Autumn Daesy

Do we HAVE to do birthdays?

2011-08-14T17:26:00.000-07:00

Around here we have two majorly expensive months: December (Christmas) and August (Back to school). I would imagine many families can relate. I'm sure that everyone maxes out their monthly budgets at those times of the year.

But I think I've got you beat. My family, in an extraordinary display of inadequate forethought, has also managed to toss birthdays into the morass. My darling Angel was born just days before Christmas, ensuring that forevermore shall her birthday presents be wrapped in Christmas themed paper! Not to mention the difficulty of choosing a time in December, when everyone else is just as busy (and broke), to have a birthday party. And of course the expense of a separate birthday gift over and above any Christmas gifts.

And then there is the Teen. While I had no direct influence on the date of his birth, (I was packing for my first year in college at the time!) I find myself shopping for a birthday gift along with the purchase of an entirely new wardrobe! (Partially due to a growth spurt but mostly due to a general destructiveness when it comes to...well, pretty much everything he touches.) He has more than once had the misfortune of this birthday actually landing on the first day of school, which probably takes the shine off of it a little.

I know what you're saying. If I would shop early, or budget more appropriately, this might not be such an issue. And to that I say, "Pfthtffththptht!" (That's the phonetic spelling of someone giving a 'raspberry'.) I've tried buying birthday gifts ahead of time, and let me tell you that in the land of 9-17 year olds, a week can indicate 4 different mind-changes on what they want for their birthday. Imagine if I had bought the gift two months ago?! Talk about last season/obsolete!

I suppose the only way to make this problem any worse is if we had a birthday during tax season! (Oh, wait...)

New Kitty?

2011-06-10T22:37:00.000-07:00

I think we have been adopted by a new cat. Anyone who has ever had a cat knows what I am talking about...people don't own cats, cats own people. When our beloved hedgehog died 6 months ago, the husband begged and pleaded that we would have no more pets. Surely, the cuddling and feeding and poop detail was met with our children and their needs? I understand his reluctance. The children fall in love with a pet, I am responsible for all of its care, and he is responsible for its disposal. The husband has "disposed" of countless fish, a dozen hamsters, two mice (the pet version, not counting the ones we trapped behind the fridge), at least two cats, and the hedgehog. He's practically a pet mortician.

Unfortunately, the Teen is allergic to pets. He tries to deny this, but the evidence speaks for itself. While in a house where cats dwell, his eyes swell and he sneezes non-stop. {But it's probably the pollen.} A dog licks his arm and he breaks out in a rash. {Could be scabies.} He pets a horse and later he can't feel his tongue. {It's probably not serious.}

Both of the older children have been campaigning for a dog. The teen wants a mastiff or a rottweiler. (I want him to return to reality) The Angel wants a Chihuahua or a Yorkie. (Which is basically a 90 year old hypochondriac in a 4 lb. animal.) The Peanut has yet to express an opinion, but we haven't narrowed down his language yet, so for all we know he's pulling for a beagle or a lab. I just want them to stop leaving their socks in the living room and their clothes on the bathroom floor. Like I need another "thing" to clean up after.

And yet, we have been having a mice problem lately. And a few weeks ago I found a baby snake on my kitchen floor. (It's too bad that "vermin" can't be declared as the cause in a divorce, because at the time, it seemed perfectly logical.) So, when an adorable and agreeable stray cat presents herself, who am I to turn her away? (Unless an adorable and agreeable mongoose where to show up...) The kids have been petting her, and we've been putting food out for her. I believe she is residing under our deck.

The funniest part is the husband suggested we invite her inside. He calls her "Sweetie", and even the Peanut, who is not all that gentle, is well tolerated. We've asked around the subdivision for anyone who might be missing a cat, and so far no takers. Of course, she has yet to prove her "mousing" abilities, but for now she seems to be lapping up the attention. And, if she gets restless, we just put her outside. Win-win! ;)

Why I Dislike Summer Vacation...

2011-06-02T18:28:00.000-07:00

Why I Dislike Summer Vacation, by Autumn

My dislike of summer vacation is threefold. The first, and probably most important, reason is the same reason I don't like weekends...too many people. In my house. In case you haven't been following along (and why would you, my last post was 9 months ago!) my family of 5 is currently crammed into a two bedroom house, waiting with bated breath for the completion of our fabulous new addition that will triple our square footage and restore sanity to the land. But for now, when all five us are home at the same time...I go a little crazy. I breathe a little sigh of relief every week when hubby and children cheerful go off to work/school, leaving me alone with the toddler to assess the damage of the weekend's chaos. The Peanut can nap peacefully on the couch without the inevitability of someone slamming the door or yelling at one another to turn down the music that is blaring from all five rooms of the house (yes, including the bathroom). I can vacuum the floor and it will stay crumb-free for at least 30 minutes. Bliss. The only dishes that get dirty are a yogurt spoon, a peanut-butter knife and a coffee cup. Wonderful. I can use the bathroom...well, no, I still have company, but we're not looking for miracles here.

Now, imagine a world without those blissful Mondays. That, my friends, is summer vacation.

Reason #2: Everyone plans things for summer. Going through my schedule, I have three weddings, several BBQ's, a couple baby or bridal showers, and all the local "festivals" like the rodeo and Boat Float. So, on top of any chaos my weekends already possessed, now we are adding dress clothes and gifts. Because I clearly didn't have enough to do. Not only are they taking away my downtime, but they are actually amping up the crazy.

Reason #3: Everyone thinks that kids are sleeping-in and watching TV all summer, right? Uh, no. They are still up at the crack of dawn, which gives them more hours to fight with each other and complain about how "bored" they are. We have five acres of land, but the Teen and the Angel have to sit on the same couch and argue about whose turn it is to pick a movie. (We don't have TV, mostly because of the "whose turn is it" debacle) Not only that, but between Driver's Ed for the Teen and the many summer lessons and activities for the Angel, we will be running around more than we ever do during the school year! How can I be a "stay at home" mom when I am making 12 trips to town everyday? This is like some kind of psychological experiment, only I'm not in the group that's getting the "good drugs".

I know that there has been a debate about the length of the school year, and it is being argued that it is better for the students if school is in session year round. I don't know who these fools are that are arguing against it, but be warned...I'm looking for you. I would imagine that if it were to be put to a vote sometime during the second week in August, it would pass with flying colors. My kids have been out of school for 4 days, and I'm already there!

Housekeeping...gag.

2010-08-02T17:50:00.000-07:00

(Sorry about the title, but I was chatting with a friend and she mentioned how people used to use the term "gag" to describe something icky, but it's really fallen out of favor. We're trying to bring it back! ☺)

I am the world's worst housekeeper. Okay, probably not, but still...not good. I feel like I'm chasing my house around and never catching it. Papers stack up, dishes stack up, laundry stacks up. And I doubt I'm the only one. I know plenty of people who's houses aways seem clean. Or, at the very least, not the "bachelor pad meets tornado aftermath" that my house often seems to resemble.

I think the part that bothers me most about this is that I am not really a messy person. I actually have a very organized mind. I love filing things and checking off lists. My CD's and DVD's are organized alphabetically. My books are organized by color. My closet is organized by genre. (Short sleeves, long sleeves, skirts, jeans...etc.) Our clothing is in good repair, our furniture is well taken care of. The problem is, you don't really notice because of all of the...stuff all over the place!

You would further think that my position as stay-at-home mom would allow me the time needed to keep everything picked up. And while that is for the most part true, I don't relish the idea of spending 8 hours a day cleaning. Mostly because my position of stay-at-home mom is actually a 24 hour position with no sick days, no days off and zero vacation. So if I feel like reading a book in the afternoon instead of doing the dishes (for the second time today) I'm going to do it. And to his credit, the husband never even comments. (Mostly because I thus far have not demanded him to "pitch-in", and humans are given a rather powerful self-preservation instinct.)

I always tell myself to "get organized", but I think that term is simply too vague. What I really want is a clean house with minimal amount of daily upkeep. What I want is to be out in front of the housekeeping race. However, anyone who has ever had, or even read about, a toddler knows that this might be too much to hope for! But, I am devising a 7 day organizational project, which will hopefully whip my house (and it's messy little denizens) into shape.

I will be chronicling this endeavor on my Project Incentive blog, and everyone is welcome to check on my progress and "hear" me whine about my mess some more. Maybe when it's all over I will have some greater insight into my housekeeping failure. Happy cleaning, everyone! (Gag.)

Top 10 Worst Passengers

2010-06-06T19:35:00.000-07:00

I recently read an article on Yahoo Travel about the Top Ten Worst Airlines when it comes to customer complaints. The funny thing is, with all the mergers of the biggest airlines, there are really only about 10 left, so it's just a matter of position at this point. All the best known (read: the airlines that service YOUR local airport) made the list. Southwest, the bastard child of the industry, of course escaped the author's critique and was considered "the best" one for customer service. (It placed #11 on the list, apparently.)

Having done my share of air travel, I can absolutely relate the all the complaints customers have about the passenger airlines. Having also been a former airline employee (I still get chills when I hear "Rhapsody in Blue") I have a very real understanding of where these complaints are coming from, and more importantly, what is really happening behind the curtain. Passengers are fed up with delays and poor service? Well, airline employees are fed up with being a punching bag for people who don't understand how air travel works! And on that note, I would like to present my own Top Ten Worst Passengers List:

10. The "Can't you make an exception for me?" passenger
Your big brown eyes might work in some places, honey, but we have actual rules here. And, no, we aren't allowed to make exceptions. Unfortunately, some airports you visit will allow the exception, which just makes the rest of us look like bitches for following the rules. If he at least got your phone number, I'd feel better about it.

9. The "Is there someone who can help me with this luggage?" passenger
Sadly, we don't have a valet service. The curbside baggage guys will help with checked bags, but to be perfectly honest, if you can't get your suitcase out of the trunk of your car without a team of horses, then you packed too much. And if you can't carry your "carry-on" items yourself, (or, more importantly, carry your infant twins and all their "necessities") then you'll have to buy an extra ticket so your mother can come along to help you. Never pack more than you can carry...on your person. Period.

8. The "Why are you so angry I asked a simple question?" passenger or friend/family awaiting passenger
True story:
Me, standing at the ticket counter, speaking into the overhead P.A. system: "Attention those awaiting flight 774* from Chicago, that flight has been delayed in Chicago about 30 minutes. The expected arrival time is now 7:30pm. Thank you for your patience." (*not a real flight number)
Guy standing right in front of me watching me deliver this announcement: "Excuse me, is flight 774 late?"
Me, thinking he must be kidding: "Yes. It's delayed about a half hour."
Him: "So...when do you think it will be in?"
What I said: "7:30"
What I wanted to say: "Do the math, dipstick!! I just got done telling the entire airport the new arrival time, and you can't say you couldn't understand the P.A. because you were standing not 4 feet in front of me, staring at my mouth while I said it!!"
Moral: There is no such thing as a stupid question...unless there have been several announcements and large signs answering it, and the ten people in line in front of you have asked the same question, and you were too self-involved to bother hearing the answer! Then, yeah, it's a stupid question!!

7. The "Excuse me, waitress!" passenger
The flight attendant is not a waitress. (Or waiter) They are trained security professionals, whose job is to maintain order and assist you in case of an emergency. And if you are nice, they might bring you a pillow and a Diet Coke. (And if not, "turbulence" is a nice, vague term!)

6. The "Security took my water!" passenger
Airport security is operated by a government agency, with VERY specific requirements. Luckily, these requirements are posted all over the airport, internet and morning shows. Your lack of interest in your own trip is not our fault. Oh, and THEY tell US what to do, not the other way around!

5. The "You lost my luggage!" passenger
Let's get a little perspective: If there are 200 passengers on your plane, and they are connecting to 165 different planes in the hub city, that's 200 bags going 165 different directions. Now multiply that by 500, for all the other airplanes in that hub airport. Kind of makes you wonder how ANY of the bags get to their final destinations, doesn't it? Here's a tip...don't pack anything in your checked luggage you can't live without for a day or two. We're doing our best.

4. The "Ol' Yeller" passenger
The girl at the boarding gate cannot give you a refund. She doesn't have any money at all! 7 times out of 10 she doesn't even know HOW to give you a refund. Believe me when I tell you that you will get a lot farther with someone from the "800 number" than you will with the gate girl. You can spout all the nastiness you want at her, she's heard it all before, but it just makes you look like an ass. All the "seasoned" travelers are already calling the 800 number, and making fun of you behind your back!

3. The "Vacation Brain" passenger
I appreciate the fact that people go on vacation to put a pause on thinking. But you aren't there yet, honey! We need you to "tune in" for a few more hours, listen to announcements, pay attention to signs and for Pete's sake, not get drunk until you are at your hotel!

2. The "Frequent Flyer" passenger
Yes, sir, I can see that you are a Premier Frequent Flyer! It's too bad that status doesn't come with tights and a cape, because I doubt that even your magical "frequent flyer" powers will make this fog go away, and we can't leave until it does. Yes, sir, even for you. (insert the proper genuflecting here)

1. The "I haven't flown since 1984" passenger
Is there really anyone alive who doesn't know the airlines charge for checked bags? That you are only allowed to carry-on a small amount of liquids? That you'll have to take your shoes off? Do yourself a favor, and check with your airline for their CURRENT rules and expectations. Stuff changes, get over it.

That being said, here are some tips for happier travels!

If you can't pick up your suitcase, you've packed too much. Wheels on suitcases are considered the decline of the travel industry. A good rule of thumb: take what you think you "need" and divide it by half. That's what you'll actually use.
If possible, don't check a bag. Not only do you save time at the counter and at arrival (no waiting for the baggage belt) but if something comes up and you need to be re-routed on another carrier, you will be a prime candidate if you haven't any checked luggage that must be re-routed as well.
Remember the 3-1-1 rule: 1 qt ziptop bag, 1 for each passenger, that holds small containers of liquids (3.4 oz or 100 ml or less) in their carry-on bag. Believe me, you don't need more than that. Even if you aren't checking a bag, and you are staying longer than a sample size shampoo will cover, I can categorically guarantee that any city large enough to have an airport will also have a Walmart. You know? (BTW, what is considered "liquid" seems to be subjective, and may be determined by each security employee. Just to be safe, put your Chapstick and deodorant in the "liquid" bag.)
Really, be there 2 hours early. They aren't kidding. You can expect to stand in line for 30-45 minutes to check in, and another 30-45 minutes in line at security. Remember, boarding starts a half hour before "departure" time. Sometimes, the worst that can happen is that you breeze right through both without standing in line at all. Bummer. Bring a book or something. Heaven forbid you have extra time to buy a bottle of water, shop for imported perfume or hit the bathroom before your flight!
When things go wrong, stay calm. Weather happens. Sometimes, landing gear lights stop working. Things happen, and if you are calm, you will get the help you deserve. Listen to the announcements, and don't forget the "customer service" line. You might get through to them before you get to the front of the line at the Customer Service booth!
Keep your wits. There is something about airports that makes people go crazy! (According to the husband!) It's busy, it's noisy, and there are a lot of rules. (And if you break them you could go to jail!) My suggestion is, do as much as you can before you leave home. Put all of your documents, ID, and itineraries in one pocket in your purse, have your suitcase labeled (both inside and outside!) and don't wear any jewelry or belt buckles or shoes that are really hard to get on and off. Make things as simple as you can! Know the current TSA rules before you go!
Don't expect wine and roses. If the guy checking your bags isn't simply beaming with pleasure at the opportunity to do so, don't take it personally. Remember, these guys are expected to do twice the work in half the time it would take the average person, and for about the same salary as the fry cook at McDonald's. Give them a break...and be thankful that you are on the "good" side of the counter! ;)

The Things Only Mama Knows

2010-04-21T22:48:00.000-07:00

There are many things that only a mother would know. There are the obvious ones, like how much your babies weighed at birth, (even devoted daddies rarely commit that to memory...it might have been our justification for the fuss over the pain. "That was an 8lb thing I just pushed out!!") but there are plenty of other things that no one else in the household seems to know...or even bother to care about. A few examples:

The perfect ratio of milk to chocolate syrup
The incredibly complex procedures involving toilet paper roll replacement
When the garbage is full, continuing to stack things precariously on top is not a solution
Where the batteries are stored
Ditto the Scotch tape, scissors, glue, thread, etc.
That there is a full, unopened jar of peanut butter RIGHT BEHIND the almost empty one
That being forced to eat bell peppers can make a 9th grade boy act like a 3 year old girl
What that weird, long stick with the bristles on one end is for
The day and time of every soccer game, ballet lesson and band rehearsal
Whether the baby is sick or just "teething"
Exactly how much Santa spent on each of her children
The price of a gallon of milk
That a glass of Merlot can dampen homicidal inclinations
What actually is for dinner
That there are very few people she would sacrifice her time, sleep and dreams for, (not to mention tummy, ass and thighs) and they all live right here in her home...eating up all the peanut butter

A {Great} Day

2010-04-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

This day actually happened last week, but it has taken me awhile to find the time to type it up...but the story tells better if it seems like it just happened. Bare with me!

This is why Mommy needs wine:

Today is my shopping day. We live in a rural area, and we are lucky enough to have a small store in our town. That's great for a quick loaf of bread or gallon of milk, but for my weekly grocery list, I drive 40 miles to the nearest major supermarket. As any mother will understand, doing this with a 13 month boy in tow is the textbook definition of "crazy", but alas, he is the least of my problems.

*Bing* I'm getting a text message. Because I know about 5 people who text me, I'm fairly confident that this is from the Teen.
Can you bring $4o to the school for a yearbook?
10 minutes later I hit "send":
U need it 2day
10 seconds later he replies:
This is the last day.
10 minutes later I reply:
How long hav u known about this
10 seconds later he replies:
I only heard about it today. Maybe they started last week, but I never heard anything about it.
I happen to know that they have been for sale for over 3 months, from a friend with a high school daughter who bought hers 3 months ago! But because the twenty signs he had to walk by on a daily basis and the daily morning announcement about yearbook sales never actually mentioned him BY NAME, how could be expected to take notice? My typical response to this type of situation is my favorite quote: "Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part." However, putting that in a text message might put my thumb in traction, so this is what I texted:
I ll see if i have time
Which in my head means "You little sh@@, this is incredibly inconvenient/expensive, and we will definitely be discussing this at a later time!!" but my kids hear "Yes."

So on my way through town I stop by the high school to drop off a check. (And to verify with the office ladies that the yearbooks have been for sale for 3 months, and they were actually only $35 dollars if you bought them at the beginning. Grrrrr) Then I got on the interstate and headed out of town to buy my groceries. Right before I entered a "no signal" zone, I get a call from the Angel.
"Mommy?"
"Yeah?"
"I forgot to bring tennis shoes and we have gym today and the teacher says if we don't have tennis shoes we can't play!"
"What shoes are you wearing?"
"My Uggs."
"And you can't run in those?"
"We can't wear them in the gym. Can you bring me my tennis shoes?" (Insert the high pitched, sickeningly sweet, begging voice here.)
"No, honey, I'm sorry, I'm on the interstate." If you had called an hour ago...
"Okay." (Inject a huge amount of dejected guilt.)
As it turns out, they ended up playing kickball outside, so this whole conversation served no purpose other than to raise my blood pressure.

The shopping goes off without a hitch. (Except the Peanut dropping his "spill-proof" sippy cup on the floor and it breaking into 7 pieces, spilling water all over the place and causing us to hunt up a store employee, a rare anomaly, to clean it up before someone could slip. *sigh*) After this day, and knowing the Teen had a band concert that night, we decided to pick up some sandwiches from a take out sub-sandwich place. ("Yes, that's right. Ham and cheese and NO Veggies! I want them to actually eat it!")

Returning home we pulled in right behind the school bus. (After SLOWLY following it through every stop along the way.) I unloaded the groceries and instructed the Teen to ensure his band uniform was clean. After settling the younger two into their sandwiches, the Teen comes out of the bathroom wearing his uniform pants.
"Umm, I think you missed the zipper," I said, gesturing toward his...zipper.
"Oh, yeah. It's ripped. I can't help it."
Pressing my hand to my forehead and glancing enviously at the 6 inch Veggie Delight waiting for me, I almost told him to put on some black underwear and call it good. I didn't. While he ate his sandwich, I managed to un-earth some black thread and a needle and hand-stitched the zipper back into his pants. I finished with just enough time to get shoes and coats on everyone and get us to the high school less than 5 minutes late! (A personal best.)
Fortunately, the high school band played first in this concert. (A music festival concert, which also means "music no one but professional musicians want to hear".) The Peanut managed to sit through the first three songs, and then I had to take him out. I spent the rest of the concert chasing the Peanut around the cafeteria, trying to listen to the choir and other ensembles, in case there was a quiz later.

After returning home, the Angel and Peanut snug in their beds, I was pouring myself a 32 oz glass of wine, scarfing my yet un-touched sandwich, and discussing the concert with the Teen.
"Oh, yeah, the second song was my favorite." Hopefully there was a second song...
"Yeah, that one was good! The tambourine was really difficult in that one."
"Hey, by the way, did you pick up the check I left for you at the office?"
"What check?"

Glug, glug, glug...

I'm never moving again!

2010-03-30T22:42:00.000-07:00

This move is going to kill me. I can't seem to get anything done with my son screaming at me every time I try to do anything productive. (Notice, he's not screaming right now...hmm.) The husband and I spent the last weekend cleaning out the "old" apartment. Just so you know, and don't judge me too harshly, there is some sort of cleaning quota which we have of course filled and now our other house (the one we actually live in) is a complete wreck. This makes the husband {super happy}. (Side bar: the curly braces are a personal "sarcasm font" my friends and I use on facebook, and now I'm sharing it with you. Pass it on...it's gonna be big! Plus, it's free.)

We spent hours scrubbing the kitchen and bathroom. Well, we asked the teen to clean the two of the bathrooms, and after 15 minutes and we couldn't find him, we just went ahead and cleaned them ourselves. (He didn't really want to go to prom, I guess.) I asked the angel to use some disinfecting wipes and wipe down all the baseboards in the house. Sounds stupid? Have you looked at your baseboards lately? Me neither, and they were gross.

Of course, after putting in a ten hour day of cleaning, no one would want to clean again. This lead to what shall henceforth be known in my family as "The Great Dishwashing Affair", the one where I washed dishes (by hand) for 5 HOURS. You can't even make that up. Apparently, it had been so long since I had cleaned the kitchen at the new house that I couldn't even find the counter. I've never heard the husband and kids as quiet as they were when this was going on. If I'm relaxing on the couch, they all want to talk to me or sit with me or in other ways distract me from the drivel I'm watching on TV. When I'm doing the dishes...nobody's home. Seriously, crickets are chirping. (Except the peanut, who's screaming of course.)

But the clouds seem to be parting, and we are finally completely moved out of the apartment. Of course, now we're stacked into this tiny place like cord wood, but that's a story for another time!

So much to do...and yet I don't care

2010-03-03T15:10:00.000-08:00

For those of you following along, you know that I am in the middle of a move. And if you've been around my blog for awhile you know that it is actually something I do pretty often. Unfortunately, this is not one of those "organized" moves. We are just moving from town to 3 miles out of town, one pickup load at a time.

First things first, we removed our beds, which of course have to be completely disassembled by the husband and the cordless drill/driver. ("Hey, do remember what I did with the screws for this?") We plucked them from the knee-deep mess surrounding them and moved them first. We did the same thing to the couches, except without the luxury of taking them apart. ("Okay, I think we have to tip it...no, the other way...now pivot...okay, okay, set it down...let me think about this for a minute...")

So we have horizontal places to lay down and sit at the new house. Uh, did we remember clothes? Another trip. I forgot to grab any shampoo or towels! Another trip. Mommy, can I have a bowl of cereal? Of course, honey, I grabbed milk and cereal...uh...but forgot bowls. Another trip. Where's the spoons? [Insert profanity here]

Now we've had to pause the major moving so the husband can go back to work, which leaves the "details" up to me. The new house is a mess of things that I just don't know where to put. (A great majority of which do not even belong in the house, like miter saws, but not sure where to put it...although I have a pretty good place in mind...) And the old house is a mess of things that aren't used everyday, but we still might like to have. Things like slow cookers and treadmills and the entire contents of my closet...pretty much all of MY stuff! (To his credit, the husband was sufficiently ashamed of himself that we had managed to move all of his clothes, and all of the kids clothes and I was still wearing the same T-shirt for 4 days. Not enough to help me though.)

With all these things hanging over my head, I have decided that today is the day...that I do NONE of it! I'm sitting on my new deck, in 65 degree, beautiful spring weather. Wearing sunglasses. Sipping red wine from a plastic cup with Easter eggs on it. (I, of course, remembered to bring the corkscrew!) Typing on my netbook, and loving the invention of wireless internet routers. And you know what? I don't even feel bad about! I've been working hard for three months, and every once in awhile, I just need a break.

Tomorrow. That's when I'm really gonna get to work...and when the diet starts...and all the drinks are free...

Put Mom in the picture!

2010-02-18T17:36:00.001-08:00

I was going through our pictures and videos from the last year, which were many because of the new baby and all that. I noticed someone missing. Mommy. I have about four pictures of myself with my new offspring, counting the ugly "hospital" pic and the group shot at Christmas. So here is my little "suggestion" for the week...get in the picture! Hand the camera to your husband or older child and have a couple pics of Mom. Take a video. At a group function, trade cameras with another woman so you are in your own pictures! (Don't forget to trade back...what was on that memory card, anyway?) My point is, I am always the one behind the camera. I'm sure my little guy would like a few pics of his mommy, too.

(Side note, make a point to take a picture of just you and your husband periodically. Prove that life is not "all about the kids" in your photo albums too!)

