Adventures in Dunkelland

Randomness

2009-01-22T21:32:00.000-08:00

1) This week-on-week-off thing isn't working for the children or me.
2) Ruthie is amazing. With her, my heart becomes open, I accept myself, and I become more centered.
3) Something has happened since last weekend. I am more relaxed, more comfortable. My health is better, I like myself more, and I'm craving comfort food. The very fact that I can eat more than once every few days is a miracle, but now not only am I eating, I'm eating hearty meals twice a day! My soul needs nourishment from all directions: food, friendship, love, children, everything. I'm as hungry as hungry can be.

This is disjointed, and I recognize that. So I will end on this lovely note by Dorothy Parker, whose acidity suits me to a tee these days.

"Triolet"
Give back the heart that I gave;
Keeping it never can mend it.
See, I can smile, and be brave,
Give back the heart that I gave,
Hold it no more as your slave--
I've got a new place to send it.
Give back the heart that I gave;
Keeping it never can mend it.

2008-12-21T19:25:00.000-08:00

O Karma, Dharma, pudding and pie,
gimme a break before I die:
grant me wisdom, will & wit,
purity, probity, pluck, & grit.
Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, kind,
gimme great abs & a steel-trap mind,
and forgive, Ye Gods, some humble advice-
these little blessings would suffice
to beget an earthly paradise:
make the bad people good-
and the good people nice;
and before our world goes over the brink,
teach the believers how to think.

-Philip Appleman

For the record, I hate children's shows, including SpongeBob Squarepants

2008-11-29T22:25:00.000-08:00

Ben was loading himself up with books on his way to bed. He doesn't complain about bedtime, and only sometimes tries to postpone with pleas of "hungwy! hungwy!" No, as long as he can say ni-night to everyone by name and fill his crib with books and the occasional firetruck, he's quite happy to go to sleep.

On his way out, he happened to grab a little plastic Spongebob, left over from a bubble bath bottle. Halfway down the stairs, he stopped, put down his books, and gazed lovingly into Bob's eyes. Here is what my little 2 year old said to Bob:

"HI SPONGEBOB! (whispering) hi, bob.
You funny. You funny.
Ha ha ha!!!
Bob funny.
Ben funny.
Katie ni-night?"

And he continued on to bed. I love seeing the glimpses of the world he has in his mind. Language limits what we all imagine, but sometimes we get little peeps into our children's minds. Seeing my little man develop an emotional vocabulary with words like "funny" or earlier this evening, "scared," strikes an ever deepening chord in this mother's heart. He has an entire life going on in there, and I am charged with nurturing and guiding it. I find it endlessly fascinating.

Venting

2008-11-28T14:12:00.000-08:00

I hate colds. I hate this cold I have now more than any cold that ever walked the face of the earth. It makes my head hurt, makes my nose hurt, makes my throat hurt, gives me a fever, and makes me want to lie on the couch and do nothing. This, however, is not possible. I have two children who rely on me for food, clothing, baths, entertainment, channel-changing, and everything else. I just want to curl up and be a blob, then wake up and feel all better. Could somebody please arrange that for me?

Update: 11/29/08
A) All loved ones, take notice: It is a mere one month until my birthday. I arranged it that way so you could hit all the good sales after Thanksgiving AND the day after Christmas. Aren't I thoughtful?
B) The cold seems to be on its way out! Forget soup, vitamin C, and Sudafed; I recommend complaining in a public forum. Worked for me.

Kathryn's First Poem

2008-11-25T18:49:00.000-08:00

"Friends"

I know that we are happy
We both think we are just like our great pappy
Being friends though is tough
But you and I do it even though it is rough.

Once Upon a Time...

2008-11-22T12:38:00.001-08:00

... there was an ill-fated baton twirlers' convention. You see, the event planner was not familiar with the very specific needs of baton twirlers. Not the least of these were the need for high ceilings. The venue was not well-equipped for this group of people, and the ceilings were a mere 15 feet high. However, many of them had traveled great distances, and, being expert at their craft, did their best to work within these limitations. Baton twirlers are known far and wide for their cheerful nature and this was no exception; they were optimistic about the convention ahead of them.

The week went on, and the baton twirlers attended their sessions, listened dutifully to the keynote speaker, and took copious notes. They were inspired. As the week came to a close, these peppy ladies became more and more excited to put what they had learned into practice. Now, it had long been planned that on the final day, there would be a choreographed mass performance. Just walking through the crowds one could sense the energy building. Everyone understood that they could not toss their batons high, but other than that they would be giving their all.

At long last, the moment had arrived. The twirlers' teeth glistened white, their ponytails swung happily, and the ladies twirls their hearts out. In a fit of exuberance, all 200 twirlers tossed their batons in the air; in their minds, they saw batons flying skyward. In reality, the batons were rocketing dangerously toward the low ceilings. At this moment, fate must have been on their sides, for instead of the weapons ricocheting off the ceiling and raining down on the optimistic group, the batons tangled in equal groups and affixed right there on the ceiling. Here is the result:Thus the convention came abruptly to a close. The 200 in attendance were heartbroken at their failure. They each swore on that day that they would never raise a baton again. In their many small towns across the country, parades would pass with no baton twirlers. Daughters were raised never knowing the joy of twirling. Once a year they return to the site of The Incident and set flowers in memory of the life-changing day, then they return home again a little less perky, a little sadder. In time, the site would become a restaurant, but so that we would never forget the sacrifice of these women, tiny lights were placed on the ends of each of the batons, reminding us of the everlasting light baton twirlers everywhere bring to our lives.

The next time you see a baton twirler, please thank her for her service. When your eyes meet, there will be an exchange of understanding: she will know that you, too, have learned of The Incident. The two of you may never meet again, but your lives will have been enriched.

An Observation

2008-11-16T21:50:00.000-08:00

From my earliest days I have been a watcher. I was a very shy child, and was much more comfortable sitting back, gathering information, so that if the need arose for me to join society, I would know just what to do. I did not have a marriage to observe close-up, but I've always been a romantic. For that reason, I've taken special interest in watching what couples do, how couples interact, and from there I could decide what I wanted and didn't want in a relationship.

Older couples, those who have been married for their entire adult lives, are the most interesting to watch. Fortunately, our parish has plenty of older couples. There is one couple, Brad and Liz, and they have been married forever. They're the kind of couple that is so intuitive around one each other that they have grown to even look similar. I don't know either particularly well, but I've been on some committees with Brad. Liz was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I don't know the prognosis, but I do know that Brad was scared, and together they were scared enough to stop postponing a cruise they've wanted to take. They returned home a couple of weeks ago.

This morning I sat 2 pews behind them. I happened to catch a glimpse of something that looked so personal and meaningful, I was ashamed to be peeking. I love our old, Episcopal hymns. This is probably the legacy of being raised by a minister of music. To me, they are a prayer, a kind of communion. Our second hymn today was "Come Labor On." I was singing away, frustrated at my poor tone on D's all morning, when my eyes rested on Brad and Liz. They were standing arm-in-arm, slightly turned toward one another. Two short, stout people with very good, thick hair. Then Brad looked at Liz, and she at him, and they were singing to each other with the most tender expression on their faces. There they were, these two people who reach for each other without even a conscious thought. They were singing a love song both to God their Savior and each other. In that moment, I imagined all the ugly, mucky things that happen in a marriage: facing illnesses, disagreements over money or children, sorrow in losing loved ones. And yet, somehow they kept a purity of heart that reached me, two rows back. I'm so glad they did.

Halloween

2008-11-01T21:33:00.001-07:00

I have nothing brilliant to say today. I just love my kids so darn much. That's all I got, folks.

My Son the Sculptor

2008-10-12T21:40:00.000-07:00

My child has a gift. I order him food at a restaurant, and he turns it into a masterpiece.

Observe exhibit #1: He has taken an ordinary cheeseburger, and inserted into it two straws, a celery stick, and a green crayon. Voila: genius!

Exhibit #2: What was once ordinary macaroni and cheese, is now a straw-and-saltine feast for the eyes!

Car Conversation

2008-10-05T20:16:00.000-07:00

When the four of us are in the car, Baby Boy has this charming habit of calling everyone's name, just to check. "Mommy!" "Yes, honey." "Daddy!" "Yes, boo." "Titi?" [insert the 9 year old's growl here]. We call it Roll Call. Daughter explains her reaction this way:

"I don't want to be unsupportive, but I'm not a fan of the Roll Call."

That girl slays me.

Dear Baby Brother,

2008-10-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

Thank you for my eggs tonight. I now officially amend my scrambled egg rule to include yours.

Thank you for your support during hard times.

Thank you for laughing with (at?) me. I think.

Thank you for all your help around the house and with the children.

Thank you for loving my children the way you do. They adore you, and I can see that you adore them. Love lasts; this time together will stay in their hearts for a very long time.

Thank you for being the best brother a woman could ask for. I love, value, and appreciate you.

Love,
Aimers

I'm not that kind of girl

2008-10-01T19:31:00.000-07:00

Last night Daughter attempted to go to yoga with me. I prepped her ahead of time saying that it's a whole hour long, there's no talking, I'd love to be with her but be forewarned. On the way there we went over the "rules" again. She was unyoga-ly hyped for the task ahead of her. Can you tell where this is heading?

Halfway through the practice, she sweetly asks, "How much longer?" Uh-oh. Every mom knows what that means. Still, I give her the benefit of the doubt. A few minutes later she whispers, "I'm bored." I gave her a "good luck with that" sort of shrug from my downward dog position. Then I slowly took compassion on her and asked if she wanted to go. Pretty darn nice of me, huh? She declined. Another sun salutation for me. Dang, I'm doing great tonight, I think! This is wonderful! Next thing I know, I look upside-down at my girl, whose head is on her knees and whose shoulders are shaking. This is getting serious. She says she's hungry and bored and wants to go, but doesn't want to interrupt what I'm doing. I remind her that she is more important than yoga (but only barely... don't want her to get a big head, you know). We quietly slip out of the room.

Walking down the hallway I have my arm around her and reassure her that it's not a big deal, that it's totally ok, that we really need to go get a snack. A few quiet moments pass, and I venture,
"We learned something tonight, didn't we?"
"Yeah," she responds. "I'm not a sit-and-wait kind of girl."

I'm glad she's a woman of action, not a sit-and-wait person. It's a quality that will serve her well in life. I adore this child.

Dear Santa,

2008-09-04T19:45:00.001-07:00

I have now returned back to earth from heaven, and have landed square in the Land of Dirty Dishes. I could segregate my dirties from my cleans, as most normal Americans do, but alas, my dishwasher and my husband are conspiring against me.

As I turn to my stack of so-called Clean Glasses, usually when I have guests over, and begin to pour them a nice refreshing glass of water, I notice flecks of yucky stuck to the inside of the glass. Upon further inspection, I see that many of my other glasses are similarly afflicted. My heart begins to race, smoke streams from my ears, as I think, "Who didn't rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher?! Moreover, who put unclean dishes away?!" I go through the mental list of everything I do, how much work I have anyway, how unreasonable it is that I should have to wash these dishes twice, for God's sake. This is unhealthy.

