The Coco Cafe

Change of adress

2011-10-12T14:22:00.000-07:00

I finally upgraded my blog to wordpress and a real URL. You can find me at PathsIHaveNotKnown.com now. I've put it off for months, if not years, in fear of losing my community of "followers" but finally bit the bullet and went thru with it. Please take the time to click thru and update your feed (if you have one). I truly appreciate it.

Heroes

2011-10-07T21:42:00.000-07:00

One of the few words Malachi regularly says is "hero." He will say "badguy" too, but mostly what I hear is "hero."

Heroes are a bit of a big deal hereabouts.

And in that annoying motherly way that I have fully embraced I am always trying to turn it around into some sort of lesson.

"Heroes fight bad guys like this!" Zeke will proclaim while he flips around the livingroom wildly, punching and kicking with a wild abandon, "Pow, Pkshaw!" Malachi, wanting to join in but also aware that he is much more stout and much less agile then his brother, crouches down and does a sort of tai bo punching the air in front of him bit.

I sneak in, "Yes, and heroes help people that are in trouble."

"Spiderman is a super hero." Zeke will suddenly announce in that way he has, full of knowledge, over his mac and cheese.

"Heroooo!" Mal will add for emphasis.

"You know who else is a hero?" I will attempt, "Daddy is a hero. He works hard every day at his job, and then he always comes home and helps us make dinner and take baths." But they are already sword fighting with their forks, ignoring me.

"Heroes are strong!" Zeke will yell, jumping off the couch in a superman pose.

"They are strong, and they are also kind." I will helpfully add.

But he just ignores me, "Momma, be the princess and I will kiss you and wake you up." And I lay back on the couch while the boys take turns fighting the dragon and bestowing a kiss to break my spell-sleep.

In the end I mostly gave up. The image of the hero that's been built by the Disney movies we let them watch, the old school video games they play with Josh, the fairy tales I read, and the comic book figurines and posters we are culturally surrounded by is just too strong for one momma to overthrow.

But the other day I heard Malachi's voice, "Heroooo!"

And Zeke came bounding into the bathroom, "I'm a hero! I can help you!"

...maybe that image can be nudged a bit after all.

Two heroes who have dressed themselves to play in the rain. A hero always has a flashlight.

The Anniversary Post [even if its a month and a day late]

2011-10-04T15:27:00.000-07:00

Over 6 years ago Josh and I drove a half hour into Idaho country fields to meet his old minister over coffee. Both the minister and the two of us had moved to different towns but he had still agreed to come back and marry us. This was the required talk-things-thru-and-get-advice-before-you-get-married meeting, and although it was a bit after-the-fact for us we still went.

What I remember most clearly was Kevin asking what things we fought over, what problems we had, and me admitting in the way that only a newlywed could that we mostly found ourselves at odds when each was pushing to give into the other's wishes.

His laugh was all grace as he told us that wouldn't last for long.

Last week we discovered that the last cupful of apple cider had gone bad. It had sat in the fridge untouched for a full two weeks while Josh and I both waited for the other to drink it.

I couldn't help but smile when Josh interrupted my shower to tell me how bad it smelled.

Six years and that still happens to us fairly often.

It's often hard, always being the youngest wife, the youngest mother. I get tired of the shock every year when people ask how long we've been married, the inevitable "How old are you?!" that comes after. Every. Time.

I'll admit I wonder. What it would have been like to be on my own. Not a daughter in my father's house, not a wife in my husbands house. Just me in my own house. My friends all have stories of things they did in college, places they went, adventures they had. I've had few adventures, gone few places, and all the ones I have were as a couple. I don't have any stories that don't include Josh.

But there's a comfort to it as well. Six years. It's a comfortable number, long enough that we've worked all the kinks out.

Well...except that pesky leaving things in the fridge for the other to enjoy...

Maybe when he said it wouldn't last long he was talking more like 10 years.

Thoughts

2011-09-27T10:16:00.000-07:00

1. A friend, I cannot say a good friend, because she is more an acquaintance level friend, is having a very hard go of it right now. Or really for the past 3 years, honestly.

I knew a bit, but not the depth of it. Until Saturday.

And she has been very much in my thoughts and prayers since then. Why do we never reach out? Us mothers? Why do we never tell anyone when life gets a bit hard? Or really hard? Or near insufferable? Why do we never take care of ourselves?

2. The boys are playing outside in the rain, footie pajamas + rain boots + sweaters + hats + flashlights. It's adorable. When they come back in it will be all homemade cinnamon rolls and hot black tea (because my children love black tea and hate hot chocolate...because there is something wrong with them).

3. I spent some time this week figuring out the new Facebook. I hated it. I can see why they did it the way they did (although even THAT took an hour) but it wasn't serving my purpose very well.

Anyways, it ended up all for the better because it inspired me to really think about what my purpose on Facebook is...and to then reorganize it to better suit that.

Yesterday I finally implemented those "lists" everyone's been squawking about and yes, I think now I get it. My new plan now that I have my "close friend list" is to really only keep up with that. I decided the perimeters for being a "close friend" were A. that it was a relationship that I wanted to devote real time to fostering, and B. that the persons updates and links were positive to my life, not negative. It was surprising how often the two didn't meet and it took soul searching, and hard, hard deletions.

I tend to be addicted to friendships even when they aren't adding anything positive to my life. Facebook has, if anything, quadrupled the problem as its that much harder to let go. It isn't good for me, though, to have so many draining relationships, and so little time left over to spend on relationships that I wish were stronger.

Using the same "positive only" rule I even pared back my google reader subscriptions to 22! I'm so proud of myself.

Oh the time I'll have....

4. I hinted towards prayers and decisions to be made before. I can go so far as to say that Josh and I are looking for a new church (again, yet again). I cant say yet where we are moving... If you are the praying type keep us in yours. We're sick of being homeless.

5. I'm going to admit that life is just a bit hard right now. I'm a tiny bit down, and finding it difficult to get back up. It's the rain, and a slight cold, a bit of stress about deadlines and to-do lists mixed in, family drama. I'm trying to take care of myself- taking all the right pills, giving myself a little bit of a housework and parenting perfection break. But I'm also going to reach out a bit.

The Table

2011-09-22T13:32:00.001-07:00

It's funny how a bout of the flu can freeze time. We've spent the morning cuddling, reading, singing, telling stories, and watching movies- all in our pajamas and with nary a care towards what time or day it is, and very little more towards the basket of towels that need to be folded or the dishes piled 3 feet high in the sink.

Cries of "Help! My poop is water and it's all over my chair!" aside, it has been rather nice.

I wish we could capture this kind of calm without the necessity of a sickness or snow storm. When did I forget the value of a day of rest?

Values. They are slippery beasts. You place them neatly in a row and then realize while you were distracted living they went ahead and re-ordered themselves into a new list. The ones that were meant for the top have slipped far enough down that you can't see them anymore and others that you placed very firmly at the bottom are apparently creeping upwards.

All of this is besides the point however, because what I really wanted to show off was my "new" kitchen table.

I spent a chunk of my labor day weekend painstakingly sanding our kitchen table and chairs down by hand (except the table top which got the electric sander treatment). It was just the kind of work I enjoy best, however, keeping me outdoors with hands busy and a mind free.

As I sanded bars and corners and seats and legs I prayed for the bums that would grace them. Now there is a value that I have placed very high on the list in my mind but tends to drop in the list that I'm living. I firmly believe in the power of prayer, and at least now I know that table is generously soaked in it. These are the things that matter.

The painting process required more concentration, and since it was performed late at night, in our garage, it made me a bit woozy besides. But when Josh had carried it back into the house I went over the entire surface with some wood wax, and another "protective coat" of prayer.

It struck me while I worked how very much of our lives revolve around this tiny room; how many of our conversations are held here. This in a very real way, could be called the center of our family; where at least some combination of us meet 3 or even 4 times every day. It's where we have our meals obviously, but its also where we entertain, where we home school, where we do crafts, its often my "desk" while I blog, or plan meals, or write thank you cards, or letters. It is most often where I read my bible.

I've never refurnished any furniture before, and honestly I'm not sure how long the paint will last. It may chip. I may regret that clean white after the 1,000th spill or 100th time it's been colored on or the 1,000,000th time I've wiped off handprints. But I cant say that I'll regret the time I spent working on it.

I find that I did a lot more then update the look.

Bye Summer

2011-09-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

This weekend marked the end of summer for our family. Last vacation over. Weather noticeably cooler. Preschool (at home) officially begun. Summer decorations boxed away and autumn decorations placed out. Storage containers of long pants and sweaters sitting in the bottom of the boys closet, waiting to be sorted.

We said goodbye/hello in high fashion, though. We spent the morning of Saturday at Greenbluff, picking nectarines and the first of the apples.

Then whiled the afternoon away with a visit from good friends.

(TV- the babysitters secret weapon)

Sunday morning was the usual rhythm of church, lunch, nap/dog park. But after that we went to enjoy the last day of the county fair. The boys seemed to each have a very distict goal for the evening. Zeke- to ride a horse.

Malachi- to touch as many animals as possible. But in particular a llama.

Its bittersweet as always. Fall is my favorite season but summer is oh-so-fun.

(420-442 )

2011-09-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

I'm post-vacation exhausted and I have a to-do list 4 miles long. Vacation-worthy laundry piles, trips to the library, the grocery store, and home depot (I need some furniture wax to finish our refinished table). At least half my list is phone calls, emails, and meetings for this event, which I'm planning.