He Shall From Time To Time

2010-01-27T15:22:00.000-08:00

Tonight is the State of the Union Address, and for once I'm actually excited to watch it! Having been subjected to, shall we say...less than eloquent speeches for most of my adult life, I am looking forward to hearing from someone who has proven himself to be a gifted public speaker. (Whether you agree with what he has to say is an entirely different matter, the guy knows his oratory!)

So I thought I would share with you a few bits of trivia about this well known speech:

Article II, Section 3 of the Constitution states: He shall from time to time give to the Congress information of the state of the union, and recommend to their consideration such matters as he shall judge necessary and expedient...
This doesn't mean that it has to be a speech! After Washington (who gave the shortest state of the union speech, only 833 words!) and Adams delivered their speeches, Thomas Jefferson chose to deliver his to the Congress in writing. (We all know he was good with the pen, after all!) The subsequent presidents followed Jefferson's lead until Woodrow Wilson chose to deliver his in person. All presidents since Wilson have chosen to deliver theirs in person as well.
Calvin Coolidge was the first president to have his speech broadcast over the radio. Harry S. Truman was the first to give his speech on television.
Truman gave the longest speech, at over 25,000 words! Franklin D. Roosevelt gave the most speeches, 12. He is also the one to move the speech from afternoon to evening so that more Americans could hear it. (So blame him tonight when there's nothing on TV!

I encourage you all to take part in this small display of our Constitution at work. Plus, people might be talking about it around the watercooler tomorrow, and you don't want to look like an idiot!

Here is a cute recipe, from the Dinner and a Movie Cookbook, just for the occasion!

State of the Onion Soup

-1/4 cup butter

-2 lbs red, yellow and white onions, sliced thin

-5 cloves of garlic, minced

-1/2 cup dry red wine

-3 cups rich beef broth

-1 Tbsp Dijon mustard

-4 slices sourdough bread

-2 cups shredded Swiss Gruyere cheese

1. Melt butter in a large pot. Saute onions and garlic slowly until very tender and golden.

2. Add wine and 1 cup broth. Increase heat to med-high, and simmer 5 minutes until reduced.

3. Stir in remaining broth and mustard, simmer 20 min or until warm. Salt and pepper to taste.

4. Preheat broiler. Ladle soup into oven safe bowls. Top each bowl with a slice of bread and a generous amount of cheese. Broil until cheese is bubbly.

My 2010 Project

2010-01-16T14:09:00.000-08:00

As previously mentioned, the husband's father passed away this fall after a brief battle with cancer. The husband has inherited grandpa's house, located on a few acres just outside of town. As the husband and I are renters, the "gift" of a house will be put to good use!

Kind of. Grandpa was an older man living alone, so the house, while perfect for a bachelor, is QUITE small. And the builders clearly got a good deal on hideous knotty pine paneling, because it's in almost every room. And grandpa, God love him, was not big into throwing things away. (He's from that Great Depression era)

We've slowly been cleaning out the house, and I have begun the painting process. Every room is getting painted, both to freshen things up and to hide the ugly paneling. The kitchen cabinets, even the counter tops are getting painted. (I had a dream of me walking in there with a paint sprayer and just hosing the place, but I think I'll stick to brushes and rollers.) But that stuff is just for the short term, because the big project will be the remodel!

The husband and I sat down with a designing program and drew up a plan that will hopefully be "cost effective" (read: cheap) and still give us the space we want. The existing structure was once a studio "cabin" with attached garage. When the couple had a baby, they sectioned off the garage to make bedrooms. (When they had their second baby they bought a bigger place, if that helps you get a mental picture of the size of the house!)

Our plan is to turn the bedrooms back into a garage, and make the kitchen/dining/livingroom into a large, hearth-style kitchen. The dining room, livingroom, master suite and a small bedroom and bath will be in the new addition. In the attic space will be two more bedrooms, a bathroom and a rec room of sorts.

The husband plans to do the lion's share of the construction himself. (Both to save money on labor and also because he is super picky about this kind of thing!) I've seen the other houses he has built when he was working construction full time, and I feel pretty confident with his ability to pull this off! As things progress, I'll probably be adding pics to my project blog, so if you are interested in that sort of thing, you can check there for updates.

I know that we will be able to make this tiny house into a home and have the space for the husband's projects and my own! It will be the perfect place to raise our children...I think grandpa would approve!

In defence of my SUV

2010-01-11T15:28:00.000-08:00

For those who may not know me in "real" life, let me assure you that I am interested in the conservation of our natural resources. I use re-usable shopping bags, I try to recycle the things I can, and I am cloth diapering my infant son. In my ultra-conservative, rural town I'm actually known as a bit of a hippy. (Mostly because I don't like guns and I voted for Hilary.) But I do have a confession to make...I drive an SUV.

Everybody knows that they use more gas. I know this. My wallet in particular is aware of this. But the fact remains that I need it. Here's why:

The seating. I have three full time kids and one "every once in awhile" kid, and a cute little sedan just isn't going to be enough. They claim it seats 5, but sitting next to a carseat is like sitting next to a fat lady on an airplane. Only not as squishy. My current vehicle has that fabulous little third row seat that folds down for hauling groceries and folds up for hauling kids around. (And every sane mother knows that you don't do both at the same time if you can help it!)
The four-wheel-drive. I live in a northern climate. With snow and mud. I understand that some people drive SUV's as a status symbol. A lot of Gen X-ers like myself are (were?) driving SUVs because they thought they were somehow "cooler" than the minivans our mother's drove. But I live in the land of un-plowed gravel roads. I use my four wheel drive just to get my kids to school.
It's paid for. I think that one speaks for itself.

The husband is really excited about buying me a scooter one of these days. (In fact, I think he really wants to ride one, but he thinks it will be an easier look to pull off if he's just playing around with "his wife's" toy.) They look really cute and European, and I would look really hot on one! (But I don't think there's room for the baby!) I'll continue to do my part to help conserve resources, but don't give me a hard time about my ride! They do serve a purpose for some of us. At least until I have the money to replace it with a hybrid or something else. Like a horse and buggy possibly...

Things that make me feel good

2009-12-29T21:29:00.000-08:00

When people comment on my blog -I write just for me, in theory, but it's more rewarding when you know that people are actually reading it!
When people compliment my cooking -I suppose you could take the hastily cleaned plates as a compliment, but it's better when they say it out loud. (It also helps if you don't feed them for awhile!)
When the husband does that little eyebrow raise when I step out of the shower -I'm carrying at least 50 more pounds than the girl he married, but it's encouraging that he still takes the time to go through the motions! ♥
When the kids argue over who gets to be on my team for games -To be fair, I almost always win. But only games of skill (like trivia or strategy) because the cards and dice hate me in a way that defies statistics. (I minored in statistics, just to be sure...)
When I'm playing with the Angel's Nintendo DS, and Barbie compliments my clothing designs -My rational mind knows that it is a canned response, but I can't help that warm feeling when she tells me how talented I am! ☺
When the Peanut gets that huge grin when he sees me -He looks at me like I've just returned from abroad, even though I was just in the other room. There is nothing like the love a nursing baby boy feels for his mother! (The keeper of the milk!)

Which reminds me, have you complimented someone today? Smiled at a stranger? Hugged your loved ones? Believe me, all those little things make a big difference to someone else!

2009-12-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

T'was two weeks before Christmas,

And she hesitates to grouse,

But not a creature was stirring

To help Mom clean the house.

The stockings were hung,

But just on the wall,

Because in this rented townhouse

There's no fireplace at all.

The tree lights are up,

And the outside lights too,

Mom did it herself,

The assistants were few.

She also did the shopping,

And with every bag through the door,

Daddy's blood pressure

Rose a little bit more.

The wish lists are long,

And a little bit funny,

Cause even the Rockefellers

Don't have that much money!

The gifts are almost wrapped,

They all should be, but

The last one she wrapped

Gave her a paper cut.

She would trade in her children

For some happy, helpful elves,

'Cause all those Christmas cookies

Aren't going to make themselves.

She's pressed the dress clothing

Of course they'll complain,

You'd think wearing a tie

Causes physical pain!

She's ready to quit,

To just walk out the door,

Why does she do it?

Who is this for?

Does anyone notice

The candles and lights?

Does anyone care

About her late nights?

The constant battle

Is taking it's toll

Do they really deserve presents?

Or should they get coal?

A calming deep breath

And red wine in a glass,

Bring back memories of childhood

And Christmases past.

Memories of lights and cookies

And presents and more,

Of Santa and carols

And candy gallor!

Of dinner and singing

And a pretty new dress,

Of every Christmas seeming...

Effortless.

But behind the curtain,

Pulling the strings,

Is every mother (and father)

Hiding in the wings.

And that's why she does it,

She remembered the reason,

She goes a little crazy

Each holiday season.

So the children will be happy,

Their faces alight,

Their memories are filled

With Christmas delight!

And in years to come,

When they feel the holiday wear,

They'll find this in

An archive somewhere.

And see that it's worth it,

It's worth all the time

And the effort involved,

They're doing just fine.

And like every parent before them,

They'll do it up right,

And fall exhausted

Into bed that night.

But, you'll hear us all whisper,

As we turn out the light,

"Merry Christmas to all,

And to all a good night!"

Cloth diapering update

2009-11-18T11:12:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting when I decided to give cloth diapering a try. I guess I was thinking that it would be a lot more work than disposable. That the cloth would leak and be smelly to keep around the house. Wrong, wrong and wrong.

I started out using handmade fleece and microfiber diapers, and they worked well, but they were size-specific and the peanut out grew them. I bought a handful of fancy pocket diapers, which I love and use almost everyday now. I have a few BumGenius diapers and a few FuzziBunz diapers. These are called "one-size" because they are adjustable so babies can use them from birth to potty-training...or so they say.

I like that the BumGenius has an adjustable "rise" using snaps, but it was pretty bulky when Peanut was really small. And I don't think they would have worked in that itty-bitty-just-out-of-the-hospital size. These have "hook and loop" closures (Velcro to those of us who don't have to worry about brand names) so they are really easy. They are bright and cute and have nice fluffy microfiber inserts (the absorbent part) that come out for washing. This helps everything get cleaner and cuts down on drying time. My only complaint is that I thought the "hook" tabs could have been bigger for more grab, and be serged around the edge instead of glued, which would make them softer on baby's tummy. Also, when he hangs out in just his diaper, he can pull the tabs off really easily. (When wearing clothes this is not a problem.)

The FuzziBunz are also great. These have adjustable leg and back elastics, so you can cinch the diaper to fit the baby. They also live up to their name because they are super soft! Who wouldn't want cuddly fleece on their most sensitive parts? They are also cute with bright colors and they close using snaps. The inserts come out just like the BumGenius, and they are smaller, so the diaper is trimmer, but might not hold as much. (No biggy, because the Peanut doesn't like sitting in wet diapers so I'm changing him pretty frequently anyway.) The snaps are nice because he can't take the diaper off, but they take a little longer to fasten on a squirmy baby.

I also received a gift of some hand-me-down diapers, which was amazing! (18 Kissaluvs fitted diapers...probably worth $250 new!) A few of the elastics are starting to give out, but the diapers are in pretty good shape. This kind has elastic around the leg and back and fastens with snaps, but they don't have the waterproof layer like the pocket diapers I have, so they need a cover too. They were too big for the Peanut before, (they're for older babies and toddlers) but he is just starting to grow into them, and they work great.

I bought a waterproof bag to hold the soiled diapers, and it's washable so I just toss the bag in with the diapers at wash time. (Really cute from Planet Wise) Basically, I remove wet diaper, replace with dry and drop the wet one in the bag. (No stinky pails of bleach water.) As long as I wash them every second day or so, there is barely a smell. (I once forgot about a bag for a week, and that was pretty overpowering when I opened it, but the ammonia smell came out in the wash.) Poopy diapers add one more step, which is to grab as much poop as I can with a wad of toilet paper and flush it, putting the diaper in the bag with the others. (No need to rinse it or swish it or anything.) Because the inside of the pocket diapers are a soft, polyester material (so the pee goes right through and leaves it feeling dry on baby's skin) they don't stain like cotton might.

Over the past few months I have been using cloth at home and disposables when we are out and about and also at night. Every single messy leak (code for when poop comes squirting up the back or out the legs...or both) has been a disposable diaper. The cloth diapers never leak. (Honestly, how hard would it be to add a little elastic at the waist? Come on, Luvs, get with the times!) A messy leak in the middle of Walmart kind of negates the "convenience" of disposables, so I'm thinking about trying to use cloth more, even when we are out of the house.

To sum up, cloth is:

easier (an extra load of laundry every other day instead of a trip to the store with an infant)

cheaper (I have about $150 invested total and I probably won't need anything else until he's in big boy underwear)

more comfy (fluffy fleece instead of scratchy paper)

work better (poopy leaks are a pain in the @$$)

Not what I was expecting at all, but it makes me so glad I decided to give it a try!

(The picture above showes a Kissaluv fitted, a Bummi's cover, a green BumGenius, a light blue FuzziBunz with a white microfiber insert, my wet bag from Planet Wise and the Peanut modeling a BumGenius.)

Grandpa Growly

2009-11-17T09:48:00.000-08:00

Sadly, the husband's father passed away last week. He had been sick for sometime, and while everyone is glad that his suffering is over, it's still difficult to lose someone you love. Needless to say, we have been rather busy around here. I never really know what to say in these types of situations, so instead of saying something insensitive, I usually try to keep my mouth shut. (A difficult feat, as anyone who knows me in real life can attest!) Suffice it to say, we all loved Grandpa Growly (as he was affectionately known to some) and we will miss him terribly. As for some sort of "words of wisdom"...I got nothing. So I think I'll just sit quietly for awhile...

Take me away...

2009-11-01T11:20:00.000-08:00

I never really understood those old Calgon commercials (You know, "Calgon, take me away!") until I had kids. I mean, I like baths as much as the next girl, but those women were making a really big deal about it.

Fast forward a few years. Now, I get it.

Just the simple act of taking a shower is like a mini-vacation. Lock the door, and close my eyes. I'm standing under a beautiful waterfall in Hawaii, the warm sun filtering through the leafy jungle canopy. The sweet, flowery scent of orchids fills my senses...of course, it might just be my shampoo.

Where was I...oh yeah, slathering on the sunscreen, or coconut scented bodywash. The humid Hawaiian air is relaxing me, the gentle sound of the ocean is lulling me...

KNOCK KNOCK!! MO-OM! If he gets to have a yogurt than I want some Goldfish, but Daddy says he doesn't know where they are! And he can't find any pacifiers so the baby is screaming, and I thought you said [the Teen] can't come in my room, cause he's in there now and Daddy said he's not going to deal with it and I want him out! How much longer are you going to be?

Well...it was good while it lasted.

Ode to Coffee

2009-10-16T09:31:00.000-07:00

Oh, sweet coffee. Without you, I might never make it through the day. And while some people consider you a drug, I think of you as the breakfast of champions.

I recently had a discussion about the generation gap when it comes to coffee. My baby-boomer parents and their friends drink coffee, as in a mug of coffee from the coffeemaker on the counter. Usually they have it "black", but occasionally you will see people who drink theirs with cream or sugar. (or both!) Simple.

For myself, and the rest of my Gen X friends, we came of coffee-drinking age during the Starbucks/Grunge rock movement. When I say I'm "getting a coffee", what I mean is I'll have a 20 oz. vanilla double latte, heavy on the foam and only heated to 150. Intentionally complicated. (And my typical order is actually quite simple in the land of baristas) We want to carry huge coffees in paper cups, even though they are more than half milk.

But, for the next generation of coffee drinkers, sales may dwindle. It seems to me that most teenagers/young adults these days would rather have a RedBull than a latte. (Or heaven forbid a cup of actual coffee!)

Money being a little tight, and the fact that I no longer hang out on campus next to the coffee cart, I've taken to making my coffee at home. A few Christmases ago I received an espresso machine. It only makes 4oz of espresso at a time, but that is just enough to get me through a morning. The trouble has always been that heavenly syrup they add at the coffee bar. They do sell it in stores, and have purchased it before, but my local grocery doesn't carry it so I have had to improvise:

Autumn's Vanilla Coffee Syrup
* 1 1/2 cups water
* 1 1/2 cups sugar
* 1-2 tsp vanilla extract

In a microwave-safe measuring pitcher, heat the 1 1/2 cups water for 3-4 minutes in microwave, or until boiling. Pour in sugar and stir gently until sugar is completely dissolved. (Syrup should be clear) Allow to cool, approx. half hour or until just warm to the touch. Add the vanilla, stir to mix. (I use real vanilla extract, so my syrup is a light brown color, but if you use imitation vanilla it will remain clear) Store in a container with a tightly sealing lid. (I use an empty 12 oz. water bottle, label removed and marked with a Sharpie so everyone knows what it is.) You can make larger batches, but I find that making in smaller batches keeps the syrup tasting "fresh". You can keep it on the counter or in the fridge. You can also use flavors other than vanilla. I have used candy flavoring, especially easy to find in stores around the holidays. (Just be sure to use a few drops, not a tsp!)

Enjoy your coffee, everyone. I must leave you now...I need a refill!

A Few of Mommy's Favorite Things

2009-10-14T09:00:00.001-07:00

A lot of things change when you have your kids as far apart as I did. There have been some great advancements in parenting since the Teen was a baby, and even some big changes from the Angel's time. It may not seem like much, but all these product make child care so much easier. Examples:

Dye-free infant's Motrin drops- I always wondered why drug companies insisted on adding Red 40 to something that is most likely going to be spit all over the place, and possibly regurgitated onto the carpet. I guess Product Development finally hired a woman...
Ear thermometers- Because taking baby's temperature rectally is an emotionally scarring experience for everyone involved.
Baby seats in public bathrooms- I love, love, love places that have these. When mom is out shopping with baby, it is almost impossible for her to go to the bathroom. Have you ever tried to buckle a belt with one hand, while trying to prevent your baby from licking the toilet paper dispenser? These little seats are in the stall, and mom can buckle baby to the seat so she can use both of her hands and the baby isn't on the floor trying to catch Hepatitis or something. And while we're on the subject...
Family bathrooms- For the Husband, the very thought of taking the Angel out in public, just the two of them, is terrifying. She has only recently reached the age where she can use a public restroom by herself, with nervous daddy freaking people out by standing right outside the door. But even a year or two ago, he didn't want to take her anywhere, mostly because he didn't want to take her into the men's room, which in my imagination is always completely filthy. (Although, I'm not sure ladies rooms are any cleaner.) And I understand. I'm always a little surprised when I see 11 year old boys in the ladies room, but what else is mom supposed to do? Presenting the Family Restroom. Because mothers have sons, and fathers have daughters. And it wouldn't kill dad to change a diaper every once in a while.
DVD players in the car- I have no idea how anyone traveled with kids before these came along. It sounds like a luxury item, but I think like airbags and seatbelts, it has probably saved lives. (Driving while refereeing backseat squabbles is unsafe. And leaving your kids on the off ramp because you simply can't take it anymore is frowned upon.)
Spill-proof sippy cups- Great for little kids. I wish I could get the big kids to use them. In fact, we'd probably have fewer wine stains on the couch if everybody used them!
Attractive diaper bags- Because even babies don't want to carry around something with dorky looking ducks on it! Granted, the Peanut's diaper bag is blue silk with an asian flower pattern, but who's carrying the thing, him or me? (And I don't think we have to spend too much time worrying about Daddy carrying it either. Like that'll happen.)
Baby Entertainers- Kind of like walkers, but with solid bottoms so they can't go anywhere. And baby videos with classical music and spinning color thingys. Yes, I know I'm probably supposed to wear my baby all day and do nothing but interact with him, but sometimes Mommy has other stuff to do. How did June Cleaver manage to do the ironing and have her hair perfectly coiffed when Wally and the Beave were babies? One word: playpen. So back off.

Check out my new blog!

2009-10-11T22:01:00.000-07:00

Hey all! I started another side blog about my crafting projects. I'm hoping this might give me even more of a reason to actually finish a few of the many, many projects I start around here! I'll still update this blog with my usual snarky anecdotes, but craft stuff will go on my new blog, Project Incentive. See you there!

Step-parenting

2009-10-09T21:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Sony/Disney studios,

Thank you for continuing to promote the stereotype of the "evil" step-parent. As an evil stepmother myself, I can't tell you how useful your movies have been. As I command my little "minions" to load the dishwasher, I am reminded of your classics, such as Cinderella and Snow White. (Reminded by the "minions" themselves) Never mind the fact that I would command my own daughter to do the same chores. Never mind the fact that the "minion"s mother also commands him to do these same chores. (Actually more often, because my "evil queen" business allows me the time in my day to do the dishes myself, therefore only requiring assistance once a week or so.)

I would also like to thank you for the upcoming movie The Stepfather, because there is no way that will cause problems in blended family households. Sons of divorced/widowed mothers are always rational when it comes to a new man in mom's life, and your movie will no doubt be hilarious to them.

What you may fail to realize is that there are people who genuinely care about the children of their spouse. You may also fail to realize that while divorce is very difficult on parents and children, it can be particularly difficult for the people who marry the parents of that divorce. And guess what? Their job is more difficult. They have the unique opportunity to be responsible for the care of a child they have next to NO say in raising. Mom and Dad want Junior to take piano lessons? Step-mom ends up being the one to actually drive him to and from said lessons. Mom and Dad want Junior to take hunter's safety courses? Step-dad is the one who actually takes him hunting.

And after all the effort and love Step-mom and Step-dad may pour into Junior, he will always only have two parents. Mom and Dad. Not that Step-mom and Step-dad need a "thank you", (they know they'll rarely get one) but they would seriously appreciate being painted as the "villain" less often! Did anyone consider that Cinderella was a little mouthy, and therefore deserved to miss the big dance?

But you guys, major movie studios, don't care about all that. And I understand. Parenting is a thankless job, and step-parenting is even more so. It's not like we didn't know about these kids when we married their mom/dad. We just didn't plan on loving them. And we certainly didn't plan to be pissed off by your portrayal of our role in the family. But we can take it. We've had worse.

Sincerely,

Evil Step-Mother

Come here often?

2009-10-07T12:09:00.000-07:00

Sorry all, for staying away. Unfortunately we've had some "stuff" going on in our three-dimensional life which makes blog posting drop a few places on the list of things to do. The least of which is the technical difficulty I'm having with my laptop. I'm not sure what the technical term would be for the problem, but "won't turn on" has been working for me so far. And before you start throwing advice, like "try plugging it in", let me assure you that I have done all the stuff one is supposed to do, and I've spent an inappropriate amount of time on the phone with the guy from tech support. (I think he and I might be legally married in some countries) We (and by "we" I mean the fella who's Indian name I can't spell) think it's a motherboard problem. I'm pretty much writing it off, as it sounds expensive to fix and I didn't pay that much for it to begin with. But I am going to take it somewhere and see if someone far wiser than myself would be able to retrieve any data from the hard drive. (Hamnibijeesh seems to think it might be possible.) So I have been using my older laptop, which is much slower and doesn't have any of the bells and whistles that make things easier to use, like a memory card reader or a current version of Adobe. And it is the family computer, so I have to fight off the husband, teen and angel for my computer time. (Hopefully it will be another year or two before the peanut wants to be added to the schedule) *Sigh*

In addition, my father-in-law has been having some health problems and has been in the hospital for the last few weeks. The husband, who works four 12 hour days during the week plus an hour commute each way, has been spending the lion's share of his time-off at the hospital, which leaves the "holding down the fort" up to me. I don't mind,it's just a lot less free time without a baby on my lap. And holding babies makes typing quite difficult! As I'm not realistically expecting his condition to improve drastically in the near future, my blog posts may become fewer and farther between. Just for now. If praying is your thing, I ask that you do for him, as he has a difficult road ahead. Get well, Grandpa!

So, for my loyal readers, I hope you don't become discouraged when you keep checking and I haven't made a new post. I will check in from time to time when I've got something good to say. But in the meantime, the three dimensional people come first!

Homecoming

2009-09-15T21:49:00.000-07:00

It's Homecoming season again! For those of you who might not know, (seriously?) Homecoming is a special event in high school. I was asked what "Homecoming" was for, and the best I could come up with was this: homecoming is usually the third or fourth weekend of the school year, which often corresponds with the first weekend all the college kids choose to come home for a visit. (They only have so many clothes before they have to do laundry.) Therefore, a bunch of "alumni" are in town, and would like to see a football game. Over the years it has become less about the "homecoming" alumni, and more about the current high school students. Or at least, that's what I remember. Let's all take a trip back in time, shall we?

The husband and I live in the same small town where we went to high school. Our high school mascot is a Sheepherder. No, I'm serious. You can't even make that up! (H-E-R-D-E-R-S, Herders are the very best!) The official pic is shown above. (Yes, there was quite a ta-do recently about his "tobacco" use, which provided much fodder for those letter-to-the-editors.) While the husband was not much of a "joiner", I myself was very into the whole high school experience. I was a cheerleader for three years. (I was captain for two of those. It's not as awesome as it sounds.) I was also a varsity volleyball player, an award winning speech & drama geek, and played the flute in the pep/marching band. (Our school was in a parallel universe where it was cooler to be in the band than it was to be a cheerleader. I'm not kidding. There were 200 kids in our school, 9-12, and there were 108 kids in the band and only 5 cheerleaders. Band was cool here, take my word for it.)

The Teen is a freshman this year, and this is his first experience with a "small town" Homecoming. (The Sailor's high school is quite large, and homecoming just isn't as big of a deal there.) Last week I asked him if his class had decided on a parade float for the Homecoming parade. He looked at me like I was crazy. He just couldn't get the Macy's Day Parade out of his head and simply couldn't wrap his head around a home-made, chicken wire/tissue paper parade float, mostly due to the fact that his previous city never had parades like this. I asked him about the dress-up days, like "pajama" day and "toga" day and things like that. I asked him about the marching band's half-time show. (He is a drummer in the marching band.) No clue. This made me think that A) Homecoming is simply not as big of a deal as it was when I was there 14 years ago, or B) the Teen does not pay attention to what is going on around him and this disregard for his surroundings means I should spend a little more time teaching him how NOT to get hit by a bus. (My money is on option B.) But, I think he is finally figuring out the "happenings" this week.