Rather than fume about the situation, I choose to research a solution. I call the dishwasher repairman, who tells me that my filter was dirty, and that will be $150, thank you very much. The dishes are cleaner, now, but not for long. Soon the dishwasher leaves them bespeckled once again. I beg Steve for a new dishwasher, but he claims he can clean the filter. And he does. The dishes wash cleaner... for about a day. He cleans the filter again, and notices that the water isn't draining. I get on my knees and plead with him for a new dishwasher. Nope. He will figure out the drainage issue. Eventually. And maybe clean the filter every 3rd day. In the meantime, I remain dubious about how clean our dishes really are.

Santa, if you have a heart for a poor mommy, please bring me a new dishwasher this Christmas. Please have your elves install it while I sleep. I don't need a bow or any wrapping paper. I don't need new clothes or pretty shiny things under the tree. I just want clean dishes. Oh, and you might want to double-check the plate your cookies were left on and the glass your milk was served in. I'm just saying.

Where Heaven is Located

2008-08-20T16:15:00.000-07:00

I am in heaven, and it is located in Santa Cruz, California. My aunt recently finished building her dream house, here. It is in a secluded spot (I didn't realize there was any seclusion left for sale in California!), overlooking a little valley with big trees and a little river, and in the distance is the Monterrey Bay. It is quiet, except for the crickets, has a beauty that has no choice but to provoke peace within, and soon it will be filled with my extended family, whom I love so much. Not to mention, the cooking here is to die for.

The peace and quiet I am now enjoying will soon be replaced by frivolity and joy. My son will wake up from his nap, and in the next few days our number will reach 19, all here to celebrate Marce's 50th birthday. I am so fortunate to be from a family that loves each other enough to gather like this. We are a spirited group, a little shrill when excited, but that means we are passionate about our convictions, including devotion to one another. All that said, by Sunday I'm sure I'll be really ready for those marguaritas that Uncle Dean makes.

Pool Time

2008-08-17T21:08:00.001-07:00

KED

Bro and Sis

PJBD

Uncle Peter

No, he's not drowning; Daddy is helping him learn to go underwater.

And my personal favorite photos (Mel, this one's for you!):

Gracie right side up...

...and upside down!

An Out of Body Experience

2008-08-14T19:04:00.000-07:00

I am not myself these days. Two years ago I was preggers with our son, and eating two bowls of ice cream every day. I figured that this was most likely my last pregnancy, so I was darn well going to enjoy the heck out of it. Looking back, I must have thought that the baby fat would melt off, as it did with my daughter. However, I did not count on two factors this time around:

1. That I am 7 years older than I was with Kathryn and weight is a little harder to lose.
2. That I would be more tired with two and therefore less excited about exercise.
3. That when the baby was 5 months old, I would break my leg, have surgery, be on 7 weeks of bedrest, and be weaker ever after.

I look at myself in the mirror, now, and it's just not my body. I'm not supposed to be this size. My tummy has always been flat and now it's not. And back fat? Puh-lease!

For whatever reason, God has given the gift of motivation to two of my favorite people. My brother, Peter, who is currently living with us, is in training for running a marathon. And my oldest, dearest friend, Ruthie, is now seriously working toward being a yoga instructor. And believe it or not, they inspire me! I don't know what this will lead me toward, but I've had it with this wretched body of mine. Getting up early is out, and I'm beat by dinner time, and it's hard as all get-out to get out of the house without my children, but maybe there's a routine I can establish that will help get me back in shape. Send me happy exercise vibes.

To My Daughter on her Ninth Birthday

2008-07-31T18:48:00.000-07:00

You, my girl, the child who made me a mother, are nine years old today! We have had such a wonderful day together today, with our traditional birthday girls' day out. You are so excited about the flower they painted on your big toenails at our mani-pedis. You waited to find just the right outfit at the mall. You were thrilled to see our new housemate, your "Uncle Pizza," at lunch. My cheeks hurt so much from all the laughing we did today! You held my hand in every parking lot we were in today, and each time, I savored the moment, knowing they are limited. Please don't grow up so fast. Here are some other things I love about you at this brief moment in time:

1. You are so earnest when you talk about very grown-up things, such as the fashion choices on "Project Runway" or "What Not to Wear." You don't sound at all like a little girl, so to hear the utter sincerity of your opinions coming out of that be-freckled little face is marvelous!

2. You make no apologies for your talents. They are just a fact, like your clear blue eyes. Today as we made your Birthday Calzone, you put on your new apron and sighed, "I love to cook. I have several different gifts. I can't choose just one." You are not yet at an age where you have to prioritize.

3. You love God, and you love to learn about Him. When you took your first communion, you exclaimed loudly, "That was GREAT!" You feel short-changed when we can't make it to Sunday School or we miss church. One time you were so upset that we were missing Holy Eucharist that we had to run to the grocery store and get some port and mazzo bread, pulled out the Book of Common Prayer, and fudge communion as best we could, just to calm you down. Needless to say, your first experience at church camp was a raging success. May this bring you a lifetime of peace and joy.

4. Your freckles are so incredibly beautiful! I love every single one--especially the family freckle. You know the one.

5. Your compassion blows me away. It's not the sappy kind of compassion, although a cute puppy will invoke an appropriate "Awwww, cute!" No, yours is Action Compassion. [I'm going to trademark that, I think.] You do chores to buy a CD to bring to a sick friend. You enjoy helping at the homeless shelter, and are willing to donate your backpack and supplies for the homeless kids. You, my darling, have a generous heart. I credit your father's influence.

6. You are so blessedly snuggly. We complain about what a flopper you are in bed, but secretly I enjoy how you smash your whole body right up against mine all night. Even though you are long and lanky, it's still wonderful to hold you on my lap in the evenings.

7. What a funny child you are! You use a hint of sarcasm and a marvelous vocabulary. Together, they absolutely slay me.

8. You are perhaps the most loving sister I've ever seen. You are so patient with your baby brother. You never complain about the compromises we all must make by having a little one around, or some of the added responsibility. You are a help to your father and me, and a model to the baby. He is such a fortunate child to have you to look up to. I hate to think that this is a side of you we almost never saw.

9. I take great joy in your antiestablishmentarianism. You prefer to be just a little bit on the edge of popularity. When we went to the Jonas Brothers concert, you rolled your eyes at how frenzied the other little girls were. When the crowd was wildly and loudly applauding, you lightly tapped your fingers together, saying you wanted to show your enjoyment but not add to the noise. Please always feel free to color outside the lines.

10. How on earth can I possibly stop at 10? You are smart and reasonable, super silly, clutzy (like me), so very strong. You are focused and pay attention to details, and seem to remember everything. At the same time, you never seem to be able to find whatever you are looking for, and will forget something you're told 2 seconds after you've heard it. You are unselfconscious, full of enthusiasm, and springy! I love every little cell in your being, and am so happy I get to be your mother.

Happy birthday, my precious one. May the year ahead be your best yet.
Love,
Mommy

These are the Thoughts that Occupy my MInd (what's left of it)

2008-07-24T19:21:00.000-07:00

Daughter's 9th birthday is a week from today. Nine years ago today I went into labor. She was born 7 days later. (A story for another time.) Since I am a winter baby, planning her summer birthday party has always been a source of fun for me. Not so much this year.

Because of camp last week taking up 98% of my brain, we put off planning her party until she got back on Saturday. Here is the series of events:
Sunday night: Spoke with the pool's party planner. This is now the 3rd year in a row she's had a pool party. She confirms that we can have her party at 1 pm on Saturday, August 2. We order her invitations.
Tuesday: We mail the invitations, saying that the party will be on Saturday, August 2 at 1 pm. You see where this is going.
Wednesday: Ignorant bliss.
Thursday (today)--9 days before the event: Party coordinator calls and says that I cannot have the party at 11 am on Aug 2 because there's a swim meet scheduled. I say no problem, we had requested 1 pm anyway. She says that's a no go, since someone else has the pool from 1-4.

In the estimable words of Bill the Cat, ACK! ACK ACK ACK! Invitations are out, and there is no party place. If we do the party after 4 pm, baby boy may be too tired to be much fun at the party. Any other options for party days are also reserved until 4 pm.

Dear reader(s), if you've been holding off on commenting before, now is the time to dive on in. I sure could use some ideas. By the way, hosting at our house isn't really an option.

Short and Oh, so Sweet

2008-07-22T20:26:00.000-07:00

The boy-child is always learning new words. We heard a new one at diaper-changing time tonight. As I was trying to wrestle him into a clean nappy and pajamas, his little voice squeeked, "Help! Help!" We laughed so hard we had to let him run around naked for a while.

An Open Letter to Doctors' Offices*

2008-07-16T20:17:00.001-07:00

Dear ones, since you are always dealing with people who are nervous, or hurting, or somehow uncomfortable, please do not add to the anxiety by tuning your radio station to abrasive music. I like Aerosmith as much as the next girl, and I had many of my happiest moments with 80's hair bands in the background, but when I am sitting in your waiting room, guitar riffs are the last thing I want to hear. I am partial to classical music; no matter where I am, I can settle into myself with a symphony in the background. I know I am not like everyone, though. Waiting room music should be not-noticeable. Just something creating an ambient atmosphere, conducive to relaxation.

For example, yesterday I was in urgent care with my back hurting so badly I was near tears. The radio in the office was loud, tuned to a 70's/80's station with static. Static, I tell you! It's very possible my ears started to bleed. On top of that, the nurses and office manager were opposed to looking anyone in the eye or speaking kindly. By the end of the visit, my nerves were frayed and I was weeping. Weeping, I tell you! Two summers ago I had the distinct displeasure of frequently visiting the obstetrician, where the music over the loudspeaker was tuned to a different station than the little radio the receptionists kept behind the front desk. Warring music! It was my own personal hell.

So, friends and colleagues, take heed. Some of your patients are already a little wound up and are quite noise-sensitive. Please don't make it worse by embracing static or choosing music that is too noticeable. I beg of you, use your powers for good and not evil by choosing unobtrusive music.

*Disclaimer: I am the office manager at a dentist's office, and often in control of the music, unless a certain doctor is in the office, in which case we have no choice but to listen to Clint Black or Kenny Chesney over and over. I probably frustrate our patients with my music choices, and I accept that. Moreover, I live with a non-noise-sensitive man who has no problem having the TV on, the radio on, and playing the ukelele AT THE SAME TIME. The moral of the lesson is that familiarity breeds contempt.

Emptier Nest

2008-07-14T18:32:00.000-07:00

The house is too quiet. I miss her. Her baby brother keeps looking for her. This morning, he couldn't stop looking at photos on her, hanging on the wall. At every one, he'd point and say, "Titi?"

Lest anyone start feeling sorry for her, though, here is a photo of her with her counselor, nicknamed "Element:"
The cabin is a converted boxcar. Air-conditioned, no less. She'll be fine. Here is the view of her camp site, with Mt. Rainier in the background:

Random Sunday

2008-07-13T19:50:00.000-07:00

1) KED is at camp, now. I didn't cry when I hugged her goodbye, only because I was still frustrated from the 3 hour drive getting there. (Can you believe the camp people don't answer the phones on check-in day?) However, I did cry before we left, and that, in turn, made her cry. There were many meaningful looks at her from me today, as I tried to telepathically teach her everything she might need for a successful camp week, everything I might have overlooked lo, these 9 years we've had together. She said a quick goodbye, and skipped off to her pizza dinner. Now we're home, but my heart is 60 miles away.

