatal bicycle accidents in our area recently. Two of them are on roads he frequently travels. I have requested (um, demanded) that he always ride safely. Use safety lights, stay in the bike lane, watch oncoming cars, and ALWAYS wear your helmet.

Back to tonight. As my tone took on a strident, intense, quality, while I lectured on the importance of always wearing a helmet. Case in point, Micah's recent bike accident. But, Micah was quick to point out, he didn't hit his head, just his face. Thanks Micah.

During the lecture, Jack stopped me and suggested that Dad needed a consequence. He did not wear his helmet, even though that was a rule (not to mention poor modeling) and he should have a consequence. A natural consequence would have been that he fell and got a concussion. Okay, not really, but something bike related. Instead, I asked Jack what he thought would be a good consequence.

He looked around the post-dinner kitchen and said, "He should clean this messy kitchen." Excellent idea, my son, excellent idea.

When Brandon got home, Jack was very quick to inform him of his consequence. Brandon with a serious face told Jack that he was right, he didn't follow the rules and he should have a consequence. Then he smirked at me! As if to say, right, but I don't really have to clean the kitchen.

Oh yes you do. I have begged, cried, yelled, threatened, and yet you still go out on your bike without a helmet. AND you do it when our kids can see. The same boys who have fallen out of the tree house, had a traumatic bike accident, bit their tongue in two, and have had more head bumps then I can count. Yes, let's show them that it's okay to not wear a helmet as long as you don't get hurt.

My heart lodges in my throat every time he is 5 minutes late. I've spent 11 years getting used to him riding his bike to and from work, in all weather and traffic. All I ask is that he does everything he can to keep himself safe.

Riding without a helmet is not okay. End of story.

Going to the Country

2011-10-16T20:56:00.000-07:00

Today was our annual trek to the country to hunt down our pumpkins. We stumbled across this little family farm 5 years ago and we have returned to it ever since. Part of our desire to make the journey to a pumpkin farm is to escape the city for a day. Breathe in the crisp, clean, air. Walk away from crowds and chaos. The first year it was magical. We had a 19 month old and I was pregnant with our second. It was a sunny day, Jack was just adorable, and we loved every minute of it. It was also a Friday, which may have contributed to the feeling of escaping it all.

Last year when we went, it was a sunny Saturday and the place was chaos. We saw the line for buying the pumpkins and we turned around and left. There was no way our kids would wait that long for a pumpkin. This year we decided to go late on an overcast Sunday. We were so sure it would be less crowded and we would have the farm to ourselves.

Not so. It was just as crowded. We did stick it out this year, ate our doughnuts, took our pictures, and came home with our pumpkins.

Next year I am going to Safeway.

Christmas picture, maybe? I'm sure I can photoshop the finger out.

"Send Me Out For Sports"

2011-10-15T16:28:00.000-07:00

That's what Micah has been saying to us for awhile now. Last year I briefly tried the local community center, but did not have a successful experience. Then we went to Little Gym, which while awesome, was still not what Micah had in mind. So this fall, I signed him up for soccer. As life tends to be chaotic around here, I did not actually make it to the first 3 games Micah had. I was feeling bad about this, so, on the third game I sent the camera with Papa and Jack.

Here is Micah's soccer experience through Jack's eyes:

Did you see Micah?

If My Grandma Was Alive Today

2011-10-14T13:04:00.000-07:00

My Grandma D died in the fall of 1997. She died 7 months before I graduated from college, and 7 months before I got married. 14 years later and I still miss her.

The other day I was playing Go Fish with Micah. Instead of using the Go Fish cards, he found a deck of real cards and was determined to play with those. It worked okay, although he kept pointing out that the symbol on the card did not match. Just go with the number I told him, it's still a match. But as we were laying down cards, black on top of red, it brought back memories of my grandma.

My grandma played solitaire every day, all day. I can't picture her without seeing her sitting at the round table, coffee cup next to her, lit cigarette in the ash tray, and a deck of cards in her hand. It was always a large deck of cards, too. Two or more decks shuffled together. I never asked why she used so many decks of cards, maybe it extends the game longer, I don't know.

As I placed the black seven and the red seven on the table together, I realized how long it had been since I held a deck of cards. I have solitaire on my phone and will play obsessively, usually when at the park watching the boys. But I haven't sat down and played the game with cards in years. It made me think, if my grandma was alive today would she play solitaire on the computer? I can't picture her sitting at a laptop clicking her way through the game. She died before computers were so common and easy to use. I would like to think she would still play the same way. TV turned onto daytime talk shows, cards laid out waiting for the next move, cooling cup of coffee sitting next to her, and cigarette in hand.

If my grandma was alive today I would be proud to show her my boys. Look, I would say, look at my sons. See how smart, funny, sweet, and active they are? Especially look at the middle one. Can you see it? My mom says he is a Carlson through and through. He looks like one and he acts like one. Can you see my dad in him?

If my grandma was alive today I would hug her stick thin little body tight, and tell her I love her, just one more time.

If my grandma was alive today.

Popcorn, Take Two

2011-10-13T20:17:00.000-07:00

Tonight my husband was at a meeting. That left me alone to put the boys to bed. Normally, by this time of night, I'm in my sweat pants laying on the couch - or at least wanting to be. But tonight it fell on me to do the bedtime routine for all the boys.

So I decided to do a special treat for snack. Something out of the ordinary to give us all a boost. I made popcorn. Microwave popcorn, because I was short on time, and I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. We also decided to read stories on my bed, where we could all snuggle up together.

I walked into the boys' room and said to Finn, "I made popcorn!"

Finn froze, his arms went at his side and his hands balled up into fists. He visibly started shaking. "Fire, mom, fire!".

Um, okay, I may have permanently scarred my son with my last popcorn making endeavor. Finn was the one who Brandon threw at me as he grabbed the pan of flames and ran outside.

I quickly explained to Finn that I made the popcorn in the microwave. No fire.

Once settled on our bed with the bag of popcorn, and a pile of books, Finn says: "Mom, make fire?"

Only once did I start a fire in the house. My boys already know that I am not a good driver, now do they think that I can't even make popcorn without burning down the house?!

Sheesh.

Today is Monday

2011-10-12T15:17:00.000-07:00

There is a book Eric Carle illustrated called, Today is Monday. The book was part of the curriculum I used to teach literacy to kindergartners. So, for the last 4 years I have read this book every fall. It is a fun read aloud, or sing aloud, if you know how to sing. The book is all about the different food you eat each day of the week.

Today is Monday --- string beans

Today is Tuesday --- spaghetti

Today is Wednesday --- soup

Today is Thursday --- roast beef

Today is Friday --- fresh fish

Today is Saturday --- chicken

Today is Sunday --- ice cream

All you hungry children, come and eat it up!

On Monday my mom came and brought with her, her traditional soup. She started bringing me soup 2 years ago when she would come down every other week to watch the boys. Last year, she came on my work day and coming home to soup was the highlight at the end of a long day. My boys LOVE my mom's soup, not so much my soup, but that's okay.

In my head I have been chanting, "Today is Monday --- soup!"

But my mom brought me a surprise. In addition to the soup for my family, she brought roast beef for me. I love a good pot roast dinner and had been craving it as the weather changed to cooler temperatures. So for me, Monday meant roast beef.

Then came Tuesday. My mom left me hoagie rolls and a can of beef consume. So, Tuesday became french dip.

Now it is Wednesday and I am contemplating reheating some of the roast, potatoes, and carrots. Because that would be a good mid-afternoon snack, right? 3:10 and time for roast beef. Yep, I think so.

Today is Monday --- roast beef

Today is Tuesday --- french dip

Today is Wednesday --- roast beef

Today is Thursday --- french dip (I think I still have some rolls!)

That sounds about right.

An Uncomfortable Relationship

2011-10-11T16:22:00.000-07:00

I seem to find myself in awkward and uncomfortable relationships frequently. Enough times that I am beginning to ask myself, "What's wrong with me?"

My first year of teaching, I was told to befriend the school receptionist and the school custodian. So I did. To me the custodian was like my grandpa. A friendly, older man, who spoke with a heavy Spanish accent. Ok, that part is not like my grandpa as he's Swedish. But for 2 years I spoke to this man every day and laughed when I didn't quite understand his stories, and always had a clean classroom. It wasn't until later that I found out that he was not quite as old as my grandpa, in fact he was only in his mid-forties. I'm not sure what I was thinking. And, yes, it was inappropriate to go to coffee with him after he quit working at my school. Again, I thought he was like my grandpa.

Recently, I have become friendly with the bus driver for my son's route. It seemed like a good idea, to know his name (which I actually forgot), be polite even if he is late, and wave good-bye as he pulls away. Little did I know how close we were to become. At first, it was just what's your dog's name? As we discovered we both have corgis. Then it moved into, actually pulling over the bus and showing me pictures of his own corgis. Including the one he recently lost and is still mourning for. Next, it was advice on physical therapy for dogs and maybe even surgery after I shared that Nemo was not doing well. Now, he is passing me notes regarding a miracle drug on the Internet I should research for Nemo.

All of this, with the exception of the day he pulled over, happens in 30 seconds. Enough time for Jack to walk down the stairs and to the sidewalk. Then with a quick wave, and a "I'll see you tomorrow", he closes the door and drives away.

I wonder what he will bring me tomorrow?

Oh, It's My Kid

2011-10-10T20:49:00.000-07:00

Today, I had one of those experiences as a mom that you hope does not happen to you.

I was at work, watching all the two year olds run around the gym bumping into each other, falling over, and getting back up again. The lead teacher, who is also the Preschool Director, asked me a question.

"As a former teacher, what would you do if ...." and proceeded to ask how I would deal with a certain situation.

I love teacher questions and after thinking about it for a minute, I started to describe what I would do. In my mind, I knew what student she was referring to, and tried to frame my answer in a way that was general to the question asked.

Nothing I said was rocket science, I just explained the book I used to discuss cultural differences and also general discussions I had with students about accepting others. Then I lowered my voice and said, "Is this about so-and-so?". She nods and says yes, that some of the kids in the pre-k class were struggling with how to deal with a certain student. Feeling confident in my deductive reasoning, and still a little full of myself in being asked a teacher question. I began to talk about how I had been dealing with this very situation with my son, who is in the class. We had discussions at home about this very student and appropriate ways to respond.

That is when I notice the look on the Director's face. Uh-Oh. It's my kid, isn't it? She nods again.

Oh man. My kid is the one that is pointing out the physical size and shape of this student. He is the one explaining that the reason they had to add chairs to the bench is because this student is so big. It's my son that is refusing to play with him.