I have another 4 mile list of blog posts rambling around in this head of mine. All unfinished. It's getting so noisy up in that noggin that I'm almost unable to even attempt to finish any one of them though, so I'm going to have to carve time to purge.

Zeke and I start preschool-at-home next week. We're doing a homegrown literature based curriculum two days a week and I'm scrambling today to put the finishing touches on our plans. I had at first thought we'd start with fairy tales but then decided Zeke isn't quiiite there. Maybe this winter? We're beginning with Going on A Bear Hunt, instead. A family favorite. Then transitioning into another bear classic, Blueberries for Sal.

How we will fit two mornings a week at home doing "school" on top of mindful mamas, weekly mobius, homeschool co-op, library story time, and regularly scheduled playdates is beyond me. I'm reassessing and reevaluating how we spend our days. Daily and weekly rhythms are ready for updates now that this is a distinctly baby-free zone and summer is fading fast. I'm afraid that its going to be mindful mamas that's cut, or at least dropped to a very low priority. In many ways we've outgrown the group but I've been going for over 3 years now. I've never been a mom without the mamas and its going to be scary to let go.

On top of that Josh has spent very serious time praying while I was gone and big changes may be coming for our family and the way we practice our faith. It's going to cause ripples in just about every direction if it does.

In two weeks I'll have been counting for a year. I had sort of hoped to reach 565 by the 565th day. That's not going to happen. In the last month especially I have lost the habit of counting. But I'm still chugging along. Re-commiting to joy, to finding the littlest moments of grace.

420. Homemade (and grown) pesto.

421. Driving with the music up way too loud.

422. Books you've read so many times they are like old friends.

423. Riding bicycles.

424. Weeks of work paying off.

425. Ice.

426. The happy stompings of brand new tennis shoes.

427. Homemade pizza.

428. Sunset walks.

429. Water slides.

430. Instant friendships.

431. New family members.

432. Anniversaries.

433. Puppies.

434. The hottest day of the year.

435. Count downs.

436. Little boys with smeared lipstick demanding for a kiss.

437. Sweet tea with some extra "sweet".

438. Long long drives with never a hiccup.

439. Time to think.

440. Wrestling matches.

441. Uncles.

442. The majesty of God's creation. The drive from Spokane to Boise and vice versa is not the prettiest drive ever; I don't even take the prettiest route available. But any views of nature at all bring awe and worship.

Just for fun:

July/August Garden Update

2011-09-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

I kind of fell off the gardening update bandwagon and didn't even realize it until I sat down to write a different blog post. Sorry. I'll allow that other to further ferment and do my best to catch you up on what happened in the garden the last two months.

High summer never did arrive...or if it did it was only for two weeks at the very end of August...and the garden certainly felt it. Certain plants just never thrived the way they should have, :(. But all-in-all I am pretty happy with this, my second year gardening. I definitely learned some things to implement next year. We will take the tour round, bed by bed.

Bed 1, which housed my "spring produce" of lettuce, spinach, and peas died out in mid July. They all three produced amazingly well.

8 lettuce heads and 2 spinach heads, re-planted as they are pulled, was the perfect amount for our family. A steady and manageable over-flow. I was particularly pleased with the lettuce, as last year I found it kind of bitter and soft. Thru experimentation I found that a good watering right before harvest made my lettuce crisp and wonderful. Also, I think the cooler weather this spring helped :)

The peas we could have used more of. We harvested a small bowl nearly every morning and yet we could have used more. What can I say? My kids enjoy peas more then anything else out of the garden. Oh, yes, I had mentioned that I planted 30 peas at the beginning of April, and 30 at the end. In all honestly, it seemed like they produced equal amounts and at the same time. In the future I will probably just plant them all at once- at the end. Germination rates were much better with that planting, and it gives me more time to get all the beds in order.

I had planned on doing an August re-planting (for fall harvest) of all three, but alas never got around to it. Dare I admit the weather and limited success of the year has gotten me down? Instead I planted a ground cover and let the bed rest.

Bed 2 housed my green beans. I planted both bush and pole beans, and surprisingly (to me) the bush beans produced a lot better. I planted bush beans last year as well, and after being talked into it by many, many people decided to try pole as well...and I've got to admit that next year I'm going back to bush only :)

early July.

Some of that, I will admit, is just that I hate climbing plants...I can never find a cheap/easy to install/low maintanance/well functioning trellis system. Dangling yarn worked great for the peas...not so well for the beans (which are much heavier plants).

I was doubtful about fitting 9 bush bean plants per square foot (ala square foot gardening method) but I didn't notice the plants suffering any...although finding the beans was a bit of a jungle!

Bed 3 belonged to my corn.

Poor, poor corn. It looks very pretty but I'm not sure it will produce anything. We will see. Either way I think this will end my corn adventures. Its too cheap, too hard to get a harvest, and takes up too much space! I'm going to use this bed for potatoes next year. My current potato bed (as we will later discuss) is too shady.

Bed four is where I kept my tomato and carrots. The bad news is, while the cherry tomatoes are doing wonderfully (not that I've enjoyed many or even really had much of an idea of how many there are- the kids keep eating them!) my full tomato plants only have 1-2 small tomatoes per plant. Grr!! Tomatoes are Josh's fav garden food and after the wild success I had last year, this is really disheartening! I'm blaming the weather. My tomatoes got really really damaged from the cold early on and I dont think they ever recovered.

Next year I'm going to re purpose the green bean trellis into a makeshift hotbed (adding some clear plastic). No cold tomato plants allowed!!

The good news is the carrots did amazing!! All 120 of them ;) We've been picking a few for snack or dinner every few days since mid July and we've really just made a dent. They are good now, but after the first frost of the year they will be even better (if there are any left!)

Bed 5, the last but not least of the raised beds was the squash bed. 2 Zuchinni and 3 Winter Squash varieties. The zuchinni did ok...just ok, and its zuchinni! Like the easiest thing ever to grow!

The winter squash is a pretty utter failure. We have 1 between the 3 plants. Part of the problem was a major bug attack early in the summer...and this is the area where my green beans were kept last year (which where also attacked by bugs!!). Not sure what to do about that. The other part was the cold weather, I suspect. The kept growing huge gorgeous flowers that fell off :(

Oh well. I will try again next year, and probably squish a few more plants in. They are pretty spaced out and I realized that if they get too crowded I could always let the vines grow "out of the box" as it were. I want at least 3 zuchinni I think, and 4 winter squash...maybe 6...

In the fruit bed I had strawberries which produced pounds, and pounds, and pounds of neverending fruit. Honestly I got sick of strawberries and had to start giving them away because the yard smelled of jam from all the rotting berries left on the plant. My children wont even look a strawberry in the face, and its been a month. So yeah, that was successful.

spent strawberries

The raspberries were in their first year so no fruit, but the look like they are doing well. We will see what happens next year. They still seem rather teeny to me.

The potato/onion bed was a last minute addition. And poorly chosen, because it only gets about 5 hours of sun a day. The onion never did survive that hail storm in June, they slowly died after that. The problem is that our roof dumped the hail right onto them :(

The potatoes look like they are doing well, above ground. They sprouted the most lovely little purple flowers. We will see soon how well they did below-ground. Hopefully well, because I want to see some purple pototoes!! Either way Im going to move them into a raised bed next year where the will get more sun.

And I think this previously-known-as-the-potato-and-onion bed will become a flower bed. There are plenty of partial sun flowers I can plant in there and Zeke's flower garden was a complete and total fail. I need to just accept the fact that that particular section of our yard is the "dirt box". I planted squash in it last year...which got trampled by a digging boy. And this year I planted flowers...which got trampled by 2 digging boys. They never stood a chance. If I want a cutting garden, its going to have to be on "my" territory.

As far as my corner herbs go, I hate to admit it but I almost never used them! Oops. I made pesto once with the basil, and salsa with fresh cilantro once, and fish with fresh dill once. I'm just not in the habit of having them I suppose...

They did look really pretty when I let them all flower :)

Its About The Effort

2011-08-28T18:54:00.001-07:00

Malachi fell very comically off the pew during the sermon today and at least 15 people surrounding us laughed. I sighed.

I live in constant expectation of a letter, "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Clark, please go find another church to attend... preferably of another denomination." Either that or a shiny new plaque, "Most disruptive family of the year." Congratulations.

Church attendance for the last...oh 3 years, has been more of a survival exercise then anything else. I try, I really do. It's just that I always seem to have a baby that absolutely refuses to go into the nursery and all my attempts to keep him silent during the sermon somehow manage to be both completely futile and completely distracting. I can usually manage to gather about half of the message, while keeping him at a low airplane-take-off volume.

I'm sure no one around us is lucky enough to even hear that blessed half, not with Malachi throwing cheetos, pushing cars thru the isles, and yelling about the "fishy, fishy! FISHY!" on the wall. Oh and my personal favorite- motorboating my chest. Every Sunday I feel like passing a hand over my forehead,"phew, we made it thru on more service" and then going individually to every other person there and apologizing.

The situation is hilarious- I'm the first to admit it. But it's also disheartening. On the one hand, I know our church membership and they are endlessly forgiving and patient. I dare say they actually enjoy our kids antics. On the other hand, sometimes I wish I didn't have to be the one on Ash Wednesday with the kids running in wild circles while I attempt to sing. Sometimes I fail to see the virtue in ruining everyone else's experience.

Its the effort that counts right?