2) Last night our closet started smelling of something dead or dying. We emptied out the closet, vacuumed, and refilled it. It still smells of decay, and the smell has moved toward the hallway. Yucky yuckity yuck.

3) When you grow up in a church, raised by a church musician, and you can play the piano, God sometimes taps you on the shoulder and says He needs you for a little while. As I said in my previous post, I'm only a mediocre performer, and yet He still borrows my fingers once and again. Yesterday my father-in-law told me that at his church they will be looking for a pianist soon. I've subbed there, and it's a small and low-key congregation. With some practice, I could be up to the job, and I might even learn some organ, too. I really don't want to leave St. Mary's, though, so we'd probably go to the 9 am service, then Steve and children would stay for Sunday School, while I went to the in-laws' church to play, then they would come get me. So is this really something I want to do? It's that age-old question of whether it's truly God's call or my own will. This is a toughie.

4) I got to read in church today. It was one of my favorite passages, from my favorite prophet: Isaiah 55:12: You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. So many pieces have been written with this text, and when I was standing at the lectern, it was all I could do to not sing the words! That often happens with me and Isaiah.

A Terrible Journey

2008-07-09T18:38:00.000-07:00

At my daughter's piano lesson last night, her teacher (whom we adore) declared that K is at the beginning of "a terrible journey." I had not thought of the burden he was referring to described quite that way, but after our discussion, I think he is right.

K is a talented musician. I've made this assessment trying to be as unbiased as possible. I've been a pianist my whole life (including the first 5 years where my musical education was less formal and more familial), am the daughter of two wonderful musicians, one professional, and I've been a piano teacher for quite a while. Believe me, I've experienced the spectrum of musical giftedness. Me, I consider myself a mediocre performer, but I do have a good and critical ear. K is talented. The point her teacher was making was that because of her talent, she can get by and have a decent lesson or performance without much effort. But should she?

Do we all have those times? I could get decent grades without killing myself over assignments or reading the text. I could have an ok performance with just a little practice. How many of us had the teacher who said that we'd be great, if only we'd just apply ourselves? Sound familiar? Then I think back on my college days, and how much more I should have made of those years if only I had worked a little harder and played a little less. One could argue that there is value in play, sure, but not so much in this case.

Tim the Marvelous Piano Teacher called this bad stewardship. (He is also a Christian.) This was a new concept to me. God gifted us with music. He placed it in our hands like a fragile bird, closed our fingers around it, looked into our eyes, and asked us to please take good care of it--indeed, to make it even better (see the parable of the talents.) Or our family motto, from Luke 12:48, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded."

Sure, we could skate by, or keep what has been given to us intact. By most standards, keeping what we've been given in good shape, and returning it as we found it, would be considered responsible and good. But as Christians, we are on a terrible, wonderful journey. We are to be grateful for our gifts, which, in K's case, is music (and so much more). Then we are to continually, joyously challenge ourselves to do better than good enough. Thank you, Tim, for teaching us that lesson, and thank you, God, for putting Tim in our lives so that we might learn.

Make the World Go Away

2008-07-06T19:52:00.000-07:00

There are times in a mommy's life when she wishes time would stop. I just had one of those moments.

Baby (21 months, big toddler boy) was having difficulty falling asleep. I attribute it to the light outside. Although it is nearly 8 pm, we're at a higher latitude and so it doesn't start getting dark until later. I went in his room, whereupon he asked for a book, which means he wants to be read to. Normally I would be happy to oblige, but it's 2 hours past his bedtime and the child doesn't need more stimulation. I picked him up out of his crib, sat in the glider (thanks, Dad, still using it!), and cradled his precious, sweaty head to my shoulder. He was silent and calm for a long time. When I lifted my head to see if he was asleep, he met my gaze and smiled his big toothy smile. I kissed his nose and his cheeks and his lips, and he made smacky-kissy sounds in return. I whispered in my sing-sing voice, "I love you," and he sung back, "I loo!"

His body relaxed, and for 15 beautiful minutes I rocked him, silently prayed for him, and worked in earnest to commit every single moment to everlasting memory. I know it's a cliche, but truly these days go so quickly. My little girl will be 9 this month, and in church today the lay eucharistic minister whispered to me, "you have a young lady on your hands." She's right: overnight, it seems, my little baby girl is halfway to 18. Next week she heads to overnight camp, 6 days far away from us. She is self-assured, confident, funny, smart, and marvelous. If I were 9, I would want to be her best friend. Instead, I have the honor of mothering her and her brother, and I thank God every day for that gift.

Yes, I'm blogging about THIS

2008-06-17T21:21:00.001-07:00

Excuse me? Why, yes, that IS me, the one with the clean refrigerator! How nice of you to notice. Oh, it was nothing. Nothing, plus one SOS pad, two rags, endless paper towels, a scrubber sponge, and two garbage bags full of old food. Other than that, it was nothing. Oh, and 45 minutes out of my life. Hello Clorox, goodbye salmonella!

Now to rid that fridge of those Henry's...

2008-06-16T19:29:00.001-07:00

I don't want Nana to die. I know she's not on death's door, but she's now in her 80's, and each health scare brings with it more and more serious repercussions. This last time, she was very confused, and Mom thought she had had another TIA (mini-stroke). Nope. It was a urinary tract infection, and at her age, apparently, massive confusion is another side-effect. Even a few days after she was hospitalized, she still couldn't tell us the year or the name of her ex-husband, my grandfather, the father of her 5 children and spouse of 35 years.

Nana is very competitive, and will knock your ball out of the park in croquet with no apologies. She has an acidic wit, and can cut deeply if it's directed at you. She started a preschool in Ohio that is still going strong, 50 years later. She is funny, strong, devoted, fashionable, and my nana. She was always nicer to me than to my brother, adding to my forever feeling guilty over his getting the raw end of things.

She's a complicated woman, and I love her very much. I've never lost anyone I love, which probably adds to my fear of losing her. With all the craziness, I know she loves me very much, and not just because I'm the mother of her only two great-grandchildren. Every time I see her, I feel like there is a little bit less of her here with us. One day, she'll be all the way gone.

Grateful

2008-06-12T20:24:00.000-07:00

Today, I am feeling so grateful for so many things.

1. I am very glad I work only part time. I'm healthier, my family is less harried, and we had time to take a bike ride after school yesterday.

2. I'm grateful for the sunshine today! It was KED's Brownie's pool party today, and it was actually warm. Since I had to be the one mommy in the pool (due to my toddler wanting to play in the "bath"), at least I wasn't freezing.

3. I get to see my good friend Kara on Saturday with my other buddies, Shelly and Valerie! Yipee!

4. Thank heavens I don't live in Cedar Rapids like poor Kara and the rest.

5. I'm so pleased that KED has had another successful year at school. Tomorrow is her last day of 3rd grade, and while I have some frustrations at what wasn't taught or attended to this year, she feels darn good about her year.

I'm Home, Alive, Dry, and Famous!

2008-06-11T19:06:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in Madison, Wisconsin with my oldest and best friend, Ruthie. We had a great, great time, and oh my gosh, we laughed like nuts! It felt so good to be myself again. Here's a quickie-poo synopsis of my weekend:

Friday
After flying all night, I arrived safe and sound. We played with her precious boys whom I absolutely, hopelessly adore, went out to dinner, and then she and I went to see Sex & the City. I got to drink a cosmo in the theatre. Can we please bring a place like that here?

Saturday
Stardom. We went to see What D'ya Know at the U of W Madison campus. Lo and behold, the host picked lil ole ME to interview in the first hour! And yes, that's RUTHIE you hear in the 2nd hour playing the quiz!!! We're NPR divas! We had to fight off the throngs of fans the whole rest of the day.

Later in the day, I was treated to a tornado warning. Truly I was only beginning to get the full midwestern experience. I was giddy, they were blase. Why on earth weren't they more excited about this?

Sunday
Because then they have to deal with weather like this:
That's right, my friends: flooding. Roads were filled with water, cars were floating by. Somehow the very courageous Ruthie managed to get me to the airport, circumventing the many washed-out roads. It took 3 hours. It was NOT fun.

All in all, it was a fun, warm, funny, nurturing, dramatic trip. I was so glad I went! It was totally worth it. In the meantime, my prayers are with those left in the midwest dealing with these floods. When your life is truly affected, your perspective changes. Ruthie, I hope your carpets dry out soon!

49 Things

2008-06-09T14:20:00.001-07:00

This is from Sibyl, and I thought I would post it here, since the creative spark hasn't hit me recently.

50 Things.

1. Do you like bleu cheese?
Oh, yes

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?My gosh, no!
3. Do you own a gun?I personally do not own a gun. I suspect my spouse has one hidden in the garage somewhere, though, and that really freaks me out.

4. Your favorite song right now?"New Soul" by Yael Naim

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
No, I like having problems solved.

6. What do you think about hot dogs?I like them, as long as I don't think too much about what they're made of.

7. Favorite Christmas song?Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence. Give me goosebumps.

8. What do you like to drink in the morning?Sugar free vanilla, non-fat, 140 degree latte. (High maintenance? Me?) Except in the summer, then it's straight-up iced tea.

9. Can you do push ups?Yes

10. How much money is in your bank account?enough

11. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?1. My ring that I always wear on my right hand that Steve made for me with Kathryn's birthstone (which my father gave to me). 2. My necklace with Benjamin's birthstone that Steve had made for me for my last birthday.

12. Favorite hobby?Travelling, or quilting.

15. One trait you hate about yourself?To lazy to excercize vigorously every day

16. Middle Name?Elizabeth. Like the town in New Jersey

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?-Madison was so much fun!
-I hope the link to the radio show is up and running now so I can hear myself tonight.
-My eyes are so tired.

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday?
-A pink cowboy hat
-Water for the plane
-Wine on the plane

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink?water, lattes, Caffeine Free Diet Coke

20. Current worry right now?Ben's teeth are starting to look like he's a bottle-drinker, and it's going to be hard to get him off the bottle.

21. Current hate right now?Being tired today.

22. Favorite place to be?
Wherever my children are.

23. How did you bring in the New Year?At the Johnson's house, with the Lloyds and another family.

24. Where would you like to go?
West Africa, especially the Congo

25. Name three people who will complete this?Valerie. Maybe Ruthie

26. Do you own slippers?
Abso-bloomin-lutely. I really dislike bare feet on bare floors.

27. What kind of shirt are you wearing?a light green striped light sweater with a matching tank underneath

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?Never tried it. I do like flannel sheets, though.

29. Can you whistle?Yes, one note, with great concentration and effort. 30. Favorite color?Probably blue. Or red.

31. Would you be a pirate?Nah.

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?Rise and shine and give God the glory glory...

33. Favorite girl's name?Kathryn

34. Favorite boy's name?Benjamin

35. What's in your pocket right now?Keys and mascara

36. Last thing that made you laugh?Just about anything that Ruthie said this weekend.

37. Best bed sheets as a child?Bambi sheets. Which I still have.

38. Worst injury you've ever had?Last year's broken leg.

39. Do you love where you live?Steilacoom is the best place in the world. I love it. I love the people and the beaches and everything.