He's not being mean, in the way kids can be. He is just very matter of fact. But in pointing out that this student can't run, can't fit on the bench, that he doesn't want to play with him, he is being so very mean.

I've been so focused on my older son and hoping that he will fit in and be accepted in his new school. I've been praying for a friend for him and for a teacher who understands his unique personality. Now, I need to turn my attention to my middle son and pray that he, who finds it so easy to fit in and make friends, will learn to be compassionate to others who are different then him.

I really didn't want it to be my kid.

7 Days

2011-10-09T14:17:00.000-07:00

That is how long I made it before forgetting to blog. 7 Days. That is not very many. A week ago I stumbled upon this site on BlogHer. I had been thinking I would like to set a goal to be more consistent in my writing. I had been thinking of this for a long time now, but had not actually done any goal setting, or consistent writing, for that matter. The idea of writing everyday in October and having a feeling of accountability sounded good. Plus, I really liked the theme: Between. It feels like where I am at, in a lot of different things. So, I jumped in, with both feet. And lasted 7 days.

Well, actually 3 days into it, I was thinking: "Hmm, this is a lot of writing. I'm not sure I have time to write!" Not a shortage of ideas, my head sometimes feels like it is going to explode with all the things I would like to write about. It is finding the time and actually sitting down and writing. As I was already feeling a little discouraged and we weren't even done with the first week, I recruited my sister. My sister has her own blog and seems to always be writing new posts. I figured a little friendly competition would be good. If she can write every day so can I!

And I did. Until Saturday. I still don't even know what happened. I thought, it being Saturday, meant I for sure had time to write. My husband was home, we had very few plans, I had a couple of ideas spinning around. Instead it was sunny and I decided to go on a walk in the morning. Then I played with the boys, took a very nice nap, worked outside in the yard, took over bedtime routine from my husband, and watched a movie. When I was headed upstairs at 11:45, I remembered I had not posted to my blog that day.

Ugh. Was it worth going back downstairs and quickly writing something up? Nope. I was too close to my bed, already in my pajamas, and my brain was shutting down. I was even happier with that decision when my 2 year old woke up crying at 4:00. He kept yelling, "go downstairs!" Even when I calmly explained that it was not MORNING TIME!

I could throw in the towel and say, that's it, I obviously can not post daily. But that would mean I am a quitter. And I'm not, I'm not a wuss either. I will keep on and hope that yesterday was my one day not writing this month. But with 3 kids, a house always under construction, a dog still not 100%, and a part-time job, it could happen again.

And probably will.

A Week of Firsts

2011-10-07T21:15:00.001-07:00

Jack has been in school for a month now. We've got the routine down, the bus is finally on time, and Jack is still more or less excited for school each day.

This week was filled with one new thing after the other. All good things, but it made for one very, tired, exhausted boy.

On Tuesday, Jack bought lunch. Not for the first time, but the first time when it wasn't a pre-planned event. We were late, so I took a chance and sent Jack to school with lunch money. He had chocolate pudding and thought it was the best thing ever.

On Wednesday, Jack had a field trip. He went to a pumpkin patch, in the rain of course. He had new-to-him rain shoes, not boots because boots are yucky. His group was called the "Jack-O-Lanterns". He went on a hay ride to a super secret pumpkin patch. And he was back at school in time for third recess.

On Thursday, Jack had a playdate. His first with a friend from school that I did not know. He went home from school with this boy, and I didn't pick him up until 5:30. He loved it, I promised we would have his friend over, and then he had a spectacular meltdown at dinner time.

On Friday, Jack participated in his school's Walkathon. He walked 13 laps, again, in the rain! Upon coming home, he told me how many laps he walked and then asked, "Mom, are you proud of me?"

Yes, Jack, I am proud of you. More then you will ever know.

On Wanting Another Baby

2011-10-06T21:39:00.000-07:00

My desire for another baby comes and goes. I know we are not having any more kids, that shipped has sailed. But there are times when I still want another baby.

Recently, Jack has started asking for a baby brother. Why can't we have another baby? We should have 10 babies, and so one. The other night he asked for an itty-bitty baby.

"Jack, we are not having more babies."
"No, not you, me. I want an itty-bitty baby"
"You want a baby of your own? But they are a lot of work."
"That's okay Mom, I can take care of it. I will make it a milk bottle"
"But babies cry a lot, and they need to be changed, and they don't sleep at night"
"I can take acre of it with your help."
"But, Jack, I've already taken care of three babies, I think I am done."
"But Mom, this baby will never get big. It will stay itty-bitty forever."

Oh, that does sound kind of nice. I do love the itty-bitty baby when it is all squished up like a peanut.

*sigh*

Now, I do want another baby.

My Bad

2011-10-05T22:02:00.000-07:00

It always happens. Once I poke fun at Brandon, or even say - complain, I do something slightly worse.

Tonight I promised the boys popcorn for our bedtime snack. It had been a good day, but an exhausting day, and popcorn in our PJs sounded like the perfect ending.

Brandon took the boys upstairs to change into pajamas and I poured oil into the pan, dropped in my 3 kernels and waited. Then I realized it takes a while for the oil to heat and I should go sit down. This might have also been due to the awesome glass of wine I had at dinner. Once I sat down I realized I should check my email, one thing lead to another, and soon I was sucked into the blog world.

When I figured it was probably time to add the rest of the kernels, I jumped up and ran into the kitchen. Uh-oh, smoke was billowing out of the pan. I quickly lifted the lid to see if the oil was salvageable and (I kid you not) it burst into flames.

"Brandon" I yelled "BRANDON!!"

"What?"

"I started a fire!" I replied

"WHAT!!???"

I stood there in the kitchen with the flames growing higher, holding the pan, trying to recall what I knew about oil fires. I was pretty sure water would not help.

"Put the lid on!" Brandon yelled as he threw the baby at me. Aahh, good idea. I quickly grabbed Finn while Brandon threw the lid on and took the pan outside.

"Mom, fire?" Finn asks me.

Um, yeah. Micah walks in and is completely amazed by the thick fog of smoke. He begins jumping up and down trying to catch the smoke and yelling, "fire, fire!"

Once the excitement died down and the kids were eating microwave popcorn while watching a show the only evidence left was the lingering smell.

Yep, burnt popcorn.

My bad.

A Common Occurrence

2011-10-04T23:04:00.000-07:00

This evening I come home from some much needed girl time to find that my husband has been busy in my absence.

All I have to do is open the car door and I know what he has been up to. The smell of burnt popcorn hits me as soon as I leave the car. Walking up to the house, I am surprised by how much the smell carries to the outside. I had always assumed it was just the 5 of us inside who were subjected to the lingering smell, but I guess our neighbors are also so blessed.

What has my husband been doing? Roasting coffee, of course. We are major coffee fiends. So much that we have a budget just for coffee. Sad, you may say, but it somewhat cuts back on our latte purchases. 4 years ago we bought a very nice espresso machine which also helps. Especially on the weekends when all we want is a triple tall latte in the morning, one in the afternoon, and a shot of espresso at night. We may have a slight addiction.

While having our own espresso machine has helped, beans are still really expensive, and we go through a lot of beans. So, a few months ago, my husband decided he would start roasting his own. And so it began. He now has it down to a science and with some suggestions on fan placement from my mom, no longer sets off the fire alarm. But it still smells. Really bad.

The coffee is good, I do sometimes miss a good Stumptown roast, but it is good. And it is saving us money. All that is good, but at 10:30 at night, this is not the sight I want to see:

The aftermath of the roast. Chaff, as my husband says, because obviously I am fluent in all technical coffee terms. For the lay person that is the outer skin of the bean.

The 'tools of the trade' so to speak. My one and only cookie sheet, my pancake pan, and a heat gun.

As much as I roll my eyes at this, I will be happy in the morning when my husband hands me a steaming hot latte to take with me as I begin my day.

Missing Mandy

2011-10-03T20:18:00.000-07:00

Today felt like fall. The day was colder, the sky was gray, the ground was still wet from the rain the night before. As I stood in my kitchen making our favorite fall dinner, I was remembering the last time I made this meal. And I remembered who we shared the meal with. And I missed her.

The last two years we have had a quote/unquote nanny who came over twice a week. Nanny isn't quite the right word. She really only babysat 3 hours a week, but she was more then just a babysitter. She quickly became part of our family.

In the fall of 2009, when Finn was 3 months old, Mandy came for the first time. Because of her schedule she could only come at 4:30 on Monday and Friday. That first day she came, I remember thinking how silly I felt as I laced up my tennis shoes to go take the dog for a walk, while Mandy babysat. On Friday, in my nervous don't-know-what-to-say mode, I invited her to dinner. It felt weird that we would sit down to eat just as she was leaving. So she stayed. And stayed. From that day on, twice a week, we would eat dinner with Mandy.

I soon found a good rotation of budget meals that I could stretch to feed 6-7 people. My husband eats alot. Pretty soon, Mandy took over finishing the meal, and then took over cooking the meal all together. Mondays and Fridays became my favorite days of the week.

But all things must come to an end, and for us it was with Mandy's graduation. It was sad and I hated saying goodbye but I was prepared. And it's been okay. This year is different, I do not see my oldest until 4:30, my middle son is in school until 1:00 and most days it is just the baby and me. I haven't felt the absence of Mandy, until tonight.

Tonight I pulled the chicken out of the oven, added the package of rice, cooked the frozen corn, and I remembered last fall. Sitting down with Mandy, the constant chatter that only a college-age girl can have, the boys fighting amongst themselves, my husband and I just nodding amidst the chaos.

Tonight I missed Mandy.

Bringing Order to the Chaos

2011-10-02T20:50:00.000-07:00

It has been awhile since I made a confession. So here goes.

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I am not an organized person. By organized, I mean, having a place for everything and putting that thing in its place. I can be very organized on paper, I love a good “To Do” list, or a monthly calendar neatly filled in, but inside my house it is a different matter. I just can not seem to get a handle on all of the stuff that is brought into the house: mail, papers from school, art projects, bike gear, shoes, coats, backpacks, library books, the list could go on and on.

I have started many a different ‘organizational systems’ and each time I am convinced this will work. I’ve been to Ikea more times then I want to admit to buy just the right file box or bulletin board or basket, that will solve all my organizational issues. I’ve even been to Pottery Barn and bought the lovely white board and file wall hanging system. It is very pretty, but it still does not enable me to become organized. Instead I now have 4 or 5 places where I can put bills, papers to sign and send back, stash kids’ artwork until I decide what to do with it, and put important papers for my husband. This works until Brandon asks me where ‘such and such’ is. Um, did you look in the kitchen? Yes. How about the living room desk/hutch? Yes. The pile of papers on my desk? Yes. And on and on.