I hope so, because honestly this permeates thru so much of our spiritual life right now. The family prayers that Zeke repeatedly interrupts to inform us that we forgot to thank God for his fork, and Malachi forgets about completely halfway thru, stuffing his mouth with noodles and only remembering to fold his hands again for the yelled "amen!" The "quiet time" I take every afternoon to read my bible and pray...the one that's interrupted 4569 times. The one where I read about patience, and then quickly lose it when a fight breaks out.

Please tell me its the effort that counts.

Preschool Blues

2011-08-23T13:53:00.000-07:00

Our new in-the-car routine goes something like this:

"I'm not allowed to kick people, right?"

"right."

"But I'm allowed to kick a bad guy, like if I saw a bad guy, and we were fighting, right?"

"right."

"My left hand makes an L, right?"

"right."

"There are red apples, and green apples, and pear apples, but only 1 a day, right?"

"right."

"But baby gets one too, so that means 2, right?"

"right."

"Excavators are too big to fit in our house, right?"

"right."

And honestly its been kind of fun. For one thing, I can barely listen, because all I have to do is wait for a pause and then say right. Anything else is unnecessary and frankly, unwanted. Beats the constant "why" game, which for the record, you can never win and often requires some mind-bending thinking. Not as nice as driving in blessed silence, or listening to the radio in peace but let's be honest, those were never possibilities anyways.

So now I get a glimpse of what exactly is going thru Zeke's brain every time we climb in the car. The things that have struck him, the things that he's pondering, the lessons he's remembered. And it's often hella interesting. And its often heartening to know how much he is paying attention, all too often I feel like the peanuts teacher- wah wah wah.

And every once in a while it makes me feel kind of bad.

"Mac goes to school, right?"

"right."

"and Xavia goes to school, right?"

"right."

"and Mckenzie goes to school, right?"

"right..."

"And Preston goes to school, right?"

"Not yet, but he will start to go to school next week."

"And I will go to school next week too, right?"

"Uhh...no, you stay home with mommy and malachi."

"oh."

And we've had variations of this conversation over, and over, and over again. We've talked about how some people go to school, and some people go to work, and some people stay home. We've talked about how Layla doesn't go to school either, or Noah. We've talked about how when you go to school you are by yourself, and mommies aren't allowed. But apparently none if it sets in- this kid wants to go to school.

Its not like I wasn't somewhat prepared that this conversation would happen. Sooner or later he would want to go to school, sooner or later the answer would be no. We are planning on homeschooling after all.

But I'll admit that I wasn't prepared for it now.

Honestly, homeschooling plans aside, Zeke wouldn't go to preschool this year anyways. We just plain cant afford it. It's too expensive. The one preschool co-op that I know of is semi-affordable at 50 dollars a month for two days a week. But honestly even that- with a 35 dollars a quarter, and another 35 registration fee tacked on feels a bit cost prohibitive.

Add to that its being a co-op- which means it requires that I volunteer one day a week- which means finding babysitting for Mal one day a week...its just not going to work.

And I'm still really not convinced that Zeke would enjoy it- he's blissfully looking over that whole "he'd have to go by himself" bit I think. But he thinks he would enjoy it. He sees this giant, mysterious, thing that everyone (seemingly) else gets to do and he doesn't get to do. And he thinks it would be wonderful.

And I'm not sure that he's wrong.

And I hate it.

Oh Claudia

2011-08-22T08:44:00.000-07:00

We got Claudia last Fall, despite repeatedly saying that I did not really want a dog, and even despite the fact that everything about her was wrong.

Well, she's turning 1 in September. She's gone from this:

To this:

An I can now say that she was arguably the best decision we made last year. The vote is still out, but she's a definite contender for greatest dog ever.

That's not to say there haven't been challenges. Leash training this dog nearly killed me. I gave up several times before we finally figured out how to "heel". We also had to work thru teething, and the loss of several of the kids toys; digging, and the loss of several rows of my garden; house training, which definitely contributed to the loss of our carpets; and the over-all Aussie neediness and stubbornness.

But she's a year old now, and we are out of the puppy stage, we're even out of the even worse 7-9 month stage (the age at which most "owner surrenders" are taken to the pound- aka doggie teens). Things with Claudia this summer have been decidedly...wonderful.

She has become my true partner. Following me like a shadow, in true Aussie style. She knows all her basic commands, her "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "drop it". She waits her turn to go out the door, and heels on our nightly walk, stopping at every crosswalk and ignoring barking dogs. I can leave the front door open while I unload groceries and know that she wont wander off.

Better yet, I can send her into the front yard while the boys ride their bikes and trust her to bark every time they step into the road, or ride further then their allowance.

Aussies are famous for needing a job to be happy, and Claudia has certainly found her job. She's a stricter mommy then even I am, and tells the boys off every time they fight, and tattles ever time they are naughty. Zeke opened the back gate the other day and went into the alley- and I knew it within 10 seconds.

And dare I say it? We have enjoyed her so much that I've been keeping my eyes out this week for another dog. Because I will admit the one thing that Claudia could improve on is more ability to entertain herself, and more confidence when left alone.

I'm being picky. I want a dog, not a puppy. Something between 1-4.

It doesn't have to have impeccably trained, or even trained at all; but it does have to be well socialized- with kids, dogs, and cats. Because we have all of the above, and they are all too precious to me to risk anything.

We want it to be somewhere around Claudia's size. A small medium to medium sized dog, about 25-50 pounds.

Ideally we'd like another herding breed, or mix of herding breed. An aussie, or a collie, or a sheepdog. They have their downsides, and oh boy do we know them better then anyone. But they are downsides we are familiar with- and there is something to be said for that. And they are downsides I can deal with. I can take a dog that will constantly try to dominate, and requires constant attention- a dog that digs however...

So obviously we know that there are certain breeds we aren't interested in at all- no pit bulls, no huskies, no chows or labradors, no beagles or daschunds or for that matter any type of hound. No terriers. It's not necessarily that those are bad breeds, they just aren't a good fit for us. I know several lab owners, for example, that adore their dogs. Obviously that leaves quite a few breeds we are just plain unfamiliar with- spaniels for example. Or what to do when a breed we like is mixed with a breed we don't, a husky/collie for example. We will cross those bridges when it comes.

We'd prefer a male over a female. Because getting two dogs of opposite sex to get along is a lot easier then two dogs of the same.

We'd prefer it to be neutered, because it's expensive and we feel very, very, strongly that all dogs should be.

We need it to be cheap(ish), hopefully even from a rescue. We have financial and moral issues with paying 100's of dollars to a breeder for a family dog.

But mostly we are waiting to fall in love. It certainly worked last time.

Sibling Fighting

2011-08-17T15:55:00.000-07:00

For the past week, for the first time in their lives, my boys have been fighting. It feels like all day long, but in reality I know its probably only as much as all siblings fight...maybe even less.

It's just hit me hard because, like I said, they've never actually done this before. Since Mal's birth, they were always just two peas in a happy little pod. From the first, and honestly even in utero, they've just had this amazing connection. Like they were meant to be together. Truly in all ways a pair.

And now suddenly they fight.

And I suppose I'm just overreacting. My kids are together 24/7. They wake up within a half hour of each other, they eat all their meals together, they play together, they take their naps together, they watch cartoons together, they read books together, they go outside together, they go to bed together. Any special outing or art project or cooking that one gets to do, the other has a finger in. What relationship on this earth could ever withstand that kind of continuous company and not fight now and then?

And of course there's the oft repeated fact that its not how much you fight, but how you fight that matters. We've been working on the correct ways of fighting; and talking about how everyone needs to just be alone sometimes. We've been talking about how that is ok, and important to respect.

Whoever wants to be alone is usually the one that's best understanding it right now :)

I suppose I'm just taking it so seriously because their relationship is so important to me. Your siblings are the people that know you the longest, after all. Long before your spouses, long after your parents are gone.

To have a brother, is to have someone that's got your back for life.

I try to pray for my kids daily. I firmly believe that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, more powerful than I can do in their lives than to pray for them. And I pray for a lot of things; for virtues I want them to have, for sufferings I want them to be spared from. I pray that they would be true to themselves, and that they would be blessed, I pray for their future spouses, for their passions, for their careers. And increasingly since Mal has been born I've felt led to pray for their relationship with each other.

For their brotherhood.

I dont know if its important for them, or if it's just important.

But I do know this- they are a pair.

And I wont let them forget it.

Up

2011-08-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

The front door slams and I recognize his footsteps on the wood floors.

"Mom! I'm hungry!"

And every inch of me freezes; I'm suspended in front of the refrigerator, door wide open and vegetables for dinner in hand.

And oh Lord, my Lord, when will it stop? When will they stop getting bigger? His growing pains have ceased for the time being, but mine...oh mine. I begin to wonder if this ache is permanent.

Malachi heard his brother as well and suddenly he's running to the front door.

Despite his mortification on the subject, Malachi is not allowed to play in the front yard by himself and was therefor pouting with me in the kitchen while Zeke raced back and forth on his bicycle. Even watching him thru the window is too painful.

I don't blame him. He always goes too fast- every time I glance out the window my breath catches in my throat and my arms lift as if to keep him from falling.

"Did you put your bike away?" I ask, as he settles himself heavily into a kitchen chair, little brother loyally following.

And I pretend to not notice the way he rolls his eyes as he answers, "It's in the garage, mom."