40. How many tvs do you have in your house?2

41. Who is your loudest friend?Steve. He's not obnoxious usually, but he has a really loud speaking voice, and he's content with lots of sounds going on around him (radio + ukelele + Kathryn on the piano + tv = crazy Amy)

42. How many dogs do you have?1 German Shepherd named Sidda Lee (points for you if you know where that name came from)

43. How many cats do you have?none, just our 3 angel kitties in heaven.

44. What is your favorite TV show?Lost

45. What is your favorite candy?Smarties or Sour Patch Kids

46. What is your favorite Sports Team?Mariners

47. What song do you want played at your funeral?The entire Durufle Reqiuem

48. What were you doing 12 AM last night?Settling in at home after getting back from Wisconsin.

49. What was your first thought as you awoke this morning?Yay! I'm waking up next to my little girl, who is waking me with kissies all over my face!

Benediction

2008-05-14T20:35:00.000-07:00

My baby brother is a law school graduate! I'm so darn proud of him I could burst.

Speaking of, I almost did burst... laughing, that is. The benediction at graduation (the day before Pentecost, I get it) began like this:

"Dear God, you are the arsonist of our hearts..."

Seriously? Did he just say arsonist of our hearts? Yes, yes, he did indeed. And yes, we, a religious family, all four generations of us there present, totally died laughing.

Amen.

PS: We love Heather, baby brother's girlfriend. We love her for many many reasons, but the icing on the cake is that on mother's day, when Nana, Mom, and I all ordered oatmeal for brunch, Heather swooped in and ordered oatmeal, too, without knowing that we all had! She's totally a fit. And she loves Sondheim.

Spooning

2008-04-23T18:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Universe,

Where have all my spoons gone? I have plenty of soup spoons, salad and dinner forks, and butter knives. But where are my spoons? Two summers ago I noticed I was running low on these spoons, so I ran out to The Bon, paid an exorbitant amount for the spoons in my pattern, waited 3 weeks, and obtained 6 replacement spoons to fill that far-right spot in the drawer. Here it is, fewer than 24 months later, and all that's left is one spoon and two shark spoons (aka grapefruit spoons). What the heck is going on here, universe? Are the cereal gremlins raiding my silverware drawer? Is my husband packing good silverware in the kids' lunchboxes? I remember once at Hoover Elementary school I accidentally dumped a home-spoon in the garbage. I realized my mistake right away, but was too grossed out by the thought of rummaging through ick to do anything about it. I still feel guilty about it, of course. Even with that misdeed, when I am at my mom's house, her spoon-slot runneth over!

Universe, as soon as you have an answer for me, please contact me right away. I'll be the one with bloodly lips from eating my cereal with shark spoons.

Yours cordially,
Amy

Observant Mommy

2008-03-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

It was after bathtime, and my sweet little guy was running around in the nude. What does any self-respecting scrapbooker do? She takes photos!

Photo #1:

Oh, the sweet baby! Photo #2 is equally sweet, but I didn't notice the details until I had printed out the photo just now:
HE PEED ON MY WALL!!! And darn if he doesn't look proud of himself for it!

Freaky Food

2008-03-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

I don't know why, but today I've been thinking about what a wierdo I am. There are so many food quirks I have, and I'm so pleased that Steve knows most of them, so I don't really have to explain myself anymore. Here are a few:

* I adore Lucky Charms.

* I really like hot tea (particularly Irish Breakfast), but only if I can have 2 ice cubes in it.

* I really like iced tea, too, but without any ice. Unless it's a super-hot day, then ice is acceptable.

* The best breakfast, in my opinion, is room temperature iced tea and an old fashioned donut.

* I prefer red wine to white.

* My favorite food ever is my mom's veggie spaghetti. I'll give you the recipe sometime.

* When I eat spaghetti, I use my fork and knife to cut "slices" about 1" apart, all in one direction (left to right). Then I turn the plate 1/4 turn and do the same, so it's all criss-cross and in perfectly manageable bite-sized pieces. This does not apply to veggie spaghetti.

* I'm not a fan of drinking milk. It kind of grosses me out, UNLESS I'm eating veggie spaghetti or sometimes with pizza.

* Scrambled eggs are icky, unless prepared by me or my mom. Otherwise, they turn my stomach something awful.

* Rice Chex is not yummy plain or with bananas. It is only yummy with fresh strawberries.

* McCann's Steel Cut oatmeal is the bomb. Yummers, yum, yum. I will take just about any kind of oatmeal, and the more kinds of fruit I can put on it, the better. The best oatmeal I ever had included raisins, fresh blueberries, fresh strawberries, fresh bananas, and it was delicious. NO MILK IN MY OATMEAL!!! That's just disgusting.

* I never drink the last few sips of my latte. You can't see the bottom of the cup, and you just never know what's lurking down there.

* I always love malt vinegar on my fries.

* Given the choice, I really prefer to drink with a straw. A little more sanitary that way, methinks.

That's all I can think of in these 5 minutes, just off the top of my head. Am I the only one with these oddities, or do you, too, have Food Freakiness? Please share! (Especially you, Lesley.)

I'm Getting Old!

2008-03-22T22:03:00.000-07:00

I bought a new computer today. While it is exciting and fun, and I think my new MacBook is the prettiest piece of technology since the iPod I bought 3 years ago, it ages me. I have so much to learn with this new contraption! Strangely, it's not my increasing numbers of gray hairs, nor my dwindling patience, and not even my sagging body that makes me feel old. It's my steep learning curve with this new computer. It's not nearly as intuitive as learning used to be. I pride myself on being tech-savvy. Three weeks ago I built a website from scratch, something I had never done before! My bosses ask me to fix their email problems, thinking I'm the greatest thing since drag-and-drop, but here I have what is supposed to be a very simple thing and I'm a crazy mess! How do I get my email folders? How do I get my Palm calendar to synch with iCal, and my Palm contacts to synch with this Address Book? And perhaps most importantly, why isn't my iTunes synching all my music? [If you know the answers to these questions, please email me pronto!] In a few months, I will have mastered this, I'm sure, and believe me, I'll be all puffed up with pride from this accomplishment as much as any other achievement. It's really all about the little things in life.

The Definition of Delight

2008-03-06T21:32:00.001-08:00

At this very moment, as I write this, Steve is serenading our daughter while she takes a shower. He is strumming his baritone ukelele and together they are belting out "When the Saints Go Marching In." It sounds like this:
"Oh when the saints... (K: Oh when the saints!)... go marching in... (K: Marching in!)... Oh when the saints go marching...[pause for chord change]...in (K: Yes they march!)!"

There is much gesticulating that goes along with this performance. It is the most wonderful concert I have ever heard.

Slacker Mom No More

2008-02-28T10:53:00.000-08:00

Have you heard of slacker moms before? Ever since I saw something on TV about them, it's really rubbed me the wrong way. I remember watching the program--whatever it was--with my mother, and she asked me which camp I fell into. The depiction of alpha moms was definitely NOT me. I feel no pressure whatsoever to shuttle my kids to this activity and that, day in and day out. I do lose field-trip permission slips. My home is rarely tidy (clean from dirt, yes, tidy, no). My 17-month-old has never taken a swimming lesson, enjoyed a mommy-and-me gym class, or learned a foreign language. However, if I follow the definition laid out by USA Today, I do have some alpha mom characteristics: I am well-educated, I surf the web for solutions to household problems, I use technology to better organize our life together, and yes, my daughter gives out hand-made valentines every year. I think, however, my issue lies with the intent of these so-called alpha moms. I'm all for giving my child every opportunity, but I refuse to run myself ragged in pursuing this goal.

The term "slacker mom" is so very derogatory. If I were to identify myself as such, I would be admitting that I do not put very much care into parenting, the most important role I have ever had. Sometimes slacker moms are referred to as "good enough moms," and even that casts a shadow of under-par parenting. I picture a mother changing her baby's diaper. She tosses the soiled diaper aside, doesn't really bother with the wipes, loosely attaches the velcro tabs, and declares, "eh, good enough." She rinses off the dishes in the sink and stacks the plates that still have egg stuck on them and thinks to herself, "eh, good enough." To me THAT is a slacker mom, and that is certainly not me or my like-minded friends.

When my daughter was 4, she was invited to several birthday parties of friends. We've all heard those stories of going overboard with birthday parties, and it's true that some of these parties were wa-a-a-y over the top. However, the one I remember most was at my friend's house, although at the time we were not yet close friends, as we are now. She provided some backyard activities for the children and had made her own birthday cake. It was a simple double-layered round cake with yellow frosting, and birthday candles. The children had a wonderful time, and I was always impressed that this mother felt no need to impress the other mommies with a facade of perfection. In the 4 years since that party, I have learned about other ways that this family has opted for simpler pleasures and disdain for doing something just for appearances. It strikes me as even more impressive, since their family hob-nobs with some of the most high-powered families in the state... names you would probably know. Just the same, their family focus is on God, charity, and family, not country clubs and the latest fashions.

Lest you think that I am choosing for my family an unsocial, isolated existence, let me clarify. We seek balance in work and play. Daughter does well in school, but we do not send her to tutors hoping she will be the best. She participates in martial arts, but we do not send her to a trainer to lift weights or run laps to hone her skills. She takes piano lessons, but practice time is never a war, and we do not require perfection. Next month, students across the state will be taking the WASL, and the school has done a good job of completely stressing out the kids over it. Steve advised our panicky child, "You're eight years old. You're a kid. Despite what school people say, this test is not a big deal this year. Just do your best, and that is fine with us, we are proud of you no matter what." (Three years ago I was an official scorer of the test, so I do have some insight about its inner workings. She will do well on it.) At home, we are all about unstructured play time, family togetherness, books, and imagination. If any one of us is getting too stressed out by life, we all slow down, eat, and engage in pajama time. Sometimes this means we skip a lesson or a class. I believe in my heart of hearts that it is not early achievement that will make my children successful in life (whatever definition of "successful" you wish to use), it is a more internal structure guided by a loving family that enjoys spending lots of time together. Recent research confirms my gut instincts. As it turns out, she really does guide herself to do her very best. When she has extra energy to burn, she does as many sit-ups and push-ups (on her knuckles!) as she can do--completely unprompted by us, because Lord knows, she doesn't see daddy and mommy performing calesthenics at 8pm. We can't get her away from the piano, as she is always trying out new pieces and practicing the old ones, which leads her to more satisfying lessons.

If I am a "slacker mom" because I do not run my children hither and yon every day of the week, or because I am satisfied to play the American Girl 300 Wishes game with Daughter rather than organize my own paperwork, then so be it. I am now hoping to rename "slacker mom" with something more descriptive of why we are the way we are. The leading contender is:

COWABLE (Concerning Ourselves With A Balanced Life Evermore)

Please tell me you have a better idea!

S'mores

2008-02-09T20:52:00.001-08:00

Based on my 8 year old daughter's oh, so pithy comments, it looks like we have all the ingredients we need for s'mores:

"Mom, your buns look like marshmellows. [insert my disgusted look here] Not the big ones, just a bunch of little ones."

"My buns are like crackers because they are so hard and boney."

Her prayer the other night: "Dear God, please help me sleep like dark chocolate tonight."

Epiphany

2008-01-29T18:49:00.000-08:00

I caught a glimpse of how I want to die earlier this month.