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This year it seems to be especially out of hand as my oldest has started Kindergarten. Before I only had to look for the papers from preschool and I got pretty good at figuring out what I needed to save and how. Now there are the field trip forms, parent volunteer background checks, lunch menu, directions on how to access the lunch menu, picture forms, walk-a-thon pledge sheets, and then the random student work sample. And that is from a school that does most of its communication via email. My inbox is full of important notices and updates that I can’t seem to decide to keep or delete.

Before school started I decided to create a desk for myself. A place where I could centrally store and organize all this stuff, plus a place I could work at. I could envision myself sitting there in the evenings, filing, shredding, organizing, even writing. The soft glow of the lamp, the radio softly playing, maybe even a glass of wine sitting next to me. This was going to be it, the perfect place for me! I moved the furniture, purged kids’ toys, and created my dream spot. Then school started and I have not used it, not once. Except to stash all this stuff I don’t know what to do with. The piles of papers have multiplied, and instead of being a calming place to go, I avoid the area of the house like the plague. Unless I need something like a sticky note, a pen, a piece of tape, then I open drawers, throw papers on the ground and in general, make a huge mess until I locate that one item. Then I shove everything back inside, close the desk, and walk away.

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Real Simple magazine, keeps sending me free preview offers. Maybe that is what I need, a magazine that will tell me how to be organized. Yes, that would be good, one more thing coming into my house that I will read, decide to save, and add it to the growing pile of papers on my desk. That and a trip to Ikea.

Irony

2011-10-01T22:01:00.000-07:00

Here is some irony for you, late on a Saturday night.

As much as I loved, loved, loved, my time alone a few weeks ago. I do NOT love my time alone when it means my husband is gone. This weekend was his turn for some much needed time away. Not alone, like me, but time away from me, from the boys, from coaching soccer, washing dishes (oh wait, that's me), work, any and all responsibilities. Time with his dad and brothers doing manly things like fishing and drinking beer.

I had my time, two full days, he has barely 24 hours. But as I ended my day apologizing to each of my boys, I felt like a failure. Brandon handled 2 nights without me, two bedtimes, and as far as I know with no crazy meltdowns. I had one night and barely made it.

Now, I did have the addition of a 50 lb quadriplegic dog that I had to help use the bathroom, but that is a post for another time.

Why is this ironic? Because I always blab on and on about how I want to be alone. How I need to be alone. I had last night to be alone, and even most of tonight, and I am literally counting down the minutes until he is home.

Then I am off to bed, where I am so happy to know that I will not be sleeping alone.

An Unexpected Celebration

2011-09-27T21:37:00.000-07:00

This past week we had a celebration in our family that was a bit of a surprise. Jack came downstairs and announced to us that it was Tiny Henry's birthday.

Say what? Both Brandon and I looked at each other, little did we know that it was Jack's stuffed mouse's birthday. Tiny Henry entered our lives on Jack's birthday, which in my mind only makes him about 6 months old. There are times that Tiny Henry disappears and is not seen for awhile, but then he resurfaces and becomes an integral part of Jack's day.

Since this was his birthday he needed to have his own special pancake, because pancakes are his favorite breakfast treat. Brandon and I continued to just look at each other and shrug. Do we step in and say, it's not your stuffed animal's birthday? Or do we just go with it?

Obviously we went with the second choice. At dinner time we decided to walk to a new pizza place for dinner. Seeing as how it was Tiny Henry's birthday, he had to come too. Along with a friend. And of course, how else would they get to the restaurant except in the pink stroller.

We did draw the line at actually putting Tiny Henry or Seal into a high chair, but the stroller did make it into the restaurant and to the table. The waitress tripped on it once but recovered nicely and did not ask us to put the stroller away. We did get some strange looks on our way out of the restaurant, but considering their son had pig-tails, I don't think they have room to talk.

Luckily, we have this one who is almost too cool for school. Sunglasses, check. Bus, check. Purse, oh wait, that's right. Nevermind.

We have one son who treats his "lovies" as members of the family, one son who is impersonating a hockey player, and one son who can't go anywhere without his purse

But they are mine and I love them.

And So It Ends

2011-09-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

As with everything, my lovely weekend away has come to an end. Why is it that time flies when you are by yourself, doing something you love; but time seems to come to a screeching halt that last hour of the day. 4:00-5:00, it is only 60 minutes and yet it can seem like an eternity.

This weekend was wonderful, I slept, I read (very little), I practiced silence and solitude, I watched TV (alot), and I walked.

Well, "Hello" there little seal.
Sure was nice to have a lovely along with me, thanks Jack!

I spent the first night just reveling in being alone. I watched weird shows on the CW, surfed the Internet, and was asleep by 10:30. Not a very exciting night, but perfect for me. It was weird sleeping alone, and I kept waking up to see if it was morning yet. Also, I was worried about missing out on breakfast.

The dining room, where I learned that at Bed & Breakfast
places you talk to the other guests.
The first of many growing experiences for me!

After an amazing breakfast, and an interesting conversation with a couple from France, it was back to my room for some quiet time. At breakfast first there was silence, then there was a big laugh from the other guests when I answered the question, "where are you from?". Apparently, after giving your name, that is the first question asked at a B&B. The answer: 5 minutes away, was a bit of a shock to the other guests. But I just laughed and said it was a mini-break from reality.

I truly enjoyed the quiet and am hoping to be able to continue it once I am home. Getting up at 6:00 AM in order to be able to be alone, is much different then having quiet time at 10:30 with a full belly and a cup of coffee.

After a little bit more laying around, I decided it was time to go exploring. My very favorite consignment store is located not far from here so I set off with walking shoes, rain coat, book, and a spring in my step. Okay, not really, I spent most of the time making sure I am not going to get lost and then trying to walk like I have a purpose. I have a bit of quirk about my personality that makes me believe that EVERYONE is looking at me when I am walking by myself. Makes me stand up straight as I walk, you know, just in case.

I followed up an amazing shopping trip with lunch. This was a time when I let Brandon guide my meal decision. I was going to go into a coffee shop, because people are always at coffee shops by themselves. That I have grown used to and am quite comfortable with. But the one I was going to was cash only, and I only had $5. Not nearly enough for coffee & a sandwich. It was 2:00, Brandon was quite confident that this place would be empty, it was the perfect time to go. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked in. Once in, I was committed, and unfortunately the place was not empty. I guess there was some sort of a game being played on Saturday. Something to do with an opponent that wears lots of red, and a game that caused lots of screaming from the fans inside the bar. I took a table at the far back and proceeded to order a salad and a beer. Yes, a beer, again I was channeling Brandon. It was good, and I ate and read my book, and tried to ignore the game on the TV and the crazy fans filling the restaurant. I will admit to being a little insecure and snuck out the back. But still, I ate, at a restaurant, all by myself. I'm a big girl.

After a lovely post walk nap, I resumed my TV watching. I am obsessed with this show, and am trying to catch up for the current season. Probably not likely, but I gave it my all!

My reading/TV watching/solitude and silence chair.

I finally realized I was hungry about 7:30 at night. Not a good time to go walking, nor did I have a great plan for dinner. I had originally thought about getting a slice of pizza, but they only do slices at lunchtime. I was not hungry enough for a whole pie, so back to the drawing board. After many text consultations with Brandon I ended up trying a restaurant very close to the B&B. I did drive, because after all it was dark, and I am a very cautious person. Plus, I wanted to show my mom that I could travel by myself and be safe!

The place I chose for dinner had a bar, so I took a deep breath and headed in. I was very nervous about sitting by myself at a bar (again, the whole staring thing) but I figured a table would be worse. I tried watching the soccer game on TV but it was soon over and I was left staring at a blank screen. I ordered a glass of wine, which helped with the nerves, but the second glass of wine left me a little tipsy. All I know is that the bartender was offering me extra whip cream and trying to entice me to have some by proving it was homemade whip cream. I'm not sure, but I did laugh at his tattoo, and then he cut me off. Which was fine, because I was done and ready to continue my TV marathon.

The bags are packed.

After another good breakfast, and more conversation, it was time to pack up and go. My break from reality was over. I loved it and am holding on to the euphoric feeling I have had. I know as soon as I open the door, I will be hit with reality and I want to show my family how much this vacation meant to me. That means smiles, hugs, cuddles, and devoted attention to all 4 of my boys.

The clock says 11:02, time to go.

One last picture before I leave. Thank you, 9 Cranes Inn, for what I hope will be a yearly tradition.

Oh, wait, I am not quite ready to re-enter society. One more cup of coffee, blog post, and hour to myself. But now I am feeling the pull of my family. I want to see them, tell them I love them, and then go take a nap.

Hmmm, not sure if Brandon will go for that last bit. Oh, well, I have had almost 48 hours of complete alone time and I am happy.

For The First Time

2011-09-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

The chorus to one of my (current) favorite songs:

For the first time

Sounds like hallelujah for the first time

For the first time

Sounds like hallelujah for the first time

Tonight I am doing something for the first time and I can't help but sing (and even dance) to this chorus. Just the chorus because it is the only part of the song I know. For the first time, I am on a mini-vacation BY MYSELF. All by myself. No spouse, no friends, no sisters, no mom, and no kids. It has taken me a year but I finally did it, for the first time.

A year ago I was doing okay, definitely better then the previous fall when I had a 3 month old, a 2 1/2 year old and a 4 1/2 year old. But I was still struggling. Part of my struggle was my absolute need for solitude and the certainty that that was not possible in my current stage of life. In my mind I hold the days before kids as this kind of "glory days", where the sun was always shinning, the birds were always singing, and I was content and happy. The truth was I very much wanted kids and longed for the day when Brandon would finally give in. But looking back, the summers that I spent at home, alone, all day: reading, working in the garden, walking, even cleaning, were this idyllic time. My teaching schedule and Brandon's work schedule meant that I had vast amounts of time by myself.

Not until recently did I realize how much I not only missed that alone time, but that I needed it to in order to survive. Maybe some of you will roll your eyes at this, or as in the case of my Mother-In-Law, be completely aghast at the thought of wanting and needing to be alone. But that is me.

A year ago, I wasn't quite ready to go away. I had some fears, both rational and irrational, about traveling by myself. I also felt selfish in taking the time away from my family, spending money on a hotel for just me, asking Brandon to work all week and then watch the kids all weekend. Instead, I just went away for the day. I started at my favorite consignment stores in Seattle before moving to my other favorite place, Langley. I loved my day away but more I loved how excited I was to return home. As I have said to Brandon before, "I want to miss you". Some of you may get that, others may not.