I pretend not to see his scabbed knees either, the tennis shoes suddenly huge in size 10, the way he's outgrowing his t-shirt (yet again), they way he needs another haircut, they way he relaxes his thin frame against the back of the chair.

And I chop zucchini, if only to keep my hands busy. If only to keep from running over and picking him up and rocking him like the baby that he isn't anymore. I can still pick him up, after all. Who knows how much longer until I cant?

Note to Self

2011-08-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

Next time you hear the words, "Oh man, mommy is gonna be MAD" don't go in the room. Just don't. Grab your keys and drive away instead. Perhaps to someplace tropical...and remote.

2 pounds of oatmeal...on the floor.

I've sent my kids into the backyard and informed them they aren't allowed in the house anymore.

Lost and Found

2011-08-02T19:27:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, we don't even have a baby in this house anymore." Zeke tells me disdainfully when I sit in the rocking chair and announce I need a baby. Maybe it's something they discussed privately because Malachi, who usually runs to me all open arms at this oft-repeated pronouncement, just briefly looks up before going back to his book.

"Maybe Claudia can be your baby." is my eldest's only comfort before he runs to his brother and solemnly hands him a plastic tyrannosaurus. His brontosaurus swings it's tail to whack Mal's T-Rex and Mal gives out a great roar. We all know the brontosaurus will win, they always do. It comes from watching too much Land Before Time, if you ask me.

I just sit in silence. Claudia, who heard her name, comes padding up and gives me a quizzical look and I feel like the classic Dr Seuss in reverse..."Are you my baby?" But when she realizes no one is offering up treats or petting even she wanders off. So much for the loyalty of dogs.

Malachi's arm reaches back and he absently scratches at his curls. Watching the motion it hits me that I should have seen this coming. Since when has he moved with such ease? When exactly did he grow up?

He hasn't nursed in a week.

Weaning at 19 months is no shock, and he's been slowly breastfeeding less and less all summer, but still- I was surprised. I can't even remember our last time.

Maybe it's the finality of it that's bothering me so much. The end of babyhood and now suddenly I have two toddlers. Or, to be more honest a toddler and a preschooler. Oh my.

I'm keeping myself busy to distract from the sheer insanity of it. No babies. I am both thrilled and dejected.

I'm lost and I'm found.

Close to Nature, Close to Perfect (#400-419)

2011-07-29T11:42:00.001-07:00

While I am so so thankful for the parks that dot pretty much every mile of this city, with their metal climbing structures and plastic slides- I have to admit that sometimes it's nice to go to a park without them. While the playgrounds get safer, my boys find no end of physical challenges while climbing trees.

The shade of a willow becomes our house, and an impromptu reenactment of The Three Little Pigs is begun. Sticks become swords and battles are fought.

Small streams become raging rivers. Bushes become hidden caves. Flowers are suddenly secret islands full of treasure.

Every rock is a mountain.

Just waiting to be conquered.

There is always a shady spot, to enjoy an apple and a laugh.

And we come home a few hours later exhausted, and full of adventure, and full of thanks.

Dor bubbling streams (#413), for the wonders of a weeping willow (#414), for stick-swords(#415), and rock-mountains(#416). For living in a city were all of this is just 15 minutes away (#417). For climbing trees (#418), for boys who see trees and bushes and rocks as so soo much more (#419).

And for a lot of other things as well.

--------------------

Because I'm still finding the hidden grace, and counting 1,000 ways I am blessed. 1,000 things to be thankful for; 1,000 ways I am loved every moment by Love Himself.

400. Strawberry lemonade.

401. Kiddie pools warmed in the sun.

402. Crazy water toys.

403. Homemade strawberry icecream.

404. Dates with my son.

405. Strawberry, raspberry, blueberry cobbler.

406. The "problem" of using up pounds and pounds of homegrown berries.

407. Summer rain.

408. Movie theatres.

409. Giant yellow squash flowers.

410. Green eyes.

411. Curly whirly baby hair.

412. A job for Josh.

That was...anticlimactic

2011-07-25T12:45:00.000-07:00

Today is Josh's first day back at work. In all, he was unemployed for exactly 1 week. Instead of the months of job searching and tightening of belts we were all geared up for, he was hired at a slightly better wage then he made before, and did it faster then his severance pay was out. How in the world being laid-off became financially beneficial is beyond me, but I'm not going to question it too deeply. This company apparently even does regularly scheduled evaluations, complete with regularly scheduled raises- a thing that never happened in all the years Josh worked at his old one. So all in all we are very, very happy and in a general awe at how things always seem to work out for our good.

Now I just feel silly for all that worrying I did.

In other news I got sick of waiting for summer to start. While the rest of the country is in a record breaking heat wave, I can count on my fingers the number of days we've reached the 80's, and I'm not 100% sure we've reached the 90's at all. It is the end of July, however, so I'm starting to suspect this is the best we will get.

So we've been fruit picking,

having picnics,

doing really weird art projects,

going to the beach,

and all the other activities that mean summer. Eating otter pops, and running thru sprinklers, and visiting the public pool, and welcoming ourselves to friends' raspberry bushes, and making berry cobblers, and grilling hamburgers and corn cobs and sausage dogs and kabobs and BBQ chicken and zuchinni's fresh from the garden and pretty much anything else I can talk Josh into making for dinner.

We missed the renaissance fair as usual but the royal fireworks concert is next weekend and remembering how enthralled Zeke was with the ballet last year we are pretty set on attending at least that portion of it again. We also missed the first Concert Under the Pines at our local park, because that was the day Josh was laid off and we forgot all about it, but the next 3 are on the calender ready to be remembered.

Even if the season wont do itself justice at least we will :)

New Rhythms and New Horizons

2011-07-20T17:07:00.000-07:00

With Josh home this week the whole family seems to be in a pause. Each of us pushing arms outwards to feel our new space, and wriggling our shoulders in attempts to make it familiar. Well, all of us except Mal. Malachi just barrels forward despite all changes in rhythm and aura. It may be a 1-year-old thing but it may just also be Mal.

Whether our littlest family member notices or not, the house feels different with Josh here.

In an effort to keep some semblance of our normal day going he does go downstairs into his basement office (aka man cave) every morning. He job searches, he familiarizes himself with programming languages that he thinks a knowledge of will be useful, he double checks his online presence, he takes breaks to lift weights, to practice guitar. By 3pm when the boys are being woken from their naps, he joins the rest of us and we head out as a family to run errands or garden, or else we adults read while the kid's play at our feet.

Honestly it should feel the same, only daddy "home" a bit early. But it doesn't really. Even if he's unavailable we are all very aware that he's here. Every art project must be run down to show him, every snack offered. He comes up every once in a while, to use the restroom or grab a drink or tell me, laughing, that he knows when he is applying for a job in Idaho when they state that degrees from accredited universities are preferred.

It's an adjustment and we are getting there.

And hopefully by the time we do we are adjusting right back to where we were before.

He has two interviews tomorrow. :) I told him to ask double his old salary or bust ;)

Day In the Life

2011-07-15T08:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first day that Josh was home, having been laid off Thursday. Yep, you heard me. Josh lost his job. On the one hand, we have been half expecting it for years- his company has had 2+ major lay-offs every year that he has worked there. On the other hand...well on the other hand it always sucks when your number is called. It's not exactly like Spokane is a tech-job meca, and in case you've been able to forget we are in a recession for...for as long as Josh and I have been part of the work force actually. In other words, there is a very real chance that this will force us to uproot our family- to short sale the home that I dearly love, and leave the city where I have built my life for almost seven years. Our friends, my mom's group, the non-profit I've helped birth, our church and the youth group we run...even the little things like our pediatrician and the park we always go to and the farm that we pick fruit in during the Spring sting a little bit.

Yes I've done it before- 6 and a half years ago when I came here.

But honestly the familiarity with the process just makes it harder. I know that it takes years to truly build a life, and how hard it is while you live without a support system in the meantime. I dont want to start over.

Our search is limited to this area for now but neither one of us are sure how long we can keep that luxury.

Anyways, life must go on and I had long planned to do a Day In The Life post.

And so I shall.

Mal and I woke up at 8:30, to find Josh and Zeke already downstairs and skimming the online job market.

Josh fed the boys breakfast, and I harvested some peas from the garden and took a shower (yay for fixed water heaters!).

After my shower it was time for the kids to take a bath.

They love to wash each other's hair- like teenage girls in a teenage boys' fantasy. When they were dried off and dressed they went outside to play.

And Josh trimmed the epic beard he has been working on for the past little bit to something that looks a little less homeless and a little more "hire me".

Around 10 I took the boys to their well-child check-ups, and Josh went back downstairs to continue the job search. Only Malachi ended up getting any shots, and he took it like a champ as usual. After my last post I had 2 foster moms I know tell me that they partially immunize/don't immunize their kids and never had any problems. I looked up the actual law (vs blindly listening to a social worker that obviously meant best but also obviously cant know everything) and found I can opt out my bio kids as long as I immunize my foster kids. So back to the old schedule we happily go.

It was some well-child visit, however. Zeke left with a pink eye prescription and Mal with a antibiotic prescription for his flaming double ear infection!? I knew he had a small cold earlier in the week but honestly he wasn't acting like he was in pain at all. I'm glad it came to light, though, because our insurance only lasts thru the end of the month.

Mal fell asleep on the drive home, there goes nap. And then they had chicken nuggets and apple slices for lunch.

After eating Mal went back outside to play ring toss.

And Zeke went into the toy room to play with his trains.

I did my prayer time, since I knew I wouldn't have time with both boys napping at once.