At church on Epiphany, I was a lay reader for the "ugly service." That is to say, the service I usually try to avoid because the music is so campfire that I cringe. Still, I love the people of our parish. The preaching is good and the congregation is about a loving a family as you will ever find. I want to be a lay reader more than I dislike the ugly service, and I understand a little more, now, why I was placed there on that January morning.

Frank and Nikki also attend that service. They have been married nearly 60 years, and are so darn cute. They are short (everyone seems short to my 5'9 1/2"), always impeccably dressed, and have attended our parish for a very long time. I was fortunate to have served on altar guild with Nikki for a period of time, where we had long conversations about children and marriage as we executed our holy housekeeping. Sadly, with age comes changes. Nikki is now starting to lose her memory, and Frank is starting to feel the effects of some as-of-yet undiagnosed illness.

On January 6, they were sitting two rows behind us. I heard Frank breathing heavily, and when I glanced behind me, he looked unusually pale. Still, Nikki was not outwardly concerned, so I really had no reason to be. During communion, Nikki served as a LEM (lay eucharistic minister) up at the altar. My family approached to receive, and on the way back, I noticed that Frank had stayed seated, and his eyes were closed. My gut grew tighter. I watched another friend, also serving, approach Frank in the pew to serve him in his place. The piano was playing "O, Little Town of Bethlehem" gently and quietly. Frank could not be woken. Several men (including one of our EMTs) lowered Frank to the floor, and the rest of us stayed on the kneelers praying hard. I remember Nikki rushing past me, gasping a desparate, "Oh, no." She sat near him for a time, then allowed herself to be comforted by friends in the back.

Frank did wake up, and even smiled. The ambulance finally arrived, and he was hospitalized for a few days, and released with no explanation for this episode. While it was happening, I did pray for him, for his soul, for Nikki, and I put myself in his place. If it were my time to die, I would rather it not be so public, but then again, what a lovely and peaceful way: among your extended church family (and our congregation really does feel like a family), hearing piano music (after 31 years playing the piano I am still desparately in love with the sound of piano music), with prayers guiding your path to heaven.

Me and Wierdness

2008-01-21T08:38:00.000-08:00

OK, Mel, I'm taking the challenge. This is because I seem to have NO time to maintain a thought long enough to write about it, and this is a challenge I can accomplish in small bursts of time.

“THE RULES: Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you.” People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.”

1. When I have to go to the bathroom really, really badly, my teeth hurt.

2. I cannot fall asleep in an unmade bed. I must climb between sheets that have been neatly tidied, preferably with hospital corners.

3. I never have cake on my birthday, which is in December. Only lemon meringue pie.

4. When I was pregnant with our second child, I didn't know I was pregnant until I was 4 months along and happened to go my doctor to find out why I was gaining so much weight.

5. When I was baptized as an infant, I cried so loudly that the minister forgot the rest of the service.

6. I like my (unsweetened, no lemon) iced tea to be not very cold. Room temperature is fine with me. And iced tea with an old-fashioned donut is the perfect breakfast.

What We've Been Up To

2007-12-19T09:57:00.000-08:00

This is our daughter at the Tae Kwon Do party. She was part of the demo team, and her job was to take down a little boy. Heh. Tough girl.

Mom recently sent me my own baby pictures. Wasn't I freakin' adorable? I mean really.

Our boy-child had this "school" picture taken at day care earlier this month. Beautiful baby boy! Then he was summarily kicked out of day care for being a non-compliant napper. I should hang my head in shame for not towing the party line, but I'm sort of proud of him for being a non-conformist. Let's hope he colors outside of the lines, too.

Wishing We Were Renters

2007-12-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

"We are landed gentry," we stated with pride. "Behold, our livestock!" my husband gushed with a sweet of his arm toward our 3 fat cats. At that time, owning our own home seemed so right, so exciting, so grown-up and responsible. Now, eight years later, I'm wishing we were renters instead.

Yesterday morning, after all had showered and I was beginning my weekly wash, I heard a strange gurgling sound from our master bathroom. Thinking our daughter had forgotten to close the door in what should have been a private moment, I marched indignantly to the bathroom. There, instead of a seated and half-naked little girl, I saw a fountain bursting forth from the shower drain and water seeping from the toilet onto the tiled floor. It was anything but pretty. Turning off the washing machine helped matters a bit, but here it is 36 hours later and my dirty clothes are still sitting in standing water, unable to drain. We dumped all kinds of magic gook down the drain, and even thread the "snake" through to about 20', but still no improvement. We ran the dishwasher to check the progress. There wasn't any. This time-saving device, too, had to be turned off mid-cycle. Tonight we were forced to--gasp--wash our dishes by hand! It's like pioneer days out here. Tomorrow, if things don't seem any better, we'll be calling the plumber. Ch-ching.

Dear readers, this is December! It's already an expensive month: Christmas, husband's birthday, my birthday, plane tickets, Hannukah, higher heating bills. I will be unemployed on January 1st. I will have to buy a computer and a car, as my current ones are company-owned. I'm overwhelmed. I'm stressed. I'm disappointed. I want to call a kindly landlord, who will refer me to the building super, who will immediately know what to do and fix the problem while the family and I see a Broadway show followed by a fashionably late supper. I will bring him homemade cookies on Christmas Eve as a thank you. Then, come tax-time, I will wish I were a homeowner who could claim the interest on the mortgage.

Her Opinion of Herself

2007-11-26T08:36:00.000-08:00

I am constantly in a state of wonder over how highly my daughter thinks of herself. I waffle between being thoroughly pleased with her inner strength and somewhat concerned that the Big Bad World will someday knock it out of her. I don't remember having her fortitude at age 8. I was full of self-doubt and concern with larger issues. Not her. The other day we were walking through the forest and she wanted to talk about who she will marry. This is rare, as she finds romantic love "dis-GUS-ting." I was trying to impart upon her the importance of choosing a life-long partner, not just falling for the first fool who winks at her. So I told her that she is so smart, strong, and beautiful, that there will be a lot of boys who want to date her. "I know," she states. Duh, Mom. Then today I sneaked a peek at her spelling sentences. My two favorites:

"I am a wild girl."
"I bring delight to the world."

Please, God, may this attitude last!

In a completely unrelated topic: I just saw James Lipton in a Geico commercial! I love it!

The Interview Part III

2007-11-21T10:39:00.000-08:00

I was stumped for a good long time with this question. It's darn difficult to come up with deep thoughts at a moment's notice. In my case, it has proven difficult to come up with deep thoughts over a period of weeks! Draw whatever conclusions you must. Finally, last night, it occured to me. Here is the question:

If you could give the twenty-year old you a piece of advice, what would it be?

Dear 20-year-old Amy,

Relax. Be yourself, which is a fun, smart, somewhat quiet person, and that's ok. It's enough. You don't need to prove anything.

Also, don't become a teacher. Avoid it like the plague. It will only bring you heartache.

Finally, you have so much to look forward to! You are going to have the cutest, sweetest, most wonderful children even born on this great, green-and-blue earth. You will have a loving husband who will hold your hand through the ups and downs. You are so lucky! Enjoy the ride.

With love,
35-year-old Amy

Writing for the sake of Writing

2007-11-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

Writers block, thy name is Amy. I blame Nutmeg: The next question in the interview has me TOTALLY stumped.

Last night was ugly. Steve and I went to bed pretty early, but the baby woke up teething at midnight, and I went to him to re-Tylenol him. Then I couldn't get back to sleep. I tossed. I turned. I watched The Real Housewives of Orange County (and may my children never grow up to act like their children). I finally fell asleep on the couch at 4 am. I am tired.

Obsessing about Daycare

2007-11-05T09:23:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday. This is the day I like to think of as my ramp-up to high anxiety. On the weekends, I wouldn't be working anyway, so I get to immerse myself in joyful family life (another post, another day) and ignore my impending status as "unemployed." Now it's the start of the "work week," and I am in my jammies still (brand new from Costco! so warm and fuzzy!), serving as someone virtual assistant until the company kicks me off its payroll. This self-imposed dress code serves as a reminder that I am not at an office, Regis and Kelly on TV remind me that I am not working very hard, and the pit in my stomach reminds me that that soon I will not be making any money or have health insurance. All this leaves me with lots of time to obsess. The object of my obsession right now is my son's day care situation.

Baby Boy has some bad-ass reflux, poor kid. We really have to stay on top of it all, what with his meds, when he eats, how he is positioned, and now what he eats. He has an allergy to dairy (including cheese and yogurt) and soy. He started day care on his first birthday, September 24th, and of course, we told them all about these issues. We provide his rice milk, and normally they are very careful with him. We are grateful. However, something seems to happen around 3 pm. That is when the children are consolidated into a different room, the new shift comes to the day care and the regular and well-trained classroom teachers go home.

Friday I arrived a few minutes after 3 to pick him up. He was seated at the little table, having a grand old time pouring his dixie cup of milk on his screaming friend, then taking his friend's cup and pouring his all over himself. I was amused, and a little concerned that someone thought it was a good idea to give toddlers dixie cups instead of the easier-to-contain sippie cups.

Then I went home, slept and woke up still thinking about the incident. It occurred to me that the milk in his dixie cup was regular cow's milk, not his watery-looking rice milk. That's when it hits me: Baby's been waking up at night in pain for the past month because his afternoon snack includes cow's milk! Sure enough, Friday when he dumped his milk instead of drinking it, he slept great all night through. Same thing Saturday. Same thing Sunday. Not a coincidence, methinks. I hope this problem is solved.

So this is me with too much time on my hands. Is my laundry done? No. Is my house clean? No. Have I decided what we're having for dinner? No. I spend my time worrying instead.

The Interview Part II

2007-11-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

Clearly, when I said I would answer question #2 tomorrow, I was speaking metaphorically. I think when I posted the answer to question #1, it was the week of baby's pneumonia. That's my excuse.

You picked a card from the pile of life that says, “Do not pass go. Move directly to another country.” Where would you move?

This is a TOTAL no-brainer. France. Anyone who knows me could have written this for me, actually, and the answer would be the same. France in a heartbeat. I don't even need a card to tell me to go! I just need a willing husband to go with me.

For those who don't know me, I will now explain why I would move to France. I started studying French in 7th grade. In 11th grade, I was a Rotary exchange student to Nogent-le-Rotrou, France, for 10 months. It was a very difficult year for me. I was young, both emotionally and chronologically, and was terribly homesick. I gained a lot of weight. However, I made some very good friends, became fluent in the language (to the point where people actually thought I was French), and loved the culture. Later, I became a French teacher, led student trips to France, and took my honeymoon in France. I am currently reading a book on the origins of the French language. In a nutshell, then, I am folle for France and all things French.

For those who do know me, I will now explain where in France I would go. Paris is fun, but fun for visiting, not living. It's a lot like New York City for me in that way. The South of France is where I would go, preferably to a village in the suburbs of Nice. I much prefer small-town life with easy access to big city restaurants and theatre. The people in the South are pretty laid-back and friendly. I love lavender, which is grown primarily in Provence. The history all over France is fascinating, but I really like the evidence of Roman influence along the Midi. Finally, as I now live in a coastal town, I am quite accustomed to living by the ocean. It suits me. My daughter declared last year, "We're beach people," and she's right. Finally, it would be lovely to live someplace warm for a change.