First, he informed me that he could wear his pajamas to school Monday morning. (I had told him this was usually the case, but of course I have no idea what I'm talking about.) And the other "dress-up" days were Safari, Twins, Royalty, and Blue and White. Game day is always Blue and White, the school colors. But Safari day? What is that? And Royalty? I don't get it. Back in my day, (if you are under 17 feel free to roll your eyes and tune me out now...) the days were more like Toga day (obvious), Nerd day, Boy/Girl day (boys dress like girls and vice versa). But Safari? What would that be, exactly?

The band is playing a Michael Jackson song (duh) for the half time show, and the Teen had been chosen to march with the bass drum. This is funny because he is literally half the size of an average 14 year old. (He is quite short) Him marching with a bass drum should be something to see!

A couple things have changed since I was there. For one, they now nominate homecoming kings as well as queens. My senior year, there were only queens and my class nominated a boy to be Homecoming Queen, to demonstrate the reverse sexism. Now they have both. Another change is they have float "themes". When I was there it was anything goes, but now they give the classes a theme to follow. This year's theme is "boardgames", and the 9th graders have chosen Operation as their float idea. I actually think the theme concept is good, and I'm really looking forward to seeing what the other classes do. (Some people might also be curious as to what the other classes are doing for their floats. The Teen is not one of them.)

I'll try to get some pictures and get back to you with the results of the week. In the meantime, Go Herders!

Can you hear me now?

2009-09-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

I was always taught that the ears were in charge of the "hearing" a person does. Turns out that is not entirely accurate. I once saw a Rose is Rose comic strip that summed it up quite well. One of the little boys was telling the mother that people actually hear with their eyes. She was correcting him, reminding him that we use our ears to hear. He held her face between his hands, looked her straight in the eye and asked, "Now, don't you hear me better like this?" And she had to agree. And so do I, because that is the only way I can get my kids to hear a word I say! I thought about getting their hearing checked, but these same children can hear ice cream being scooped at a thousand paces, so it must be selective. There is something about the specific pitch of my voice that does not register in their ear drums, so clearly reading lips is the only way I can communicate with them. Well, that and turning off the TV. They hear that message loud and clear!

Television, our oft maligned family member

2009-08-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am aware of the research that says that children should not watch television, adults who watch it will get fat, babies who are "exposed" to it will never develop properly, yada, yada, yada. I don't care! We watch it, okay?! There, I said it. My name is Autumn, and I let my kids watch television!

The TV is on constantly in our living room. We have three TV's in the house. Although, that shouldn't really count because the TV in the teen's room isn't connected to the dish, (just DVD's and GameBox400 or whatever) and the TV in the angel's room can only view whatever is on the TV downstairs. Long story. (Our dish programing is for two different rooms, but one night in a fit of rage and super human strength, the husband snapped the primary remote in half with his bare hands, which I found both alarming and a little bit sexy! So now we are using the second remote as the only remote and both TVs show the same channel. Huh, I guess that story wasn't so long after all!)

I even let the baby watch it. I know, I know, bad mom award. All the research says that I should be carrying my baby with me all day, reading to him and showing him flashcards. Luckily I don't have anything else to do, like get the older kids ready for school or make dinner or anything. And forget folding laundry or taking a shower! Those little luxuries will have to wait! So, I plop him down in front of Blues Clues while I unload the dishwasher. So sue me! (Apparently TV can delay the onset of speech. You say that like it's a bad thing! I'm still trying to get the older kids to shut up!) But you know, kids television isn't what it used to be. Cartoons today, especially those found on Nick Jr or Noggin, are all about learning the ABCs and sharing and things like that. They're not like the old school cartoons, where anvils were dropped on heads. (Although, I kind of miss those old cartoons, violent though they may be!)

And I'm not letting them watch just anything! When the kids went back to school it took me two tries to "pry" the TV off of the Disney channel, where it had been for two months straight. And no Cartoon Network!! Those shows are terrible at best. The teen isn't allowed to watch his "grown up" cartoons while the angel is in the room, so he records Family Guy and gets up early to watch it. (It's one of those "pick your battles" things.)

When the kids aren't here, I often put the TV on HGTV or the History Channel and just let it play while I clean or feed the baby or play on the computer. Makes great background noise, and you never know when extensive knowledge of Emperor Nero might come in handy!

See, it's not all bad. I think that watching TV is one of those things that people complain about but do anyway, like co-sleeping, eating fast food, or buying gasoline. There's a ton of research that says we shouldn't do it, but that's not going to stop us. And how did we learn about that research? From TV, of course!

Congratulations! It's a (teenage) boy!

2009-08-22T21:13:00.001-07:00

Okay, here's a re-cap of our family situation, for those of you who may not have been following along. The husband has two sons from a previous marriage. The older boy is technically his step-son, (though only a baby when he was married) and is therefore not covered by any sort of custody agreement. And while we will always consider him a member of the family (you divorce wives, not children) he only visits when he wants to, which is becoming less frequent due to the fact that he is 17, has a job and girls to chase and things like that. (We don't take it personally.)

The younger son, however, is a different story. He was supposed to visit every other weekend, every other holiday and two weeks in the summer. Luckily, the husband and his ex-wife parted on good terms and have agreed to throw the "decree" out the window. He was visiting as often (or as sparingly) as he wanted, or as often as was convenient for both sets of parents, as his mother and step-father live approximately an hour away from us. Pretty much boiled down to every other holiday, about 1-2 weekends a month, and most of the summer.

But NOW...he has decided to come live here with us. He has been here most of the summer already, not counting a week or two back with his mom. Before, when he was visiting, he would share the angel's room, as the peanut's stuff was in the smaller room. With this kind of permanence, we moved the peanut's crib to our bedroom (he was sleeping in there anyway) and freed up some space for Brother 2.

I also had the joy of taking him in to register for high school. (he will be in 9th grade starting Monday!) This is the same high school I attended (only 14 years ago!), and many of the same teachers are still there!

This is going to be quite the change for all of us, and I'm sure it will give me plenty of blog fodder. So, I am re-naming Brother 1 and 2, in honor of this change. From now on, Brother 1 (the 17 year old) will be known as the Sailor, because he has decided to join the Navy after he graduates this May. And Brother 2 will be know as the Teen. (Let the eye rolling and angst begin!)

So, to sum up, we now have two adults, one infrequent sailor, one 9th grader, one 2nd grader and one 5 month old living in a 3 bedroom townhouse. Sounds crazy? Try living it! (insert maniacal laughter here)

I'd also like to wish the Teen a very happy 14th birthday! (tomorrow) His gift, a new cell phone. (His old one had a run-in with some water...not good.)

And I'd also like to ask all of you to wish me luck with parenting a teenager. I still feel like one myself...minus the ability to text 70 words a minute.

The Death of Emily Post

2009-08-19T10:33:00.000-07:00

Manners are one of those things that people acquire, whether through training ("What do say?" "Please?") or through maturity. ("Kids today are so disrespectful!") But all it takes is one trip to the movie theater to realize that manners may be on the way out. It's too bad, because being polite is a very attractive trait, one that is often undervalued. People may not notice when you are being polite, but they sure notice when you are not! So, humor me while I give a rundown of my own personal pet peeves and maybe a gentle reminder for all things manners related!

My Personal Pet Peeves

Don't forget to say "thank you"--I am in the habit of thanking people for pretty much anything. I once thanked a police officer for writing me a speeding ticket. (Although, that may be going too far) I thank waitresses, UPS guys, tele-marketers, my kids...pretty much a good habit to get into. (Note to all people who work customer service: You should be thanking ME! I'm doing you a favor by using your business...so when I thank you for whatever service you have provided, you should thank me for my patronage.)
"Excuse me" is not just for burping--If you bump into me in a crowd, say it. If you walk between me and whatever it is I'm looking at in the store aisle, say it. If you need to interrupt my conversation, if you need to divert your attention away from me while I'm speaking, if you didn't hear what I said, say it.
Don't crowd me--Granted, I may have a larger "personal space bubble" than most people, but I really don't like people to stand too close too me. This is my dance space, that is yours. Especially while I'm trying to enter my debit pin into the machine. Courtesy dictates you should look away...that means you, grandpa! Take a step back.
Don't drive with your parking lights on--okay, it's not really a "manners" thing, but it drives me crazy anyway. If it's dark enough for lights, it's dark enough for headlights. Parking lights are used when a car is parked. (As indicated by the name.) You can't drive a parked car, so don't drive with your parking lights on. Okay, somebody help me off this soapbox...
Put your damned phone away!!--Are you honestly so popular that you can't even go for two hours without checking your messages? And the glow from your phone in a darkened theater is like a giant spot-light shining on your Stupid Sign. Turn off your phone in theaters, churches, lectures, etc. And don't carry on a loud conversation in crowded hallways and elevators. No one else wants to hear about how much you hate your brother's girlfriend. (It just makes you seem catty) Pay attention to what is going on. Look both ways when crossing the street and be ready to order when you get to the front of the line. You should be paying attention to the real life people in front of you. It drives me crazy to see a group of teenage girls sitting together and each completely engrossed in a conversation with somebody "better" via text. If you absolutely must answer your phone or text while talking to me, please see the "excuse me" section.
I think the word you were looking for is "are"--I am not a teenager, therefore I do not recognize the words "r", "u", or "2". It's okay in a casual text or facebook comment, but if you want me to understand you in an email, please use actual words. DOAMBIDUADWTL. (Don't Over Acronym Me Because I Don't Understand And Don't Want To Learn.)
Super negative blog posts--I really hate it when people do nothing but bitch on their blogs! Oh, wait...

Vacation Part III

2009-08-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

Hey, everybody, sorry to leave you hanging. But you know how summer goes. So where was I? Oh, right, driving through South Dakota...

South Dakota is the largest state in these United States. Okay, not really. I don't think it even makes the top ten. But it certainly feels big when you are driving all the way across it! South Dakota is a well known tourist destination in it's own right. The Black Hills are truly beautiful and the area around Mount Rushmore has a bunch of kitchy, touristy spots that are really fun to visit.

And then there's the rest of the state. The 90% of SD that is not the Black Hills is mostly farmland and tourist traps. And the farther east you get, the more ridiculous and desperate they get. "Last chance to see the biggest teepee ever made out of drinking straws!"

Here is a giant stretched car on top of a billboard. (Which, by the way, is one of 7 million billboards that blemish the lovely farmland through which I-90 travels.) I think this is advertising a car museum, which I think the husband would have enjoyed if we weren't so tired and weren't in such a rush to get home.I really have no idea what this was all about. Clearly it's a T-rex skeleton, and it's human owner, out for an evening stroll. Totally normal right? Except that this was just outside of the (in)famous 1880 Town, which is a replica of an 1880 town. (Thus the clever name.) I think the lesson here is that back in 1880, human and dinosaur skeletons were able to exist peacefully together. We can all learn a little something from history.

After a LOOOONNNG day in the car, we decided to stop in the Rapid City area and stay the night. We saw multiple RV parks in the Black Hills on our way, and we hoped that there might be a vacancy in one of them. It was still several weeks until the famous Bike Rally, so we hoped that pulling in to town at 9pm wouldn't have us camping in the Walmart parking lot. (We drove past Sturgis, which it turns out is just a normal, suburban town for 50 weeks of the year.)

We pulled into a really cute RV park, which was across the street from Reptile Gardens. (We didn't go...the husband and I have been before and the angel wasn't interested in a zoo dedicated to snakes and spiders. *shudder*) After relaxing for awhile, we decided to stay an extra day in the Black Hills to rest before another 8 hour day in the car.

We had taken the husband's older boys on a trip there back in 1998, but the angel had never been. So we went to Mount Rushmore, which is pretty cool the first time, but if you have been there 7 or 8 times (like I have) you start to see the hype. The angel took one look and said, "Neat," and then asked where we would be eating lunch. But first we made the kids pose for pictures...it just felt like the right thing to do.

We stopped in Keystone, the ultimate of ultimate tourist trap towns, and rode the Alpine slide. (Which was actually kind of fun!) And I drug the husband through the Presidential Wax Museum. This was actually really cool, and he even admitted afterward that it was fun and educational. Even the angel was enjoying herself, and they give you little remote control things that narrate the tour, so she was learning a lot about our past presidents.

We followed up by visiting the Prairie Berry winery, where Mommy had a great time sampling wine and Daddy got to entertain the kids. I bought some Red Ass Rhubarb wine, which is a little sweet for my taste but I plan to save it for a special occasion.

And after all that, the ride home was pretty uneventful. As exciting as vacationing is, as fun as it is to travel and see new things, it always feels good to come home. And, a month later, I'm STILL trying to get caught up on laundry.

Vacation...Part II

2009-07-16T16:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, so we're relaxing by the lake in southern Minnesota. Lot's of visiting and rides on the pontoon. The husband even managed to squeeze in a couple naps. (Every day. I've decided to take lessons from him in acquiring some "alone" time. You just disappear, and by the time anyone notices you aren't around, you've managed a decent nap. Of course, that doesn't work as well when your son depends solely on you for his sustenance, but the idea is a good one!)

My husband is not an urbanite. Large cities make his blood pressure rise to dangerous levels. I, however, enjoy what cities have to offer in the way of entertainment. My angel had never been to a zoo before, so I planned a day trip to the Minneapolis/St.Paul area, where my sister lives. The husband, after having seen my sister and my nephew only the day before on the lake, elected to stay behind and catch up on his drinking and napping. (After all, what's vacation for?) Our plan was to visit the Como park zoo and later stop at the Mall of America.

Como zoo is a rather small zoo, but they do have a lot of really neat animals, from silver back gorillas to lions and tigers to zebras and giraffes. Overall, pretty darn cool. And by "cool" I mean ridiculously hot. As we whisked our strollers through the crowds (more like plowed, but whatever) the children began to melt. And finally one little two year old boy (my nephew) had a complete meltdown. (Something about his sippy cup rolling away...and a skinned knee...I'm not sure, my toddler-ese is a little rusty)

Luckily, the mall is air conditioned. This was not our first time to this particular monument to consumerism. (Technically it was the peanut's first time but all he really saw was the inside of his eyelids most of the time.) But the main reason we were stopping there was to see the new American Girl store.

(Side-bar--American Girl is a brand of doll with an almost limitless marketing budget. As soon as a baby girl is born she will receive no fewer than two catalogs a month until she is old enough to realize that the cute little dolls are actually for sale, and then she will receive three catalogs a month. The "historical" dolls cost around $100 each, which is less than I paid for my microwave, and they don't even do dishes or anything! Trust me, if you have a daughter, you will eventually have the "can I have an American Girl doll?" conversation.)

My angel had been lobbying for an American Girl doll for at least two years now. We managed to put her off temporarily by requesting that Santa bring her an off-brand doll for one third the price. Sadly, some of her school "friends" informed her that hers wasn't "real", so she stepped up the begging for a "real" one. Now, my angel is quite girly, and I had no doubt that she would get a lot of enjoyment from the doll. She is also very gentle with her things, so I knew she would take good care of it. The problem is, I don't want her to think she can just have everything she asks for, and especially want her to know exactly how much $100 is! So I told her that she would have to earn the money to buy the doll by doing extra chores around the house. We printed up some American Girl "dollars", and I would give them to her for chores. The beauty of this idea is that the "dollars" couldn't be spent on anything else, and were therefore useless to other denizens of her room who may "mistakenly" think they belonged to him. (You know who you are.) Plus, who has cash laying around to give? (If only she took Visa...) But at least it was something tangible for each chore completed, and it also helped her with her counting and goal-setting.

Problem is, what kind of chores can a tiny seven-year-old complete on her own without constant supervision? I also didn't want her to think that she should be paid for every little thing she does around the house. Some chores you do simply because you are a member of this family. For example, doing the dishes is not a paying chore, especially because I have to stand there and help her and it's actually more work than if I would have just done it myself, but it's the principle of the thing, you know? She also has to fold and put away her own laundry. (A few more inches of height and she can wash it too!) But I'll pay her to fold the baby's laundry. Luckily his laundry is 10% sleepers and 90% blankets and burp rags, so it's not too tough. Another good chore for a 7 year old is to hand her a tube of Clorox wipes and have her wipe down all the door knobs, hand rails and light switches in the house. You'd be surprised how nasty those things get!

After six months, and cashing in some birthday bucks, she finally had enough, so rather than order it online we wanted to go to the store to buy the doll. She chose to buy Elizabeth, who is from colonial times, but I think she was chosen because she is blonde with blue eyes and pierced ears. (Priorities!) I think that my angel considers herself lucky to be able to purchase such a special doll, and she has (so far) treated the doll as such.

In addition to that, we got to see some Nick Jr. characters, like Dora and Kai-Lan. My little nephew wanted to have his picture taken with Dora...until he got up close! Poor guy freaked out! (I would think that a 5 foot Dora would be a little disconcerting!)

All in all, I think we had a great day in the "big city". And the husband? He got to ride a Waverunner all afternoon. Perfect day, all the way around!

Oh, but that's not all! Tune in for the return trip!

Vacation...Part I

2009-07-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody, sorry about being "missing" for so long. But you know, it's summer. And on that note, our family recently went on vacation. And by "vacation" I mean a trip where I, the woman, must launder, pack and carry all the items we bring and my darling husband, the man, will drive. Okay, he did check the oil in our vehicle. Husband-2...Wife-467.

So as our "vacation" neared, the husband was working. And, honestly, he works 12 hour days, and with the commute it's more like 14, so I wasn't expecting much help. But we were visiting my family in southern Minnesota, and we were borrowing (renting) a small RV from some friends, so in addition to our usual travel packing, we had to add all of the lake items, like floaty-ies and life jackets, as well as all the camping items like folding chairs and picnic tables.

The husband got off work (off the bus) at 7:30pm. He went to bed so he could get a couple hours of sleep before we left at 2:00ish. We actually left around 4:00am. (Anyone who knows me personally won't be surprised by the delay. But most people that know us might be surprised to know that the reason for the delay is almost never me personally, no matter what the husband might say! He is often late, even though the responsibility for "ready-ing" all of the children falls completely in my lap. And still he will ask, "Why aren't you ready" even though we have been ready for so long that, while waiting for him, I have had to remove the baby from his carseat and feed him... AGAIN!) Now, if you ask around, some people will tell you that I am difficult to travel with. I tend to have a small bladder and a sleepy disposition. This does not an excellent co-pilot make! But I think I may have gotten a bad rep here. First of all, everytime someone asks me to "take over" the driving, it's always at 3:00 in the morning, so of course I'm tired and can't drive for long! No one ever asks me to take over the driving at 10 in the morning! A donut and a RedBull and I'm ready to go! Plus, I've learned through years of traveling that if you sleep, the trip is much shorter!!

I'd also like to mention that my bladder was not actually a factor here. We were traveling with two adults, a 7 year old, a 3 month old and a 2000 Dodge Durango towing a small travel trailer. Luckily, the Durango's gas tank, the baby's stomach and the husband's bladder were all about the same size, meaning we had to stop every two hours or so for one or the other. Still, we took what should be a 14 hour drive and turned it into a 21 hour drive! Luckily my relatives were waiting up for us! (Until 2:00 in the morning!)

But, it was 4th of July, and the lake my aunt lives on has a fabulous boat parade for the holiday, and many people had purchased fireworks out of state to light off! (Illegal in MN, so I won't mention names!!) We got to see multiple relatives I hadn't seen in years, and we got to see how their kids had grown! We had a blast playing on the lake, and I want to send a great big thank you to my aunt and uncle for hosting our party!

But that's only part of the story...tune in soon for more!

Baby Fat

2009-06-26T23:00:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows that women gain weight when they have a baby. Children have a drastic effect on mother's physique, and in so many ways! In a perfect world, nursing a baby would cost enough calories for mommy to lose that extra "baby weight". But there are many other variables to consider.

First, if mommy lived near a taco stand or if there was a Dairy Queen near her doctor's office, there might be more weight to lose. Also, screaming babies have a way of convincing you that you deserve a glass (or two) of wine in the evening. And if you have older children and a baby, your commitment to "healthy" family dinners is relaxed. Even if you were previously serving your darlings grilled chicken on a bed of fresh spinach, these days you're slicing hotdogs into a can of Spagettios on the days you don't order pizza. And if they don't finish all of their EasyMac or chicken nuggets, mommy will often step up to ensure that it doesn't go to waste! Don't forget the vegetable stand-off. Of course they like corn...it's not really a vegetable. (Look it up, it's actually a grain.) But if you offer them broccoli they will accuse you of trying to poison them. And the more kids you have, the more expensive it is to feed them. Every child I've ever met can hoover prime rib or crab legs, but wouldn't touch a meatloaf with a ten foot pole. And so, the "mommy weight" is inevitable.

In the plus side, chasing toddlers can be rather exhausting! And I don't know of many mothers with children under 10 who are able to actually finish a meal without needing to tend to someone else's needs. They also find themselves "sharing" their soda or ice cream cone. But who has time to workout when you are just trying to make it through the day without tearing your hair out? The experts say, if you want to lose weight you need at least 8 hours of sleep a night. And you can get it...after your kids are in college!

The consolation here is that all mommies are in the same boat as I am. (Except those few, you know who they are, that are back to running marathons a few days after giving birth. We must expose these women for what they are...freaks of nature.) One author wrote that pregnancy is actually 18 months...nine months on the inside and nine on the outside! SO technically, I'm still "pregnant" and my little parasite is the reason for the increase in the number on the tag of my jeans. Well...that and the taco stand.

Golf

2009-06-13T22:21:00.000-07:00

It's a sport, kind of. It's a social event, in a way. It's a drinking game, for some of us. Yes, it's golf.

I started playing golf in 2005, I think. I signed up to take a couple lessons with a few of my friends, mostly for a fun thing to do together. I borrowed some clubs from my husband's brother's wife's sister's ex-husband. (I love small towns!) I should premise by saying that I was a girl jock, and I tend to have what is know as "beginner's luck" with sports. I do really great my first time out and then...I never get any better than that. So my golf game is probably about the same as it was at my first lesson. First of all, I played a lot of softball, and a golf swing is totally different, yet similar enough to confuse the old muscle memory. And second, I don't want to get better. I'm not going to work on my short game or practice my swing, so why get worked up over my lack of skill?

I golf once a week, on Wednesday nights, in a ladies league. This is perfect for me, for several reasons. It's evening, so my mom can watch the kids for me. Some of the ladies that golf are really good, and I think that I've actually improved just by watching them and listening to the pointers they offer. And most of the ladies are there to have a good time first and if some golfing gets done, well, that's a bonus! It gives me a chance to hang out with "the girls" and we only have to talk about kids if we want to. (Bragging or bitching...both tend to come up!)

It's also a great networking opportunity, and not just ladies league. If my future boss asks me if I'd like to join them for a round of golf, not only do I have my own clubs (what's-his-name needed his back) but I have enough skill to not embarrass myself completely.

Plus, it's pretty. Cute little pink balls, kacky capris and polos, and the famous sun visor. It's classy. And while I usually avoid nature if I can help it, I love the groomed grass of a golf course, dotted with sparkling ponds and streams and scattered with patches of white sand, perfectly smooth all the time. (It's the rules) I also love the courtesy of it all. You are more skilled than I? Of course you may play through so that I am not causing you to wait unduly. I will stand quietly whilst you focus on your swing, and don't worry about where your ball landed...I'll watch it for you. You are a less skilled player? Allow me to offer you a handicap, altering my score so that we may play on equal footing. And never shall I cast a shadow on the line of your putt. Pip, pip, cherrio!

So if you are not already partaking of summer's best sport, I encourage you to try it. But remember folks...it's just a game!

**There is an urban legend that claims the origin of the word "golf" is actually an acronym for Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden. This is untrue, and I have taken it upon myself to dispel this terrible stereotype. The word actually comes from the Scottish word "golv" which is a mispronunciation of the Danish word "kolv" meaning "club". So don't let your husband have all the fun!

Baby STUFF

2009-06-02T23:18:00.001-07:00

One of the things they never tell you about having a baby, is how much STUFF they come with and just to what extent that stuff will take over your life. I took this picture a few minutes ago to demonstrate exactly how out of control my livingroom has become with baby things. Of course, just to the left of the frame is an old A-frame style baby swing and just barely out of the picture to the right is a fabric bouncy seat. So this snapshot is really just the tip of the iceberg! As a child I really enjoyed the I-Spy books and games, so lets play it now...with my livingroom.

Can you find...

-a package of diapers

-a stapler

-2006's "it" sandals espadrilles jockeying for space with 2009's "it" gladiator sandals

-a large box of breast pads which prevent me from ruining every shirt I own

-5 "dirty" diapers, all wrapped up and no where to go

-a basket of clean laundry that has yet to be folded...oh, who's kidding whom here, will never be folded

-a can of fancy mixed nuts containing only almonds as someone has picked all of the cashews out already.

-a bottle of "mommy's little helper", Mylicon. (You thought I was going to say wine, didn't you? I removed that bottle before I snapped the picture.)

-a drink "koozie" with no drink

-a beach ball with no beach

-a glass of water sitting right NEXT to, but of course not ON, a sandstone coaster

-a basket that is supposed to corral the diapers but is in fact the only place in the room no diapers can be found

-an adorable sleeping baby who makes the whole mess worthwhile

The husbands other new baby

2009-05-18T15:43:00.000-07:00

My husband is not a spender. He can squeeze the life out of a nickel better than any two people I know. He also didn't get that "college days" portion of his life, skipping directly from a child to a husband and father. So it really didn't come as a surprise to me that he's having his "mid-life crisis" a little pre-mid-life. Last summer he bought a motorcycle, (although, with the gas prices so high it was actually the "responsible" thing to do!) and this summer he bought a raft.