After I was done I filled their kiddie pool to warm up for the afternoon, and put Zeke down for a nap. I finally got hungry so I made taquitos for Malachi and I to share while we watched the first act of Les Miserable (the 1oth anniversary DVD). I decided that as loyal to this version as I feel, the 25th anniversary that came out this year is a lot better.

I woke up Zeke at 3 and he was very. Very. Very cranky.

We all four of us went to the store.

When we got home Zeke was still very very very cranky-though somewhat mollified by the jamba juice Josh bought him. We put the groceries away and went for a swim.

Soon it was time to start dinner, so Zeke got to watch Cinderella.

Malachi started to watch with him, but ended up falling asleep. I accepted the fact that I would be up until midnight.

Our friend Becca arrived, bearing gifts in the form of Josh's phone charger. He had left it at work the day before. They talked lay-off.

Soon after that our friend Jonathan arrived for dinner. They also talked lay-off.

Dinner finished cooking and Becca excused herself to go home.

We talked more lay-off but I was heartened. We talked about the dozens of people that have come up and offered to look for jobs for Josh, the handful that already had and demanded his resume for their boss. He is very well liked and respected in his business. We talked about the bright side of the situation, that we all know he would never quit his former job, and maybe this is opening him up for bigger and better things.

Jonathan brought gifts for the boys.

And very soon it was time for Zeke to go to bed...and for the rest of us to watch Harry Potter 7a in preparation for the second movie which we are all going to tomorrow (well except Malachi, he's not invited to HP7b...but then again he also fell asleep in the middle of 7a so he's not fully prepared anyways).

I do love me a schedule

2011-07-13T09:26:00.000-07:00

When Zeke was born we decided to partially immunize. It's not that I buy all the research about immunizations causing autism ect, its just that I also don't buy all the research disproving it- I see the wonderful miracle that immunizations are, and I see the cash cow they have become. At the end of the day, let's just say, I don't trust anyone but my own good sense. And so like any woman who only trusts her own good sense and has far too much time on her hands I decided to look into things myself (with the help of a trusted pediatrician).

And the plan that I came up with, the one that I felt most comfortable with, was partial delayed immunization. Our schedule looked like this.

2mo DTaP, Hib(combined shot), Pc

4mo DTaP, Hib(combined shot), Pc

6mo DTaP, Hib(combined shot), Pc

18mo DTaP,Hib(combined shot), Pc

5 years DTaP

10 or 12 years HepB, Hep A, MMR, Chickenpox

*skipped all together were rotovirus and polio (although Mal got the Polio, because my current ped. carried and trusted a combined vac. including it with DTaP, Hib)

Fast forward 3 years and I'm still very happy with that schedule. But, suddenly, we are also thinking and praying very hard about becoming foster parents next year. And one reality of being foster parents is that you are inviting big gov. into your home in a very real way- and big gov. isn't fond of people who write their own schedules. In other words, to get licensing to foster, our own kids need to be caught up on their shots in the next year.

Except for that roto, they don't recommend getting the roto vaccine later then 18 months so we just lucked out on that one ;)

To make a long story short(er) our new schedule ends like this:

Mal

2 yrs MMR, Pox(combined shot), Hep B

2.5 yrs Hep A, Hep B

3 yrs Hep A, Hep B

Zeke

3 yrs MMR, Pox(combined shot), Hep B, Polio

3.5 Hep A, Hep B, Polio

4 yrs Hep A, Hep B, Polio

Mal wont be truly caught up for a year and a half, but by the time we are hoping to apply for licensing (next summer) he will only have the last Hep A and the last Hep B left. If that's not good enough I'm willing to wait an extra 6 months until he is done.

At first I'll admit I was fairly upset about this change in plans. But the more I think about it, the more at peace I am.

Summer Lull

2011-07-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

I don't know if its the summer heat - the sudden expansion of the season finally arriving...

Or the fact that my mind is full of Les Miserables, which I've watched almost 3 times this week. I still cant tell if its as good as the old 10th anniversary DVD...

Or maybe it's after-vacation exhaustion...

Or the growing excitement of Dance with Dragons being released AT LAST this Tuesday! And Harry Potter 7b (as I call it) Friday!

But I've been getting nothing done. Not even any writing. Sorry for the silence.

Home (#360-399)

2011-07-05T14:34:00.000-07:00

Nothing makes you appreciate home like a 9 day vacation in the woods.

Not that we didn't have an amazing time- we really truly did. It's just that I didn't realize how tense my shoulders had gotten until walking in the front door immediately released them. I love my front door. I love our little home. It's the biggest little home that ever was built. I can walk from front to back in 7 steps, from side to side in a mean dozen (I've counted), and yet we've stuffed 4 bedrooms and a giant-sized helping of life into it. It's the blessing of numerous floors and an indulgent husband.

I've lived here a little over 2 years now and this house is dangerously close to becoming the one I have lived the longest in. Josh and I dream of getting out of the city, of acreage and a giant garden and maybe even a horse (and obviously miniature donkeys!) but I can very honestly say that I am perfectly content right here. We could stuff a whole lot more life in.

#399- Home.

---------------------

I'm struggling to find the hidden grace, and count 1,000 ways I am blessed. 1,000 things to be thankful for; 1,000 ways I am every day loved by Love Himself.

#360. New coloring books.

#362. Grandpa's boat.

#363. Butterflies flitting from flower to flower.

#364. Pink and purple skies over the mountains- a glimpse of majesty.

#365. Bug spray.

#366. The beach.

#367. Digging.

#368. Sunburns.

#369. Paddle boats.

#370. The plop of a rock perfectly thrown into water.

#371. Campfires

#372. Marshmallows.

#373. Piles of blankets in a cold tent.

#374. Huckleberry pancakes.

#375. Black sheep, both literal and figurative.

#376. Board games.

#377. Helping hands.

#378. Pinochle.

#379. Pie

#380. Steep hills.

#381. Big sticks.

#382. Searching the woods for mushrooms.

#383. Little plastic boats.

#384. All nurf-like products.

#385. 6 dogs and 14 children crammed in 2 campgrounds- a very happy chaos.

#386. Filthy dirty boys aka happy campers.

#387. Very big pieces of watermelon.

#388. A warm washcloth after days of camping and a no-longer-so-thin layer of dirt on the skin.

389. Dog cousins.

#390. The camping smell rising off me as I shower.

#391. The boys swarming over the peas the minute we arrive home and eating a clean dozen each before I've even finished looking around.

#392. Vendor food.

#393. Fireworks.

#394. Corny patriotic music.

#395. People watching, and Josh and I's favorite version- baby watching.

#396. Shade on a hot day.

#397. Family traditions.

#398. Really ridiculously large snow scones.

June Garden Update

2011-06-25T22:22:00.000-07:00

Updating a bit early, because we are going out of town for the rest of June.

This month was kind of like the 10 plagues of Egypt. Except there were not quite 10 of them...also my backyard isn't in Egypt.

There was hail however, which decimated my lettuce and onion patches, the lettuce I was able to replant but half of my 12 onions are just gone. And I found dozens (dozens!) of slugs in the potatoes, while something we never quite found or labeled ate 4 of my squash seedlings, maybe birds?

During these many setbacks I ~~threw many tantrums~~ kept up a good attitude.

Gardening is good practice for accepting that which you cannot control. Like endless rain. And slugs.

Luckily lettuce grows back quickly, and by replanting every time I pull a head I've been harvesting a head or two of lettuce every week this month, with nary an empty spot left in the row.

The peas are doing great as well and hopefully as they grow taller they will give the delicate lettuce enough shade to protect them from the heat of high summer- that is if high summer ever arrives.

I could get used to the steady supply of lettuce.

As for the slugs, I spread egg shells to deter them (they are too sharp for soft slug bellies) and laid and old board every evening next to my plants. When the sun came up the next day the slugs hid underneath, and then it was just a matter of murdering the ugly suckers. After 4 nights of this I stopped finding slugs. I know everyone says "beer traps" but I've never had much luck with them, and since we dont drink beer this was more convenient.

It seemed to work and the potatoes were saved.

In the end 6 potato plants came up. I think its hilarious that they were all planted the same day and yet I have 3 distinct stages of growth. As you can see the top 2 left ones have been hilled a few times already but the bottom 2 right ones are still in their holes, and the other two are barely germinated, so teeny tiny you cant even really see them.

As for the squash and it's attacker... well I ended up buying 2 more starts to make up for my losses :( But I found great ones at the public market for 50cents a pop so alls well that ends well?

The green beans are doing great.

And the raspberries are even putting out shoots at last!

My tomatoes may never forgive me for the weather, though.

If they don't rally soon I might just pull them. The carrots in the back look nice. They are sooo tiny and grow grow soooo slow though, and take forever to germinate. I did my second planting 2 weeks ago and nary a sprout. So far carrots just arent that satisfying. I'm sure I'll sing another tune when its pulling time :)

We are very near picking time for strawberries. There are literal pounds of green strawberries out there. I have a feeling they will all redden up while we are gone and we will have quite a feast to greet us back home next week.

And hopefully more corn germinates as well.

We have 5 or 6 but I planted more like 25 or 30. Hopefully the rest pop up, if not I may be setting this bed to cover crop sooner then expected.

Here's hoping for more sun and less plagues this month!!