Believe me, if there were any way to a) convince my deeply here-rooted husband, and b) find a good job there, I would move to France in an instant. No passing go.

The Interview Part I

2007-10-24T09:45:00.000-07:00

Fellow blogger Nutmeg offered to interview me, and I accepted. She has asked me five questions, to which I will respond in segments because my brain can't sustain the concentration required for five whole questions at once. Here is today's question:

Why do you blog? What have you learned from the blogging experience?

I started blogging as a way to hold myself accountable in my writing. I have written in a journal since the earth cooled (aka the 1980's), but it ended up being a very boring and tedious recounting of activities in my life. Then Al Gore kindly invented the internet, and soon blogging took hold. I found that if I blog, I need to focus on actually having a point and practicing the discipline of saying it well. At the same time, it is not so formal that I need to stress about how I write. That is to say, I can "publish" without being perfect. Blogging is forgiving. It has taken a few years to be comfortable with the practice, and now I'm more ok with sharing my writing, so it has turned into a way of staying in touch with family and friends, although they never post comments and I don't even know if they are still reading this (ahem... DAD). I'm still nervous about letting my husband read it, strangely enough. He knows I blog, but I haven't given him the url yet. That's probably because he writes for a living.

The question of why I blog is different than why I write, but I will answer that one, too. I write because my head will explode if I don't. And a headless me would not be a pretty sight. My good skin is probably my best feature, and with no head for it to show, there aren't many redeeming qualities left. Seriously, now... The aforementioned Dad, a lifelong editor, wonderful advice-giver and all-around good guy is fond of saying "Writers write." I've read of many a famous author saying that it is a feeling of being compelled, and this is certainly true in my case. It's like trying to describe the feeling of wanting to have children. You just do. Then you go through the labor of actually writing, and the delivery of the work. Me, I choose an early epidural that is blogging. Not so painful as having to go through too much editing or agonizing.

What have I learned through blogging? Three things, mainly.

The blogging community is so interesting! You read other people's words, you post, they post on yours, and it is a new dimension of friendship and support. It is so cool!
I am learning, as per said father's coaching, that I need to write with a beginning, middle, and end. I'm still working on this one.
I've always said that I long to write, but I have nothing to say. I still don't have much to say, but that's ok. I've been reading authors like Annie LaMott and Elizabeth Gilbert, and am finding that their paths and their thoughts are interesting. Fascinating, even. My experience my not be that different than others, but my journey is my own, and my way of reflecting on it is good enough.

Thanks, Nutmeg, for this question. Stay tuned for Part Deux tomorrow.

It's Friday, and I'm Rambling

2007-10-12T12:59:00.001-07:00

Today I shall bore you with loose ends. Read on...

1. The end is near! No, not the end of the world, the end of the diarrhea! Baby Boy's little body is now free of soy, and the grossness has ceased. Monday we will reintroduce soy to see if the symptoms come back. If they do, we add soy to the list of allergens.

2. As I am job hunting and getting more discouraged by the day, I'm realizing how much I've loved my 2-year stint in the publishing industry. As I told a colleague recently, doing this work was like meeting family for the first time. I'm looking at all sorts of other jobs, but nothing perks me up like publishing: sales, marketing, and especially editorial. Unfortunately, I live about as far away from the publishing center of the US (New York) as possible, and there are too few publishing jobs out here, especially in educational publishing. Here's my conclusion: THERE IS NOTHING ELSE I WANT TO DO. Nope. Nada. Nothing. I want to make books. That's it.

3. We've been thinking a lot about our daughter's education. We live in what most call a stellar school district, but she consistently brings home work WAAAAAY below her ability level. We are now almost 2 months into school and she is still reviewing work from 1st grade. Then I read Nutmeg's post today about her experience in the public schools, and am even more fired up about this issue. Daughter K says she finishes her schoolwork early and spends the rest of the time helping her peers. I endured that very fate when I was in school, and it's really a waste. I'm working on coming up with a plan to keep K engaged in learning at school, and will suggest it at Thursday's parent-teacher conference. Now, at t-minus-six days, I have no earthly idea what that plan would be. Might it be:

Move to the family farm in North Dakota so I can afford to stay home with my children and homeschool them?
Send "homeschool" worksheets with her to school to be completed after she does her regular work?
Sell a kidney so I can afford to send the girl to a private school?

Warning: Grossness in this entry

2007-10-08T18:39:00.000-07:00

Baby Boy is now on day 17 of diarrhea. Oy. There have been two "clean" days wedged in there, but otherwise, 17 delightful days of brown goo. Nay, smelly brown goo. Nay, lingering, smelly, slimey brown goo. It's so uncomfortable for him! He's been on the B.R.A.T. diet since Thursday.

An aside: I hate the name "BRAT" diet, even though it is an anachronism for Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, Toast. I just don't like that term, and I hate hearing it come out of my mouth although I am referencing the child's menu. It's the same reason I do not like those wide-eyed dolls, and won't have them in my house. OK, back to poop.

So here's the pattern: Preceding clean day #1, he had had birthday cake, then two ick days and a bread-y diet. Then a clean day. This time around, he had a clean day on Saturday, and had had no soy milk for 2 days before that. Then we reintroduced soy milk on Sunday, and whammo, a major ick day today, but worse: diarrhea plus slime. It's very possible he has an allergy to both cow's milk and soy milk. Double oy. Is there light at the end of the tunnel? Will there be a time when I do not end my day with a shower to hose off the poo and throw-up? Might we sleep through the night without being woken by a shriek or wail from our precious son, only to not be able to console him because we lack the ability to reach inside his tummy and straighten things out?

What I Learned Today

2007-10-05T18:55:00.000-07:00

Today I learned that if you give a sick 12-month-old slightly undercooked rice for lunch in his high chair, and if he chooses not to eat it, but spreads it all over the tray for effect, and if you get distracted and have to hold said lethargic baby on your lap for many hours, and do not clean it up for the whole rest of the day, it dries out and is really easy to sweep into the garbage.

Why I love my husband

2007-10-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was a rough day, and it hit me with no warning. Even hurricanes give a little bit of a heads-up. I sat down to my computer in the morning, the last day in my regular position after having been laid off due to a corporate merger. Then it hit me. So I took a deep breath, thought to myself, "Oh, wow, ok. That's normal, I suppose." And moved on. Then I got an email from a soon-to-be-former customer telling me that she'll miss me, that I was great to work with, that sort of thing. After a couple more emails like that, I gave in to the tears.

Meanwhile, I have been job-hunting. There was one job that was with a Christian organization that I love, and I had three great interviews. I didn't get the job because of circumstances out of my control. I cried again. Then I sucked it up, took another deep breath (by this time I am well-oxygenated) and called Steve to let him know that this job was a no-go. He made the foolish decision to ask me how I was doing. Unfortunately, he heard my voice quiver when I answered, "I'm fine." (Why did I try to cover up my feelings and not tell him how I really was? Because the requisite pep talk to follow would have done me in, and I didn't want to open up the flood gates while he was at work.) He told me he loves me, that we would get through this together, and he'd see me later at home.

Flash back 2 months: I got the phone call that with this corporate merger, I would be "unassigned" (no job for me after Sept. 30). It was 9 am, and Steve was on his way to work half an hour away. After my phone call I called him and told him (we knew this phone call was coming, just didn't know the outcome). He turned around and drove home to hug me. It was 60 seconds that made all the difference. Then he went to work.

Back to last Friday. Around mid-afternoon, he came home! Two hours early, and with red wine and chocolate! I chatted up a storm with our usual every day banter, avoided eye contact, and scurried around the kitchen. Then he strided right through all those barriers (aka coping mechanisms) and hugged me. I cried some more, and he held me tighter.

That night, before I got ready for bed, I told him, "Today sucked." He knew I wasn't up for a pep talk. He answered, "Yeah. Today sucked." Good man.

Thank you, God, for my wonderful husband. He is just what I need.

Her Dreams

2007-09-26T09:28:00.000-07:00

When our daughter was 2 1/2, she wanted to be a pig farmer. She was a pig for Halloween for 3 years straight. As expected, that dream went by the wayside in favor of wanting to be a librarian, although her love of pigs has remained. We were at the fair again on Sunday, walking through the cattle barns, and she told me this:

"Mom, do you want to know the plan for my life?"
"Yes, honey, please share."
"I am going to be a farmer."
"OK, what animals will you have?"
"Well... pigs, of course. And cows that I will milk by hand."
"Sounds like a lot of work. Anything else?"
"Goats. What else should I have?"
"Sheep?"
"Yes, sheep. Then I can knit their wool."
"What about being a librarian?"
"Farmers like me like to read. I will finish my work early then go read books. I will have a lot of books that my neighbors can come borrow."
"Make sure you write your name in your books."
"OK."

I guess this means more trips to North Dakota are in store. Sigh.

To My Son on his First Birthday

2007-09-24T19:23:00.001-07:00

I love you, my little man. There are so many things I love about you, but here are a few:

1. Sometimes, in the back seat, you'll be completely quiet until a funny thought comes across your mind, and you laugh.

2. You have the most expressive face I've ever seen. Your eyebrows speak volumes.

3. You have the sweetest disposition. You are content and satisfied.

4. Your sister and you have a very special bond. Maybe it's because she prayed for your existence, but you look at her differently than you look at everyone else.

5. You are a manly man! You thump your chest and grunt, and then look very pleased with yourself.

6. You give the BEST baby kissies in the world! Now when I ask for them you are starting to respond. They used to be happy surprises, but now, with increased understanding, you know what giving kissies means.

7. At bedtime, after the bath, book, and bottle, you lay your head on my shoulder...but only for a moment! After a couple of seconds you perk up to look me straight in the face and grin as if you've told the best joke ever! Then you lay back on my shoulder... until pop! The grin! Back and forth, back and forth, until you start lunging for your crib.

8. I love that you are a great sleeper.

9. After all the health crapola you have gone through, you are resilient. The meanings of your names suit you so well: "rock," and "son of my right hand." Your other name, "supplanter," fits in that your life has supplanted the fear in my heart with joy.

10. I love your husky voice.

I could go on and on, of course, because I am over the moon for you. You're the best surprise I've ever received, evidence of pure grace. Thank you, my sweet baby boy. I love you. Happy First Birthday.

Flesh and Bones

2007-08-30T11:58:00.001-07:00

I am obsessed with my body. I'm not talking about the shallow, unidimensional, "do I look fat in this" sort of persona. I've grown out of the 20-something hatred of every lump and curve. I've birthed two beautiful, healthy babies--one delivery was slick and easy, the other was work like I've never known. Still, my body did it. I gained a lot of weight as a homesick teen living in France and lost it again. I broke my left leg early in my life, then my right wrist in mid-childhood, then my left wrist a few years ago, and this year my left leg snapped, too. No limb of mine has remained whole! And yet, I've recovered. The human body--my human body--is a wonder.

I am indeed still recovering from the worst of all my breaks, which occurred in April. I was getting better-better-better, through sheer determination and will, with the help of doctor-mandated physical therapy. Then it was all left to me to keep it up. And have I? No. You've heard the expression, the mind is willing but the body is weak? In my case, the body is willing but the mind is weak. With every passing day, now, I wake up creaky, and it's downhill from there. The limp is back. I ooh and aah, and not in the good way. I notice every little twinge of pain, not just in my leg. I wake up in a bad mood. I've become a wimp.