So this year, for the first time, I am on my own. I am not far from home, but it feels like worlds away. I have too many books to read, ideas to write about, and sleep to catch up on, then can be done in 2 days, but that is okay. I have no time restrictions, except breakfast is only served until 9:30, and no one to answer to.

As I sat down to write this, I quickly checked all my favorite blog sites. This one seemed to be written specifically to me. Aah, a place of my own, where I could go more then just once a year?

For the first time

I'm singing hallelujah for the first time

I Didn't Cry

2011-09-06T21:58:00.000-07:00

I didn't cry as we walked into school today and Jack slipped his hand in mine.

I didn't cry when I saw his desk with his name and the room where he will spend most of his day.

I didn't cry when the teacher asked for kids who were willing to share their name and Jack raised his hand.

I didn't cry when The Kissing Hand was being read.

I didn't cry as Jack claimed a locker for his very own.

I almost cried when I realized the boys Jack thought he was playing with were really chasing him away and wanted nothing to do with him.

I cried when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw Jack's face reflected back at me. "I will miss you" I said to him and he smiled.

That's when I cried.

Okay, Maybe He Was Right

2011-09-03T22:26:00.000-07:00

We have this friend, I'll call him Matt since that is his name, who teases me about this post. Even though the pink chairs are gone, we still have the strollers, the dolls, the doll cradle, and even a doll house. All of my boys have gone through a slight feminine stage: Jack liked to have his toe nails painted, Micah loved to take care of his 'baby'. But Finn takes it to a whole new level.

This is his purse. He makes sure it is full of everything he may need: wallet, cars, binoculars. Then it goes on his arm and he is ready. As we head into the store Finn says, "Mommy purse, my purse".

Yep, that's my boy.

We Make A Good Team

2011-08-31T22:27:00.000-07:00

This man and I, we make a good team.

At times it may seem that I am the tad more controlling member in this relationship. While it is true that I make most of the day to day decisions, Brandon is the one that makes the bigger decisions in our marriage.

Where we live - Brandon
When we have kids - Brandon
Where our kids go to school - Brandon

What we will have for dinner - Amy
What social events we will attend this month - Amy
What color to paint our house - actually it's 50/50

We usually balance each other out, except when it comes to cars. We are a bit impulsive in the car buying department, always have been! In our 13 years of marriage there was the 95 Ford Explorer, the 98 Jeep Cherokee, the Jeep Laredo that we actually took back, and the 08 Toyota Highlander Hybrid. And those are just the impulse cars, not the ones we actually kept and used. Don't let either of us onto a carlot - it is our kryptonite!

The place where we really make a good team is in parenting. In the last 6 years we have been blessed with 3 wonderful, wildly active, fearless boys, who have caused us quite a few sleepless nights. But we handle it together in our own way.

Case in Point:

On Sunday night, 2 days into our vacation, we are outside riding bikes. The boys are riding and I am taking pictures. After a few very fun times around the loop I hear a crash and then immediate crying. By this time, I was sitting on the ground picking at my toe nail polish. And yes, this next part will cause a few of you to think bad of me (my sister for sure!) but I did not instantly jump up and run to the boys. I took a moment to take a breath, listen to see who was crying, and wait to hear how bad it was. And it was bad.

"AMY" Brandon yells, and I know I am needed. I do get up, still no running as I was wearing flip flops, and walk down to the crash site. Along with 2 other dads who have come running to help.

As I near the boys, Jack holds up his hand and cries, "I fractured my ankle!" I think he means wrist and he looks okay. But Micah is not. When Brandon turns Micah to me I see blood in his mouth and a scrape on his cheek.

"What happened?" I ask.
"They CRASHED into each other!"
"What did Micah hit?"
"They CRASHED!"
"I know that, but what part of Micah got hurt, did he hit his head?"
"They CRASHED!!"

At this point I just pick up Micah and start the walk back to our rental, Brandon is trying to carry Jack and push his bike (with Finn in the trailer) back to the house. One of the other dad's offers to walk the bike, and Finn, back; while the other dad brings the boys' bikes.

In the moment I am the one that is calm. Brandon is the one that freaks out. Should we go to the ER? Does he have a concussion? Is he okay?

We call the on-call doctor, put ice on Micah and hold him until he calms down. After Micah is tucked into bed, I look and Brandon and tell him it will be okay. It was awful, he says, still shook up over watching the crash.

Fast-forward two days. By now we realize that the crash will have some lasting effects. Micah's right side of his face is swollen and his mouth is black and blue inside. As I turn and look at his little body and see the expression on his face, I realize something needs to be done.

"We need to go to the ER" I tell Brandon as we are sitting at the pool.
"What will the ER be able to do? He calmly asks and then suggests maybe a Pediatric Dentist would be a good idea.
"What WILL a dentist do?? He needs help now??" I might be a little bit shrieky right now.
"Okay, I will see what's available"

And with that, Brandon locates a Pediatric Dentist, has a phone consult and gets an appointment for the next day. All is calm then, until we hear the news that all 4 top teeth will need to be removed. I want to wait until we return home and get a second opinion. After much discussion, Brandon just states it needs to be done now. And, like that, the appointment is made.

Now I am a crying mess. I can not let go of Micah's baby teeth. I love them. And yes, I know it sounds crazy, but I was devastated at the idea that the teeth would be gone. No more little grins from Micah with those perfectly spaced baby teeth poking through.

Brandon calmly listens to me cry and then said he would take Micah to the appointment. And once again, I felt like the bad mom. I should be there, I should go with him and hold his hand. Instead I went inside and watched a show with my oldest while my baby had his teeth removed. Extracted, as they say. This is the moment that I am so thankful for Brandon as he held Micah's hand, and comforted him, and watched as the dentist used needle nose pliers on his perfect little teeth.

In the moment of crisis, I am able to stay calm and make decisions. In the aftermath when all my crazy fears and worries come rushing in, Brandon is the one who is calm and clear.

In that, we are the perfect team, and I couldn't be more blessed.

Not a Box

2011-08-25T14:12:00.000-07:00

It's not a box.

It's a boat and we are headed off on an adventure.

It's a rocket and we are going to the moon!

It's a tent and we are camping in the woods.

It's not a box.

Mission Accomplished!

2011-08-21T15:29:00.000-07:00

For the past two years we have had a nanny (for lack of a better word) who has become part of our family. She was a college student who would come over twice a week at 5:00 to give me a much needed hour away. Within the first month of babysitting, she began to stay for dinner and soon a tradition was born. Every Monday and Friday night, I had a brief moment of space and Mandy had a home cooked meal. It was a win-win for everyone.

Our first stop, some much needed caffeine!

We arrive!

But this June she graduated. Gone are the dinners together, gone is the hour of freedom I so looked forward to. Even worse, she moved back to her hometown and we had to say 'good-bye' to someone who has played an important role in my children's lives.

It was really important to Mandy that we make the trek to her home to meet her family and see where she lived. As we planned the weekend we would go, it became clear that it would be something my husband would not be able to attend. Between work, already scheduled trips, and a bathroom remodel, he really needed that weekend home. That was fine, I could do it myself.

Leading up to the trip, I will admit, I was nervous. I have never been the responsible driver, always letting (truthfully not being allowed by) Brandon drive us to our destination. Plus, we would be spending one day on a boat and I was petrified of being in charge of all my boys on a boat. Some fears are crazy, some are rational. This one was rooted in the rational knowledge that 2 of my boys have NO fear of water. It doesn't matter if they are drowning, they think it is fun. I shared some of my concerns with my mom who suggested I find someone to go with me. But really, who wants to travel to Timbuktu in 100 degree heat and spend the weekend at a stranger's house. No one it turns out.

Saying Good-bye

I put on my big-girl-pants and on Friday at noon, I headed east over the mountains and through, nothing really, to Mandy's house. We arrived safely after 6.5 hours of driving, some crying, and some yelling of "monster!" by the baby. As soon as we arrived we were overtaken by the force that is Mandy's mom. No rules except, "No blood, no bawling" and as much candy and pop as you could ingest. We did reach Jack's limit as he threw up all over their couch our last night there. We picked cherries, went inter-tubing, played pool, learned to pee in a lake (Jack's highlight), and rode all the scary rides at the amusement park. It was a crazy 4 days, but I am glad we did it. It was fun to see where Mandy came from, I have a better understanding of her as a person. Sitting on the deck each morning looking out over pastures and seeing nothing but blue skies was my favorite part of the trip.

Best thing about boys

Our last stop, this time for something sweet!

For the kid who can't eat dairy, he sure gets a lot of ice cream!

As much fun as we had, it was nothing compared to pulling up and seeing this guy.

Home safe and sound, Mission Accomplished!

"Why?"

2011-08-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

Finn, who has until recently been a very quiet child, has learned a new word. Why.

Considering that we were slightly concerned about his talking, or lack thereof, this should be considered a good thing. And it was, at first. When his little boy voice said, "Why?"; stretching it into two syllables, I was in love.

But that was a week ago. Now, I am wishing for the days when Finn was the strong, silent type. Everything we say to him begets the response, "why?". For example:

"Oh-cho is coming today"
"Why"
"To babysit"
"Why"
"Because Mom wants to go sit, drink coffee, and be alone for 2 hours"
"Why"
"Just because"

It doesn't matter the conversation, I always end up in the same place, saying "Just Because". Very similar to "Because I said So". Phrases I never thought I would use as a parent, have now become an integral part of my vocabulary.

Now I have 3 boys who questions everything I say and do. Ah, the joys of parenting!

"Guess What, Mom?"

2011-07-29T15:42:00.000-07:00

When my six year old son asks me that question I usually hear the same two responses.

The first one, and of course my favorite, is:
"Guess what, Mom?"
"What?"
"I love you!"

The second one, not quite my favorite, is:
"Guess what, Mom?"
"What?"
"Chicken Butt"

I have Brandon to thank for that one.

But the other day, when I was asked this question, the answer completely surprised me. I had just returned to the car from getting a "pick-me-up" latte, and yes, I did leave the boys in the car. I was just parked out front and could see them the whole time I was waiting for my drink. Nothing seemed amiss until I opened my door.

"Guess what, Mom?" my six year old said.

"What?" I asked, figuring I would hear the chicken butt joke.

"I peed in my cup"

WHAT?! I quickly spun around in my seat to see Micah and Finn smiling at me and nodding while Jack stood in the back holding a cup.

"You did what?" I asked, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

"I had to pee so I peed in my cup"

"The one that was full of lemonade from Costco?" In my head I was thinking, the one that already looks like it is full of urine?