Malachi @ 18 mo

2011-06-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

I've been writing so much about Ezekiel lately that I decided it was time to devote a post to Malachi. As he nears 18 months he is really turning a corner, becoming more of a toddler and less of a baby, and his personality is really showing thru. I have to admit that this- 18mo to 4 years- is really my favorite age. I'm not so much a baby person.

Our big struggles right now with Malachi are in dealing with his temper and his destructiveness. Oh boy does my boy have a temper. He is all hot and cold, this one. He always has been, but as he gets older his physical expressions of anger become less and less acceptable. Malachi has been known to hit, kick, bite, headbutt, and throw things when displeased. And he gets displeased both easily and quickly. He is also so quick to hug, though, the biggest strongest bear hugs you have ever received. And he showers kisses on everyone; me, Josh, Zeke, the cats, and Claudia.

I have to remember that his temperament has two sides, good and bad. He angers quickly, but he's quick to forgive as well. His extremes are such a world away from Zeke's steady little personality that it has taken me a while to get a handle on Mal and how best to stabilize him though. I'm still not sure quite what to do other then wait out his storms.

As for his destructiveness, uhg. I'm trying to channel it into better directions best I can. He is such a physical being. I don't think he really means harm, he just has to be DOING all the time. Zeke and I are both thinkers. Josh as well, for that matter. But Malachi has to DO and better yet AFFECT 24/7. I'm finding very quickly that if I'm not providing positive things for him to be doing, he will find his own things to do.

So Malachi has been introduced to crayons and when I'm in good mood markers, which I realize sounds like a terrible idea but as long as I keep a sharp eye on him to make sure he's limiting his art to the paper at hand and sometimes his own body, it's been helping worlds. And now he has a phone book as well, courtesy of the city, to rip and rip with joy. It makes just the most satisfying sound and creates such a lovely mess, which he is very happy to transfer to the trash when he's done.

And when I am busy and distracted I'm making sure to keep him under my wing by employing him as my special helper. He's at the perfect age to be adoring it- both the attention and the responsibility. Zeke is still my designated table-setter but Malachi often acts as his silverware deputy, and he has his own special job now of table-clearer. He loves to put all the dirty dishes in the sink and will even push a chair up to the counter so he can retrieve the sponge and wipe the kitchen down. I'm also finding all sorts of little pieces of lint and paper for him to throw away for me, and he likes to bring me items from the laundry basket to fold, and to sweep, though I'm not sure he ever gets anywhere with that one.

At 18 months, Mal still isn't talking much. He CAN talk. Every once in a while he even does, spouting off dozens of words suddenly in a day, and even phrases. But then the next he is back to pointing, and nothing makes him madder then forcing him to talk when he doesn't want to (by pretending you don't understand him or telling him he must say please, up, ect, before you will do it). His only consistent word is "good girl", which is what he calls Claudia.

It's fitting because if forced to pick a best friend I am sure "good girl" would win hands down. They are the best of friends and almost never separated. If Malachi cries then Claudia is often found right by his side crying, and if Claudia whines Malachi will burst into tears. It makes punishing either one of them a pain, to tell the truth. But its also adorable as heck, so I forgive them.

One thing is for sure, Malachi is NOT ready to be a big boy or have a younger sibling. He is quite happy being the nurser of the family and isn't thrilled when babies come visiting, quickly pushing them out of my arms and climbing into my lap. It makes me very glad we don't have a little one due any day, like we did when Zeke was 18 months. Mal gets to be the baby for a while longer yet.

Zeke's existential crisis

2011-06-15T14:04:00.000-07:00

I knew something was up for a good week or two, the way he was pulling close and then pushing away and then pulling close again only to rip himself away the next minute. He was declaring himself a baby and a big boy in the same sentences and wearing his underwear with pride, but resorting to baby talk when he was tired (and Zeke didn't even use much baby talk as a baby). But it wasn't until the eve of Zeke's big 3rd birthday, when he broke down in tears and wailed that he was not only not ready to be three but willing to send away all his friends AND presents the next day in order to stop it that I realized that the momentous event was throwing my small son into his first existential crisis.

Having had a bit of a taste for an existential crises ever now and again myself in my day, I was actually somewhat prepared for this- but not at the age of three. I can't hand him a copy of The Brother Karamazov and I cant debate either Kierkegaard or Nietzsche with him. I'm lost.

So instead we just do a lot of cuddling while I watch a still very very small boy figure out how he fits into this world and this family, who he is and who we are and if that is good or bad and what good and bad are. It's hard.

He couches it in the words and terms that he has and talks all day about bad guys and good guys and heroes and villains and he longs for it to be black and white. He's searching for some line to follow. But really its grey. All painfully and confusingly grey.

He told me today that he is a bad guy because when Malachi's chips were gone and his plate was still full he didn't share.

A hero would share, he told me with tears in his eyes.

And what am I supposed to do with this gentle soul?

He's barely grasping the seasons, yesterday he had to say "snowytime" 3 times before I understood that he meant summertime. Yes, its summertime. How am I supposed to convey all the intricacies of right and wrong when I'm so woefully confused myself? He is searching for how to be a man, and I am painfully aware that I am a woman- and don't tell me there is no difference because there is.

And I thank God that at least I know something. Some small thing to offer my son, although it's really the biggest thing, the only Truth I've ever found. Grace.

And forgiveness and love and mercy. To us and from us and sometimes you just have to hang on to that, son. Lord knows sometimes it's all I'm hanging onto.

Oh Happy Happy Birthday To You

2011-06-11T22:05:00.000-07:00

Happy, happiest birthday to my boy.

Zeke, circa newborn,

4 months,

8 months,

a year,

a year and a half,

two,

and two and a half.

The time, it just flies. And I need to do a photoshoot with Zeke. With just Zeke. Because looking thru pictures for this collection I realized that I don't have any nice ones of just him after a while. Always there is Malachi by his side.

There are reasons, of course. Zeke's inherent shyness and Mal's love of the camera combined at the forefront of them.

Then of course there is that Zeke just adores his brother. All day at his party he just wanted to "play with baby". All day a bit overwhelmed and shy, even though he knows all these kids and it's his own back yard. But he wanted a party and planned it to a t- the balloon color, the snacks served, every detail. It was all very Zeke.

And now he is 3 now. With a big boy bike to prove it.

Summer At Last (#240-259)

2011-06-07T09:52:00.000-07:00

Spring? Who needs spring? Around these parts we jump right from winter to summer.

Heck, we jump from winter to summer, then back to winter for a few days, and then switch summer again.

As an example take last week, in which we had 80+ weather fit for a trip to the splash pad, and also a hail storm that decimated my lettuce patch.

The hail storm I could have done without. But the splash pad?

I think the splash pad is a keeper.

#259. The first day warm enough for the splash pad.

-----

Join me as I try to find the hidden grace, and count the 1,000 ways I am blessed. 1,000 things to be thankful for; 1,000 ways I am every day loved by Love Himself...

#240. The delicate beauty of a sea shell.

#241. Strawberries flowering. Each white blossom a promise of something delicious to come.

# 242. A fist harvest- fresh chives for my eggs.

#243. Zeke singing the "thomas" theme song as he pulls a train along the floor.

#244. Reunions.

#245. That Zeke still remembers bathing Malachi in the tub that first week he was born, and requests to do it again.

#246. Good advice.

#247. Blue raspberry otter pops.

#248. Dancing in the car, and lookin like a fool.

#249. Slowly, slowly, paying off debts.

#250. Homemade donuts.

#251. Sudden rainshowers.

#252. Babies hands folded in prayer.

#253. Picnics.

#254. Sitting in the sun.

#255. Inside jokes among brothers.

#256. Kiddy pools.

#257. Dreams.

#258. Dirt and a few construction cars.

Stretch

2011-06-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

When the world becomes too fast and difficult he raises his voice to a squeaky falsetto and tells me between tweets that he is my baby bird. I am to make a nest for us with blankets and pillows and become his mommy bird, and as soon as I'm finished he snuggles down under my wing.

When did he get so old that he needed a game's permission to let me wrap my arms around him?

And the only thing more wonderful/terrifying than the transformation from soft baby to scab-kneed boy that he has just completed is the transformation from boy to man that is soon to come.

We ache. The both of us.

I'm finding that invisible bonds tear even more piercing than skin- and as ours stretch my hands brush the scars of that previous stretching. This journey is longer and more painful than that nine month one, these bonds so much stronger then flesh. And every day I find that motherhood is something that will never be finished with me; that elasticity is a goal I will never quite reach.

I rip.

I tell myself that in many ways the years that Zeke and I are about to embark on are the comfortable second trimester. Not the exhaustion and adjustment of the first; not the heavy awkwardness of the third. We have a long second trimester up ahead to learn what we never learned in that pre-journey, those nine months when we lived like one and refused to separate at 40, 41, 42, 43 weeks, until the doctors had to come in with their drugs and their tools and pull him from my womb...

-how to let go.

-----------

And by the way, if you are in the mood to see and hear me instead of just read my words, here is a link to my Listen To Your Mother performance.

http://www.youtube.com/ltymshow#p/u/10/95BBkOOdxXo

May Garden Update

2011-05-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

Time for the May Garden Update.

This month was cold cold cold. And rainy rainy rainy. My cool weather plants adored it, but they were alone in their opinion. Still, I watched in wonder as my lettuce/spinach/pea bed grew and grew and grew.

God bless cool season plants. I was even able to enjoy a lunch time salad with the thinnings of lettuce and spinach I took and in a week or two I'll plant more lettuce and spinach in the "rows" for a continuous harvest.