And yet, in my mind's eye, I am an active, sporty, energetic momma. I know exactly what I need to do in order to get myself back to smooth sailing. While I have great respect for this body of mine, I live in the world of thought and not action, ideas instead of activity. I do not like this about myself. It's like I'm waiting for my brain to tell my body to get up and move. I'm passive. Oh, dear. As I write this, I realize it's worse than I had thought! So here is the crux: If I do, indeed, respect my body, then that respect must translate to action. If I do not take action, I am showing real disrespect for my body and God's creation. Some who are avid exercisers sometimes talk about how using their bodies in healthy ways is like a prayer. I am sitting here wishing I could get into that mindset. I see now, though, that if I wait on "right thinking," I'll never get around to "right doing."

Ideas, Please

2007-08-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

Alright, dear readers (are there readers out there?). I need your input. As you know, I was recently the victim of a corporate merger, and have been unceremoniously scootched out of a job. Sadly, publishing jobs are few and far between here in the Pacific Northwest. I love-love-love the idea of making books. The world of ideas is my homeland. If I could live my life with my nose buried in words, I would.

What now? I have to work to keep us afloat, so staying home with my children is not an option. I've been doing sales for the past few years, but I just don't know if that's where I want to be. I'm good at it because I enjoy people, but it doesn't really seem like ME. I like having projects. Something I can organize and deatils I can break down. I love studying, especially theology, but working in a church isn't so much fun.

Somebody help me, please! We have until January 1 to find me a new job, and hopefully with it, a new career. I'm tired of jumping around, I'd love to fall in love and commit to meaningful work. I just need some creative input.

People who Overreact

2007-08-21T08:56:00.000-07:00

My job involves talking with instructors and helping them find the right textbooks. They are always professional and well-mannered. Occasionally I get a student posing as an instructor trying to get answer keys. Because of this, I usually don't invest too much time on them until I have met the instructor or can verify that they are employed by one of my schools. The other day I got this email:

hi amyi'm looking for a book on autodesk inventor, intermediate and advanced have looked allover and can;t seem to find them, I need them to be 2008 but I would consider 2007.Tkanks Kevin

Usually those who teach use at least minimal punctuation. I was dubious. So I asked a few more questions, such as, "What school to do you teach at?" I got this response:

HI Amy
thanks for getting back so promptly, just as soon as school starts i will send you a e-mail with my .edu, also this is just in the planning stage now see i have 20 -30 students in the beginning inventor class and a lot of them want to go on but every time they try to set up a intermediate class there isn't a large enough turn out so my thought is to offer the classes every quarter then i will have beginning intermiteate and advanced inventor all in one the same lab. this might not even get through the dean so i don't know if you want to give me book so how about a list of the books and a price list
Thanks Kevin

OK, I'm still not convinced. No answer about his school affiliation, and it's not even a for-sure class yet, so it's not like he's in a time crunch. So I politely refer him to our online catalog. He says,

you should look at your catalog i did and there is only one title for inventor thats why I sent you a request for intermittent and advanced inventor books. after four e-maile you send me back to the catalog right where I started you an IDIOT

Wha-huh? First of all: no punctuation! C'mon, man, throw us a bone! And then: "intermittent" inventor books? Now really, who's the idiot here? I just had to laugh.

Two Unrelated Topics

2007-08-13T09:24:00.000-07:00

1) I just got back from Orlando, where are national sales meeting was held. It could not have been worst if they tried! Fun times included: food poisoning, being included but not included, and suffering the world's most negative person. (I know you thought I held that title, but no, this person is worse!) I'm so glad to be home, and not in Florida (aka The Surface of the Sun).

2) Baby Boy took two more steps this morning!!! He'll be walking by the end of August, I'm sure of it. Dang, he's cute. And Little Girl continues to amaze. Last night she wouldn't admit she was tired. She yawned, and when we caught her, she said that she wasn't yawning because she was tired, it was just to "get air out of my body."

Whoa, Nellie!

2007-07-25T15:03:00.000-07:00

Baby Boy is now pulling himself to standing without any help! Walking is right around the corner. Yikes!

Reading Material

2007-07-21T09:47:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite things about being a mother is watching behavior and finding meaning in it. For example, my little baby boy is drawn to one of the bookshelves in the living room and loves to pull the books off. He then proceeds to eat the pages before mommy comes screaming, "No! Stop! Ack!" But I must say, his choice of material is fascinating.

For the longest time he went after Kathleen Norris' book, The Cloister Walk. Clearly, this boy is contemplative. He has also sampled What Paul Meant by Gary Wills, and, in my proudest moment, Perelandra, by the esteemed C.S. Lewis. Not the easiest C.S. Lewis to start with, but if he wants to dive right in, who am I to stop him? Oh, the literary journeys he and I will take in future years! The great discussions of spirituality! The ruminations of the state of the soul!

In a fit of folly, the boy did choose some Moliere yesterday. I'm glad to see that he has a sense of humor, this child, and can appreciate the occasionally caustic irony and even the knee-slapping comedy that Moliere offers. And, it was a collection in the original French, so I really have no choice but to endorse his selection.

Maybe I should go add some money to his therapy fund. I'm sure, with this mindset, the poor child is doomed to some sort of complex due to his mother's expectations.

My Beautiful Babies

2007-07-10T09:16:00.000-07:00

Aren't they cute? I know, I'm shameless. I adore my sweeties. K, the daughter, who does not lack self-esteem, reminds me frequently, "Mom, you only make the most beautiful babies." I have to say, she is lovely AND wise, this girl.

I'm Chip; I'm Dale

2007-07-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

My husband always surprises me. No, not with flowers or gifts for no particular reason. He surprises me with his deep fount of random information.

Tonight is Friday, which, in our family, makes it Friday Family Movie Night. It is our tradition to let our daughter pick out any movie on this night (usually a DVD, although we sometimes go out) and we are all obligated to watch it with rapt attention. It's a fun tradition that we all enjoy.

Tonight's selection is a Mickey Mouse Christmas movie. And yes, we know it's July. K chose it because it is rather short (we are all very tired) and requires very little brain power, since it is made up of amusing little vignettes.

One of these vignettes featured Chip and Dale of chipmunk fame. K wondered out loud how anyone could possibly tell them apart. My dear husband went on to explain the various nuances that make Chip and Dale entirely different. One is smart, the other is not. The not-so-bright chipmunk (are any chipmunks brainiacs?) is made to look like a hill-billy. Their teeth differ. He went on to tell us various neumonic devices he uses to tell them apart. Wha-huh? When did my husband become so knowledgeable about cartoon chipmunks? Fascinating! It was like talking to a parent of identical twins who has no trouble telling which is which, and we are embarrased to even ask which is Shane and which is Shawn, when they are dressed exactly alike. I marvel at his wells of information. This keeps the marriage interesting.

Lindsay, oh Lindsay

2007-07-05T14:18:00.000-07:00

My daughter will be turning 8 this month, which brings its share of "serious" conversations. We discussed where babies come from (she deemed this "dis-GUS-ting." Good.), drugs, and alcohol, all in a rather hypothetical and removed sense. As in, "sometimes some people do certain things..." She also is reluctant to discuss these things. She just plain doesn't like it. She also likes all things Disney. So she was watching something rather benign Disney channel show and they were advertising an upcoming Lindsay Lohan movie to be aired over the summer.

Later in the day, K the daughter very shyly asked me why there is a movie with Lindsay Lohan when she had been arrested. I was shocked! How did she know that the little misguided actress had been arrested? What does she know of such things? It wasn't all that long ago that I knew everything that went into my child's head. So I asked her if she knew what LL had been arrested for. Her answer? She thought LL had been arrested for drinking too much caffeine. Hee hee.

So then we had the requisite discussion in 8-year-old terms about poor choices, the illness of addiction, and so forth. All the while, I was mentally cursing LL for forcing this issue with my little girl and taking away just a little more of her innocence. There's also the issue of corporate responsibility: Will Disney continue to employ LL? And why do so many Disney shows and movies have no mothers in sight?

I suppose this is the age where my daughter is starting to learn how sticky life can be. I pray that I can guide her through it so she is a strong adult. Oy, what a responsibility.

Happy Mothers Day

2007-05-13T10:29:00.000-07:00

Hurrah to mothers, all of us who are raising children the best we can. We, who postpone ourselves for these 18 years that will probably turn into many more. I don't know; I'm not there yet. We look at our babies and see the future and the past at the same time. Today is contrived, but it's nice anyway. So happy day for us.

What are you having?

2007-05-01T10:09:00.000-07:00

Dorothy Parker was at a blah dinner party. Probably not enough booze flowing for that dear lush's liking. A gentleman was going to refill her glass for her and asked, "What are you having" Her witty response: "Not much fun."

I can relate. I'm sitting here with my leg elevated, and I really can feel myself healing. I'm doing my work from home, which isn't easy. I'd rather be on campus getting blown off than on the phone getting blown off. So I'm not so motivated. Still, I hold out hope that I will make goal this year. Please, God, I want to make goal so much!!! But still, I feel like I have nothing interesting to say anymore. My mom will call later today, and I will have nothing to say. At least when I was pregnant and doing nothing I could say, "Today I grew my child's ear." or "Today I worked on the baby's hearing." Nope. Today my bones fused a little more. Anyone want to join me to watch grass grow?

I am, however, enormously grateful that I'm an injured person getting better, rather than someone with a degenerative disease getting worse every day. And so many people deal with so much worse. So really, I'm on the positive end of things. I try to keep telling myself to have a good attitude. It'll work, eventually. Especially if I make goal.

Disaster Strikes

2007-04-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

A week ago Saturday I was enjoying a wonderful play at the Children's Theatre just up the highway a bit. My husband, my daughter (for whom the play trip was most beneficial), my infant son, and I were all there, enjoying ourselves. I took Baby into the cry room to feed him. The seating area was up a few steps, so up I went, happily nursing and rocking my little guy. When he was done, I stood up to go rejoin the rest of the family. Silly me. I took my first step and noticed that the stair lights were not working. I tried to feel my way, but to no avail. I fell hard, clutching the little guy to my chest, heard my bones crack, and fell on my back.

Once we were on the ground, the baby rolled off my chest and onto the ground, where he wailed. Thankfully, someone picked him up. I was a bit pre-occupied. I was lying on my back, holding my thigh up with my left hand, and my right hand was holding my calf, which was angled out at 90 degrees. Here's the funny thing: the firemen and EMTs were telling me that it looked not so good because of the swelling. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Seriously... the swelling was what caused concern, not my leg heading to the right with the rest of me headed to the left? C'mon. After the fact, Michelle (who gets a tribute here in a sec) told me that no one wanted to worry me by pointing out the obvious. That's pretty funny.

Michelle is my new hero. Steve was being a fabulous daddy, shepherding our children away from the disaster scene and calming fears. I wanted him to do that. But this other mommy, Michelle, made sure that her little son was taken care of, then stayed with me, holding my hand, letting me rest my head on her lap, and helping me hold up my thigh. She stuck it out until I was carted off to the hospital. She even laughed with me as I was bummed about their having to cut off my K Swiss shoes, shoes I have wanted since Kristin had them in 7th grade, and finally bought for myself this winter! I'm such a consumer. We talked about all sorts of random things, and we even laughed! We have a date for ice cream once I'm more mobile.