For some people, the word "raft" brings to mind a few logs strapped together by Ginger and the Professor. Oh, no. This is a river raft with an aluminum oar frame. It's like a whitewater raft, only not really. He spent a lot of time researching these things. It's all he could talk about! (If you polled his co-workers, none of them would know the name of our 2 month old son, but most of them would be able to tell you that the husband just bought a 14 foot raft!) When our neighbor offered to give him an oar frame (retail:$600!) the husband was so excited! He was just like a little kid at Christmas time!

Rafting, or "floating the river" as it is called around here, is a major pastime in our neck of the woods. We live at the confluence of two famous rivers, one for being the longest, free-flowing river in the country (meaning it doesn't have any dams or locks or anything), and the other is famous for being the "river that runs through it" in the movie. I'm told that both rivers are excellent for fly-fishing. Not that we would know. We don't fish. (What if you catch something? Then what do you do with it? The step between casting a line and frying trout in butter is a step that I want to continue to skip!) And it's not like we're whitewater rafting, either. That looks scary. And you might spill your beer.

We've had this raft since April, and the husband has already floated four times. Personally, I like to wait for the temperature to go above 65 degrees before I set foot in a river consisting almost primarily of (just) melted snow. But last weekend, I was finally able to try out "our" latest toy. (And by "our" I mean "his". He swears it's for both of us, but he uses it frequently without me and I have a feeling that if I wanted to use it without him, he would have a serious fit.)

The husband's 13 year old son was visiting us for the weekend, so we went for a "float", the husband, the older boy, the angel and me. (Peanut is too small. It might not be whitewater, but it's still a river, ya know?) I packed sandwiches for a picnic. (This is what had been missing from the other floats, which is why you should always invite women...they often bring food.) The older boy had done this before, in fact, he floated much of the way on an inner tube, awkwardly perched like a cat in a bathtub! (That water is cold!!) The angel had never been on the river before, and her reaction was priceless! Everytime we would hit some rapids, or as she called them, "rabbits", she would shriek and giggle and carry on. Probably more than was really called for, since the "rapids" were about the size of a jet boat wake. She would call out, "Stir, Daddy, stir!" I guess she wasn't quite sure what he was doing with those big "spoons" on the side of the boat, but whatever it was, he should do it faster! We stopped on an island to enjoy our picnic, and both kids scarfed down the smoked turkey with pesto sandwich, proving they are less persnickity when they are genuinely hungry. A couple hours and a bottle of sunscreen later, we were done. Tired, dirty and a little chilled, we returned home to collect the peanut. (A nursing mamma needs her baby after a few hours apart!)

To be fair, we had a great time. It was wonderful to crack jokes and quote movies with the husband, to play word games with the kids, and to watch my step-son try to teach my angel how to skip rocks. Just the four of us, trapped together on a 14 foot raft with nothing to do but talk to each other and snack on Cheez-its. Maybe the raft wasn't such a silly purchase after all!

The Diaper Debate (a little long, bare with me)

2009-05-13T10:38:00.001-07:00

So babies need diapers. Back when I was a child, mothers wrapped folded pieces of cloth around baby's bum, used gigantic safty pins with ducks on them to hold it together and covered it with vinyl pants. When soiled, the cloths went into a big bucket of water to soak until wash day. And the smell was awful. Did I miss anything?

Then came the fabulous technology of disposable diapers. These are pieces of paper and plastic wrapped around baby's bum, which are simply thrown away after use. They have evolved to include some sort of mystery substance that turns into little jelly "seeds" when wet. I'm pretty sure this is the absorbent part, but I don't know what it is, until I see it tucked into the folds around baby's thighs because the diaper "over-absorbed", if you know what I mean.

Lately there has been some debate over which of these methods is the best, for the baby and the environment. I have noticed a marked increase in the amount of trash I take out each week, so much that we may have get the larger sized can for our household. (The blue thingys you haul out to the street once a week) Our baby, on average, uses two garbage bags (the tall kitchen drawstring variety) of diapers each week. As he gets bigger he will use fewer diapers, but the diapers will get bigger, so I figure this is what we can expect from him. Now, in our tiny town of 3,000 people, let's assume there are 100 kids in diapers, for the sake of easy math. (That's newborns through 3-4 year olds, and it's a pretty good approximation) That's two hundred bags of diapers each week, or 10,400 bags of human poop going to our landfill each year!(And this is just a tiny rural town. Now imagine a city's diaper load!!) Not to mention the fact that those diapers will take 500 years or so to break down, due to the amount of plastic and "mystery jelly seeds" they contain. And on that note, what are those mystery jelly seeds? Are they going to tell me down the road that they cause cancer? (Like talc baby powder.)

So I decided to look into cloth diapers. I remember my younger siblings wearing them, and one never forgets the smell of the "diaper pail". However, doing a little internet research, today's cloth diapers are totally different. These ain't your mamma's cloth diapers! Sure, they still have regular squares of cloth, but even the pins have gone the way of 8-track tapes. Now they use a thing called a Snappi to hold them together, or you can use a "wrap", where you just lay the diaper in it and it goes on with velcro. Plus, and this is my favorite part, they make what they call AIO's or All In Ones. These diapers have an absorbent inner and a waterproof outer, so they work just like disposables except instead of throwing them away, you wash them. Plus, they come in cute colors and prints. You almost don't want to cover them with pants! And they don't go into the bucket of putrid water, either. They sit in a dry pail until wash day, which surprisingly is less smelly. For my little breastfed baby, smelly isn't really a huge problem. But once he starts eating food, this is something to think about!

The debate claims that washing the diapers is just as bad for the environment as throwing them away, and they have a point. I usually wash clothes in cold water, but diapers need to be washed in hot water. However I usually use about a 1/4 to 1/2 cup of detergent in a load of laundry, but in the diaper load I only use about a tablespoon of liquid detergent. (Seems counter-intuitive, but you don't want too much soap with your diapers. It also makes me wonder if I'm using way too much soap with my clothes, which are far less "dirty" than diapers! Something to think about.) And they use no bleach or other harsh chemicals (except the occasional Oxyclean) and no fabric softener (or dryer sheets). So in reality, a load of diapers costs probably half what a load of regular laundry costs me. And the water from your washing machine goes to the same place as the water from your toilet. And they are prepared to treat human waste at those facilities. The landfill is not. We are supposed to be removing as much poop as we can from disposables too, (it says so on the package!) but hardly anybody does this. Cause, lets face it, it's icky. And if you have to take that extra step and deal with the poop, than the "simplicity" of disposables isn't so simple after all.

Now let's talk money. We go through a little more than a package of diapers (80 count) a week. That's about $10.99 every week. (Not counting wipes, which is debate for another day!) And we use Luvs, a mid-priced diaper because the cheaper "store" brand diapers tend to leak and gave my angel terrible diaper rash. But if you use higher end diapers (Pampers, Huggies) add another two or three bucks. That's $572 a year, times three years (I'm being super optimistic here!) is $1,716. (Or $2,184 if you use Huggies.) I don't know about you all, but a thousand here, a thousand there...pretty soon it starts to add up to real money! If you bought the most expensive cloth diapering system, you'd pay about $600. Total. That's for the BumGenius brand system. And there are many less expensive options.

So, I've decided to give cloth a chance. I have chosen to sew my own diapers, saving even more money! Plus, it's kind of fun. Here are some pictures of a few of my "creations".

These diapers have a fleece outer, and a microfiber soaker inside. (Think ShamWow, only less hokey.) The pattern is a hybrid between Mama Bird and Rita's Rump patterns, both free on the internet. My first try was a disaster, but now I think I've got it figured out! (Lest you think that I am one of those seamstress, stay-at-home moms, let me assure you that I am not! I can barely sew a straight stitch, and I'm using an archaic sewing machine that used to belong to the husbands mother. We rescued it from a storage barn and cleaned it up. It has two speeds, zero and seventy miles per hour.)

We still use disposables too, but hopefully we can cut back by using cloth, and as my "stash" of diapers increases we can use less and less! I'll let you know about some of the trials and tribulations of using cloth as I get more into it. But for now, it's something I want to try, if for no other reason than to say that I gave it a shot!

Oh, Momma!

2009-05-04T21:56:00.000-07:00

Yes, Mother's Day is approaching. Have you got something for your mother, yet? I got my mother's day gift last Saturday, when the husband took me shopping for clothes. Without kids. (Does it seem wrong that I wanted to commemorate Mother's Day by pretending I don't have any kids for 5 or 6 hours?) We would have done it on actual Mother's Day, but my mom was taking care of the kids for us, and next weekend she and her girlfriends are road tripping to go to an Eagles concert. (Once your kids are grown you get to act like coeds again. I can't wait!) So we took advantage of the free babysitting last weekend instead.

For those of you keeping score, this was the first time I have left my peanut. (Except once, I left him with his father for twenty minutes to run to the grocery store, and I called home twice to check on them.) It has been awhile since I've had an infant around, and I forgot the "baby time warp". (Those of you who are fans of Paul Reiser, the Mad About You guy, may know that babies warp time in two ways: A. You can shake plastic keys until your arm hurts, play a rousing game of "stick out your tongue", engage in a thousand rounds of peek-a-boo, only to realize a mere 15 minutes have passed, and B. The simple acts of showering, dressing, eating and getting out the door with a baby takes 3.5 hours.) I also had to offer a short clinic on the use of a bottle warmer, and a quick tutorial on how to use the stroller. (The thing has more bells and whistles than my first car.) Then I walked out the door, leaving them in my mother's capable hands. (If she has questions, the angel knows what to do.)

The shopping was both painful and necessary. I decided it was time to get out of my maternity jeans. (I didn't want my friends and family to have to stage an intervention.) But my pre-baby jeans were creating a little more muffin top than I am comfortable with. (By the way, you're not a size 10 if all your fat is squished out the top. Just buy the 14 and get over it!) But I love shopping with the husband! For one thing, he has absolutely no fashion sense, so he never offers anything but a smile and nod when asked direct questions in a clothing store. He also turns into Daddy Warbucks. Can't decide between two pairs of jeans? Get 'em both, baby! (Oddly enough, this is the same man who has a fit when I spend money on a sweater from the clearance rack. Apparently, I've cheated him out of the opportunity to buy me six of them!) So I took advantage of him, and some fabulous sales, and purchased a new, plus-size wardrobe. (This is of course to tide me over until I get back into my "skinny jeans". It could happen!)

But when I was carting my purchases into the house, I realized that almost half of what I had bought that day had been for the kids. New swimsuits for the angel, and some adorable mini swim trunks for the peanut. It's just so much fun to shop for them! And after all, spending my day away from kids buying things for those kids is why they have a Mother's Day in the first place!

And on that note, a heart-felt THANK YOU to my own Mom, without whom I would never be able to leave the house. Thank you for loving my babies as much as I do!

Wait...what?

2009-04-27T23:43:00.000-07:00

As my loyal readers (all five of you) can attest, most of my recent posts have been about my kids in some way. Well, after spending 5 weeks of doing almost nothing but childcare, I'm ready to talk about something else. ANYTHING else. So I read a blog earlier today that got me thinking...

The blogger dude (I can't remember the name, or I would quote him) was "talking" about song lyrics, and how people often sing the wrong words by mistake. There is even a technical term for this: mondegreen. It came from some guy hearing "upon the green" as "mondegreen". There are many famous examples, and I have included some of my favorites here:

- Jimi Hendrix
Wrong lyrics: S'cuse me while I kiss this guy
Real lyrics: S'cuse me while I kiss the sky
This one is so famous, and so often misheard, that there is a website, www.kissthisguy.com that has frequently misheard lyrics!

-Creedence Clearwater Revival
Wrong: There's a bathroom on the right
Right: There's a bad moon on the rise
I gotta admit, I can't hear the difference here. If no one had told me, I'd still be singing it wrong.

-Pearl Jam
Wrong: Jeremy's smokin' grass today
Right: Jeremy's spoken yesterday
To be honest, if you understood Eddie Veder, than you've probably been smokin' grass today too.

-Garth Brooks
Wrong: Looooonnnngg, Nick Bottom
Right: Loooonnngg, neck bottle
This one was one of my youngest step-son's gems...that kid cracks me up!

-Iron Butterfly
Wrong: Inna gadda da vida, baby
Right: In the garden of Eden, baby
Okay, to be perfectly truthful here, you weren't singing the wrong lyrics...they were. My extremely reliable sources (a VH1 special) tell me that the songs lyrics were supposed to be "in the garden of Eden" but the dudes were so strung out that no one (even the song producers) could make out what they were singing. It might also explain the 17 minute drum solo.

-Alanis Morrisette
Wrong: This cross-eyed bear that you give to me
Right: This cross I bear that you gave to me
She was so angry, of course she wasn't annunciating! BTW, I highly recommend her Jagged Little Pill album to anyone who has "man trouble". It will either: A. lead you to a place where a jury of your peers will decide whether or not it was justifiable homicide or B. it will put your silly problems into perspective. Totally worth the $13.99!

-Kiss
Wrong: I wanna rock and roll all night, and part of every day!
Right: I wanna rock and roll all night, and party everyday!
Okay, we're really talking semantics here, but one can hardly blame people for only wanting to rock and roll for part of the day. After all, if you party everyday, how are you supposed to rock and roll the next night, hmmm?

So I'm sure there are plenty more, after all the songs "Louie, Louie" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" alone provide us with endless fodder! But I would love to hear what some of your favorite misheard lyrics are.

My Love/Hate Relationship with Holidays

2009-04-13T15:00:00.000-07:00

If you were to ask anyone who knows me, even slight acquaintances, they would tell you that I love holidays. I always make a big deal out of them. I love carving pumpkins and cooking turkeys and decking the halls and dying eggs. I even make a big deal out of the less obvious holidays. Leprechauns always visit our house on St. Patricks day, and leave a little trail of gold coins leading to a little surprise! (Like a fancy shamrock hair ribbon or something.) I don a sombrero and make enchiladas on Cinco de Mayo. (The margaritas make the hat easier to pull off.) The problem is, while holidays are super fun and create special memories for my kids, (not to mention photo ops) they are a ton of work for me.

I am fully in charge of holidays around here. The husband's contribution to holiday preparation is to put on a clean shirt, which I suppose is better than the alternative! This year we were a little late in getting our Easter decorations up, for obvious reasons. (This has given the angel one more thing to add to her "life was better before my brother was born" list.) In fact, the angel put some of them up on Saturday and the rest just didn't make it out this year. (Mommy is busy!!) It was actually a bit of a battle to have the husband retrieve the decoration boxes from storage at all, but the baskets and plastic "hunting" eggs are in there, and I told him if he wouldn't get them for me I would go out and buy all new ones. (I had the boxes two hours later.)

Not only is the set up and decorating tiresome, but holidays are notorious for lack of sleep. First, Mommy has to stay up late...cleaning and stuff. Then the kids are up at the crack of dawn to see the treasures, which means that Mom and Dad are up too. (These are the same kids who must be awakened with a whip and a chair on school days.)

When I was growing up, holiday dinners happened at around 3 in the afternoon. My parents had time for a cup of coffee, a leisurely shower and maybe even time to make a meal or a dish to take if we were going elsewhere. The husband's family dinners are at noon. (They are serious about this. We once arrived at 12:30 and the food was already being put away.) This means that we have to scramble to get everyone dressed and ready to go on time. ("Look at all this neat stuff the Easter Bunny brought for you! But don't take it out, we've got to go!") Easter is even worse, because they do an Egg Hunt for the kids at 10. In the morning. This might not seem like such a big deal to most people, but it is damn near impossible for me to shower, dress, do something with my hair and make-up, assist the angel in her dressing, (tights are tough to put on) dress and feed the peanut, (that one really hurt, because feeding him is a half hour of sitting and doing nothing but watch the minutes roll by and think about all the things I should be doing.) and then make three dozen deviled eggs. I tried to enlist the husband's assistance, but he has proven himself to be next to useless when it comes to putting on tights and tying pretty bows. He also is not equipped to feed the baby. He did "help" me by peeling some of the hard boiled eggs, but that actually turned out to be a fiasco as well. (I'm not sure what he was doing to them, but his eggs looked like he removed the shell by shooting it off with bird shot. I finally had to send him to the showers or we weren't going to have enough "smooth" eggs to devil.)

Anyway, we arrived only an hour and a half late, though luckily they held the egg hunt for us. (I think they feel sorry for the angel because her mother wasn't up at 5 am. And they already know how much help her father is.) I was finally able to snag a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, wishing the whole time that I could be napping. What good is all that preparation if you are too tired to actually enjoy the big day? What's the point in running yourself ragged visiting relatives, only to return to the disaster you left at home with no energy to do anything but lay on the couch and survey the damage.

I'm looking forward to Mother's Day. (Just not all the work I'll have to do to prepare for it.)

Milk leg

2009-04-06T12:29:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, (I don't know the actual time period...Yor, maybe?) women who had just given birth were required to lay abed for a month or so. This led to something known as "milk leg", when the new mother became weak and sore and had a difficult time moving around afterward. This might just be the hypochondriac in me, but I think I have that.

I like the idea, though. They recognized that giving birth (I like to say "giving birth" rather than "having a baby" because "having" sounds like something that happens to you and "giving" sounds like something you do...and believe me, I DID something.) was a difficult and traumatic experience, and women needed help and a long time to recover, physically. I think most were just happy to have survived at all.

Of course, now-a-days women are supposed to bounce right back. Actresses are seen on the red carpet only 3 days after giving birth? (Although, who's kidding whom here? Actresses' children are born by professional stunt women.) And there is a subtle pressure to regain normal activity as soon as possible. Not by your doctor, of course. Those guys tell you to "take it easy" for up to six weeks! No, the pressure comes from other sources. Like my angel, who whines because I'm feeding the baby and not making the Easy Mac she requested, and she's starving to death and I care more about taking care of the baby than I do about taking care of her. (She should sell tickets for these little guilt trips.) And the husband, who thinks I should go DO something instead of sitting around the house all day. Why would I take a newborn out of his warm sanctuary and into the cold and flu ridden world unless absolutely necessary? Not to mention going out with a two week old requires more planning than a shuttle launch. I could go for a walk, but walking is still a little painful. (not to mention cold!) Don't these guys realize I'm only half way through my "milk month"? They should consider themselves lucky I'm not laying in bed making them wait on me, instead of the other way around.

Mason William

2009-03-28T21:17:00.000-07:00

We welcomed our little boy at 4:20pm on March 23, 2009. He is a perfect little angel, and looks so much like his sister did! We couldn't be more happy with him! And check out all that blonde hair!

You may be wondering why this post took so long to get up here. Well, let me explain. (No, there is too much, let me sum up.) First, you probably remember the botched induction on the 19th. (If not, check out my last couple posts) Well, the birth center called and had a room for us on the 23rd, and would we like to come in for another try? (Uh, yeah we would.) They had some sort of mass exodus, discharging more than 10 women the day before, so we loaded our stuff (we hadn't unpacked) and tried again. We had much better luck. I started the medicine around 8:00 in the morning, after the nurses finally got an IV going. (Side note: why do health care "professionals" never listen to me? I tried to tell the girl that the veins in my hands collapse, and she could save herself some time, and me a lot of pain, if she would just put it in that big, bulging vein on my forearm. You should see the bruises on the backs of both of my hands.) We hung out, watched a movie and watched my contractions on the the monitor. Somewhere around noon, they started to get uncomfortable, so I asked for an epidural, something I didn't get the chance to experience with my angel. (And am now wondering about the wisdom of that decision. Stay tuned.) Once in place, which is a procedure that the husband is trying desperately to erase from his memory, my doctor came in to break my water. By this time it was almost 3, so I called my mom to tell her that baby was taking his time, and that she and the angel should probably rethink the visit they were planning after the angel got out of school. Who knows when he would arrive? As it turns out, about an hour later. I told the nurse about the "pressure" I was feeling, and after a quick check, ("Wow, you weren't kidding. He's right there!" Yes, I know. LISTEN to me!!) she and the doctor began scrambling to set up their stuff, which I don't really understand. Why wouldn't that stuff be set up already? They knew I was in labor, right? I mean, this ending was inevitable. The rest is as you can imagine. He came very quickly and was just perfect! That was the good part of the story.

Now, during the epidural process, my anaesthesiologist "snagged" a little hole, causing a tiny leak of spinal fluid. Apparently, there is about a 1% chance of this happening and frequently results in what they call a "spinal headache". Well, it happened to me. They tell me that a spinal headache is kind of like a migraine, only it lasts for 5-12 days. I've never had a migraine, so I wouldn't know, but I do know that a spinal headache hurts. Bad. There is a procedure to fix it, called a "blood patch", which is basically injecting my own blood (taken from yet another hole in my arm) into another epidural catheter. So, after doing this on Thursday, the relief was instantaneous. Cool. Now I can focus on my angel and my peanut!

So during this "focusing", I notice that the whites of peanut's eyes are a little yellow. The angel was a little jaundice when she was born as well. But during his first well baby visit on Friday, they tested his biliruben, which is some sort of thing that people have in their bodies that I don't know about, and it was too high. So we were told to take him to the hospital to lay under the "lights". This would fix those bad bilirubens. Off we go, picking up the angel from school and heading back to the hospital, a different hospital this time, but still 90 miles from our house. I figured this would take an hour, or maybe a couple hours. They checked us in to stay the night, with the option of a second night. This information would have been useful before we left home! We had nothing that one would normally pack for an overnight stay. Plus, we had the angel with us, and if we had known, we might have had her stay with grandma. (Luckily, my angel is a good sport, and can entertain herself with pretty much anything. I know a lot of kids who would not have endured such an "adventure" with as much grace. Man I love her!!) In addition to this unplanned hospital stay, my headache was returning. It could have been due to stress, and not "taking it easy" as I was instructed to do. The peanut endured his time in the tanning bed, as the husband called it, while he and I shared a cot the size of my couch and the angel slept in a nest of extra pillows on the floor under the sink. (This hospital room is about the size of a decent sized bathroom.) It was awesome. (inject sarcasm here) Luckily, we only had to stay one night. But now my headache was back in full force, so I had to go to the emergency room (the only place open on a Saturday) to have another blood patch done. Apparently, about 30% of people need a second one. (See, this is why I don't go to Vegas!! If there is a short straw, I'll draw it. Every time. I can't explain it, and I'm a statistician!)

So that was our week. My poor peanut has been dragged to more doctors in his short life than any man should be! Needless to say, this is the first chance I've had to announce the little guy! Hopefully, it all goes up from here!

Waiting for baby

2009-03-20T08:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, so no baby yet. Apparently, we are having some sort of baby boom here in Easternish Montana. Both hospitals in our urban center are full of laboring women, and the NICU is full as well. (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, where they send all the little preemies and other babies who are having trouble adjusting to the "outside" world) Therefore, the powers that be (the NICU) have declared that there will be no "non-spontaneous" labors until the place clears out a little. There isn't anything they can do about woman who just go into labor, but they are requesting the doctors don't put any women in labor without a good medical reason. (I guess "but it's my husband's day off" doesn't qualify as a medical reason!)

So now we leave it up to the baby. His actual due date is Monday, so we know he won't be born then, (I believe that no baby has ever been born on their actual due date. Those people who were born then were probably given the wrong date by their doctors) but hopefully sometime this weekend. My angel went three days over her due date, so it is possible that the peanut will emulate his sister. It is a little frustrating, because I usually don't leave major life decisions up to the kids, but I suppose this is one of those times. He'll come when he's ready. Now, maybe we should decide on a name...

No room at the inn...

2009-03-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

Well, the big day is finally here, and really, not a moment too soon. My eyes have disappeared into my puffy face and my fingers resemble pink sausages. My feet must be swollen too, since my shoes don't fit very well, but I can't really see them to be sure. My belly has almost doubled in size in the last week, if the way my clothes are fitting are any indication.

We have a planned induction, scheduled for today. If you couldn't tell, I'm not in labor right now. I'm not even in the hospital right now. The husband and I decided to do our traveling last night and stay in a hotel a little closer to the hospital. We were told to call at 5 am to see what time they wanted us to check in. And just as I suspected, the birth center is full. (I thought it seemed like there were a lot of extremely pregnant women in the OBGYN waiting room lately. What was going on last July?) So now we are waiting for someone to check out so we can check in. Barring, of course, another woman showing up in actual labor. Last night, I contemplated the irony of going into labor the night before a scheduled induction, but the peanut wasn't interested. He seems rather comfy right where he is, and I got to say, he is a lot quieter where he is.

But mommy is uncomfortable. Plus, I really want to meet him! So now, we wait. (Ring, phone, RING!!) Hopefully, my next post will be about the joys of labor and motherhood, but until then...

Do blizzards induce labor?

2009-03-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

You always hear about babies that are born during natural disasters. I heard these stories, and I always thought to myself, oh those poor women. Like you don't have enough to worry about with the hurricane bearing down on you, but now this? And anyone who has seen Little House on the Prairie knows that whenever there is a pregnant pioneer woman, she will deliver during the "worst blizzard in 50 years"! (Even though her neighbor's baby was born during the "worst blizzard in 50 years" only a couple months ago.)

There does seem to be some scientific explanation for this. Drastic changes in atmospheric pressure can affect pregnant women, which is why they don't want you to fly in a plane. (That, and I think flight attendants are a little bit lazy. I mean, how hard is it to cut the damn umbilical cord? They let dad's do it all the time!) Huge drops in pressure, like one might see during tornadoes and other severe weather, might be enough to "pop the balloon", so to speak.