"Yes, I had to go to the bathroom so I peed in my cup!"

"Next time, please, unbuckle your booster and come into the store if you have to pee." I explained, trying to stay calm.

"Oh, I didn't think of that" he said.

One one hand I am relieved he found a solution to his problem. On the other hand, I am slightly concerned that it made more sense to pee into his cup of lemonade then to go inside and use the bathroom.

Either way, the car had a faint smell of urine for the next few days and I had this picture to share.

A Knock at the Door

2011-07-20T15:05:00.000-07:00

In our neighborhood it is fairly common to hear a knock at the door. It could be the neighbor kids wanting to walk our obese dog, a neighbor bringing back said obese dog, neighbors bringing over pies (seriously!) or the not as nice door-to-door salesman. Since our front window is so big, it is rather obvious that we are home. I always open the door (a little) to acknowledge how is knocking. This week I had a rather startling guest at the door.

KCPQ 13 news reporter, Dana Rebik.

I have recently started looking out the dining room window to see who is at the door. When I looked I saw a well dressed woman and a not so well dressed man with a large camera. Uh-oh, I thought, I am pretty sure I know what this is about.

We have had a very pushy salesman in our neighborhood that is causing some concern among people. I know this because I had a visit from this man, and I also am a faithful reader of our neighborhood blog. Sure enough, I opened the door and was asked if I had any information about this salesman and/or an experience with him. I replied in the affirmative and then I was asked if they could ask me some questions.

Sure, I said, as I quickly handed the half eaten cracker w/cheese to my son. I looked up and into a very large camera. Dana simply asked me to retell the experience I had. I did and then when it was finished they asked to take some "realistic" shots of the boys to prove that I was a mom. As I led them through my very dirty house, I was thinking, man I wish this had been a hair washing day.

After about 30 minutes they left and I thought no big deal. Until that night when I watched the 5:00 news, and this was the lead story:

Really wished I had put on lipstick before I answered the door.
Also, love the expression on my face when the video freezes. Classy.

video courtesy of KCPQ 13

Returning to the Scene of the Crime

2011-07-18T15:23:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to once again attempt a trip to Value Village. If you will remember my last visit to this store caused quite a disturbance and sent me to therapy. Okay, not really, but it still causes nightmares.

Why am I returning? Well, in a moment of insanity my husband and I have decided to drive to California this weekend. In one day. That would be 14 hours of just driving. I'm already regretting this decision (just the driving part) but the plan is set and now I need some distractions for the kids. I love going to Value Village before trips and getting the .99 bags of toys. New, to the kids, toys and books and we are set for at least 15 minutes of our trip.

Today as I headed into

I only had

It seemed that it would be easier, right? Except that I was slightly hindered by

So, the question is, how bad was this trip?

Not too bad. Really. I did swear to Jack that I would not stop in the clothes section. AT ALL. It was tough but I stuck to my promise. I did grab a stack of books for the boys (and earned 3 free ones), 3 books for myself, 5 bags of odd ball toys, 2 calculators, a box of pencils, and a stash of mini-notepads.

I will call this a successful trip. Aside from having to hand back a purple plastic purse that Finn was in love with. It didn't have a price tag and the cashier was unable to sell it to me. I could come back in the morning when it would be back on the floor with a tag attached. Um, let me think about that, no thanks! Pried it out of Finn's hands, and then ran out of the store before the crying could begin.

Pat on the back for me!

"Does This Purse Make Me Look Fat?"

2011-06-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, my MIL took me into her bedroom and asked if she could show me something. Now, if you have heard my terrible lingerie story, you could imagine my fear and trepidation as I followed her into her room. I was getting ready to explain that I did not want any more used underwear when she pulled out a brown purse. A very nice brown purse, one that I had seen her use and admired.

"Do you want this purse" she asked me.

I tried to think of a catch, what could it possibly hurt to take her very nice, seldom used, purse. So, I took it and said thank you, and was about to chalk this up as a good interaction with my MIL when it all went downhill.

"Oh, good," she says, "that purse was always too big for me. I'm glad it fits you."

What? Purses are now sized to fit people? I just absently smiled and nodded and thought, whatever, it's a nice purse. Little did I know the trap I had just set foot in.

A few months later I was visiting with my MIL when she once again asks if I would like something of hers. She pulls out a gray wool sweater and has me try it on. It's a little boxy, a little big, but can be closed with a giant pin. Since our house is so cold, I figured it was a good layering piece for when I am at home. I thanked her and took it.

Just recently, I was back again at my MIL's house, and sure enough she had some more clothes to give me. This time it was two denim jackets. I put the first one on, it was okay, a different style then I usually wear, but I figured it would be good for work. I put on the second one and thought, oh no, this one doesn't fit at all. My MIL follows me into the bathroom (which is a big no-no) and says how nice it looks. I reply that I thought it looked too big. That's the way it is supposed to be she informs me. As I go to put the jackets in my car she says: "I'm so glad you can fit into my clothes, I hate to give away all my clothes to the Goodwill, just because they are too big for me."

You see, this past year my MIL has lost weight. This is a good thing, I know, except for the constant comments about how much she has lost, what size she is now, and then of course the off-hand comments about my size. I can usually just laugh it off, but after being asked recently if I was having a girl, and when I said I wasn't pregnant, getting an unusually long stare; I may be a little sensitive to my current size.

Things were going along just fine, until our recent weekend trip with my in-laws. After a souvenir shopping trip with my sister-in-law, my MIL came back giddy. They had such a good time, went into all the stores, yadda yadda yadda. They even tried on some clothes. And, oh how cute those clothes were. At which point she will go into great length describing each shirt she tried on. But, oh how sad, none of them fit her or my sister-in-law. They were just TOO big.

At which point she says, "Amy, we wished you were shopping with us because we knew the clothes would fit you!" With a great big smile, like, isn't that so great??! They would fit me because I am so big? Is that what you are saying?

This conversation would be repeated 4 more times over the next 24 hours. I am not exaggerating. After the 4th time of being told that none of the clothes were small enough for my MIL or SIL, but they would surely fit me, I had a headache and was feeling vaguely nauseous. I crafted an excellent comeback, in the event that the conversation would be repeated again. Of course, it wasn't and now I sit here on my couch, eating carrots for lunch, wishing I had never taken that purse in the first place.

Except that I do really like the purse. Sigh.

Sister Wives Take Seaside

2011-06-03T17:54:00.000-07:00

This Memorial Day marked the 9th trip we have taken to Seaside, Or. Any long time readers of this blog will surely remember this post on Seaside, and this one, and even this one. Seaside is such a big deal to me and my family that I forget some people do not even know where Seaside is. When asked my plans for Memorial Day I respond: "We are going to Seaside". And in that statement I assume the other person knows the history and the importance of this place. I will not rehash it here, I assume if you are reading this you most likely know me and have heard many times why we go to Seaside.

The first year my sisters and I were 27, 26, and 22, respectively. My niece and nephew were 5 and 7 years old. Besides having amazing weather, this weekend felt like freedom. Freedom from work, responsibilities, parents (sorry mom!) and even spouses. The sisters picked the food, the activities and the time frame. D & L were great sports about the weekend and just loved the freedom to eat as much taffy and junk food as they wanted. We have never had weather as nice as that weekend. I truly believe that if our first trip had not been so blissfully beautiful, we would never have returned. The second year it rained, and I mean rained. We caved on the "no car" rule and drove to the movies, went to a flea market, and I think that is the year we did the aquarium. We still went to the beach but we were wet and cold.

We have had some good years and some not so good years (rain, obviously) since that first trip. Our group has grown from 5 people to 12. We first added my mom and Jack, they both took their first trip to Seaside together. My mom at 50something, Jack at 8 weeks. Then Micah and Rory joined the group. Last year we added 3 out of the 4 spouses and 2 more kids. This year only 1 spouse asked to return.

This year was a good year. It really truly was. Leaving the beach for a hotel in-town was a little scary but the rooms were so clean and the pool was so warm. Bringing just Brandon as the sole spouse was very nerve-racking, how would that change the dynamics of the group? Last year we started having an itinerary, was that a good thing or is it just my anal personality pushing through.

This year we made space. We have been very stubborn about Seaside. What we did the first weekend (minus the 3rd night restaurant) is what we do every year. Long boring souvenir shopping, check; taffy from the candyman, check; ice cream every night, double check; tilt-a-whirl immediately following the ice cream, check; dinner at Norma's and Pizza Harbor, already drooling for next year; sitting on the beach rain or shine, check and check.

The first morning there my older sister suggested moving pizza to Sunday and going to that Mexican restaurant on Saturday night. 'That' restaurant being the one Brandon has been lusting after since last year. I have to be honest, my first thought was no!, but then (as long as Pizza Harbor was open on Sunday) I realized that would be a nice gesture. Letting Brandon choose a restaurant he was interested in and not being told "you eat what you eat and you don't throw a fit". We ended up at a place that was quite sketch but the best Mexican any of us has ever had. And after calling and checking in person, we had confirmation that pizza would be open on Sunday.

Taking my mom and at least one spouse has also given us something new: sister time. Early Sunday morning my sisters and I throw on clothes, hats, and glasses and walk to get coffee. Last year was a good 20 minute walk, this year we found a new coffee shop much closer to our hotel. We ordered coffee and pastries and then sat down to talk. I knew it was going to be a good time when I heard this song on the radio. After about an hour we knew it was time to head back. Kids, mom, and one lone husband, waited for us to return. As we stood up to leave the owner of the coffee shop said, "I'm jealous. What I just saw was magical".

Walking out I thought she was right. Sitting and sipping coffee with my sisters in our favorite seaside town is magical.

Only 360 more days and we will be back in Seaside. Can't wait.

And Here It Is..

2011-05-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

The outfit that caused all the chaos in the previous post. I was going for a bad-tourist type look. When Jack saw me come down the stairs he said, "Mom you look gorgeous". I think he was just shocked to see my legs.

We did win best couple costume, totally made up for the shopping experience. Plus, look at how sexy my man looks in his shorts, socks, and dress shoes. Don't bother ladies, he's mine.

All For a $12 Outfit

2011-05-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

Today we were "those people" in a store, the ones that you covertly or even just openly stare at, as you walk by. Or just stop what you are doing and open mouth stare. Seriously, we were "those people" today. We were the people with the screaming baby that could be heard from one end of the store to the other. We were also the people that the employees had to talk to about cart safety. And of course, we were those people that strangers felt the need to stop and return your child to you.