So now I'm coping with the aftermath: children who miss time with mommy, being very dependent on others (thank God for Mom's visit!), dragging my sorry ass across flat surfaces with the help of a granny walker, and other issues. All these must be saved for another post. Oh, and the fact that the baby seems to react badly to all solid foods except for rice cereal. Can you tell I'm in a bad mood? Let's hope my mood turns upward very soon. I'm remembering that lots of people have much worse injuries, and cope cheerfully for years on end. That's the kind of person I want to be. I'll get there, eventually.

Rach-a-bye baby

2007-03-24T19:29:00.000-07:00

I'm back, after a hiatus when my brain went dry. I am now the mother of 2 and working full-time. I usually feel like I am one thread away from total insanity.

By the end of the day, I'm often in need of a major energy infusion. All I want to do is nap, but this is the time of day when I have to give my very best. It's the only time I have to fill my little ones with love enough to last them until the next day. Not to mention the daily details like getting homework done, making a healthy supper, and cleaning up the house enough so that no one breaks a bone tripping over anything getting from point A to point B.

So the other night I was making said healthy supper and feeding the baby at the same time. I needed some "up" music so I chose Aerosmith. The baby had a look on his face like someone was pinching him!!! It wasn't even loud! This is the most sound-sensitive little guy ever! I quickly dove to change the music on the iPod to Rachmaninoff, and wow, did his mood ever change! He was happy and relaxed. Plus, it was "Vespers," so I think that helped him sleep that night. Amazing little discovery.

Speaking of music... Two days ago I was at Dinners Ready, my trusty secret weapon for healthy family meals. I spent about an hour prepping suppers for the next month. The radio was tuned to an '80's station, and I tell ya, every song brought be back to some very specific high school era memories. Remembering those days of yore while preparing meals for my family of 4 (how did that happen?!), about to bring the meals out to my minivan, and carry them into the split level home we now occupy. As my friend Lesley says, I had a Talking Heads moment.

Held captive in ND

2005-06-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

Well, the best part about going to ND was coming back home. The trip was supposed to last Friday to Tuesday. So long 'bout Spokane I asked Steve's uncle Loren-the-chauffeur when on Tuesday he thought we'd be back. "Tuesday?" he responds incredulously. "We're not coming back until next Saturday or Sunday!" Imagine my surprise. And my fury. All while trying to maintain decorum.
The countryside was beautiful and green and FULL of critters. Everything from prairie dogs and pheasant to wood ticks that really liked Katie and me. The child was entranced the whole time. Just loved it. We made some new friends, the Johnsons... lovely, wholesome, funny people. We took long walks and expored. We also met crazy cousin Ray from Minnesota. Wooo-whee. What a character.
But the house... oh, my. The mice traps were quite active throughout the visit. The shower was an exposed pipe spurting water. No sink in the bathroom. Everything frozen in time from 35 years ago, including grandma's partially used deodorant (she passed away a while ago, now, but nobody seems to want to throw away anything). If you use the oven, be aware that it will smell of a decaying rodent that is stuck in there somewhere that nobody seems to be able to reach.
So yesterday we got home. With Katie spending the night at Steve's parents' house, and Steve on a business trip, I had the house to myself. I had my favorite dinner of popcorn and wine, watched Ocean's 12, took a yummy hot bath, and felt human again. I need to do that more often.
I did have time to do a lot of thinking, so on an existential level, the trip was good. I learned a lot about myself, which is never a bad thing.

Wide Open Spaces

2005-05-31T21:59:00.000-07:00

On Friday the child and I are headed to The Farm in Esmond, North Dakota! I SOOOOO need a getaway, and seeing as this is close to the geographic center of North America and I am a coastal dweller, this is about as far a getaway as I can imagine. I hope I fall in love with it. It could truly become a great escape. I think it'll be like a very large sensory deprivation chamber. Very restful. I just bought a fabulous new quilting tote, so even my little iron fits in it. I'll be bringing that, lots of games, a few books (if the child allows me to read)... any recommendations? I've been singing loudly to the Dixie Chicks. Cowboy Take Me Away sums me up right now. I even have a cowboy in mind. :-) I'll keep y'all posted on this new adventure. Then it's back to work for a month. After that project, we'll have Disneyland in SoCal, then hopefully back to the farm, and then to Michigan for 2 weeks at the end of August. I'm going to treat myself to a few days in Chicago with friends. It's shaping up to be a great summer! Y'all keep in touch. Miss you, my darlings!

I DID IT!!!

2005-05-31T21:40:00.000-07:00

Prepare for a rambling entry... just pretend you're listening to me. So, last Thursday, with the help of my trusty sidekick Peter, I got my belly button pierced!!! And by the way, ow. Hurt like hell, but I love it!!! Can't stop looking at my beautiful tummy. My belly has always been my favorite part of my body, and now the lovely thing is adorned. How I love it! Loved it immediately. I flashed everyone on Thursday night who had the misfortune of being on 100th street right after I got it done, or at the Ram where Peter and I had drinks immediately following. Had to numb the pain somehow. But yay!!! It's so fun! No, I will not start wearing daisy dukes and tiny tees, but if you ask nicely, I'll show ya.

2005-05-23T12:18:00.000-07:00

I've finally decided to do it... I'm going to get my belly button pierced! I've wanted a tattoo since college, but being too chicken to do it, I'm going to go ahead and do this! Given, my spouse isn't too happy with this decision, but for once I'm going to do it anyway. It's more than jewelry, it's liberation! Yipee! Then once I'm in better shape (due to the recent discovery of Bikram Yoga... wow!), I can be a bikini mama. It's going to be a great summer.

Katie gets it

2005-05-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

My daughter is better at being a Christian than I am. We have actually bribed her to convince her to stay home on a Sunday morning rather than go to church. The other day, the child declares, "There are more people on earth than in heaven." I proceed to explain to her that there are only a few billion people on earth now, and many more than that have lived and died and already found their way to heaven. (Scientifically accurate? I don't know.) I also let it out that I have some reincarnation leanings and told her that in heaven there are also the angels waiting to be born as babies. She takes a moment to think, then says, "So this isn't our real home?" I shake my head. "So heaven is our real real real home?" I get misty-eyed and nod. To think that lots of money has been made by people buying The Purpose Driven Life, and there my little 5-year-old understands it all, just sitting on the couch one afternoon. I wish I were as smart as she is.

Working Mommy again

2005-05-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I wanted to be the contented housewife, merrily shepherding my brood, gleefully planning menus, showing up at mass on Sunday as the picture of domestic bliss. Alas, twas not to be. I started working again last month, and I love it guiltlessly! I purr at showing that I'm good at something. Although the challenges are frustrating, conquering them can only be described as heady. Shall we discuss how nice it is to be among adults, and have the ability to discuss something other than home and hearth? True, I need more practice at that, but I'm getting there. I come home in the evening, and we all have had a full but separate day! I think even the child is enjoying more independence. Then there are the other rewards: shoes. Yes, I am earning my own money, so I can buy shoes without explanation! Yipee! So bring it on, I'm ready for more.

2005-01-27T20:06:00.000-08:00

Katie and Lucy

January

2005-01-27T19:57:00.000-08:00

Oh, my gosh, has it been a month since writing last? Shame. As of this morning, we now have Broadband!!! I hear choirs of angels, I see only green lights, flowers blooming... It's wonderful! So easy and fast! Getting it installed also forced me to clean the office, so now it's tolerable in here. Yay!
It's sad, but getting Broadband is the only thing that's new to write about in my life. Pathetic, n'est-ce pas? Nah... just enjoying daily life. Spent yesterday at the Art Museum with my sweet little girl, painting and trying to speak German to a fellow "artist." But we love the Tacoma Art Museum. Lots of fun. I might even take an art class. My paintings look just like my 5-year-old's. I call my style "primitive."

The bunny

2004-12-21T09:45:00.000-08:00

We got a Christmas bunny! Her name is Lucy, and she lives quite happily in Katie's room. The cats couldn't care less, but ooh, boy, is the dog curious! She doesn't understand why we won't let her play with her new toy! I've been reading about bunny joy, and it seems we have a lot to look forward to. Apparently, when they're happy, they flop to their side and close their eyes. Looks like death, but is really happiness! They also do a dance that sounds like it may resemble Elaine's technique (from Seinfeld). This should prove to be amusing. So now I am feeling like Farmer Amy, where every morning starts with feeding the livestock, cleaning cages, and gazing over my acreage. I really should invest in some overalls. (But only if they're REALLY cute and maybe embroidered along the cuffs, and can be worn with sling-backs.)

Forgetting about Housework

2004-12-11T13:12:00.000-08:00

Hello again. So last night I did my annual "sleep under the Christmas Tree." At least once an advent I like to sleep on the couch with all the Christmas lights on. Gets me in the spirit! Life is so hectic these days, the "spirit" escapes me often times. I hear this is commonplace, but I don't like to be common. In any case, last night I made Katie-kins a new dress! It's so sweet, but dang, the girl is tall. It's supposed to reach mid-calf, and although she's only 5, I put a size 6 bodice and a size 7 skirt. STILL, it only goes past her knees! She's all leg, this girl. I'll post a photo eventually. So I play all the time and have decided that housework is highly overrated. It just doesn't hold my attention like sewing or reading or talking with friends or playing with children do!

2004-11-27T16:14:00.000-08:00

Family on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Weekend

2004-11-27T16:10:00.000-08:00

Hello, all. We're toward then end of Thanksgiving weekend, now, and it has been nicely relaxing. Thanksgiving in Issaquah was fun. There were 17 of us in all. All but 3 of us had our family of origin there, so we three named ourselves the orphans. (Brother-in-law Steve calls us the Outsiders.) One of the new orphans is Rebecca's new beau, whom we all liked very much. Her taste is improving. Yesterday we put up our tree. I love Christmas! Now I have a bee in my bonnet about wanting to take a road trip. Wanderlust hit me at age 15 when I went to France, and now I can't get it out of my system. I need a purely fun trip. Now I just have to convince my dear husband! He says I'm a free spirit. I guess I am, so every once in a while I need to do something crazy. As he says, part of the magic that is Amy. :-) Ideas, anyone?

2004-11-22T18:13:00.000-08:00

Katie as Pilgrim

Attempt #2

2004-11-22T13:06:00.000-08:00

Here is try #2. Hello everyone! Now that Mom and Nana have headed back to Michigan, we are back in full swing. Katie had a VERY cute program this morning at school where they sang about being hunted turkeys (nothing like a little school-sponsored fear for young children) and dressed as pilgrims. Then we all ate a feast. It was lovely. I'll post photos soon.

I'm so excited for our day-after-Thanksgiving tradition! On Friday we'll take the commuter train to Seattle to watch the parade, then do a little shopping (that way you won't all receive Mary Kay products for Christmas!), have lunch, and head home. My favorite part is drinking the lattes in the cold weather. So wonderful!

Have a great day everyone. This blogging thing is fun.

2004-11-21T21:22:00.000-08:00

Amy and Steve at Zoobilee 2003 (last year)