It's also just plain inconvenient. And babies are all about this. That's why babies are never born at 10 in the morning. That is the time when husbands, doctors and anesthesiologists are awake and alert. No good. Babies come at 3 am. During snowstorms, if they can help it. I've heard that some women stay pregnant for 14 months, just so their babies can wait for the next available snowstorm. Well, luckily my baby is due mid-March. Snowstorm season. Wish me luck...9 days to go. I'd better check the weather forecast...

The Angel's faulty wings

2009-03-07T17:02:00.000-08:00

My angel has officially proven that her title is an honorary one. Yesterday afternoon, while dressed in fancy shoes and dragging her pink poodle by a leash, she rushed down the stairs to welcome her father and brother home. And I do mean rushed, as objects in freefall descend at the rate of about 30 feet per second. Yes, she fell down the stairs.

Daddy was standing there, and had her in his arms in a second, consoling the crying child and checking her head for lumps. Her brother was also quick to act, dashing to the freezer to get an ice pack for her. (Out of the several options which included infant teethers and Disney princess lunchbox ice packs, this 13-year-old boy chose a freezable breast shield, proving once again that the infatuation with "boobies" may be chromosomal.)

Almost at once, she was complaining that her shoulder hurt. And she had a bump on her left collarbone. A trip to the ER showed that she did in fact break her clavicle (collarbone) and she has to wear her arm in a sling for a week or two. Poor little thing. Not only that, but she had to brave the X-ray room alone, as X-ray techs get nervous even looking at a pregnant woman. Mommy had to wait outside. They showed her the "pictures" of her bones, and especially pointed out the crooked one. (Even she could see that it was broken.) Apparently, collarbones heal pretty quickly, and they do almost nothing to assist, save issue her an arm sling that might fit an average sized 10 year old, but seems a little big on a petite 7 year old. (Toddlers and pre-schoolers must get a handkerchief or something.)

So, following in her clumsy mother's footsteps, the angel will be one armed for the immediate future. Which is exactly what an extremely pregnant woman needs...to be distracted from her own discomfort by caring for her first little baby.

28 days

2009-02-20T07:52:00.000-08:00

No, I don't mean rehab! (Although they are similar...you can't drink and everyone keeps asking you how you feel.) I mean 28 days until the peanut arrives. Assuming he follows my carefully planned schedule. Anyone who has kids can probably give me the odds on that happening.

We've scheduled to be induced. Why, you might be wondering? Mostly because the husband has decided he would rather not deliver his son himself on the side of Interstate 90. My angel was born in about 4 hours, start to finish. That's pretty much a whirlwind labor experience, and I actually remember precious little of the whole thing. (Other than everything was happening too fast for me to get an epidural. That part I remember quite clearly.) At the time we lived about a half hour away from the hospital, if a person is willing to "fudge" the speed limit a little bit. Our current hospital is more like an hour and a half away. (80 miles of interstate and 10 miles to get through town) And apparently history has shown that second babies come even faster than their older siblings. So we-- myself, my husband AND my doctor-- would rather avoid any 911 calls and "I had my baby in the back seat of my Durango" news stories. This of course presupposes that the baby will agree to the terms. If he keeps his end of the bargain, and stays in until he is 39 weeks and 3 days, all should go according to plan. If he gets antsy, well, look for me on the 10 o'clock news.

Say it with me guys...Romance.

2009-02-07T10:45:00.000-08:00

Ah, February. The month that strikes fear into the hearts of married (or otherwise attached) men. One can hardly blame them. It's hard to be spontaneous and romantic when you are given a deadline. Thou shalt be romantic on February 14, every year. (See how I included the date...just in case you may have forgotten!) This Hallmark holiday is particularly annoying because people are still recovering from Christmas. You just got your Visa bill paid off, and now you have to rack up charges again for fancy dinners and jewelry?

Some people take this holiday very seriously. Others, like me, are happy to receive a kiss and a three dollar card. The thing is, Valentine's Day doesn't have to be the only time to do something romantic. In fact, part of the romance is the surprise, which you don't really have on V-day because you know it's coming. But I know there are a lot of women out there who only receive their annual flowers and balloons on Valentine's Day. (and maybe their birthday, if he remembers) Do guys really hate romance that much? I don't think so. I think they just can't think of anything good to do. After all, they don't often publish articles on how to be romantic in Popular Mechanics or Hustler or whatever guys tend to read. Added to that, romance tends to be expensive, and a lot of people are a little on the ropes when it comes to money these days. So, if you can't do something grand, why do anything at all, right? WRONG! It's that kind of thinking that lands your pillow on the couch, mister! So I'm going to help them out. Here are a few suggestions for low cost romantic gestures. You get extra points if you do them at random times during the year, but if you don't have plans for next Saturday (yeah, it's that close!) this may help.

1. A local weekend getaway. You don't have to jet off to Napa to be romantic. Even a night at the Super 8 can be romantic if you pack candles and wine. Just the change of scenery is a welcome respite from the mundane. The key here is the planning. If she does all the planning, it doesn't count. You have to make a reservation, and pack the candles. It'll take a half hour, tops, so no excuses. Extra points for packing a little picnic you can enjoy under the covers! (Don't forget to pack glasses for the wine/champagne, and some music.)

2. Take her shopping. And, no, Walmart doesn't count. Pick that section of town with the little specialty shops and coffee bars. The beauty of this is, you don't have to actually buy anything! It's the wandering around holding hands that's the romantic part. Cruise the little antique shops, then stop and have a cappuccino. Nobody has the time for "window shopping", so it's really the time and attention you are giving her that is the gift.

3. The old stand-by...dinner. If you've got the means, make a reservation at a posh restaurant. If not, think of something else. The husband and I once had an incredibly romantic time sitting in the bar at Johnny Carinos! Order a bottle of wine and split an entree. There is something romantic about eating from the same plate. Just think of Lady and the Tramp! The thing about going out for dinner is that you might not want to actually go on the 14th. Talk about cramped! Surprise her by taking her out Friday night instead. Or you could always make dinner! Served by candle light, your dining room might be the most romantic place in town! Just make sure you clean the kitchen when you are done! Leaving her a mess to clean up actually negates any points you may have scored with the dinner. Don't know what to make? At the end of the post I'm including my super simple, no fail salmon recipe. My 7 year old can make it.

4. Less is more. Can't afford two dozen roses? Try just one. There is something incredibly romantic about being presented with one, long stemmed rose. Does she like candy? Instead of the huge heart shaped box of confection crap, try getting her a small sampling of really good, high quality chocolate. You don't have to make one huge gesture if you are frequently making small ones. Give her a rose just because it's Tuesday. A pair of earrings don't have to be diamonds, just get her something that she likes.

5. The back rub. One of my personal favorites. But don't give her a coupon for one, just give her the damn back rub! If you'd like, you could get her a professional massage. The key here is to not only pay for it, but also make the appointment AND arrange for childcare. The worst gifts are ones that just make more work for her!

Now, there are five ideas for romantic gestures. But for all the ladies, remember that romance is a two way street. If you want him to be romantic, you have to give LOTS of positive reinforcement. It's a little like potty training. You've got to really make a big deal out of little gestures. And probably the most romantic thing you could do for him, is let him off the hook. Offer to plan your "romantic" evening, and save him some of the stress and heartache. Believe me, he'll appreciate that more than anything you could wrap, and you'll be sure to get exactly what you want. Sounds win-win to me!

Simple Salmon

-2 frozen salmon fillets

-1 medium lemon

-1/4 cup butter (half a stick)

-Lawry's seasoning salt and black pepper

Thaw fillets in the fridge (by taking them out of the freezer the night before) or in a bowl of warm water. Preheat oven to 375. Sprinkle both sides with seasoning salt and pepper. Place in a shallow glass baking dish. Slice butter into "pats" and place them on top of fillets. Wash lemon really well, then slice, placing several slices on each fillet. (On top of the butter) Cover the dish with tinfoil and bake for 30-40 minutes, until the fillets are flakey in the middle. Serve them on a bed of rice. (I usually use Rice-a-roni Herb and Butter. The directions are on the package.) Enjoy!

The next Top Designer

2009-01-28T19:04:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen a 7 year old host her own design show? My angel, who has always been good at playing by herself, has her own "Designed to Sell" show going on in her dollhouse. Complete with narration. If I sit quietly on the stairs, I can hear it now...

"I love what you've done with the curn appeal. Pink and white are my favorite colors. (I think she meant "curb" appeal) But you should add some flowers by the door. Flowers can sell your house."
"I love the kitchen, and the stayless-eel pliances, but you should hide your baby things. Buyers don't like baby things." (She has a point. Good thing FisherPrice upgraded to the stainless steel.)
"Is this the only bathroom? It needs to be refurnished. And buyers want and-sweet bathrooms." (I had no idea she even knew what en suite means! And it might be easier to "refurnish" a bathroom when the pieces are plastic and removable.)
"I like what you've done to this room. But I would add a canopy over the bed. And maybe get a cat."

Obviously, Mommy watches too much HGTV.

"Did it snow?"

2009-01-23T09:48:00.001-08:00

This is the perfect time of year to play a little game I like to call, "Did it snow?" The rules are simple: wake in the morning, but don't look out any windows. That way, when you are all dressed and ready to leave the house, opening the door is a huge surprise! Here's a little rundown of how to play:

-Alarm goes off. Hit snooze. Repeat.
-Alarm goes off. (yet again) Heart leaps into throat as you realize you have overslept.
-Shake angel (insert name of your own kids here) awake, telling her to hurry up. Listen to her whine and cry and try to burrow back under the covers.
-Physically remove her limp body from the bed, and send her to the bathroom for teeth brushing and ear cleaning. (She just got her ears pierced and is still using the antiseptic every morning.)
-Throw on clothes. They don't have to match or look good. Splash water on face and pull baseball cap over your unwashed hair.
-Lay out clothes for angel. Check on her in bathroom, as she often falls back to sleep sitting on the toilet with her toothbrush in her mouth.
-Head to kitchen to scrounge up breakfast. Shout periodically for angel to hurry up. (BTW, husbands who are trying to sleep-in on their days off love this part of the game.)
-Reach for milk in fridge, only to remember you used it all yesterday. Reach for Pop-Tarts in pantry, only to pull out an empty box. (Who in their right mind would put an empty box back in the pantry!?!) Dig through freezer and triumphantly emerge with one, lone Eggo waffle. Good enough.
-Nag angel to eat over her plate while you simultaneously tug her head back in an attempt to brush the tangles out of her hair.
-At the 5 minute mark, toss on jacket while encouraging angel to do the same. Open door to leave. (Now here is the fun part...) Discover that it has snowed while you were sleeping.
-Stamp foot out of frustration. Send angel back in for boots and heavier gloves. Begin the chore of sweeping off the snow-covered vehicle, knowing that this little surprise will surely push a rushed morning directly into a late morning.
-Leisurely drive angel to school. After all, three minutes late is the same as ten minutes late. Give her a big hug, and apologize for yelling at her all morning!
-Return home and climb back into bed. Maybe the sun will come out and we can play the equally fun game of "Did the snow melt?" later in the day.

Of course, this is just how I play the game. You will find variations for your own family's enjoyment! Anybody know when summer will be here?

She's no mother!

2009-01-21T19:46:00.000-08:00

The other day, the husband and I were going through the baby stuff we had with the angel. While I was disassembling a breast pump, the husband stumbled upon the instruction booklet. Thinking this may be an opportunity to see boobies, (the Y chromosome is pre-wired to constantly seek out boobies) he skimmed through the booklet for pictures. Sure enough, he found one, a model demonstrating the use of the product.
"She's no mother," he said, a subtle sneer in his voice.
"What do you mean," I asked, not really listening but focusing on not losing all the itsy-bitsy pieces to the pump.
"These things," he said, pointing at the general area behind the pump, "are not lactating." Now he had my attention.
"How do you know?"
"Where are the huge nipples and giant blue veins?" That made me laugh.
"Maybe she's been airbrushed?"
"But look at her robe. Perfectly clean and white, without a trace of spit-up. And when did she find the time to put on that much eye makeup? This just a model." He wandered off, but took the booklet with him. (Let's face it, boobies are still boobies.)

I find it encouraging that he has a realistic outlook on motherhood. I was a little worried that he had forgotten, after all, it's been 7 years or so since we've had an infant around here. People always admonish the advertising industry for creating a false reality with their models, and putting us "real" women in the position of always feeling inferior. Why on earth would they use a beautiful, well made-up model with her tiny perfect...pumping area? And then I realized that if they told the truth, (a haggard looking woman with red-rimmed eyes and dirty hair in three day old pajamas trying to pump her huge, blue-veined...area) they are likely to scare people! And as silly and unrealistic as it may be, I'd choose door number 1!

Confessions of a reformed pack-rat

2009-01-18T09:30:00.000-08:00

My name is Autumn...and I am a pack-rat. I come by this trait quite naturally, as any of you who know my parents can attest. Unfortunately, I have all of the "qualities" that lead to clutter, and it drives the husband crazy! My living room is an obstacle course, my bathroom sink is hidden somewhere in a forest of make-up and hair thingys, and my bedroom looks like Sanford and Son. (Buh buh bunnuh) I have been taking steps to correct this problem, and it requires me to get pretty harsh on my clutter.

My first problem is I am just plain lazy. It's not that I don't have anywhere to put some things, it's just that I don't. I think to myself, I should get this place in order, and then I think, nah, I'll take a nap instead. I'm working on it. My bedroom floor is carpeted with clothes that used to fit me pre-pregnancy. It's hard to find the energy to launder clothing I can't wear, so it's still laying there. One of these days I'll get around to it...

Second, I'm a collector. I find something I like, and I want all of them! Books and movies in particular are my weakness. The husband doesn't get it, (He doesn't read just for fun. Street signs make up the bulk of his reading material.) and my "collection" of books are a constant...discussion at our house. (Argument is too strong a word, although it occasionally descends that far.) I read mostly fantasy or romance for fun, but I also have several science-y novels and math reference texts. Luckily, there are storage facilities specifically designed for books. Bookshelves. My problem is curtailing my collection so that is fits on my existing shelves. I also love movies, but I finally did buy some beautiful, leather binders that hold CD's and put most of my DVD's in them. They are much better looking and take up far less space than shelves of DVD cases. (We have over 200 titles, but the husband doesn't seem to mind these as much.) I read somewhere that there are two kinds of people: people who read a book once, and people who re-read their books. I fall into the second category, so I feel justified in owning books and movies that I read/watch over and over.

I'm also a crafter. And that stuff takes up a lot of space! Sewing machine and it's paraphernalia, clay, paint, greeting cards, scrapbooking supplies, knitting needles and looms, yarn, as well as specialty kitchen items like rosette irons and a krumkake machine. I have had to limit these things, and periodically I purge and get rid of more. Of course, when we get into "discussions" about this stuff, I have to bring up the the garage that is so full no car could ever be parked in there. (Why do we need a carburetor to a vehicle we no longer own?) We tend to agree to disagree on this one.

I am also guilty of "sentimental" clutter. This is the adorable little Christmas dress the angel wore when she was a baby! So? It doesn't need to take up space in her closet now. What does one do with honor cords from graduation? Art projects that the angel is so proud of? Baby afghans? And what is the appropriate way to store the things that make the cut? Do you see my troubles? Also, I am very careful with my things, which means I rarely break things or wear them out. I still have the alarm clock I had when I was in the fifth grade. And the first microwave I bought back in 1996. A dried corsage from Prom, and my Cabbage Patch dolls and Barbies from childhood. I need to learn how to throw these things away. Even if they are still "perfectly good", or if they have a powerful memory attached. They are just things.

So as you can see, I'm only part way into my 12 step program, but I think I'm on the right track. I'll never have the sparse, Japanese-style existence that the husband seems to crave, (I don't think he knows how much he would miss DVD's and throw blankets and all those other comfort items he likes to call "my crap".) because I like to be surrounded by my stuff. That doesn't mean I want to be buried by it!

Clarence Wilhelm?

2009-01-12T19:23:00.000-08:00

Okay, we're getting down to the wire here. This peanut needs a name. Unfortunately, the husband and I are really struggling with little boy names. The ones I like, he dislikes and the ones he likes...wait, I can't think of any that he likes! It doesn't have to be decided until he's born, but we don't even have a good short list! If he were to come now (and I'm 30 weeks so it's not out of the realm of possibility, you know?) he would be Baby Boy for a long time!

So, how in the world do people choose names for their kids? Seriously, it's a major decision. This kid is going to have his entire identity wrapped up in a word that I (okay, we) choose. What does one base the decision on? (No, I'm really asking. Please comment!)

Here are a few of our requirements/dilemmas:

1. Family. Should he have a family name? In some cultures it is considered bad luck to name a baby for a relative that is living. And unfortunately both the husband and I come from Northern European families, so most of our family trees are filled with names like George, Bernt (with an umlaut) and Adolf. (not that one!) These names are all fine, but maybe not for modern-day boys, you know what I'm saying? Also, our families are both huge, and we didn't really want the peanut to have the same name as one of his cousins or second cousins, just for confusion purposes. (although, it's not a deal breaker!) That's a pool of around 50 boys, and therefore 50 names off the list. Bummer.

2. Trendy or Traditional? The husband and I are fans of traditional names. Especially for boys. One of the criteria we had when we were choosing names for the angel was, "would you expect your senator to have that name?" Kiki might sound cute for a little girl in pig-tails, but it's a little harder for a grown woman to pull off. The same thing goes for boy names. It's nice to have a cutesy name for your little bundle, but eventually he is going to be someone's boss (ideally) and he should have a name that says so.

We also don't want anything too popular. I grew up with a close circle of friends that included three "Amy"s. I don't really want my son to be known as Jonah B. So we are trying to avoid the top 10 -20 names of the year, in the hopes that maybe just his first name will do.

And, here's a note on spelling. We insist on the regular spelling of names. I'm not sure who thought it would be a good idea to find the most convoluted way of spelling their kid's name. Speaking as a person who's name is frequently misspelled, (which is weird because Autumn is an actual word that even spell-check will pick up!) I don't want to saddle my child with having to constantly correct the spelling of his name. Although, some people are just dumb so a little correcting is inevitable.

3. Nicknames. The husband is quite adamant that we avoid names with obvious nicknames the other boys will tease him with. Richard, for example. Apparently young boys find joy in making dirty or mean ways to make fun of other boys' names. (Young girls are much more creative in their cruelty, and therefore can make you cry regardless of your name.)

4. Manliness. Some names, no matter how much people swear they are for boys, will always sound girly. Like Lesley or Ashley. (Even in Gone with the Wind that guy was kind of a p###y!) And I'm not a huge fan of "gender-neutral" names like Jordan or Taylor. I want my son's name to be a boy's name. And the husband has a problem with "country club" names, like Sterling. If the name brings to mind guys in polo shirts who eat ivy and row boats, he'll probably veto.

5. Alliteration. Our last name starts with M. The husband's older boys' first names start with M. The angel's first name starts with M. Does this mean we should choose a name for the peanut that starts with M? To be honest, we didn't really mean for it to happen, we just really liked the names for the older kids and hadn't planned for the naming theme. But now, is the peanut going to feel left out if he is the only one whose name doesn't start with M? (Neither the husband nor I have M names.) Something to ponder...

So as you can see, we have a long list of things we don't want. What I could really use from you is a few suggestions to go on the do want list. My dad is pretty good about this. Every time I see him, he asks how little "Oscar" is doing, or other names like Irving, or Clarence Wilhelm. (For short, we could call him "Clarence Wilhelm".) So please, I'm looking for suggestions here. And don't forget to answer my poll, which has a few of the names that I like. Thanks!

Schedules?

2009-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I watch a lot of daytime TV. Not soap operas, per se, but I like to watch those baby shows, the ones where the couple takes the new baby home and then have little break-downs from the sleep deprivation. I also watch Jon and Kate plus 8. (You can't help it, it's on all the time) Watching those poor suckers cope makes my situation seem easier. (The husband thinks someone should put poor Jon out of his misery. He's convinced that Jon is sending secret signals that he wants someone to hit him with a car.) The one thing they all harp on is getting, and keeping, a schedule.

A lot of moms put their kids on a schedule. The point, I suppose, is so the kids/babies know what to expect and what is coming next. I'm not sure I totally agree.

When my angel was a baby, she didn't have a schedule. In fact, when I would leave her with a sitter, they would often ask "How much does she eat?" and "When does she nap?" and I would have to say, "I don't know." When she was hungry, she ate and when she was full she would stop. When she was tired, she would sleep. Often where ever she happened to be at the time, as evidenced by the scrapbook pages full of pictures of her sleeping in strange places! Some people might say that this loosey-goosey parenting wasn't good for her, that she never knew what was going on. But I think that it actually taught her to listen to her body instead of living her life by the clock. (In fact, I am regretting a little that she is learning how to tell time. She'll be nodding off on the couch, but she doesn't want to go to bed until "bedtime".)

Some of my favorite parts of the shows are where the kids have major meltdowns because they missed a nap or they didn't get their lunch on time. My angel never (at least, not that I can remember) had a problem postponing a meal or skipping a nap. Schedules are great, until something comes up that alters it, like daylight savings. (And don't even get me started on that little farce!) My angel never knew what was coming, so she was never thrown for a loop when surprises came up.

I'm not sure if that is how things should be with the new baby or not. Now that angel is in school, we do have more of a schedule. After all, school does follow a clock. So we might have to get the baby to follow her schedule, for the most part. All I know is, I never want to have a panic attack because the baby isn't home to nap on time. He can learn to deal, just like the rest of us! And when he's hungry, I plan to feed him. I don't care what the clock says.

"Holiday" recovery

2009-01-01T19:53:00.000-08:00

Whew. Is it over?

Remember Christmas when you were a kid? The only thing you had to worry about was trying to be good long enough to pull the wool over Santa's eyes. Remember Christmas when you were a man? The only thing you had to worry about was when dinner would be served and how many envelopes your Visa bill would come in.

Remember Christmas when you were a woman? (you should, unless like me you have chosen to block it out.) The only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right gift for everyone you know, shopping for gifts, thinking about how to pay for said gifts, wrapping gifts, shipping gifts, designing Christmas cards, addressing Christmas cards, mailing Christmas cards, making time to have a meaningful moment with your daughter as you build a gingerbread house, baking ten different kinds of cookies (not counting the ones you let the kids decorate, cause let's face it, no one's going to eat those but them), decorating the outside of the house, decorating the inside of the house including the Christmas tree, cleaning the house or at least making it company presentable, dressing the children for church, taking the children to church (which includes the task of preventing them from pouring hot candle wax all over themselves), cooking Christmas Eve dinner, serving said dinner, cleaning up afterward, referee-ing the opening of presents, separating the gifts from the wrapping paper, digging through the garbage bag of wrapping paper looking for the instructions to the electronic gizmo that your kids took out of the package even thought you specifically told them not to take anything out of the box until you had the place picked up, making sure that a plate of cookies is set out for Santa, digging out carrots to add to the cookies because, apparently, the reindeer need snacks too, staying up way past your bedtime to...keep an eye out for Santa, waking up early because the kids are jumping on your bed, trying to remember to take pictures of everything that's going on because in a few months when you are scrapbooking you'll be kicking yourself for not taking more pictures, making breakfast, dressing the kids (and the husband), shuffling everyone off to visit relatives, haranguing the kids to taking their crap back up to their room so you can find a flat place to lay down, and then you have to undo all of the decorating and spend the next week trying to put everything back the way it was.

So here's to all you women out there. I hope you had a great "holiday". I think we all deserve a weekend getaway that includes room service and massages. (Hint to all husbands who may be reading this...especially if you are married to me.) And just remember, there's a whole 358 days until next Christmas!

Happy Birthday, Angel!

2008-12-15T08:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my angel's seventh birthday. She was a little apprehensive, after witnessing the down-playing the husband and I did with our respective birthdays. She was concerned that we wouldn't make a big deal out of hers. (I tried to explain that after a person reaches a certain age, they just aren't as interested in celebrating yet another birthday, and birthdays seem like they are coming every couple of months now instead of the eternity between birthdays one experiences in childhood.) For my birthday, the husband made me breakfast. For his, I made him dinner. "But I still get presents, right?" the angel wanted to know.

And did she ever. She got a bed for her American Girl sized doll. (I say "sized" because neither the bed nor the doll are actually American Girl brand...not when Target has a knock-off brand for half price.) She had a party with her friends from school, and at this age they are still required to invite all the girls from their class. (7 girls...angel makes 8) Plus she invited her cousin/neighbor whom she plays with on a regular basis, even though cousin is a year or so older. She also invited my friend and her little girls, for a total of 11.

Now, I am not a fan of having kids in my house. My kids are lucky I let them stay sometimes. With the number of kids in the neighborhood and my angel being of prime "playdate" age, I have had to adjust. Luckily, the angel's best friend is as soft-spoken and gentle as she is, so I don't mind her coming over. And when my niece plays over, the girls have a great time and I feel totally comfortable laying down the law if I have to...after all, she's family. But we have never had 11 girls over at the same time before. (Okay, two of her classmates couldn't come, so it was really only 9 girls) I tried to think of an activity we could do that would be quiet, still and mess-free. For some reason, I thought of fingernail polish. (What?!?) So we did manicures at the party, with paraffin hand dip and painted nails with stick on jewels. It seemed to work pretty well, and it took about an hour. After cupcakes and presents, the girls played in the angel's room for 20 minutes until the moms came for them. This made the angel crazy! First, she doesn't really like people touching her stuff. (She gets that from me.) Second, they were being pretty loud and really, it was too many girls to get a good game of make-believe going. "Mommy, they're all talking at once and it's giving me a headache." (She gets that from me, too.) I'm hoping that next year I can remind her of this when she begins making plans for her birthday party, and then we can go to the movies or a skating rink instead. But for now, one more birthday under our belt.