I also enjoyed success with my onion plantings.

And by the looks of the strawberry bed, we're going to get quite a harvest of those as well, they are all a-flower.

Elsewhere in the garden I didn't have quite the same luck,

All my herb seedlings died. This happens to me every. time. I attempt start things indoors. They die when I'm trying to harden them off, no matter how careful I am. Bugger. I replanted them outdoors in the corners of the raised beds and most are already sprouted now. I think next year I will either just wait until I can plant outdoors, or I will purchase grow lights for indoors. We dont get a ton of direct sun in the house, which might be why my plants are so weak.

I also gave up on my potatoes in frustration. And then a week later 2 of the 9 popped several sprouts out of the soil.

Does this mean the rest will come up as well? I have no idea. Well, I have an idea about 4 of them, which rotted in the overabundance of rain. The other 5 seemed fine when I checked them, and obviously 2 were more then fine since they are now little potato plants. So the remaining 3 are the mystery. I will say that what isn't a mystery is if I am planting potatoes in the same spot next year: I will not. It's a bit shady and cold I've realized, and the deck pours rain directly onto that bed. I'm thinking lettuces and spinach for next year in that spot. They like the cold and dont mind compacted soil. Sprouts or no, I'm not expecting many potatoes this year :(

And the raspberries Josh has named "his stick garden". Nary a green shoot on those suckers. We will see. We're giving them until the fall to grow something, a leaf, anything, and then we will decide whether to try again next year or not.

But I don't let it get me down too much and I purchased and transplanted tomato starts into the garden, despite the cold weather.

(cherry tomatoes)

(big tomatoes, and those are sprouted carrots you can sort of see in the back. I'll be planting more carrots when...um...when I finally get out there and do it.)

(carrots)

I also planted corn, squash, zucchini, and green beans. And the zucchini and green beans are just starting to germinate.

(green beans)

(zucchini)

The squash and corn are yet to be seen but I'm not concerned yet.

Next month I want to:

-Plant more carrots, lettuce, and spinach to extend harvest.

But other than that one chore, its pretty much upkeep and harvest from here on out. Yay!

New Floors!

2011-05-30T22:01:00.000-07:00

Our house isn't really that old, as far as old houses go. None of Josh and I's parents were yet born the year it was built but almost all of our grandparents were.

It seems to have attracted more then its fair share of enthusiastic, yet inexperienced, do-it-yourself owners over the years, however- I once counted 5 (five!) different styles of baseboard still in use, almost none of them properly installed. And once, after drilling a hole in the wall, I spent a bemused half hour staring at the tiny layers of old paint newly exposed. Layer after layer of color like some permanent rainbow history of our house's many past lives. I could clearly identify seven different colors, and I wasn't sure there weren't a few more.

I don't begrudge the handymen of our home's past- Josh and I are not least among them. The first thing we did, after being handed keys, was paint over half the house. We were as inexperienced and enthusiastic as the rest of them and by looking at the details you can tell which room we began in and which room we finished last- our skill grew with time. We've finished many projects since then, and we still have our running list of projects waiting to begin. Projects waiting for funds (finishing the basement), projects waiting for motivation (repainting all the trim), projects waiting for the other spouse to get behind them (Josh-rebuilding the deck, me-transforming one of the small bedrooms into a master bathroom/walk-in-closet).

One of the very first projects I had in mind for the house was wood floors. Carpet is my kryptonite. My bane. My arch nemisis. It is the very blight of my life, a scourge on my otherwise happy existence.

Unfortunately, it was also installed in our house and removing it was firmly in the "projects waiting for the other spouse to get behind them" category.

But in the last two years, between that time Josh let Zeke eat blueberry yogurt in the livingroom, that time Malachi danced on a cartons worth of raspberries, potty training the puppy, potty training the toddler, and a hundred other mishaps, between a husband who wont take his shoes off, a dozen times shelling out to get it steam cleaned, and two overworked and broken vacuums later- our carpet had gotten into an embarrassingly stained state. Also, shag doesn't give up cracker crumbs, it doesn't matter how many times you vacuum. The crumbs will live there forever.

Then the many small things we board and feed (otherwise known as children and pets) decided to start pulling the carpet fibers out. One by one. Creating a hole in the middle of the livingroom.

And reader? I. lost. my. shit.

It was the last straw.

And new floors went straight from the "projects waiting for the other spouse to get behind them" category to the "things we are doing this weekend" category.

So Thursday The Hole happened, and Josh and I started pricing out options online, weighing wood and laminate in our minds. Friday we went to Home Depot and bought everything we needed. Saturday the boards acclimated to our house's temperature and we had a BBQ we'd been planning for a few weeks.

Sunday we moved all the furniture,

(see that white square where the couch had been? yuck.)

and ripped up all the carpet.

(here I am contemplating the wood floors we found underneath.)

(here are Jonathan and Mal pulling up carpet staples)

Monday we forgot to take many pictures, but we spent the entire day installing our new laminate flooring in the livingroom and hallway. We dont even have an empty and completed pic because I slowly moved the furniture back as the room was completed to appease Zeke. Zeke was NOT pleased with the house upset. Or with the fact that daddy and Jonathan were both home yet neither were playing with him. Or with the noise that the saw made- which frightened him.

Malachi was happy as a clam. He loved pushing furniture and he loved using tools and he loved the saw and he happily pointed out where each new board should go for us.

About 10 o clock we finished. Or..."finished". About 10 o clock we ran out of the type of nail we needed for trim. So i guess it will be Finished with a capital F after we buy those.

It brings our different types of flooring in the house count up to 5- but I don't care, it matches all the baseboards.

Full

2011-05-25T00:48:00.000-07:00

"We want to just cuddle now." he says, gently lifting a blanket over his brother's legs, "Because Malachi and I are on the same team."

And this life...it is so full.

My heart permanently residing at the base of my throat, and not just when my kids are defying gravity and all common sense.

And this is the kind of fullness that begs to be shared. To be added to.

So Josh and I talk and talk, in circles. We talk about my body, my health, my emotional stability and readiness. We talk about what we have lost, what we have gained- what we stand to lose or gain in the future. We talk about the number 3. We talk about other numbers too, numbers of bedrooms and numbers of seats in our car and the ever-present-in-our-mind number of dollars required and acquired.

We talk about the fullness of our life, and try to measure something unmeasurable. Will our cups, as they say, runneth over? We both know the feeling of barely treading water. Will we fill until we are overfull and drowning?

And the allegory falls away, contracts, and comes back new.

Should we allow it to? To spill over? Isn't that what fullness does at its greatest? Spill over and run out and engulf?

And we've talked about this before, with its different set of numbers, different things to be lost and to be gained. We talk about what family means, what we want our family to look like. We talk about what makes a child your own. We try to be honest and measure our fullness again, every person in this family on their own. Because this is a journey that can suck up everything you have, leaving you dry.

Are we that full? Each of us?

So full as to give and give and give and give to a child that knows nothing of receiving and still have more left over?

I joke that applications and home studies are not nearly as fun as sex and we stare down two very different paths. Two different risks.

I sit after our talk and try to visualize the child that I can feel in my heart, waiting. Does he look like me? Did he come from my womb?

The picture remains fuzzy.

And in the end we decide to wait out the rest of this year- the year that is supposed to be mine. We wait for the kids to get older, for the money to purchase a bigger car, for a few weeks or even days of sleeping thru the night in a row. We wait for more time to research into foster adoption. We wait for the bravery to really do this- or the honestly to admit that we cant.

We wait for the picture to become clear.

Malachi Was Here

2011-05-20T11:47:00.000-07:00

The Josh-is-in-Seattle-all-weekend-I-hope-the-Apocalypse-IS-coming entry.

One fine afternoon Zeke walked into his bedroom and said a single phrase, all in caps...

"Malachi Was Here."

And so began a blog series.

Notice how all the flowers on the left have been freed from their petals. So kind, considering that just a few weeks prior he had taken all the leaves off another patch.

I knew I had a bag of diapers somewhere...ah yes of course. Why didn't I look there?

All I can guess is that after waking he climbed from the bed to the nightstand, and from there...ok I still cant figure out how he opened the window. The only good news is that I caught him before he climbed out onto the roof. And now that window is locked so tight that even I can't open it.

Off he goes to text the other three horsemen.

Planting (226-240)

2011-05-17T13:34:00.000-07:00

It is at once a very brave, and a very simple thing- entrusting a seed into the earth.

It feels strangely removed from the stack of gardening books on my desk, each waxing intricate about companionate planting, crop rotations, double digging, nitrogen, potassium, and phosphorus, annual last frost dates, and vermicomposting. It's as if all of that book learning doesn't belong near the soil at all.

When you strip away all of the techniques and tips- the best ways to stake a tomato, the

flowers guaranteed to detract slugs and aphids, the organic materials that will ensure your beans

flourish, the correct way to manually pollinate corn, and the pros and cons of chitting potato seed- when you set all of that aside and get down to the actual business of being outside...

Well, then it gets a whole lot simpler.

Turn the earth.

Dig a hole.

Place a seed.

Add water.

Trust.

A 3 year old could explain it. Hell, a three year old did explain it to me, adding the sage advice that "it helps if you pull the weeds."

And I wonder, now that I'm pretty well finished with the process of planting, why I have to complicate it. Why we all have to complicate it. Why can't any of us just trust?

It really is ridiculously simple. Nature does all the work.