Where did all of this occur? At Value Village, of all places. Really the one place I go to where I think (in a slightly snobby way) that I am a little bit better then most of the other patrons. I am there because I am saving the environment, buying used clothes, not because we couldn't buy new things, we choose not too. *ahem*

But today as we finally left the store, mass destruction left behind, red faced from embarrassment, I had to admit I was no better then the overweight old man wearing green skinny denim jeans.

It started off pretty well. Jack went to a playdate so I only had two the boys with me. We love to go to Value Village or the Goodwill because the boys always get to play with the toys when we are done shopping. Unfortunately today I was on a mission, a clothes shopping mission. I needed to find a cool/unusual outfit for under $12 to wear to a party this weekend. No problem, I thought. I was wrong. Most of the ugly things that caught my eye were at the top of my budget, some were even over it. I was very discouraged. I finally found some black velvet knickers (yes, knickers) that I thought would be HILARIOUS, a little black dress, a very cool strapless green cotton dress, and a denim skirt with lace overlay. Obviously, I had not fully formed the idea of what my outfit should be. I just grabbed anything I thought might work and threw it in the cart, knowing my chances of a return visit to the dressing room were slim.

For Brandon I wanted him to have a cheesy, Guido-type shirt. Kind of shiny and slime-ball all at the same time. But it also had to match mine. Think high school Tolo. I didn't find anything I really wanted for Brandon but I did find a stash of bad Hawaiian shirts, that would do. By this time the boys had heard enough "we'll go to the toys next" and were not quite believing me anymore. I went to the dressing rooms and right before I went in, an older woman went into the large dressing room and shut the door. No kids, no stroller, no wheel chair, no walker, no reason at all to be in the ONLY normal size dressing room. I was left going into one that was only slightly wider then then a door.

As soon as I shut the door and turned to lock it, I realized I was in for a doozy of a time. The 'lock' was just a large plastic lever you pushed up or down. Very easy for a 23 month old to reach up and undo. And of course, the door swings open very easily. I imagined myself standing with my butt for all the store to see as the door swings open and a very sneaky toddler makes an escape.

I pushed the boys in and tried to get them to sit on the floor (disgusting I know, but at least they weren't eating gum off of it like last time) while I very quickly tried on the clothes, all while blocking any chance of escape. Micah sat down fine, Finn on the other hand, would have none of it. As soon as the door closed he started screaming. Not crying, but full out screaming. At one point I tried to move him over and hit his head on the mirror. I swear to god it sounded like I was hitting him, and of course he screamed even louder. I knew I had 5 minutes max, but I had to try on some of these clothes. I quickly decided there was no way I was going to take off the majority of my clothes. Luckily, I was wearing a tank top and decided I could just try the dresses on over it.

The black one went on okay, but didn't zip up. That was too bad because I really liked it. Next I tried on the strapless cotton dress. By this time, Finn was crawling between my legs and out under the door, all while still screaming. I would grab him by the feet, drag him back, and continue to struggle into the dress. In an attempt to calm Finn, I had given my iPhone to Micah to watch cartoons on. He was in love, but Finn was not having it.

I finally got the dress on, adjusted it everywhere and turned to look in the mirror. Odd, but it looked like I had a uni-boob. Seriously. I tried to see if I could change it or adjust it a little to make it fit better, but it wasn't going to budge. This is about when I hit Finn's head on the mirror, total accident I swear, but those dressing rooms are not made for 3 bodies.

Finn was a hysterical mess and determined to get out. He had already succeeded in unlatching teh door and was now determined to climb under it. I went to pull off the dress only to find it stuck. Seriously stuck. I couldn't get it to go over my top half, so I decided to try to push it off. No luck, still stuck. Finn sensed a weakness in the line of defense and was finally able to break free.

Finn realizes the grass is not greener on the other side and begins to scream even harder. I am wrestling with this ridiculous dress, and Micah is watching Mickey Mouse at a volume of 11. I finally manage to jerk the dress over my head, throw my shirt on, and open the door to Finn. As soon as I do, he stops crying. He wants to come back in and sit with Micah now. I can't stomach the thought of trying on more clothes, but the ones so far that I have tried on, are not working out so well.

On our next attempt at trying on clothes, a store employee said we could go into the big one with the cart and all. That was a much better experience and I was able to find a shirt that would work. Still needed a skirt, but I was at least 1/4 of the way there! While finding a coordinating outfit for Brandon, Finn ran away and was brought back by a very tall, older gentleman, who I kept seeing wandering the store. Micah was told by an employee to not climb out of the cart because the cart could tip over. I actually had to tell her that has happened to us. By this time, I just threw a skirt into the cart and called my outfit done.

On the way to check out, I let the boys pick out a prize. They had done pretty well, all things considered, and they really wanted these water gun things. As I waited in line, Micah decides he needs a different color, goes back to put his away and when he turns around knocks over an entire display shelf. It was a huge mess, one that was obviously caused by us as Micah started crying and running toward me. By now, I was red, sweating, and feeling like I should be asked to leave. What else could we possibly do to this store?

When at last we were rung up the cashier smiled and said, "Have a Nice Day!". I felt like I needed to apologize, leave a tip, do something, but I just mumbled "You, too" and quickly rushed the boys outside.

On the way home, we stopped at a park to enjoy the sun, have a few moments of fun, and try to regain some semblance of control. As I was leaning into the van to unbuckle Finn, the sprinklers right behind me turned on. Before I could jump out of the way, my entire backside was sprayed (at close range) by the sprinklers. So here I am at a fairly crowded park with a soaking wet butt. Karma, maybe?

Love These Boys

2011-05-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

The week before Mother's Day the preschool calendar is full of things like: 'Shh.. don't tell', 'Secret Projects', 'Special Surprises Go Home'. The first year it was very exciting, by the 4th year, I knew what to expect. Especially because the preschool does the exact same craft every year. Since Jack was finishing his second year of Pre-K I was not very surprised to think of what they were making in class this week.

Micah is the first to come home with a Mother's Day surprise. He comes down the stairs on Wednesday proudly caring a paper bag covered in gold glitter. "Can I play outside" is all he says to me before throwing said present, backpack and coat at me.

In the car on the way home Micah asks me if I like candy. Oh yes, I tell him. Chocolate candy, he asks. Umm, not so much, I say. That's okay, he tells me, I can share the candy with him. What candy? The candy he put in my cup he made. The Mother's Day surprise, that he is not supposed to talk about? I quickly tell him that is okay I don't want to know.

Once we get home Micah runs into the house, I quickly unload Finn, but before I am even inside I hear Micah yell. "Can I have this candy?" As I step foot in the house I see that he has unwrapped my gift, opened the coffee mug, and is pulling out the candy inside. I quickly pick it up, stuff it all back into the bag and tell him this is not his gift to open. Much crying ensues.

Jack comes home on Friday and quickly disappears. In the chaos of lunch, and getting boys down for naps, I don't really notice. He brings me some drawings he did at school and talks a little about the day before becoming quiet. "I have a surprise for you" he tells me. For Mother's Day, I ask. "I hid it." He says, "In a secret spot." I just nod and continue feeding kids, cleaning up, putting kids to bed. As I walk past the playroom, I see Jack doing something sneaky at the play kitchen. It looks like he is hiding something. This usually means they have snuck off with my phone or have found the hidden candy stash. I quickly jump in with a stern "What are YOU doing?" Jack says nothing, but won't move his hands from where they are behind his back. "Are you hiding something?" I ask. He nods.

Then it hits me. It is his Mother's Day present. He does not want me to even see the card he made so when he first got home he snuck it out of his backpack, and hid it in the house before I could even see it. I quickly nodded at him and moved on.

Saturday morning is when we celebrate Mother's Day. Sunday is too rushed with church and lots of "Please let's be on time for once!" Saturday I get pancakes in bed and the ability to wake up slowly. This morning I am half asleep with a pillow over my head when I hear the door open and little feet. "Happy Mother's Day" Jack whispers as he hands me the gift he made. The card is a hand print signed with his name. Inside the bag is a soap dispenser with his picture in it. I will add it to the soap dispenser from last year.

"Do you like it" Jack asks. I love it, I tell him, it is just what I wanted. More then the 3rd coffee mug or the 2nd soap dispenser, I love these boys. Micah can't wait to let me open my present (he doesn't even really care if I open it) he is desperate to get to that candy. Jack hides the present himself and brings it up to me along with my pancakes and coffee.

One is tall, skinny, sensitive, caring; the other is not as blessed height-wise, solid, athletic, funny and sweet. They both melt my heart when they throw their arms around me and whisper, "I love you". These are my boys and I am truly blessed.

Finally Four

2011-04-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

Two years ago I wrote this, apparently Micah has been waiting a looong time to truly be 4. The very first thing he said to me when he walked down the stairs was, "am I 4?" Since Micah was born at 1:16 AM he truly is four years old.

For some reason Micah's birth still brings me to tears. I don't know if it was that it was in the middle of the night, that I was convinced the baby was a girl named Mae, or that I had my 2 sisters at the hospital with me. Before Micah went to bed the night before his birthday we looked at pictures of him being born (on the computer of course, I am a 'wee' bit behind on his baby book) and watched videos of him just minutes old. It was truly a magical event.

And apparently, I really wanted a third child. You can hear in the background of one of the videos me telling my sisters that of course I will have another, I still need a daughter. Didn't get a daughter, but one of the silliest boys I know. Can't imagine life without Finn.

Micah is so much more low key then his older brother. Jack cries that Micah gets the first pancake. "You can have it" Micah tells him. Opening presents Micah looks to Jack to see if he wants to open it or even play with it. But when he opened his first Lego kit he said "my very own Legos!" It was awesome to see how excited he was. Micah choose Mexican as his birthday dinner, partly because Jack wanted the little roll up tortillas they only make at dinner time.

The thought I kept having on Micah's birthday was about the ages of the boys. I looked at Micah, just turning 4, then I looked at Finn, almost 2, and then I looked at Brandon and said: "WHAT WERE WE THINKING??"" When Jack was 4, and Micah was 2, I was 7 months pregnant. For the first (and probably only time) I will say I am glad I am not pregnant. My heart still breaks a little to know I am done having babies, but the sane part of me is enjoying this new stage. The ability to walk out the door with only a diaper and wipes in my purse. No car-seat carrier, stroller, hooter hider, baby Bjorn, or diaper bag in sight.

The Birthday Boy leaving preschool

His special friend from school helping to celebrate his birthday

Micah really loves fire

Birthday morning - love this boy's hair

His very own down vest, just like Daddy's

A boys only trip to the zoo

Can't you just see them behind the wheel of a car?