Looking at the pictures, the angel actually looks older. Her face has lost some of that baby roundness, and she looks more like a...well, a kid. But after the girls had all left, and the grandparents were gone, she changed into her Barbie flannel nightgown and climbed into my lap (what's left of it) for a good snuggle. She might look older, but she's still my baby!

A first time for everything

2008-12-09T20:23:00.000-08:00

I get one of these emailed to me pretty much every week. I usually have lots of time, and I kind of like filling them out. I've seen people post them on their blog instead, so I'll try it. Just go with me on this one...

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
A kid named Sean. He lived in the next town, so we went to prom at his school. His dad drove us. (we were only 15ish! When your high school only has 200 kids, you invite the younger classmen too!) He is now married to one of my best friends, and they have two adorable kids. Funny how things work out!

2. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
Communion wine. Does that count? Otherwise, probably a stolen beer from the basement fridge. Or maybe my own special peppermint schnapps/creme de menthe mixture smuggled out of the house in an empty NyQuil bottle. Ahhh, the memories.

3.What was your FIRST job?
I assume we're not talking about babysitting. The first job I had where taxes were withheld was waitressing at the Frosty Freez. It's a local diner, serving burgers and milkshakes. It was the summer I was 17. I was terrible.

4.What was your FIRST car?
1982 Nissan Sentra. It was white, with a lovely rust accent. The seats were lambskin, and I didn't want to know what was underneath those covers! A jack knife stabbed into the steering column turned the wipers on and off. (My dad kindly fashioned something more permanent.) I was the only person alive who could get the thing into reverse. (And that includes the previous owner) I think I paid $600 for it. I drove the stuffing out of that car, with only minimal maintenance. (A new starter, new clutch and new vacuum line, all installed by the husband back when he was the boyfriend.) I drove it for four years, and sold it for $50. That was a good car.

5. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
I'm not a big "texter", so it is unusual that anyone would text me. But I did get one from my brother today. Texting is his only form of communication. Even if he is just across the room.

6. Who was the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
My angel, after she kicked me in the kidney. (After daddy leaves for work she climbs in to cuddle and snooze for an hour or so before we have to get up for school.)

7. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Connerton. Although, I think that was a couple husbands ago.

8. Where did you go on your FIRST airplane ride?
Charleston, SC for my cousin's wedding. It was my senior year of high school. I went with my mother and sister, and it takes all day to fly anywhere from Montana. We rode a 737 to Denver, a DC10 to Dulles and a CRJ to Charleston. Yes, I'm kind of a geek to remember that.

9. Who was your FIRST best friend?
Probably my friend Kelsi. We were best friends in kindergarten, and we remain best friends to this day. Thank goodness our husbands seem to get along!

10. Who was your FIRST kiss?
A guy named Josh. He was my eighth grade boyfriend. I bumped into him again when his wife and I were in the same childbirth preparation class.

11. Who was the FIRST person you talked to this morning?
My angel. "If you don't get out of bed right now you will be late for school...again."

12. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Went pee.

13. What was the FIRST concert you went to?
In college I drove with some friends about 200 miles to see Bush, Goo Goo Dolls and No Doubt. Yeah, it was awesome!

14. What was your FIRST tattoo or piercing?
I got my ears pierced when I was 12. Just once each. (They did them at the same time, or else I might just have one done!) At 19 I pierced my belly button, to prove I was cool, apparently. The scar from that on a pregnant belly created two cute little stretch marks. Now my navel looks a little like a psycho-bunny. My skin however has that classic, ink-free look that never goes out of style.

15. What was the FIRST foreign country you visited?
When we lived up by Glacier National Park, I think my parents took me to Canada. I don't really know about that.

16. What was the FIRST movie you saw in a theater?
I think I saw Bambi at the drive-in, but the first movie I went to without a parent was Labyrinth. David Bowie still freaks me out a little.

17. When was your FIRST detention?
I don't think I ever had traditional "detention" for misbehaving. I did have to do some hard time after school for not finishing my homework. I think I started that in second grade.

18. What was the FIRST state you lived in?
I was born in Minnesota.

19. Who was the FIRST person to really break your heart?
See #1. (But not at 15! Later, when we were in college.)

20. With whom was your FIRST date?
A kid named Tim. I was in seventh grade and I met him at the movie theater. We saw The Little Mermaid. I think we even held hands. (Whoo hoo!)

21. What was your FIRST pet?
My family had a dog named Bess. I thought she was a sheep. By MY first pets were two fish named Tatsy and Logid. No, those are not typos.

22. Who was your FIRST roommate?
No counting my little sister, or the beeyatch I lived with in the dorm at college, my first roommate situation was with my friend Amy and three other girls. Yes, that's five of us in a three bedroom house...with one bathroom.

23. Who was your FIRST love?
My first real love was probably Jason, my senior year boyfriend. He was the first boy to ever tell me I was crazy. (The husband has since seconded this motion.) He was the guy who convinced me that I could be myself and someone would still want me. Every teenage girl should have that.

24. What was your FIRST screen name.
Not sure what they mean by screen name. I would have chosen "hotsytotsy", but I think that one's taken.

25. When did you have your FIRST baby?
I had my angel in 2001. I was 25. The husband and I were living with my parents at the time, waiting for our house to be ready. My brother was living there too, so there were five adults and one baby under one roof. I swear that girl never got put down until she started walking!

Happy Holidays!

2008-12-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I said it. The dreaded "generic" holiday greeting. Lately I have been inundated with propaganda pushing "the true meaning of Christmas" and the "reason for the season" and a lot of other nonsense. This, combined with other Judeo-Christian morality being legislated down my throat is starting to become annoying.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Jesus as much as the next girl. I have not one but three adorable little nativity scenes among my Christmas decor. I go to church on Christmas Eve and my absolute favorite Christmas song is "Oh Holy Night." After church, I wish everyone a "merry Christmas", because it is a religious celebration.

However, as much as some people may regret it, Christmas is also a holiday. The secular portion of this, my favorite holiday by the way, cannot be so easily amputated. My angel asked me what Christmas trees had to do with the baby Jesus, and, having decided long ago to give her (relatively) honest answers to honest questions, I replied "nothing at all." See, the tree, and the wreaths, candles, lights, holly, mistletoe, Santa, reindeer, bells, and all that Christmas-y stuff has nothing to do with baby Jesus. Or, more accurately, baby Jesus has little to do with those celebrations.

Whoa, whoa, whoa...put down your pitchforks and let me explain! All the "secular" elements of Christmas find their roots in the pagan celebrations of Winter Solstice. Basically, anyone who lives in a northern climate can appreciate the importance of a little merry making during a long, cold winter. When Christianity came to these regions, the people were reluctant to give up their beloved winter celebration. So in a brilliant stroke of PR genius, the church said, "you can keep your celebration. But it will be a Christian celebration from now on." By choosing the birth of Christ, (which the Bible doesn't actually give a "date" for...in fact, it was after the lambs so it would probably be more accurately placed in Feb or March) it could be a happy celebration for everyone! And that I think is the true spirit of Christmas. Inclusion. To understand that our message is more likely to be heard if it comes from a place of caring and understanding, and that sanctimonious, "I know better than you" preaching would have had the opposite effect.

I think it is also important to note here that only about 20% of the world celebrates Christmas at all. We often forget in our little vanilla town that Christianity is not everyone's cup of tea. My daughter's school has a Christmas play every year, and usually with a surprisingly overt Christian theme. I'm not sure how they are getting away with it, other than our town is overwhelmingly Christian and it never occurred to anyone to mind. But it is a public school, and I would feel terrible for any poor little Jewish kids that might move to town.

I don't think it's hypocritical to step out of church with that warm, happy feeling on Christmas Eve and immediately wonder what Santa is up to. I also feel that it is a nice thing to acknowledge that some people don't do things the way my family does, and that their way isn't "wrong". Just different. Afterall, this is the season for peace and goodwill, and not just toward those who think the same way we do.

So, Happy Holidays! And here's hoping for Peace on Earth!

It's beginning to look...

2008-12-02T22:59:00.000-08:00

...a lot like Christmas! Yes, the holiday season is upon us. I usually put up the decorations after Thanksgiving, and every year it seems to take longer than the year before. It could be that I tend to add new decorations every year. (I average one new plastic bin a year.) It could be that we move so often we rarely spend more than one Christmas in any one place, which means I have to take time to plan and measure to see where the decorations will look best in our new place. Or it could be that I'm hobbling around these days.

Apparently, I have an ailment where the hormone that is supposed to "loosen" my ligaments to make room for the baby is working overtime. This makes certain movements like sitting, standing, laying down, walking, breathing and blinking extremely painful for me. So this year I sat on the couch and directed the kids to do the decorating. It took those little slackers most of the day to do it to my specifications! (I'm kidding, of course. Like I would let those little monkeys touch my decorations! Kids have "jam hands" you know...)

This is the first year that I was able to put lights on the outside of the house. In the past, we have lived in apartment buildings, but this year we live in a townhouse, so I took advantage and clipped some lights to the gutters. I got in trouble for this. First from my neighbor, who said I was "opening a can of worms" and now his live-in girlfriend was going to make him decorate the house too. (He was only a little bit kidding.) But also from the husband because I was trying to do it myself. (Memo to him: if you don't want me on a ladder, you should offer to help. Just a suggestion.)

Anyway, the effort of decorating can take the wind out from under you in the best of circumstances, and even more so if the simple effort of getting up off the floor is excruciating. Ordinarily I would self-medicate with red wine, but I don't even have that as an option these days. I'm trying a new medication, Lindt truffles, and that seems to be taking the edge off. So I think I'm going to lay on the couch surrounded by chocolate wrappers for a few days. You know...to recover. Happy decorating!

It's a boy!!!

2008-11-17T14:42:00.000-08:00

The husband and I just got back from the ultrasound today, and we're having a baby boy! The image seemed pretty clear to the tech, even though I thought it looked a little like a fish skeleton. She kept saying, "here's the heart, and here's the stomach, and here's a kidney..." and I was like, "we'll have to take your word for it!" There was one shot she was trying to get, but apparently either I or the baby were not in the right position. She pushed and mushed until I swear she was getting readings of the table below me. Then she tipped the table back so I was inverted in an attempt to get the baby to pull his head out of my a@@. She did manage to get a picture of his face (kind of) even though his little arms are trying to protect his little head from the attack of the sticky wand! The poor little guy looks traumatized!

We've known the sex for about three hours, and we've already been asked if we have a name picked out. In a word, no. The husband and I are terrible with boys' names! I like old fashioned names, like Nicholas, Alexander, or William. The husband likes caveman grunts, like Bill, Bob, Jim. (I tried to convince him that these are not names, but nicknames--shortened versions of longer names.) We both agree we don't want anything too "trendy", but we can't agree on what that may be! Well, we don't plan to officially "name" him until he's born, so we've got some time. (We don't want to tempt the wrath of whatever from high atop the thing!)

I think he looks a lot like the angel did in her ultrasound. And also, a little like my sister's kid, which must mean that chin is hereditary! We're just so happy to have him! Now, I'll have to make some kind of trade agreement to get rid of all the pink stuff in storage...

Solving the economic crisis

2008-11-14T07:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, I am not an economist. Half the time I can't figure out how to balance my checkbook. And it appears I'm not alone. Huge companies aren't able to balance their checkbooks either! The 50 year old hippie lady next door has a wonderful bumper sticker on the back of her van that reads "The problems we face cannot be solved by those who created them." So why are we dumping huge chunks of money into failing companies? Not just huge, unfathomable chunks of money! 700 billion dollars? That's a 7 with 11 zeros!

The next big thing is the bailout of the auto industry. (BTW, I love the word "bailout", like they are some punk kids who had to call their dad after getting busted for something...) My gut says don't do it. My wallet says it had better happen. See, the husband works for a platinum mine. And one of the biggest uses for platinum is...(pause for dramatic effect) catalytic converters. That's right, the auto industry. So if they tank, there are going to be huge layoffs, which lead to numerous foreclosures as half the town will be out of work. We're talking shanty towns, just in time for winter! (Awesome.)

But I saw an email the other day that seemed to have the answer. Give us the money. 700 billion divided by 135 million taxpayers is roughly $5,000 a piece! If you're married, that's $10,000! What would you do with ten thousand dollars? Pay off some debt? Take a vacation? Maybe put a down payment on a new car? Even if all you did was put it in a savings account, that would dramatically increase your bank's working capital, making it possible for them to pay their loans and so on. Sounds win/win to me! The banks aren't failing because they don't have enough money. They're failing because we don't have enough money! Even if the auto industries get help and turn their production to hybrids and other fuel efficient cars, it's not going to make a lick of difference if no one is buying cars!

Huh. Maybe I should be an economist after all.

The forgotten holiday...

2008-11-12T09:19:00.001-08:00

Here's to Thanks-giving, our often maligned and forgotten holiday. Today I finally got around to replacing the Halloween decorations with Thanksgiving ones. There aren't a lot to choose from. For Halloween we get spooky ghosts and spiders and orange and purple lights for the house. Don't get me started on all the Christmas decorations! (I fear I may need to add yet another plastic tub to my collection!) But what do we get for Thanksgiving? Turkeys. I've even seen some that sing and dance, but that's just annoying, not festive! My Thanksgiving decor consists of some window clings depicting pilgrims, American Indians, the "horn of plenty", and pretty maple leaves. I also have a couple leafy garlands left over from our wedding decor, (We got married in November. In fact, our anniversary is on Thanksgiving this year. 9 years!) some fake gourds and the Fisher Price Little People First Thanksgiving playset artfully displayed in the space we usually save for old magazines, junk mail and scented candles we can never light because they might start the junk mail on fire. But that's all. (And I have much more than most people!) I just bought a leafy pinecone wreath and some scarecrows for the outside of the house. Why, you may ask? (It's what the husband was asking!) Because Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays!

I, like many of my generation, did not study the "art" of cooking at my mother's arm. Not that she didn't try, of course, but I was simply not interested. Having grown up far from extended family, we created our own extended "family" of my parent's friends and their children, to whom I am still close, just as much as my own cousins. Our childhood Thanksgivings were hosted by one of these "aunties", so I never really saw all the work that was put into the meal. My family always brought the pumpkin pies and cranberry dish. (Except the year of the "bloody cranberries". For more details see my sister's blog!) As children grow and procreate, these events became too big, and have been subsequently discontinued. Time goes on.

But not to worry, I still have my husband's family, and they have a gathering every year. And a gathering it is, too! I know I have previously mentioned the size and scope of my husband's family, so suffice it to say that they do not have a sit-down dinner! It actually feels a little like eating at a soup kitchen, with the paper plate dripping gravy as you precariously balance it on one knee to avoid the children who insist on running through the house. (There are so many kids now, I'm not sure I even know all of their names!) Not really what I had in mind.

One year I decided we weren't going anywhere for dinner, but where going to stay home and cook it ourselves! (I think every young bride goes through a phase like that.) I got some great recipes off the internet and out of the BetterHomes cookbook. (The red and white checked one...my cooking bible!) I planned it out meticulously, every ingredient and exactly how much time everything needed. (For me, cooking is more like math than art, something to be carefully calculated!) And you know what? It was amazing! Seriously, I wasn't over stressed (mostly because we were eating mid-afternoon so I didn't have to rise at the butt-crack of dawn to get the turkey in the oven!), everything came out the way it was supposed to, or mostly anyway. We watched football and drank wine and ate on real china (my great-grandmother's) with real linens and candles and everything. We all loved it, and so I've been doing it ever since! I usually invite my parents and my brother (I would have my sister too, but she lives far, far away!), and every other year we have the stepsons around the table as well. This is a holiday devoted to family and food and being thankful for what you have. What a great idea! And I can't think of a better way to spend it than eating with my family in an environment where I can actually converse with them! (And not have the "thing that I'm thankful for" be that it's all over!)

I guess it's okay that I can't buy Thanksgiving lights to put up, or that the only movies for this holiday are the Peanuts' Thanksgiving ones. If it was more commercialized it might ruin some of the...romance, for lack of a better word. Besides, when the bird carcass is the trash and dishes are done, (and believe me, that could take a couple days!) it's time to put up the Christmas tree anyway! But until then...Happy Thanksgiving!

Do I know you?

2008-11-05T14:10:00.000-08:00

Nothing says "small town" quite like election day. I know I bitch about small town life a lot, but there are some really great things about it too. One of the funniest, and most annoying, things is not how many people know you, but how many people think they know you!

My favorite election day tale happened when the husband and I had just moved back to this town after living out of state for awhile. Now, we both grew up here, went to school here, and even got married here. We'd moved away for about 4 years, but no one seemed to notice that we'd ever left. I approached my polling place, which in this county is the same as everyone else's. (Our county has 5, or maybe 6 precincts, and they all vote at one large community center. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that's entirely within the "law", but no one around here is worried about those pesky little details.) This was the first year they were requiring photo ID's, and the little old ladies who had been acting "election judges" since the election of Truman, were both flummoxed and militant about the ID thing. Since I still had a Michigan driver's licence (my Montana licence hadn't come yet) I chose to use my passport as photo ID instead. This was my first mistake. The first challenge was to get by the dragon at the gate, the one who determined if you were registered to vote. This woman lived next door to me the whole time I was living at home, and her son and I were close friends in high school. And yet...
"Hi there, sweetheart. Your ID please," she asked. I presented it to her. "We need a driver's licence, honey. Or some other form of government ID."
"Yes, I know. This is a passport." She stares at me as if I were speaking another language. "It's ID issued by the federal government, and there's my photo, right there."
"Well, let me check," she sighs, and checks her list of acceptable ID. Of course, it's right there at the top of the list. "Okay, then," and she flips through her tome of names in search of mine.
"Are you sure you're registered, April?" she asks me.
"Yes, and my name is Autumn."
"Oh, silly me! Let's see..." she continues to look. I notice she is looking in the "M" section, because my husband's last name starts with M. I, however, did not change my name when I got married, something difficult to explain to these women, some of whom may have been present for the delivery of the Gettysburg address. I inform her of my name, thinking all the while that she is still holding my passport, and the name is printed right on there! Seriously, if she wasn't even going to look, then why give me such grief over my choice of identification? I can feel the people behind me in line growing restless. How dare I try to use alternate ID! How dare I not take my husband's name! What was I trying to do here?

Finally able to pass the gate, I entered the auditorium and head for the table marked with my precinct. More trouble. You see, I grew up on the west side of town. The husband and I now lived on the east side of town. (Sigh)
"I think you want precinct 2, don't you?"
"No, I live on the east side of town now."
"Really? Are you sure? When did you move?" one lady asks me.
"Oh, no," offered another lady, "She and her husband just moved in down the street from us."
"Yeah," I said, all the while wondering if this gal hadn't vouched for me, (and how the hell does she know where I live? I don't know who she is!) how long would I have had to stand there and argue with these women before they simply checked the book? After I wore them down, they finally handed me a ballot and I went on about my business.

So, you can see that I can really feel for these people who stood in line for 4 hours to vote. I didn't stand in line at all and it still took almost a half hour to get a ballot, defending my life choices along the way.

Only two days 'till Halloween!

2008-10-29T07:53:00.000-07:00

Any of you with children are familiar with the "is it Christmas yet?" syndrome. Time seems to just draaaag for these young ones, especially when they are anticipating a fun event. My angel has awakened every morning this week saying, "Only five days 'till Halloween!" and etc. Her enthusiasm is admirable, but it can get old fast. This is the same child who wanted to decorate for this same "holiday" the second week in September. Although, who could blame her, the stores all were Halloweened up. I told her we had to wait at least until October before we put up Halloween decorations! (BTW, the length of holiday display has been carefully negotiated during the tenure of my marriage, and the final compromise has been holiday decorations may only display for 1 month, with the exception of Christmas decorations which may display for up to 2 months. There are no real ramifications of breaking this ordinance, other than the husband will be annoyed.) She is also bugging me to carve the jack o'lanterns, which at her age is really more of a chore for me. Yes, she will help with the seed removal, the best part purely for it's gross-out factor, but the lion's share of the "carving" will fall on my shoulders. Then I volunteered to help with her party at school, and the parade following that. And then there's trick or treating. And you know what? For all my labors, she probably won't even share her candy with me! (At least while she's awake, wink, wink.) I tell you what, holidays are a lot of work!

My sense of snow

2008-10-12T10:00:00.000-07:00

Oh how I love the first snow of the year! Here in southern Montana we got our first snowstorm the other night. I was so excited I ran to fetch my angel and the husband so they could enjoy the beauty of the falling snow illuminated by the street lamp. We sat with our noses fogging up the window for a few seconds, then the two of them wandered off. Clearly they do not hold the first snow in as high esteem as yours truly. I started my mental Christmas list and continued to stare out the window as visions of sugar plums danced in my head.

Then came morning.

I always forget how much longer it takes to get anywhere when you have so much more clothing to don! I had to hunt up a hat and gloves for the angel. (Luckily they were exactly where they were supposed to be...a rare treat around here.) I also had to locate said items for myself so I could knock the snow off the car. While the car is warming up, I had drag the garbage can to the street through 5 inches of snow. A lot harder than it sounds. Where was the husband during all of this, you may ask? (That's what I was asking.) Sleeping soundly in his bed. He may have sensed his parenthood was being called into question just below the bedroom window, because he did wake and dress in time to see us off.

Now, I'm staring out the window, and I gotta tell ya, it's not as pretty anymore. We probably got around 9 or 10 inches out of this storm, and our yard is covered with grassy trails where a snowman was being created. Footsteps mar the front lawn and the vehicles no longer look like cute little snow cakes. The magic is gone, I guess. So...anybody know how long until spring?

These are a few of my least favorite things...

2008-10-08T12:50:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: I love being a mommy. I love my angel with the intensity of a nova. (So it's probably a good thing the peanut is coming along, to diffuse some of that white-hot spotlight.) That being said, there are a few things about motherhood that I could really do without. Below is a short list, though certainly not comprehensive, of things us mommies tend to dislike:

1.) Vomit. Somewhere between "Mommy I don't feel so good" and changing sheets at three in the morning I have wandered out of my comfort zone.

2.) Poop. Normal, contained diapers are bad enough, but we really hate the explosive poop that shoots up the back, over the top and starts back down the other side. I've been tempted to call in a HazMat team.

3.) Shots. They tell us they are necessary. It's for the baby's own good. (Although the jury is still out on that one, but that's a blog for another time.) But the look of betrayal in a 6 month old's eyes is more than sleep deprived mommies can take! (To add insult to injury, we have to pay for this privilege!)

4.) False advertising. Okay, just advertising. Last Christmas, all my angel wanted was a Disney Princess Fantasy DVD Game. In the commercial, the game turned all the girls into princesses! Who wouldn't want that? Explaining to my angel that the game wouldn't actually turn her into a princess was an exercise in futility. It reminded me of an old adage: Never argue with a drunk or a fool. (or a five-year-old)

5.) Other people's kids. Just because you have kids doesn't mean you have to like all kids across the board. My angel has a few friends that are just joys to have over for play dates. She also has a few friends that I no longer permit in my house. The drama of cliques and alpha girls begins in first grade, and the whole thing makes me want to home school her. Sure, some people say that doing so could stunt her social skills, but let me tell you something, some of the "social" skills she's learning in school could use a little stunting. I don't believe that sassy-ness is an inherent trait in six-year-olds. I think it's pack behavior.

Don't get me wrong, there are some really great things about being a mommy. There is absolutely nothing like soft baby skin. (And don't even get me started on the "baby" smell) The magic power of a kiss and a Barbie band-aid to heal boo-boos. A snuggly toddler in feety pajamas, or a snuggly first-grader who isn't feeling well. All this stuff makes up for the rest, I suppose. Except maybe the vomit.

Sleep, glorious sleep

2008-09-29T15:47:00.000-07:00

This is my ode to sleep. It is entirely under-rated as a hobby and totally unappreciated as a cure for a great many ailments. How often have you heard someone say, "It'll be better in the morning." And you know what, it almost always is. I believe my next major purchase will be a new mattress. After all, we spend about 1/3 of our lives in bed. (For me it's more like 4/10, but who's counting?)

I love sleep. But you know who hates it? The very young. They have absolutely no respect for the sanctity of sleep. Ironically, they need more than the rest of us. Or do they? I'd like to see some data on this one. My angel could stay up all night, until she simply crashes into a puddle on the floor. My darling step-son has been surviving on 2 hours of sleep for most of his life! (That's cumulative, by the way.) My husband has trouble sleeping if he takes a nap in the afternoon. (Which then necessitates a nap the following afternoon, perpetuating a dangerous cycle.) On the other hand, if I were lying prone, in a cool, dark place, I could sleep for 24 hours if no one woke me. Apparently, it's a gift.

I can sleep anywhere, too. You know those people you see sleeping up-right in a plastic chair in the airport? That's me. It's a talent I've developed from a very young age. I have also passed this talent on to my angel. As evidence, I would like to present you with a little game called, "Guess Who's Sleeping." I posted some pics of my angel and I (as a child) in the blissful state of a stolen nap. Can you guess who's who? (Yes, I know, the photo quality and the "That 70's Show" props often give it away, but just play along. Okay?)

The first one is me, half on a chair and half on an ottoman. The second is the angel...half on the couch and half on an ottoman. Now more:

How small do you have to be to sleep on a chair? I think my angel (top) and I (bottom) have proven that a little "tucking" goes a long way.

Am I hungry or sleepy? There's no need to decide! At least she made it half-way through her sandwich! I couldn't even wait for lunch to be served!

So, go on, enjoy a nap now and then. It's good for you! I promise, no one will judge you. In fact, they'll probably be jealous!