Be afraid, be very afraid

Happy, Happy, Birthday Micah!

Space

2011-04-17T22:11:00.000-07:00

I am feeling much better now. I will admit when I wrote that last post I was in a pretty cranky mood. The worst part was the actual event with my husband had happened a week or two prior, but obviously, I still had some issues.

But now I am doing better, really I am. I think the reason is I have had a chance to have some space. Space from a lot of things it turns out.

Space from work, as I had Spring Break, which meant a Monday that I did not have to hit the ground running. A day to sit back and enjoy being home.

Space from the kids. A weekend away, even though it ended with a kid puking, but still some solid hours kid-free. Time on Saturday mornings that I am out of the house by 9:30. While that sounded early and stressful, the reality is, I am so happy to have some time to myself.

Space from vomit. Finally we have been a week without anyone throwing up. I couldn't be happier.

Space from the rain. I'm not sure if I would be this happy if I had not just had 2 beautiful days with sun shining. I did not realize how much I was missing the sun, and the hints of Spring, until I was on a walk this week. The rain was gone, the sun was poking through, and I caught the first scent of Spring on the air. It was magical.

A little space was good. I can't promise that I will be the best nurse to my spouse in the future, but I will try. Um, maybe.

The Puke Bowl is Not For You!

2011-04-08T17:32:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago the stomach flu entered our house. A very uninvited and unwelcome guest. One who is unfortunately still around. The first one to get sick was Micah. He is such a sweet little boy but one who is always moving. As soon as he says his stomach hurts or he is clingy and cranky, I should be aware that he is probably under the weather. I don't, though, I tend to be slightly annoyed and frustrated that this boy is whining, clinging to me, and prone to tears. Then he throws up and I feel bad. Really, after the third time, you would think I would catch on and be a little more aware of the situation.

Micah first got sick in the night, after changing the sheets for the third time, we settled him down again and gave him the 'puke bowl'. I am sure you have one or had one as a kid. It is the designated bowl for when you are sick. It goes by the side of the bed, next to the couch, wherever you are. I have been lucky and the few times we have battled this type of virus, the two older boys figure out how to use the bowl. I understand that this is a tricky concept that not all kids get.

Once the initial throwing up is over, the puke bowl is properly sanitized and put in the basement until next time.

A few days after Micah was sick, I woke up to my husband not feeling well. I am pretty sure I have mentioned before that my nursing skills do not stretch to cover my spouse. And, yes, I do know that this makes me a terrible wife. Okay, maybe not terrible, but definitely not a kind, loving one (at least when sickness is present). At first Brandon is just tired, then he says he doesn't feel well, finally saying he is nauseous.

I am not sympathetic to begin with and as soon as he says "nauseous" and heads to bed, I am for lack of a better word; pissed. After spending a total of 9 months nauseous, through 3 pregnancies, working full time, taking care of two kids, I have ZERO sympathy for nausea. If you aren't puking, get up. Don't be a wuss.

So, all of this is going on as I am re-adjusting my plans for the day. Trying to get the kids ready for school, figure out what Brandon is doing today, and realizing that the secret date night I had planned was not going to be happening. I was, to put it mildly, not in a good mood.

And then I walk into the bathroom. Right there next to the toilet is the puke bowl. WHAT?! Why is that up here? Apparently, Brandon felt he might need it. Oh, no, I say. The puke bowl is NOT for you! As an adult, you have to be bed-ridden for the use of the bowl. Otherwise you can make it to the bathroom. Again, don't be a wuss.

It might have been about that time that Brandon informed me that he had thrown up THREE TIMES. Oh my goodness, well then, you had better get in bed and take that puke bowl with you. That is quite alarming. Three times, did you say? Maybe you should go to the hospital? See a doctor? Oh, no, that's right, three times is nothing. Not until you throw up in an elementary school bathroom, with the smell of urine all around, and then return to class to finish teaching, will I have any sympathy.

And since you work in computers that will probably never happen. I'm just saying.

Spring Time = Birthday Time

2011-03-30T10:44:00.000-07:00

Jack turned 6 this week. It is crazy for me to think that it has been six years since this little man came into our lives. It is also crazy to think that in those six years we have added 2 more boys to our family. I still remember getting ready to go to the hospital to have Jack and thinking, "Nope, I changed my mind, I don't want to do this." Not the baby, but the actual labor/delivery. Scared out of my mind. But 8 hours later, Jack was born and I was thrilled. Thrilled that he was a boy, and that he was born on March 27th, the same day as his Great-Uncle Jack. It was the best Easter ever. Except that I did miss my ham and scalloped potatoes. Oh well.

If you recall, birthdays have been tough for Jack. When he turned 4, I was sure I had a great day planned for him. But it wasn't so, by the time we got to his birthday dinner we were hardly on speaking terms. Then last year his birthday was on Saturday and we spent all day getting ready for his family party. Forcing him into his clothes was a very traumatic experience and set him up for a very unhappy birthday party. Remember this, he spent the whole time under my chair.

This year he asked for 2 girls from school to come home for his birthday lunch. I was a little worried about the dynamics of the 2 girls and 2 boys, but they were great. Aside from the absolute crazy, excited running around yelling, all was good. Then on his actual birthday we spent time as a family of 5. No big party, no set agenda, just time to be together with Jack.

He said this was "The best day ever". Makes my heart melt.

Jack, Grace, & Eleanor

So scary

His presents: a mouse and a grabber.

Perfect.

Jack's birthday breakfast: Monkey Bread

His morning present: a fleece

Soft like his blanket, but unlike his blanket, he can wear it!

Um, no kiss please.

Boom Noodle for calamari and soup

Chocolate-chocolate cupcakes, some with vanilla frosting because mom hates chocolate

Micah defending Jack while he opens his presents.

Must keep the baby away.

The brownie says it all.

"That's Why You Are Not a Good Driver"

2011-03-18T09:22:00.000-07:00

That's what he said. My soon to be six year old son, that is. This statement occurred after we had a discussion on what a terrible driver I am. It also happened right after I drove over the curb, again.

The night before I had been driving with the boys to dinner when I saw a bicyclist ride over the curb. He looked for a minute like he might fall, before recovering and pedaling on. I kind of laughed out loud and described the incident to my boys. Micah was very quick to point out that I do that frequently. Jack was quick to make the statement: "You are not a good driver, Mom."

I was about to argue and raise the sexist flag up high, when I realized he was right. I am not a good driver. In fact, I may be a pretty terrible driver. For anyone who has ever ridden with me, I am sure you would agree.

This year I have been in zero accidents. Awesome! Except that it is only March, we are just 3 months into the new year. Last year I had 2 accidents almost back to back. The first one was a rear-ending, and it was not my fault! Except that we were in traffic and I was on my cell phone, but since the other driver hit me, I was able to claim innocence. The second accident was not as clear cut and also involved a very scary man who tried to have me sign a hand written note stating my guilt. Luckily, a kind man came out of the store as a witness and we were able to share insurance information and move on.

Before last year I was doing really well. No speeding tickets or accidents in several YEARS. It was very exciting. I think our insurance was almost ready to go down. You see, for a while there I was having a rough go of it. When we were still dating I was in two accidents within a short period of time. We became quite familiar with hunting for a used car within a matter of days and collecting the insurance checks for 'totaled' vehicles. Of course, there was also the infamous mistake of not using my parking brake in the Hill Hall parking lot. Still remember standing in the line at Gwinn with Brandon and having a friend come up and say, "Your car rolled down the hill and hit Key's car." The fully restored mustang? The nicest car in the parking lot? Yep, that would be the one.

As a teenager I drove the biggest car imaginable. We bought it because we could seat 7 people in it, as long as 2 shared a seatbelt. It was big, but fast. I commuted to work on back country roads and spent a large part of my time trying to cut the 30 minute drive in half. I did pretty well at it, except when attempting to make a 90 degree right angle turn. The fence did not fare so well against my car. Neither did the post at the gas station when I was attempting to fill up my mom's car.

Then there was the time I was driving my little sister in my 'new' to me 1970 Corolla and I was side swiped right in front of my mom's office. Again, not my fault, but I was not wearing my seatbelt and had a full hot raspberry latte in my hand. I might also have been singing, loudly.

I know my boys are right. I do my best, especially when driving with my boys, but driving is just not my strength. Besides frequently getting lost, I tend to slam on the brakes often enough that the boys have stopped asking "what happened?". The boys have no confidence in my driving ability or my navigational skills. I got a "Good job Mom, we made it!" when I drove to my mom's house last week.

I guess I will just own the fact that I am a terrible driver. It doesn't help that I am female and blond. The only thing worse would be if I was Asian.

Ooh, did I really just say that?

As Soon As I Saw...

2011-03-10T20:03:00.000-08:00

The boy walk in with his stuffed pig and squirrel, I knew we would be okay. You see, last week I attempted to take the boys to a sports class at the local community center. We had done one before and it was okay, but it is close, had a convenient time, and cheap. While the last experience was just okay, this one was dreadful. From the moment we walked in, I knew this would not be a good experience.

Last week, I called to confirm the class was starting today. I checked the website to make sure I was registered. I double checked the times and date. When I felt that I had checked everything possible, only then did I wake the baby and bundle the kids up to go to class. I thought everything was set but when I walked into the gym I knew something was wrong. For a first day class, the instructor did not seem very welcoming. I introduced my 2 boys to her and mentioned they were in this class and the one immediately following it. She said something that I did not totally understand and I just mumbled something back. I realize now I should have asked her to repeat herself but at the time it seemed easier to smile and nod.

In a few minutes 3 boys came in and immediately started playing. The instructor greeted each one by name and told their moms what they would be doing that day. Then class started. Micah was not sure what to do and spent most of the time sitting on my lap. I spent the next 45 minutes trying to get Micah to join the class, rescue Finn from the top of the bleachers, and convince Jack that the balls were not for him to sit on. When class finally came to a close I was relieved. Then the instructor pulled out a stack of t-shirts. Uh-oh, I thought, would she have enough for my boys? She did, crisis averted.

Class ended and I waited for the next class to begin. And I waited, and waited and waited. Finally, I looked around and realized that no new kids had come into the gym. It dawned on me that there was not a class starting now. After several confusing conversations between the community center secretary, the instructor, and the activities coordinator, it was determined that we were off a week. The instructor had not checked the start date for the next session and was having a 'make-up' day from the previous session. Hence, why she knew all the other boys and they were able to join in the games so quickly. The instructor also did not realize that there was a 3:45 class beginning that day. When I explained that my son had been waiting through his brother's class for his own sports class, she felt bad but did not have a good solution. Jack was the only boy registered, so they would be combining it with the 3 year olds and beginning the following week.