Room for a princess

2008-09-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

In preparation for our newest family member, my angel is giving up one of her bedrooms. (Okay, before you judge me, allow me to explain.) Previously, she had her bed and dresser in the smallest of the secondary bedrooms, (which is the size of a reasonable walk-in closet) and her toys in the larger bedroom, also known as "the playroom". After a half-hearted discussion on where the baby will sleep, my angel magnanimously offered her "bedroom" for the baby, moving her bed and dresser into the "playroom". I personally think she was simply laying claim to the larger of the two rooms. She's no dummy.

All the "experts" say that these kind of moves should be done early, so the older child isn't feeling displaced by the baby. (Although, any kid who's paying attention at all will know they're getting displaced a little.) The angel is quite happy with her new room, which is crammed to the gills with her things. (Her favorite colors are pink and purple, and it shows.) Here are a couple pics of the new "princess" room:

The daybed fits in a little nook in this strangely shaped room. The wooden loft offers space both below and above for playing, and doubles as an extra bed for Brother #2 when he visits for summers and weekends. (Brother #1 is 17 and has a job, so he rarely sleeps over these days.)

The next step is to get the husband to dig out the baby things from the storage shed. (And I do mean dig, as they are in the back, on the bottom.) However, hauling endless loads of stuff into the house tends to give him a nervous condition, so this might have to wait until after the holidays, when I am undeniably distended with his child. (I think he doesn't really believe in pregnancy until he can see it with his own eyes)

Am I glowing yet?

2008-09-18T14:39:00.000-07:00

Everyone always says that pregnant women have a "glow" about them. I suppose we do have a different aura, possibly from our complete inability to think about anything but the baby we are carrying. It still surprises us how everyone else can go entire hours without thinking about our pregnancy! (Husbands can go for days without thinking about it, until they are brutally ripped back into reality by the bundle of raging hormones that used to be their wife.)

But you know, I think that is only part of the "glow". Personally, I think anyone can have the glow, even if they are not expecting, but following these simple steps:

1. Immediately, and completely, quit smoking, drinking alcohol and caffiene, and stop taking drugs. (both the street variety and the OTC stuff which includes Advil and artificial sweeteners)

2. Begin eating well balanced meals and taking a multi-vitamin the size of my first car.

3. Drink a ton of water, which should be easy because after you cut out the stuff above, water is pretty much all you have left.

4. Sleep for 10 hours each day. This should include at least one nap.

5. Avoid harsh chemicals. This gives you the perfect excuse to let your roots grow out, and to skip out on household cleaning. In fact you should give up cleaning completely to make time for the nap mentioned in Step 4.

I promise you, if you did all the things mentioned above, you will be "glowing" in no time. Well, all this healthy living is making me sleepy, so...

Shout out to plastic bins!

2008-09-12T07:55:00.000-07:00

Without plastic bins, my house would look even worse than it does! Someone asked me recently what my organization "scheme" was. Apparently some people organize with baskets, others are label freaks. I am a plastic bin girl.

In my younger years, before kids, I used to have an entire room dedicated to sewing and crafting and general packrattery. After 4 moves in as many years, as well as the addition of my angel and all of her stuff, it was time to pare down. I bought some clear plastic tubs for crafting materials, and have been striving to keep only the stuff that will fit in the bins. I have one filled, to the brim, with paint and painting supplies. Another contains Sculpey clay and molds, while a third holds cards, stencils and pretty pens. The fourth holds my sewing do-dads (bobbins, thread and what-not) but my sewing machine is separate, as well as any fabric for a specific project. The exception to this "bin" rule for crafting is my knitting paraphernalia. I do loves a good yarn sale! I try to keep it organized in my bedroom, though I could probably open a small yarn shop with my current stash. These days fancy yarn costs about 6 dollars a skein, so when I find them for two bucks, I tend to stock up.

Aside from crafting, I've also found plastic bins invaluable for holiday decorations. The husband seems to believe that most people have roughly two boxes of Christmas decorations and that's it. Well...I have ten Christmas boxes. The benefit of the plastic bins is that the stuff inside stays clean and dry, they stack really well in our storage shed, and you can get them in different colors for different holidays! My Christmas ones are mostly green, my Halloween/ Thanksgiving boxes (yes, plural) are black and orange and the Easter boxes are clear.

We also use plastic tubs for toys. My kids don't have a toy box, they have several. This helps keep the My Little Ponys out of Barbie's household and vice versa. The goal is to only have one type of toy out at a time, which works most of the time! (Sometimes the Ponys need a Lincoln Log corral.) But my favorite tip, stolen from one of my teacher cousins, is the Lego blanket. Most people with Legos know they are a serious PITA to clean up! (Pain In The Ass) And anyone who has ever stepped on a Lego knows the pain of not getting every single one. We designate a smallish blanket (we use an old baby blanket, but my cousin was using an old bedsheet) and all the Legos HAVE to stay on the blanket. (When I see them off the blanket, I take 'em away) When the playing is over, you just pick up all of the corners of the blanket and drop the whole thing into a plastic tub. Done.

One thing is certain. If we ever build our own house, and the husband would like that, we are having a "Mommy's room" for sewing and crafting. Mostly so I have a space to stack all of my plastic bins!

Happy organizing!

Weddings and Funerals

2008-09-09T10:18:00.000-07:00

I am finding an alarming resemblance between the two. You put on nice clothes, you sit in church and everyone's crying, though for distinctly different reasons. Then you go to a reception and eat on paper plates, either perched on your lap or occasionally on linen covered tables. You talk to the people around you, typically the same people you talk to everyday, so there isn't that much to say. And there tends to be flowers everywhere, though no one can say exactly why.

Last weekend we attended my niece's wedding. (I'd like to take this time to remind you that the husband comes from a huge family; he is the baby out of nine kids. And his nieces and nephews range in age from 1 to 32. Our peanut will be the 30th grandchild!) It was a beautiful spot and was an outdoor wedding. So, naturally, it rained the whole time. And man was it cold! It's amazing how easily we are chilled in early fall after being warm all summer. (But 40 degrees is cold...I don't care who you are.) The wedding party shivered their way through the ceremony, then climbed into their ski jackets like the rest of us! Otherwise, it was a beautiful wedding. (Congratulations, Angie and Jon!)

This afternoon I am attending a funeral for a sweet lady. We all called her "Oma", which is German for "grandma", even though she was not technically our grandma. She was the mother of one of my mom's dear friends, and the grandmother of one of my friends. She was always in attendance at holiday gatherings, and she was not only sweet but hilarious! She had a thick German accent, which seemed to get thicker if she'd had a few glasses of wine! (Or a couple cordial cups of Cherry Herring!) And she talked so fast that sometimes you could hardly understand her. But when you could, she had some of the most amazing stories to tell! I interviewed her for a Philosophy paper I was writing a few years ago, and she led a fascinating life. She lived in Germany during WWII. Some stories she couldn't tell because her blood pressure would skyrocket, and her doctor asked her not to go into those stories anymore. (We can imagine the kind of atrocities a young woman might witness during a war that was taking place practically in her backyard.) But some were funny! Like the time she and her girlfriends filled stockings with excrement and climbed up on the roof to throw them at the Russian soldiers below! (What can I say...girls will be girls!) And when the war was over, she and her baby would go to the train station everyday to see if her husband would be on it. He was being held in a POW camp, so he wasn't on the train. But everyday she'd be there, just in case that was the day he'd come home. Someone at the train station offered to adopt her baby, since they figured she was a widow and just hadn't dealt with the loss yet. But she and the baby kept checking the train everyday until one day, he was on it! (That's the kind of stuff that only happens in movies!) They were able to emigrate here after the war, and lived back east until moving out to Montana in their golden years. Oma was the person who made my angel laugh for the first time when she was a baby! (Although, to be fair you couldn't help but smile when you were talking to Oma!) She had an amazing life.

I suppose that's the best any of us can hope for. At the end of our days here, people will look back and say "She lived an amazing life."

Enciente

2008-09-04T13:35:00.000-07:00

At long last, I am pleased to announce that the husband and I are expecting another child! This will be my second (biological) child, and number three or four for the the husband, I lose track. Because of our previous problems, I was waiting until week 12 to make any "announcements", but it turns out everyone already knows. Apparently, I really am that bad at keeping secrets, even my own. Mostly it stems from the fact that I haven't been drinking alcohol for the past couple months, which from everyone's reaction is extremely out of character for me. (I'm not sure I like the way that I'm portrayed here...) Not drinking at my sister's wedding was a dead give-away for most of my friends and family, and the ladies at golf league noticed right away! But, I think that most people knew that we were trying, and they were ready to pounce on any little info that might indicate good news.

The husband and I have been "trying" for about 4 years now. The first two years were unofficial, but when that didn't pan out we sought medical assistance. After some tests, thankfully covered by insurance, we were diagnosed with "unexplained secondary infertility". (Which is medical code for "we have no idea what's going on, but we checked the Magic 8 Ball and your 'outlook is good'...") I took some prescriptions and had some more blood work done, (If you ever need blood drawn, ask for Linda. She's the best.) and only two years later, here we are!

There are a few things about this pregnancy that differs from when I was pregnant with my angel. First of all, because of my recent miscarriages, I am tentative to get super excited or run out and start shopping for the baby. Not that I'm not excited, but there is a part of me that has to hold back a little, for self-preservation. And that's too bad. Another thing that is different is with my angel I started to "show" at about five months. With this baby, I started to show about five minutes after the pregnancy test. Right now my jeans are fastened with a rubber band, and I'm only 3 months along! The best part about this pregnancy is that the husband gets to experience it! When I was expecting my angel, he and I were living in different states. (Not intentionally! It just happened to work out that way with our jobs.) So he missed a lot of the middle stuff, really only being present for the beginning and the end! Now he knows the joys of morning sickness, (I can't stand the smell of meat cooking!) exhaustion and all the other little first trimester gems!

If everything goes as planned, my peanut will be joining us the middle/end of March. I'll try to keep you posted as news develops. In the mean time, keep your fingers crossed!

Hurray for school!!!

2008-08-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

Shhhhh...hear that? I know, me neither! Isn't it wonderful! At long last, the first day of school has arrived. That means 6 1/2 hours to run errands, fold laundry and catch up on many other tasks that my angel seems to hinder more than help.

Not that I don't miss her dearly. It's all the "other" kids that make these few hours off so refreshing. See, my darling daughter has already joined a biker gang. We have five little girls between the ages of 5 and 8 within a five house radius, and they all have a bike. That in and of itself is bad enough, but we also have a couple nests of teenagers in our neighborhood, which means more teenagers visit them, which means an influx of teenage drivers zipping to and fro. The combination of inexperienced drivers (who are distracted by the other eleven people in the car) and little girls on bicycles (some of whom have not fully mastered the art of "braking" yet) is enough to strike fear into the hearts of most of the adults on our street.

Call me over-protective, but I have no fear of being the neighborhood b####, and I'll stand on my porch and yell at kids to watch out for cars, whether they are mine or not.

But not today. Today there were no little cyclists in the street. Today no one was knocking on my door every half hour looking for my angel. (The reason they knock is because the husband disconnected our doorbell after the second day.) Today they were all blissfully ensconced in the halls of academia, learning important things, like who has a Hannah Montana shirt and who got a Strawberry Shortcake backpack. (Ideally there is also reading and math going on, it's just not the part of the day my angel remembers best.)

So, happy first day of school! (even if yours is still to come.)

End of Summer

2008-08-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

Alas, summer is drawing to a close. So far we've had a pretty good one. I for one have learned a lot, though my kids seemed to have learned very little. Here is a list of things I should have discussed with them at the beginning of the summer:

1. Towels are not disposable. If you bring a towel to the pool, make sure you bring one home with you. (If it happens to be the same towel you brought, so much the better.)

2. I am not your cruise director. It is not my job to entertain you, arrange for your entertainment, pay for said entertainment, nor transport you to and from your many entertainments! If occasionally I do decide to do these things, a "thank you" is in order.

3. The phrase "I hate _______" will not be well received. ("Hate" language never is in my house.) If you tell me you're "bored", I will provide you with a list of chores you may do to kill the time. Do not say, "I have to do everything around here!" unless you are willing to back it up.

4. When you are away from my sight, you should still behave as if I where standing right behind you. It's a very small town, and I get reports from people you didn't even know I knew.

5. When you sneak candy from my (apparently) not-so-hidden stash, do not tuck the wrappers behind the couch or under the DVD player. Eventually they will be found, and you will have only put off my retribution. On the other hand, the chances of me sifting through the garbage are pretty slim. I still have the feeling you don't know where I'm going with this...

6. If you are thirsty, get a drink. If you are hungry, grab a snack. Any waitressing I do must be rewarded with a tip.

7. I don't care if his feet stink. I don't care if she snores. I have to sleep with your father, and believe me, any smelly feet/snoring issues you have pale in comparison to what I have to deal with.

8. Moms need to know where their kids are at all times. If you go over to Cassidy's house, but end up at Maddie's, that's a memo I need to get. Never forget that the length of your leash is purely at my discretion.

9. Occasionally I have plans, and my plans supersede any plans you may have. Why? Because I said so.

10. When I say to watch out for cars, I mean parked cars as well as moving ones. When I say to put on sunscreen, I mean actually apply it, not just take the bottle with you. When you come home with a skinned knee or a second degree sunburn on your shoulders, don't look at me like I did this to you. A lot of pain in your life could be avoided if you would just listen to Mama!

Okay, I know this sounds a little deja'vous. (Almost like I heard it all when I was a kid.) Apparently, kids are all the same. Or the "mother" curse is working. It's hard to tell...

Everyone enjoy these last few weeks of summer!

"Where's my dress jeans?"

2008-08-01T19:37:00.000-07:00

Is there some sort of Y chromosomal aversion to dressing up? In case you haven't been following along, my sister is getting married next week, and every member of my little family unit has been asked to participate. For my little angel, the flower girl, this is no hardship, considering the fact that she could live her whole life in a Sleeping Beauty halloween costume and be just fine. But for my three ushers, the wardrobe choices have met much more resistance.

To premise this story, I feel that I need to remind everyone that we live in Montana, where jeans are considered acceptable attire for weddings, funerals and even the ballet! My darling husband had never owned a pair of pants that wasn't made of denim until I purchased him a pair of chinos for a first-class stand-by flight. He wore jeans to our wedding! (Okay, I let him. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.)

But this bride is asking for suits and slacks to be worn by the wedding party (and rightfully so!) which sent us on a shopping trip. She ordered suits for the guys, including my dad, brother and husband, from her home in St. Paul. Luckily, she only wants the boys to wear black slacks and blue polo shirts. But this caused enough of an argument outside the dressing room of JCPenneys, which had a few other mothers snickering behind their hands. Here is an excerpt of what was said, almost verbatim:

"The pockets on these pants pooch funny."
"That's because you're wearing them too low; pull them up to your waist."
"This is my waist."
"No, it's not. Your waist is up here."
"No way! I don't want to look like Erkel!"
"You don't look like Erkel. This is your natural waist."
"But all my other pants are down here."
"These are dress pants. They are not jeans. They are not going to fit like jeans!" (I'm thinking of recording this little mantra so I can play it over and over and save my voice.)
"Now, tuck in your shirt."
"I thought you said we were going to wear polos!"
"You are."
"You don't tuck in polos!"
"Um, yes you do! See that mannequin there? Tucked. And that one? Tucked. Ever see Tiger Woods? He's wearing a polo, and it's tucked in!"
"Whatever."

And that was just the little one. I'm not sure I can include the conversation the husband and I had about how a suit should be worn!

The point is, there are plenty of men who wear suits everyday. And I personally think they look fabulous! But around here, I'm pulling teeth to get my guys to dress in what would be known as "casual Friday" wear in the rest of the world. (Sigh) I'll try to snap a picture of us all dressed up. It might be the only time it ever happens.

Boat Float

2008-07-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I got to participate in the annual Yellowstone River Boat Float. Sounds pretty cool, unless you are from here and then you know that it is really no big deal. The premise started out to be boaters following the trail of Lt. Clark. (Of Lewis and Clark fame.) But unless Clark was floating through Bourbon Street, it might have changed a little. (You know, there were "beads" being traded in Clarks time as well. I might have to think about this one...)

The husband and I decided to float the second leg of the three day trip, since our cool spring has led to flood stage, raging river levels which basically closed the first leg due to un-seasonal danger. We floated with the husbands brother, his brother's wife (of heady blog fame), his brother's son (he's 17, and we needed a designated driver!) and the husband's other brother. (Have I mentioned the husband comes from a big family?) In another boat was one of the husband's sisters, her husband, and a couple of their friends. It was a really fun group, or it would have been if I had hung out with any of them! I spent the whole day chatting with heady on one end of the raft, while the nephew did the lion's share of the rowing, (after his father was de-throned during a rather rocky coup-de-tas led by the "queen" herself!) and the "brothers" whispered and giggled like junior high girls.

Apparently we put into the river a little too early. (Or just in time, as far as I'm concerned.) The men, and by "men" I mean "boys", were a little disappointed that they didn't get to see a bunch of drunk girls in neighboring rafts raising their bikini tops in exchange for beer or beads. (Think Mardi Gras.) Although, the river was super fast and high, and even the drunk girls were wearing life jackets, which tends to cut back on the flashing a little bit. We did hear of such debauchery amoung the later floaters, which I think has convinced the brothers that we all got out of bed way too early.

We were camping at the down-river site, and a campground that should welcome roughly twenty groups of campers suddenly took on a Woodstock-type air, with probably 400 campers and only one bathroom. Seriously, tents were popping up where no tent belonged. There was one dude sleeping in a hammock strung between two pick-up trucks. But the tiny town had a great party, where they block off their main street (approx a block and a half long) for a street dance, where the combined age of the "band" was 750 for the five of them. But at least there was plenty of beer, and apparently that's the important part. And from the sound of the party that went on at least until the husband and I left around 10 the next morning, there were plenty of sparkler bombs, too.

So, if you happen to be in the Yellowstone river area in mid-July, you should definately join in the party. But don't forget the sunscreen! (Especially if you plan to show things that haven't seen the sun before...like my shoulders!)

Happy Summer!

Did you miss me?

2008-06-30T17:07:00.000-07:00

Hello all! Sorry I haven't been paying too much attention here lately, but you know, it's summer! Okay that's not really an excuse because I still spend a great deal of time on the internet. But I have been keeping busy with my multitudes of unfinished projects, some of which have a deadline that is fast approaching. For any of you who happen to be outside the "circle of trust" I am referring to my sister's wedding.

I got married back in the nineteen hundreds. (Just barely. November of 99!) My wedding was a huge but simple affair. I was married in a century old church and had a candle light service. Both the husband and I come from large, Nordic farming families, so we had fulfilled our guest quota with immediate family! Because we had a lot of guests (who all lived within a 40 mile radius) we didn't have dinner, just drinks and dancing and cake. (By the way, if you'd like to hear a story of how my first cake hit the wall, you should check out my sister-in-law's blog, link to the right! Thanks again for the second cake, Heady!)

I did do a lot of projects for my wedding, like printing my own invitations (before it was trendy, or easy!) and making my own veil. Because I somehow got the label of being "crafty", my sister has asked me to grant her the favor or making her wedding favors. And I don't mind in the least, but if she does feel a little guilty I could really use a shoulder massage! The favors are going to be champagne glasses with the couple's initials and the date etched on them. The whole thing began with my mother's penchant for drinking from actual glasses instead of those silly little plastic things. (Probably a good idea, since I always lose the bottom of mine and then I just have to chug it. Not pretty.) We located them on sale for a really good price! Almost cheaper than the plastic ones! So now I have to etch 136 glasses! Okay, I volunteered to etch 136 glasses. I did make a couple templates, so I can do 6 at a time, and the etching goo only has to stay on for about five minutes. Hopefully, it'll be pretty fast and easy. Here is a prototype:

You probably can't see the pattern very well, but there are some little mountains, the couple's intials and the date. (Which is 08-08-08, so we might as well play it up!) I think they'll be great. Especially when mine is filled with champagne.

Another wedding I have on my calendar is that of my niece, who is getting married in September. I recently attended her shower, and I gave her a "towel cake", similar to those diaper cakes you see at baby showers, but this one is made with kitchen towels and wash cloths. Here's a pic:

I added some kitchen utensils. It was kind of fun to go to a bridal shower for a young bride. Most of my friends now are either on their second marriage or have been single long enough to have set up household.

Anyway, thought I'd let you in on what I've been up to. I'm also working on a new baby bootie pattern, just to throw out a little preview. Details to follow! Happy wedding season...I mean, summer!

The art of doing...nothing!

2008-06-01T21:11:00.000-07:00

"Nothing" has gotten a bad rap. For instance, when there is an unnerving silence upstairs where the kids are playing you call up to them, "What's going on up there?" , "Nothing," they answer, which you know means anything but! Or for you guys, when your wife keeps slamming dishes around in the kitchen, you ask, "What's wrong?" and she answers "Nothing!" (Which, unless you are a complete idiot means that something is in fact wrong, and you should probably find a flower/jewelry shop soon!)

The concept of "nothing" is difficult to fathom, especially for one of my training, which has been taught to view ideas such as "zero" and "infinity" as actual things, not just abstract concepts. I can't help but be reminded of a movie, The Neverending Story, (which, by the way, everyone should see!) in which they said it all:
"I was looking for (something, I can't remember exactly) and instead found...nothing."
"You mean there was a hole?"
"A hole would be something, but this was nothing!"

For whatever reason, that line spoke to me, and I have carried such a "definition" to this day. When I ask people what they are doing, sometimes they say "nothing". And I have to disagree.

Many people say that watching TV is doing "nothing". That hanging around the house is doing "nothing", or that eating lunch is doing "nothing". My point is, people are never doing "nothing".

And yet there is something to be said for sitting and not doing anything else. (Notice, I don't refer to this as nothing because I believe that if you are alive, you are doing something!) In fact, there was a quote,(I can't remember the author, but if anyone knows, please comment because I would like to credit him or her!) that said, "In my opinion, the definition of a well ordered mind is someone who can stop and just enjoy a few minutes in his own company." To me this means someone who can sit, really just sit, and not do anything else. Seriously, try it! Set a timer for five minutes and just sit there, thinking, for that time. It really is powerful. I once heard of a church minister who, instead of giving a sermon one Sunday, asked the parishioners to observe "five minutes of silence". At first, people were looking around, and babies were fussing, but after a few minutes, the people really started to hear their own voice, and several of them started to cry. Apparently they hadn't heard it for awhile.

Which brings me to the definition of "introverted" and "extroverted". If you were to ask any of my childhood friends, they would all tell you that I am an "extrovert". What they meant was, that I enjoyed being the center of attention, and also enjoyed the theater arts. That I put myself out there for others to see. But that isn't what "extrovert" means at all! I discovered that I was an "introvert" when I was in college, taking a communications class. An introvert is someone who needs to be alone to "re-charge" their energy, and multitudes of people actually deplete energy from these people. An extrovert is someone who needs to be with people to "re-charge" and they can't stand to be alone for very long. During my childhood, I would spend every Saturday morning playing, by myself, with my toys. At big family gatherings, my mother would notice my absence and find me behind the couch, building with blocks all by myself. The point is, I needed this time alone. That my alone time keeps me sane. And yet, I have friends for whom the term "alone" is something that scares them. They need people.

I don't want to say that my way is the best way, but I need my alone time, and yet I seek out the company of others. I only hope that others who need people will occasionally seek out their own company, if just for a little while. There is something to find, when all the chaos and lists and daily chores have had their time, and all that is left is your conscience and desires. I encourage you to seek it. For just when you think you are doing "nothing" do you discover yourself. And sometimes, you don't even recognize her.

The song in my heart...

2008-05-16T22:46:00.000-07:00

Music makes the world go round. As many of you will agree, at some point in your late teens early twenties you just get off the music train and that's your music for life. (The same thing tends to happen with fashion and hair, but I encourage you to fight to stay on the train as long as you can!) Not that I don't listen to modern music. I try to keep up with the new artists, but you really only have the luxury of spending half your annual income on "records" when you are quite young. (After which you have to pay rent and crap.) My style is complicated, but only because I graduated high school in 1995...a mid-decade train-stop.

Everybody tends to group music into decades, you know, like the 50's, 60's, 70's and so on. But I think that is a bogus grouping. I feel music should be grouped on the mid-decade. For example, 1955-1965 is mostly dance-party/leader of the pack, 1965-1975 is angry war anthems/age of Aquarius, 1975-1985 is disco/KISS, etc. For that reason, my "style" lands somewhere between "hair bands" and alternative rock. I love 'em both, and have "Slippery When Wet" and "Smells Like Teen Spirit" in my collection.

The funny thing was, the husband is also a "hair band" guy, but we have found that our definition differs greatly! This separation reminds me of my next door neighbor and good friend when I was in high school. He always carried two mixed tapes with him at all times, one labeled "F***ing Kick A** Music" and the other labeled "Mega Wimpy Ballads". This glaring difference in hair band music defines the difference in the husband's music taste and mine. We thought we liked the same kind of music, and that is wrong. We liked the same bands. He is "Welcome to the Jungle" and I am "November Rain". (Although, we each appreciate the other songs) He is "Rock you Like a Hurricane" and I am "Winds of Change". I laughed because he will talk about bands I've never heard of, like Ratt, Loverboy and others. And I love bands like Warrant, Firehouse, Poison and dare I say it out loud, Mr. Bigg. (Stop laughing! "I'm the one who wants to be with you" spoke to me!) Pretty much all the songs that were played at my 7th grade dances, I loved! And I never bothered to listen to the "other" songs by those artists. Skid Row's "I remember you" was my break-up anthem. (Until I discovered Alanis Morrisette!)

Yes, I did graduate to "grunge". I still have my combat boots and plaid button-ups in the back of my closet! (My kids are going to celebrate 90's day during their homecoming week!) The Counting Crows was the first CD I purchased. I can sing along with Pearl Jam and Nirvana. (As well as anyone can. Were there even lyrics to those songs?) A crazy-afro-white boy friend of mine figured out what "Champagne Supernova" meant, but he forgot after he sobered up. Alanis and Jewel came at the time of my life when I was floundering, so their angry/painful lyrics will always remind me of that time.

I suppose that's what it's supposed to do. "More Than Words" reminds me of my 8th grade boyfriend, the first boy I ever kissed. "You Oughta Know" reminds me of my college boyfriend who cheated on me. That was the "coolest" I'll ever be, and I'm glad I'll always have the music to remind me.

But lest we thing we "own" our music, I'll never forget the day my step-son wanted to play a CD of this great new song by a "cool new band". The band was Aerosmith. I laughed, and could only recall the day I wanted to play a cassette for my parents, the same "new" band back in 1988. I'm sure they laughed as well, and couldn't help but think of the first time they listened to a record by Aerosmith in their own "music prime". There are some things that speak to us, across the generations.

And I really miss the obvious love ballads, if for no other reason than I don't want that old, stiff-armed sway dance to disappear! (That old six inches of separation rule is sounding better and better as my kids are getting older!) And the whole thing might boil down to the fact that "I Wanna Know What Love Is".

Pomp and Circumstance

2008-05-04T22:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I've finally made it! It only took me five years! (Plus 8, if you count all those years between high school) I graduated on Sat. May 3rd, and it came just in time to keep me from jumping off a bridge or something! Here is a photo, and please note the bottles in the foreground. Every graduation party should have this as the foreground for pictures. (BTW, that's me in the gown, with my folks, the husband and my angel)

The ceremony was long...at least for me. My high school graduating class consisted of a whole 44 people, so I just wasn't used to a ceremony of this magnitude. (Although, the more people I complain to, the more people tell me that my 2 hour ceremony was nothing, and that they have attended graduation ceremonies that lasted all day and into the night where everyone just slept in their chairs and finished up in the morning. I hope that was an exaggeration.) Anyway, I graduated Magna Cum Laude with a BS in Mathematics and minors in Physics and Statistics. I was also awarded the 2008 Outstanding Graduating Student in Mathematics. To accept this award, I attended the Convocation, where I bumped into an old classmate of mine who's husband (also a classmate, who I'm going to call "The Joker") was getting the Outstanding Blah Blah in History award. This was great, as our tiny hometown was well represented at this award ceremony. But you know who I really wish could have been there? My high school Geography teacher. This is a woman who once accused me of cheating, because I was failing her class and at the last minute pulled a 98% final out of my kiester. (Her comment was that she would accuse me of cheating off of my best friends, co-valedictorians and sitting right next to me, except that my score was higher than theirs. It never occurred to her that the reason I was failing was because I didn't turn in any homework, not that I didn't understand the subject.)

This teacher also had run-ins with The Joker while we were in high school. One winter's day we were sitting in the pizza-oven that was our Geography classroom, (the heating/cooling system in that school was ridiculous) our teacher was diligently writing who-knows-what up on the board, droning on and on about India or something. The Joker (who sat behind me) took this opportunity while her back was turned to sneak out the window that was wide open to help alleviate the oppressive heat. He returned seconds later with a gigantic icicle, the size of my leg! (and I'm 5'9") These icicles consistently grew along the gutters of the school, waiting patiently to impale some unsuspecting student who was foolish enough to try to enter or exit the building. The Joker silently placed the icicle next to the teachers desk and returned to his seat as the rest of us struggled to contain our laughter. The teacher reached for something on her desk and was startled by the large shaft of ice leaning against it. The class erupted with hilarity, except The Joker, who was studiously taking notes. She didn't have to wonder who was responsible.

For those reasons, I think she may have enjoyed hearing our college professors go on and on about how studious we both are and how we are such an example to other students. (It was so hard for me to keep a straight face!) The Joker's plan is to be a History teacher. Now if the Mother's Curse ("I hope your kids act just like you do!") works for old teachers as well, then he's got his work cut out for him! (Although, it'll be really hard to top the icicle thing!)

When it rains...

2008-04-25T14:07:00.000-07:00

My life is a series of stressful weeks interrupted by months of boredom. I wish that I could take the time to enjoy things as they come...one at a time. Alas, it is not to be. This week, my schedule is packed, which means that the best I can hope for is just to survive it, rather than enjoy it.

Let me preface by saying I am a procrastinator, or at least, I will be when I get around to it. I have 6 or 7 projects for school hanging around my neck that HAVE to get done this weekend. (So obviously, I thought I'd type a blog post instead) I also have to clean the house this weekend, something I've been putting off for the last month or so. (The Everest of dishes in my sink is a testament to how stubborn the husband and myself can be. We are each waiting for the other to graciously take care of it. 3 weeks and counting...) My sister is visiting from Minnesota with my adorable, and mischievous, nephew to work on her wedding plans for this August. My angel has a field trip to dig for dinosaur bones at a local ranch, which really just means that she will come home with a rock I have to pretend is a fossil and two bricks of mud that were previously known as her tennis shoes. I am graduating from college next Saturday, and the husband is giving me a party. (And "giving me a party" generally means I must clean my house and take care of all the arrangements. A real gift) I also have to attend an award ceremony because I am graduating Magna Cum Laude and also the math department is giving me some sort of Outstanding Student Award, which I feel I should show up to accept. (We hope not to stay at the reception too long, as the department heads will be there and I want to take my award and run before they realize what a huge mistake they've made and that I don't actually know how to do any math. I was hoping to keep that a secret until after the diploma is in my hand!) In the middle of all of this is May Day or Beltane, which is a wonderful little pagan festival celebrating the returning fertility of the Earth and it's inhabitants. My angel and I usually celebrate by planting flowers and leaving little secret May baskets on the doorsteps of our neighbors, but that might get scratched for time this year. (Too bad, it's one of my favorite secondary holidays) I also like to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but I'm not sure there will be time. (Not that I am in any way Mexican, I just really love guacamole and margaritas!)

In addition, I have some knitting projects for a baby shower next weekend and mothers day. (Which is only two weeks away!!) But I fear I must triage, so the homework gets done first. (Mom will understand. Mother's are pretty understanding about half-completed projects.)

Luckily, when this week is over my plans include...nothing. I have no plans for two months. I wonder if people will be confused if I try to move May 1st to June 1st...

"When are you having another baby?"

2008-04-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

People ask me this all the time. I guess if you've had one child, the logical step is to have another. Why? Are other people really so invested in my family that they feel they should have a vote in our family planning meetings? And it's usually asked by a mere acquaintance, which is actually more annoying.
"When are you guys having another baby?" the pseudo-stranger will ask.
"Well, thank you for your interest in our sex life, (insert name here), but I'm not sure I feel comfortable discussing my fertility with you right now. But we are ready to order our food though, whenever you are."
I guess the question would be harmless enough if we didn't want more children. The problem is, we do, and we are really having a hard time having another child. So it's really sweet of you to pour lemon juice on the gaping wound of my heart. Thanks.

But people often say the most hurtful things disguised as sympathy. As I write this, I am suffering through my second miscarriage in less than a year. Most people think of a miscarriage as the end of a pregnancy. That's seems simple enough. Sure, the mother is sad... who wouldn't be, but it's not that big of a deal, right? Wrong. Miscarriage is a grisly, painful business with possibly life-threatening complications. And when I say painful, I mean it feels just like childbirth only without the happy ending. (For those of you who have never had children, or opted for the epidural, imagine your worst menstrual cramp and multiply it by 5. And for you men, I can't say for sure, but I imagine it would feel like getting kicked in the groin constantly for a few days.) But any woman can take that. It's the stupid things people say that really get upsetting. The worst part is, they're trying to make me feel better!
Here is a list of things not to say to women in my position, in case you have a friend or family member who goes through the same thing:
1. "It's probably a blessing." I know that the chromosomal mis-match that probably triggered this whole thing would not work out in the end, but I'm in a lot of pain here and it's really hard for me to see it as a "blessing". Not to mention all the daydreams I've had about the baby are up in smoke. I've lost a dream...that's not a blessing.
2. "It's God's will" or "God has a plan" or pretty much any phrase with the word "God" in it. This is often a pat answer, and I'm sure some people even believe it. But if there is a God, (and time's going to tell on that one) and He is doing this to me on purpose, then He can kiss my bleeding heiny. Maybe He's testing me, but if he really wants to test me, He should plunk four or five people in front of me spouting off about "God" and see which one I smother with a giant maxi-pad. (Don't forget the hormonal pollution I'm dealing with!)
3. "You can always try again." I guess. But if you don't mind, I'd like a moment to regret the loss of this baby, before you shuffle me off to worrying about losing another one.

These phrases tend to come out when people feel uncomfortable and don't know what else to say. But here's what you should say: "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I don't know what to say." Simple, easy to remember, and most likely true.

So the next time you find yourself scrambling for small talk and you are thinking about saying the "when are you having a baby" line, just comment on the weather. You'll still sound ridiculous, but at least you won't hurt any feelings.

Spring break

2008-03-19T13:14:00.000-07:00

You know something I never got to do in all my years of college (and we're going on 6 now) is take a trip for spring break. I've never hauled my pasty-white winter-self down to warmer climates to enjoy a glorious hang-over and sunburn. You're never going to see me in a Girls Gone Wild video. (I don't think...) I'm not sure if this is a right of passage that I'm going to regret missing out on, or be thankful to have saved the cash. And it's not like I do anything productive, like volunteer for Habitat for Humanity or anything with my time off. In fact, I usually get sick over spring break. Not just the run-of-the-mill cold and flu either. No, no, I'm much more creative than that!

When I was 13 I got chicken pox over spring break. When I was 17 I had a pre-cancerous mole removed. (outpatient surgery) When I was 19 I had my wisdom teeth removed. Two years ago both my angel and myself caught conjunctivitis (pink-eye) from the petri dish that was her daycare center.(You parents out there know that putting drops in the eyes of a 3 year old 3 times a day for 10 days is the textbook definition of hell.) Needless to say, spring break doesn't hold great memories for me.

I guess it's not too late. I could still go down to Cancun in mid-March some year and pretend that I'm a college student. The problem with that is that drunken coeds are incredibly annoying! Plus, I know a couple of adults that do that sort of thing, and personally, it's weird. My dentist went to Ft. Lot-a-Tail over spring break for a "conference". Who's kidding whom, here?

So, I guess I missed it. But you know, with my track record, it's probably safest if I stay home anyway. I'll make myself a Screwdriver and watch Weekend at Bernie's. And maybe drink some echinacea tea...just in case.

Cool for School

2008-02-25T19:10:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I am a 31 year old college senior. Yes, my misspent youth was a blur of parties and boyfriends. And then I turned 21. I went to college after graduating high school, majoring in beer and boys. (Or as my mother so eloquently put it, I was there for my M.R.S. degree, which I still don't understand but apparently it was something the women of her generation did.) Needless to say, that sort of "schooling" didn't really pan out. Before long I was living at home and waitressing at the local diner. That's where I met my adorable husband. (A story for another post.) I thought I was looking for someone to take care of me; to pay the bills and go to work while I kept the house and took care of Wally and Beaver. I could make a pot roast and clean the house top to bottom, too, if I had all day! (Please note that these were the thoughts of a single, naive girl. After having a baby of my own, I now realize that just taking a shower indicates a productive day! Anything else is gravy.) Eventually I realized that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to have the ability to take care of myself, and if I chose to be a full-time wife and mother, well, that was my choice! Not the only thing available to me. That was when I decided to go back to college. (The husband was very supportive of this, since he works "blue-collar" and is hoping that I will somehow find a way to make enough money that he doesn't have to work that hard anymore. Here's hopin'!)

The great thing about returning to college as a "non-traditional student", is that I was eligible for a bunch of financial aide and a ton of programs to help me succeed. (BTW, perhaps the "programs for success" should be more thoroughly promoted to the 18 year old college students before they drop out. Just my two cents.) The money was helpful, as there was no way our income could pay for tuition and books, not to mention daycare (my angel was 18 months old at the time) and commuting expenses, which were not to be underestimated as I was driving about 200 miles a day to go to school! But my financial aide was able to cover all of that. (The husband still carried all the regular, household bills)

Another great thing about "returning for learning" is that I was so much more focused. What? you ask, How could you possibly be more focused with a husband and a toddler to deal with? The answer is very simple. I was an adult. Adults are able to prioritize and organize and take the initiative to get things done. And my 18-19 year old self was not an adult. (Age does not indicate adulthood. The husband was an adult at around age 16, and I have some pseudo-family members that are in their mid to late 20's and still haven't made it yet.) This is why I believe in a minimum age for college. 21. I know, you all are thinking, what will we do with those kids after they leave high school? We should set them up with low-paying jobs. Let them work construction or factory lines or wait tables. I honestly think a realistic "peek" at working for a living will help with their studies when they finally make it to college. And, yes, if your daddy has enough money, you can just parade around in your bikini and go to parties and rehab and other trendy places, but the rest of us might get a glimpse at what life if like if we don't get a degree. I speak from personal experience...it will scare the s@@@ out of most kids. This could make the transition to college so much more rewarding!

Waiting Periods

2008-02-06T23:26:00.000-08:00

I am a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. I also like instant gratification. (Blame it on my Gen X membership) However I do believe there are somethings that are worth waiting for. A "waiting period" as they say in the NRA. (Although it's usually followed or preceded by an explicative I choose to edit here.) I got my hair cut recently. And by "recently" I mean back in December. I was sick of my old style (which was nice shoulder length blunt cut with extra frizz from my natural curl) because it took 20 minutes to dry and straight-iron or else I would just put it into a ponytail, which is what I did most of the time. So on a particularily bad hair day (after begging the husband to hide the scissors from me, to which he responded "what scissors?") I strolled into a GreatClips for a haircut. Exclaimer: I do not hold GreatClips responsible for the hair travesty that ensued, but I do hold them morally responsible for their availability on short notice. I walked right and sat right down, and told the woman with three different hair colors and seven different lengths that I wanted a change. I wanted it short. (This is what I do, by the way. I grow hair out, then I cut if off. It's how I roll.) She asked me a few questions then reached for the murder weapon, the straight razor. Her level of distraction was evident, as she was not even able to maintain the banal pleasantries and small talk one expects from a hairdresser. When it was all said and done, I wanted to ask her for her credentials to prove she was in fact a licensed beautitian. $14 dollars later (can you believe I tipped her?!?) I went home to wash the "gunk" out of my hair and see if I could style it into something I would actually wear, versus the "Flock of Seagulls" look she sent me out the door with. There seemed to be a hole in the back where she over "razed" and one side was definately longer than the other. Yup. I got hosed. I think it was supposed to be one of those A-line bobs ala Posh Spice but with my curly hair that would never work! Oh well, you can't glue it back on. So I lived with it for a month, at least until the 1/2 inch pieces on the back of my head grew out a little. This time I went to a trusted hairdresser. (Her work is shown above. I can't show you the previous cut as I had forbidden any and all photography while my hair was in transition.) I could tell the difference because I had to make an appointment. If I had been given this well advised "waiting period" earlier, I might not have become so attached to the little knit cap I wore for a month straight. (Luckily it was cold and snowy so it didn't seem weird.) Anyway, I guess the lesson is you get what you pay for. Or maybe good things come to those who wait? Also, I never thought I was the kind of girl who was so wrapped up in my hair, but that's only because I hadn't tried that cut before. I am much more particular now!

Winter Driving Hazards

2008-01-28T08:56:00.000-08:00

I love to drive. I like to call it my "windshield time", where I have nothing to do but stare out my windshield and think, or occasionally practice my karaoke. I told some friends that my commute is an hour and twenty minutes one way. That isn't completely unreasonable, but then I told them that my commute is 90 miles one way. That is a little more unusual. And expensive. (For those of you doing the mental math, in Montana you can drive 90 miles in an hour twenty by driving the speed limit...and maybe just a "pinch" more.) Ordinarily, this drive relaxes me and gives me some precious alone time. Lately, however, the road conditions have made the commute a little more nerve racking. But it's not the snow and ice that bother me. Any fool can deal with that. It's all the other winter road hazards that are the problem. Maybe you've heard of them:
The "Driving Too Fast For the Conditions" Guy: You know the one. Everyone has slowed down due to the black ice/snow pack and one guy thinks he's going to break ranks and move to the front of the pack. Everyone else in line puckers up until he either backs down and gets back in line, or spins off into the ditch. Either way, hopefully he finally figured out why everyone else was driving so slow!
The "Driving Too Slow For Conditions" Guy: You come over a hill, traveling well on the mostly bare/patchy snow interstate when you encounter someone driving 25 mph. Here's a tip: If the roads are so bad that you have drive that slow on the interstate, maybe you should just stay home.
The "Over-Reactor": They encounter a little ice and immediately slam on the breaks. If that doesn't send them into a skid, then they try a little over-correction. If this hasn't finally sent them into the ditch, well, there's always next time. (By the way, I don't care how strong your faith is, "Jesus take the wheel" is a figure of speech!)
In addition to all the "hazards" mentioned above, winter driving also produces several phenomenon that still cannot be explained.
The "Difference in Vision": Why is it that in blowing snow or foggy conditions, everyone leans forward, as if the reason you couldn't see was because you were too far away from the windshield, and those extra four inches you gained will make all the difference? Also, why do semi's seem to have a clearer view of the road than I do in my car? Is the visibility really that much better up there? It must be, because when I can't see, I seem to get passed by semi's like I'm standing still. (Which has the added bonus of obliterating my vision completely, forcing my to drive by Braille using the rumble strip on the side of the road. Good times...)
The "Coffee Shop" Paradox: After a particularily bad snow, everyone in town has to go down to the coffee shop, if for no other reason than to complain about how bad the roads are.

Home Sweet Home

2008-01-24T17:54:00.001-08:00

Well, we are finally moved! (And by moved I mean that almost all of our stuff is here in our new house, still in boxes for the most part.) I want to especially thank the husband, as he really did the lion's share of the physical labor involved. (A special thank you to the husband's brothers for their help with the "unloading"!) I'm not sure what I was hoping for, but the place looks alarmingly the same as it did before we left! I'm still meandering through a maze of boxes and I can't find a damn thing! (Where is that corkscrew!?!) I read somewhere that moving ranks fifth on the list of "life's most stressful events". (Behind death of a loved one, divorce, birth of a child and loss of a job!) Two months ago, I wouldn't have agreed with this ranking. "I love to move!" I said, naively, "It helps me get rid of my clutter!" Open mouth, insert foot. Yesterday I had a mini-breakdown. I started back to school last week, and due to the work involved with the move I am already falling behind and I hate to start a semester that way. I was crying and snippy with everyone. (Monthly hormones may have been a small factor in the breakdown, but mostly because I couldn't find the things I was looking for!) Added to my stress was the fact that I was between internet carriers. (My previous carrier didn't offer service in my new residence, which I think is just a way for all of them to fleece me out of more money!) For the past two weeks we have had no internet or cable. I know...it's like we're cave people! On top of that, I didn't get rid of nearly as much clutter as the husband had hoped. Of course, our definitions of "useless" items differ slightly. He claims I have too many books. I think that the waterbed frame he found near the dumpster might be taking up valuable space. He said I have more stuff than anyone he has ever met. (Um, have you met my parents?) I thought that an entire trip dedicated to a power trowel may have been unnecessary, especially since he hopes never to do concrete work again! (For those of you who don't know, a power trowel is a huge thing that looks like a giant...fan or something and I guess it does something to concrete...I don't know, it's never really been made clear to me.) But on a positive note, we did some good things. We used the money my brother gave us for Christmas and bought new dishes. (The dishes we had been using were given to me, used, when I was 19. As they were still in pretty good condition, I gave them to my brother!) We also bought new kitchen towels, bath towels and bed sheets. (The ones we had were mostly wedding gifts from going on 9 years ago!) A big chunk of purging was in the Tupperware drawer. (Beware: Tupperware will reproduce on it's own if left in a drawer or cupboard for too long. But not evenly. Our lids had a big old happy family, but our bowls seemed to be suffering from fertility issues.) We tossed all but our favorite pieces and bought some new, with the new little organizer thingys. Overall, we have reached that place where we are finally getting rid of the second-hand stuff we acquired when we were "just starting out" and bought new stuff or our own. It really feels like growing up. (I think early 30's is an excellent time to start thinking of yourself as a "grown-up")

Well, thanks for reading. I really wanted to celebrate being back online with a new post. Both of my fans will be thrilled.

Living Online

2008-01-10T08:22:00.000-08:00

Why doesn't everyone have a website? I don't mean a personal site, I mean businesses. The fam and I are moving from a relatively urban area (100,000 people. Yeah, I know, but in Montana that's as "urban" as it gets.) to a more rural area and nothing says "rural" like stepping 20 years into the past. I wanted to find out where to register to vote, but this town doesn't have a website. I wanted to look for apartments, but the town newspaper (at least they have a newspaper) cannot be found online. I wanted to look into T-ball/swimming lessons/Girl Scouts for my angel. No website. Golf course? No website. Are you seeing the theme here? There are some places that don't even take VISA!!
I do everything online. I go to school, pay my bills, do my shopping...everything! It looks like I'm going to get a glimpse of how people lived in the "good ol' days". (Like 1992.)
On the other hand, this is a small town. My angel can walk to school. I can bike to the store. They have charge accounts at the hardware store. And though not everyone will take my plastic, they will take my personal check. And there's something to be said for that.

Running with scissors...

2008-01-07T15:03:00.000-08:00

Due to our impending move, I have investigated the requirements to move my angel from one school to the next. Apparently, all she requires is to have been born at least 5 years ago and be up to date on her shots. I thought there'd be more to it than that. Her new school will contact her old school to have her transcript sent over. Transcript? Really? It's Kindergarten. What could that possibly contain? Knows her letters...A. Knows her colors...A. Cuts a straight line...C+. My angel seems to be struggling with that concept. (A skill her mother has yet to fully master!)

Her Preschool teacher informed us of this deficiency in our parenting. She explained that my angel didn't know how to use scissors, in fact, she didn't even know how to hold them. Almost as if she had never held a pair before! (Pause for embarrassed laughter) I calmly explained that it had honestly never occurred to me to place a pair of scissors in my four-year-old's hand. Her age not withstanding, my angel comes from a long line of scissor-abusers.

Brother #1, as a small child, took a large (and thank goodness, plastic handled) pair of scissors and cut the cord of a running fan, resulting in a tripped breaker, a useless fan, and a rather large notch in the scissors. (This little incident occurred in the pre-autumndaesy era, so I can cheerfully claim zero blame for this!)

Brother #2, after I purchased a brand-new sleeping bag for him, (so new I was in the process of removing the tags) cut a large snip in the nylon. Why? I asked. Shoulder shrug was his four-year-old answer.

Not to be left out, the husband is just as big a scissor offender. (Probably bigger, as the boys were toddlers and he was a grown man acting like a toddler.) One day, while the cat annoyingly batted at the cord to the window blinds, the husband snapped, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the cord high enough that the cat couldn't reach it. Through his red haze of fury, it escaped his notice that the blinds were raised almost to the top, and with a shorter cord, they won't go down all the way. (I quickly informed him of this miscalculation.)

Because of all these reasons, my angel had in fact not held a pair of scissors until her preschool teacher handed them to her. Not wanting her to fall behind, the husband and I bought her a pair of safety scissors for her desk. She may have broken the curse, as the only thing she cuts with them is paper. In fact I frequently have to use her scissors, as I can never seem to remember where I have so cleverly hidden all the other pairs around here...

Moving Woes

2008-01-06T17:30:00.000-08:00

I am living in a storage locker. We are in the middle of a move, and almost everyone can relate to the chaos this creates. There are basically two kinds of moves: the no notice, no packing, throwing your junk in the trunk of your car kind and the plenty of notice, super organized, hired movers kind. I've done both, and each has pros and cons.

The husband's favorite move happened two years ago when we (finally) sold our house with the stipulation that we would be out in 48 hours. We literally filled laundry baskets with stuff, drove them to the apartment across town, dumped, and returned for more crap. This "bucket brigade" move was very easy for him because he only had to fetch and carry. This same move nearly drove me to the padded room. My grandmother's teacups were sharing a box with boardgames, scented candles and cough syrup. (This box ended up in the master bedroom, even though it was labeled "livingroom", neither of which made much sense.) Luckily my mother stepped in with some much needed female assistance and some red wine therapy.

For this move we have plenty of notice, which may be why it's so frustrating. Moving day isn't for another two weeks, so right now the house is filled with boxes. Some are full and some are not, and I have no idea where anything is. (Including the corkscrew!) Out here in the sticks there are no moving companies so we are pretty much on our own. We'll rent a U-haul truck and the "movers" will the husband's brothers and buddies, none of whom understand what the word "fragile" means. (Fra-gee-lay. Must be Italian.) But they are the only guys we know who will work for beer. But this time, I'm not "paying" them until after the truck is unloaded!

New to this...

2008-01-05T22:56:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm a blog virgin. To be honest, I've never even kept a diary. I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, except I love to read about the lives of other women, so I figured there may be others who would be interested in what I go through. (Probably just my mom)

I am what I like to call an "eclectic" woman. I love Prada, but I usually by my clothes at Target. I am currently attending university to achieve that coveted "degree" that everyone keeps talking about. I love the written word, but I chose Math as my subject of study. Like I said, I'm a puzzle.

The husband and I have been at this marriage-thing for over 8 years, which is pretty impressive now-a-days. (Don't tell Grandma, but we were co-habitating for 2 years before that!) He has two boys from a previous marriage, whom I love dearly, but will here-to-for refer to as "the hellions" or "the boys", depending on my mood. We also have a daughter together, whom I will call my "angel", which, honestly, is a good description.

My goal here is to chat about motherhood, discuss employment hassles/job search trauma, share recipes and/or patterns, and basically rant about life for modern/traditional women. I hope you'll join me. Till then!