Considering that Jack is already in a preschool with kids a year younger then him, and plays most often with his younger brothers, I was really wanting a chance for him to be with similar aged boys. Not boys two years younger. That combined with an unpleasant snubbing by the other moms left me upset and near tears. Walking out I knew there was no way I wanted to go back the next week and listening to my son ask why he didn't get to have class did not help.

The very next day I walked into the Little Gym and signed both boys up for class. Micah for a sports themed gymnastics and Jack for a basic gymnastics class with 5&6 year olds. The cost for both boys made me gasp but I firmly believed it was a better place for them to be.

And it is. Jack had his class first and we walked in to find a 6 year old girl sucking her thumb, and a 5 year old boy carrying his much loved stuffed animals. Considering Jack only left "lovies" at home because I made him, I felt a kindred spirit in this other boy. Today was Micah's class and he spent the hour playing hockey and loving it. Both left their respective classes happy, and exhausted, as Jack is quick to point out.

Next week, Jack promised to bring his goose and parrot to class to show the boy. Maybe, if he is lucky this boy will get to hear Jack's beaver joke. I have a feeling the other little boy will find it hilarious.

A Career in Comedy? I Think Not.

2011-03-02T20:37:00.000-08:00

Lucky for us, the boys have discovered jokes. It started simply enough, with Brandon teaching them, "Guess What? Chicken Butt!" and "Guess Why? Chicken Thigh!" Those quickly just turned into yelling "butt" because that word alone was funny enough. Really, what good joke doesn't end with the word "butt " or "poop"? At least to a 6 year old boy.

Today on the way to school the boys were trying to impress the little girl in our carpool with their joke skills.

Micah starts off the joke-fest by stating that he knows more jokes then Jack.

Micah: Why did the chicken cross the road?

Me: Why?

Micah: I don't know

Get it?? Side splitting funny, I know.

Jack then gets on the action with his version of the same joke.

Jack: Why did the beaver slap his tail on the water and then dive underneath and swim into his den?

Me: Um, is this a joke? Sounds more like a fact? But, okay, why?

Jack: To get away from the otter, which is a natural predator to the beaver. By slapping his tail on the water he is warning the other beavers to get into the den for safety!

Are you rolling on the floor laughing? Tears streaming down your face because it is so funny? No, hmm, that is shocking. I don't think my boys are going to be able to go the comedy route.

I had high hopes for Jack's joke, seeing as how it started off with the word "beaver".

You know, because, beavers are such funny animals.

Stages

2011-02-25T17:39:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, I wrote the Valentine's Day article for my MOPS newsletter. In case you do not know, MOPS basically is a group for moms with young kids, very famous organization that I joined kicking and screaming. Now, I am both the coordinator and in charge of writing the monthly newsletter. Bored, yet? That was just a little background for you all.

Anyways, I wrote my article, published the newsletter (printed out 10 copies, we are a small group) and moved on. I heard a few comments from other moms at my meeting but nothing shocking. It wasn't until the following Monday that I realized my husband had read it. Most months I have him read the article and give me feedback or ideas for an ending, but this time I think I was behind on my deadline and just needed to get it done.

At dinner that night he said, "I saw your newsletter article. Ouch."

My first thought was how did he see it, then I realized he was implying that the article was not a favorable one and since it was all about him, that made me feel bad.

"Did you read the end?" I asked him.

He did not, the bell rang and he continued on with drop-off like usual. This is what he read:

Just recently I was be-moaning the lack of romance in my life. And I don’t mean candlelight and roses, well, maybe roses would be okay. I was missing the romance of dating. When we were dating my husband left me handwritten notes telling me he loved me, we went on dates HE planned, there were flowers ‘just-because’ and that giddy feeling whenever I saw him.

I admit that doesn't sound good, but it was just the first paragraph! I was feeling like this, partly because I am vicariously living the rush of a new romance through the college girl who babysits for us. It reminds me of when Brandon and I met at college and how exciting it was those first few months. I don't want to go back to the beginning of our relationship, I know there were some serious issues. I might have mentioned this before, but I can be a little strong-willed and demanding, I do believe his mom might have been right to have some concerns about our relationship. But, 15 years later we are doing all right. I just miss those unexpected gestures of when he was trying to impress me.

There are some filler paragraphs in the middle but then it ends like this:

When asked to think about the things my husband does that I appreciate, I realized that the romance is still here, it just looks different. Instead of grand gestures, it is making me a latte in the morning, taking out the food compost, getting up at 6:30 on a Saturday to watch the kids so I can work-out, taking Micah to preschool one morning a week, and watching the kids for the weekend so I could go away.

I believe he has now read the whole article. I told him to keep reading, I thought it ended nicely, it wasn't a husband-bashing article. I feel that he made a comment in passing that he read it, but as with most things the chaos of our life took over and I didn't have a chance to ask his opinion.

I hope he liked it. I hope he realizes that the relationship we have today is a thousand times better then the one we had those first few months (crazy kids and all!). But that doesn't mean I don't miss those unexpected surprises.

A simple I Love You written on the back of a receipt is still hanging on my bulletin board a year later.

I'm Going to Write All the Words I Know

2011-02-21T21:33:00.000-08:00

Okay, not really. Just the words Finn knows. Once again we are keeping track of the words one of our sons is saying. We went through this with our middle son and as soon as we went for a speech referral he opened his mouth and words just spewed out. I'm not worried but as we are nearing our check-up for possible speech evaluation, I wanted to chart the words he has now. And, I knew all of you would be as interested in this as I am. So here goes:

Finn's Words

Common words used every day: Mamma or Mommy (which refers to mom, dad, or the 15 year old boy babysitter), NO

Words heard several times: Bye & Hi (complete with a very cute wave), Mine, a version of Nemo, Nose

His newest word: Butt
Yes, the boy who hardly speaks, can't even vocalize yes, knows the word "butt" and the location of said appendage. I blame his two older brothers, although Brandon said the other night I was the worst one. But, (ha!) honestly, what is cuter then a baby's butt? Not much.

Grand Total: 9-10 words, not bad, not bad

Slight Tangent: The title of this post is a reference to a VERY funny Parks & Rec. Had us laughing so hard we were both crying. Highly recommend this show.

All By Myself

2011-02-18T17:14:00.000-08:00

Tonight finds me all alone! At least for the next few hours. I was going to post my status on Facebook, but realized that would open me up to a whole bunch of crazy stalkers knowing I was alone. Here, there are only a few crazy stalkers, so I will take my chances.

Tonight my husband is going to a concert with his man friend. The boys are at a Parent's Night Out for a few hours. I am sitting on the couch, music playing, sipping a hot latte, with my laptop open on my lap. Complete bliss.

I was invited to go to Happy Hour at the Melting Pot with another mom friend. It was tempting. I have never been to the Melting Pot, but feel like it is something I might enjoy. Cheese, beef, more cheese, really what is not to like. I debated whether or not to go, but decided a chance to be home alone was very rare. I regretted my decision when I saw my friend tonight all dressed up ready to go. That would be fun I thought. Maybe I made the wrong choice.

But then I turned onto my street and my mouth stretched into a wide grin. I was going to be in my house, all by myself! I knew then that I made the right decision. I have a Dr. Pepper in the fridge, pizza ordered, a sewing project I have been putting off, and Grey's Anatomy on the DVR. I am so completely giddy right now.

Side Note: By 11, my euphoria of being alone will have worn off and I will be convinced someone is hiding in the basement. But until then I shall enjoy the peace and quiet of my house and try to soak up every minute that I have.

The Illusion of Choice

2011-02-11T20:15:00.000-08:00

This time of year find us navigating the public school system. We love everything about where we live, the neighborhood, the easy access to the freeway, the close proximity to Brandon's office. The one thing we do not love are the schools.

Our neighborhood school is fine. There is nothing wrong with it but when asked to describe my feelings about this school the answer is "eh". It's fine, just fine. It is a little on the big side, and with budget cuts, class sizes are growing but that is the same everywhere. The best answer I can give about why I am not in love with this school is what a friend said to me, "It's not my people". Now, please don't take that the wrong way. Although, I am not sure there is a right way to take that. It is when I sat in the auditorium surrounded by all the other parents and felt completely out of place. I know that is a generalization and that one open house is not a true representation of the population. It is just my feelings.

We went to a second open house at a school Brandon LOVES. Like, let's move to get a better chance of enrolling, loves. I am once again on the fence. I like certain things about this school, specifically the way they approach theme learning, but there are some BIG concerns also. One thing I can not get over, is that the students call the teachers by their first name. This may not be a big deal to many of you, but as a teacher, I really struggle with a classroom full of kids saying "Amy" all day long. At this open house I felt more of a kinship to several of the families there but also felt a very "hippie" vibe from some. Again, not a bad thing, just I'm not sure that is what I want to sign on for. Also, this school requires 40 volunteer hours PER parent. That is a lot of time to dedicate to a school when I still have two other kids at home.

We have one more school tour to attend. I will admit, this is the school I really like. A big part of it is because it is a K-8, but last year when we were deciding what to do we went to the tour and I was really happy with it. As with everything, this school has some pros and cons, one of them being the early start. I'm not sure I can be on time to a school that starts at 8:00 every day. We are just getting out of bed at 8:00, and by 'we', I of course, mean the boys. I've been up for HOURS. Really, I have!

What frustrates me most about this idea of school tours is the illusion of choice it gives you. The 2nd school tour we went on, felt very much like a sales pitch. Here are 10 things to love about our school, choose our school and you won't regret it, kids from our school are multi-millionaires! (Okay, I made that last one up). Yes, those things sound good, and yes, if it was up to my spouse we would be going to this school. But now you tell me I am fighting with all of Seattle for a chance at 30 Kindergarten spots??! What? Even with the new rules and guidelines, option schools are still open to all of Seattle. Siblings have first choice, then people who live in a "GeoZone" and then everyone else. If I was a mathematician I am sure I would have an amazing statistic to impress you with. But I'm not. All I know is that it doesn't matter how much I love your school I don't stand a freakin' chance of getting in! This was the 3rd school tour and it had at least 40 parents there. The majority for Kindergarten. Not a good ratio, I am sure.

With most decisions in our marriage, my husband and I approach the decision making process very differently. I have talked and talked and talked about this with my circle of friends. Brandon is searching for houses in the above mentioned GeoZone for us to move to.

The one thing I do know is that Jack will be fine. Whatever we choose, and wherever the lottery places him, he will be okay. This extra year at home has helped him become more confident and sure of himself. For that I am thankful.