I love the planning. Don't get me wrong. I love the research, and it's not going to stop any time soon. Not until I get a major personality change, and while I'm not sure how those are running right now I'm fairly certain it's more then I can afford.

But I think the part I love best is when the research all falls away, and I get to finally get my hands dirty (literally).

What I love best is the simplicity of it.

And I think the part that's hardest for me, is the bravery of it.

The trust.

And #240...it has to be Trust.

------

# 226. Zoo's

#227. A child's wonder in the simplest things.

#228. Baths.

#229. Icecream.

#230. Weather finally catching up to the season.

#231. A baby's newfound appetite for books.

#232. Iced tea.

#233. Newly mown grass.

#234. Sunlight on golden curls.

#235. Milestones conquered.

#236. My every-other-yearly night out clubbing. To remind me that I dont actually enjoy clubbing.

#237. Kind strangers.

#238. This guys smile.

#239. Phone calls.

Oh yeah, that other thing we did last week

2011-05-13T11:05:00.000-07:00

Sandwiched between the two weekends holding Bloomsday (12k) and Listen to Your Mother (mother's day show I wont shut up about) we went on our first family vacation!

I realize that there is perhaps no cliche more prevalent then the boring family vacation photos, but dude, it's been 5 years since Josh took me anywhere interesting and it will be another 5 years before it happens again so SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, AND LOOK AT MY PICTURES! Either that or click away, I wont know any different.

Wednesday (day 1) we drove up to Seattle as soon as we woke up. It's a 5ish hour drive, so not too bad but not excellent either.

We went straight to the Woodland Park Zoo where Zeke bonded with elephants,

Malachi considered the possibility that he belongs with the gorillas,

And they were both more excited about the dinosaurs then anything else, despite the fact that they arent, you know, real.

Josh tried to feed our baby to a T-Rex, which Zeke did NOT find funny.

Feeding loved ones to Tyrannosaurus' is kind of a thing with Josh I guess, here as evidence is a picture of him trying to feed ME to a T-Rex years and years ago when we were young and newly married and didn't have kids and slept in and went places all the time.

After the Zoo we checked into our hotel (easily the nicest hotel I've ever stayed at, THANKS TAMMY!!) and fed two very tired children sandwiches before putting them to bed.

Thursday (day 2) we took a bus straight to the Aquarium after having breakfast in our hotel room.

Malachi couldn't get enough of the touch-pools,

While Zeke would not having anything to do with them,

But they both adored watching the divers clean the big fish tank. Zeke was especially impressed with his "duck feet".

We had chowder bread bowls near the harbor before jumping a bus back to our hotel for a nap.

After nap we bussed back down to the habor (the public transportation system was awesome our whole trip, the buses are free downtown and honestly I think the boys enjoyed our many rides as much as anything else) for a harbor tour.

Here I am on the boat, attempting to get my sons to take a picture proving I was indeed on vacation with them.

Then we had fried fish at Ivaars. And ice-cream that called to us on our walk by the piers.

On Friday (day 3) we took the monorail to the Pacific Science Center.

We went straight to the Star Wars exhibit, where Zeke was very very cranky that we weren't at the Dinosaur exhibit.

Actually he was just plain very very cranky. We ended up leaving for an early nap shortly after the dinosaur exhibit.

But after nap, and a hotel-lunch, we went straight back to try it again.

Because I wanted to see the butterfly exhibit gosh darn it!!!

Which was totally worth it.

We ended up seeing all the rooms that we had missed before, and got to see the dinosaur exhibit AGAIN before we left to see the space needle.

Then we headed back to the hotel, via monorail, stopping by The Cheescake Factory on the way :)

On Saturday (day 4) we sadly, ok maybe a little relievedly, checked out of the hotel. We drove to the Children's Museum to get all of our morning energy out,

Had a quick lunch upstairs at the Seattle Center, and then headed home.

Listen To Your Mother

2011-05-09T14:08:00.001-07:00

Josh wasn't able to attend Listen To Your Mother Spokane, and all my relatives, including my own mother, live several hundred miles away; so I climbed the stairs onto the stage that afternoon aware that there would be no one in the audience straightening in their chair as they heard my name. My comped ticket sat un-claimed.

It didn't bother me as much as you are perhaps imagining. I've always been an independent sort, maybe to a fault...no definitely to a fault. Forever holding people at an arms length it's always been easier for me to bare my soul to strangers. Even 100+ strangers. It's the same reasoning that made me completely averted to hiring a doula (something I try to talk every pregnant woman I know into), yet totally comfortable with students sitting in on Zeke's birth.

Standing on my own two legs that day felt natural.

The only part that worried me was the end of the show, when all us readers were expected to form a sort of receiving line. With no one to receive I thought I'd look a bit awkward.

I forgot to take these women into account.

And why oh why do I keep doing that?

And so, Xylina, Tine, Ivory, Michelle, Meghan, Kim, Elizabeth, Aly, Sarah... not all of you were there but each of you has supported me on this and so many other journeys. Even though I sometimes hold you at arms length I want to be sure that you know how much comfort I take in your support, in your advice, in your company, in your pity, and just plain in the knowledge that I'm not the only one awake with a crying baby any given lonely 2am.

Thanks friends.

A Mother's Melody

2011-05-07T20:33:00.000-07:00

Dedicated with all my heart to

Ezekiel Yergenson Clark, born 6.11.08, 9 pounds 7 ounces and 21 inches long

and

Malachi William Clark, born 1.18.1o, 9 pounds even and 23 inches long

Motherhood is an honor, an event, an occupation, a passion, a joy, a journey, and a song. And above all else, it is something I would never have experienced without you.

---

My fingers rest on ivory keys, and I freeze in doubt. I was a lazy piano player at best when I learned, and now over a decade has come and gone like so many old songs forgotten. I never could get that second hand to do what it was supposed to. But I did learn a bit, so I sit in the rare and precious quiet and try to remember.

I gingerly push down one key...hesitate...and then the next. I know if I can just get one note right, and then the next, and then the one after that soon I will be playing.

Motherhood has taught me many things, but I think that is at the forefront of all. Because motherhood, too, is a song. It has its rhythms, its repeating refrains, its harmonies, and yes, even its dissonance.

And sometimes your fingers fly across the keys. Everything seems easy. Every note hits true and your voice rises in song.

I stand squinting in the bright, late afternoon, sun. A chorus of little boy giggles joyfully interrupting the steady rhythm of my arms hanging laundry to dry. They run past the line- one steady on his feet, the other not so much but somehow keeping up all the same. I swoop down to pick up my youngest, laughing and flipping him over to kiss his belly. The dog starts to bark, dancing around us, and my older son is yelling "Now me, momma, now me!"

We all run crazy circles in the yard.

But other times the cadence slips.

I stand now, in perfect morning melody, stirring oatmeal. The kitchen is cold with that pervading morning coldness, but it's one of those rare winter days when we have a sun. Shafts of golden light fall on me, on the cat gingerly sitting amidst the dirty dishes, on the tuppaware strewn across the floor that I can only assume was a plaything the night before. It is quiet and beautiful.

But then a baby wails in the other room and his diaper is in an emergency state. The toddler runs in, he needs help putting on his coat but no, its THIS arm first! and he must zip it himself, clumsy fingers struggling with the small metal clasp. The oatmeal burns black, smoke and an acrid smell rising.

We eat the top 1/3.

And sometimes the music is so achingly beautiful it draws the breath right out of your chest.

I'm laying this time. I probably couldn't stand even if I wanted. My stomach is suddenly and somehow strangly deflated, and a baby boy, new as any sunrise, is placed into my shaking arms. We make eye contact and he roots for my breast.

But other times all sound seems to stop.

A different hospital room, and I try to keep my eyes from the top right corner of the medical sheet. Multipara 5-2, it will read. 5 verified pregnancies. 2 live births. I cry salt tears surrounded as I am by all the dirty diapers and bright plastic that has become so much background noise in this song and mourn a child that will never join his voice to mine.

Yet my heart still beats its rythm, though it is now the only one in my body.

The next note has to be struck.

And the song will start again. Maybe haltingly, but it will swell into another crecendo and bring new verses, new harmonies.

In the beginning I imagined it as my own tune. Me, the one in front, back to the audience and waving my arms wildly, trying to keep this crazy chorus together. As the boys grow, though, they find their own notes, their own melodies. I find myself harmonizing more and more often, matching my pitch to theirs, and just trying to follow along. I know that they won't always let me. That someday, perhaps sooner than I would like to imagine, I will be delegated to the crowd.

My fingers will twitch, against my own will. As if by silently following along I can save them from their own inevitable slips of the finger.

I can't.

But I can teach them what they first taught me. One note. And then the next. And then the one after that. And soon they will be playing.

Conversation with Zeke

2011-05-04T10:49:00.000-07:00

Zeke: I have a big stick.

Me: Yep.

Zeke: I could fight a bear, or a lion, or a shark...all kinds of animals.

Me: Uh-huh.

Zeke: I think I'm gonna fight a lion. And I'm gonna KILL him!

Me: What if it's a nice lion? Why don't you try to be friends.

Zeke: Because he's a bad guy! He's gonna 'tack the library and eat all the books!

Me: Maybe he just doesn't know what books are for. I think you should teach the

lion to read, so then he would read the books instead of eating them.

Zeke: I'm sorry mom, I'm gonna have to kill him.

---

Zeke: Wait, mom! Did you remember my elephant?

Me: What elephant?

Zeke: My pretend elephant.

Me: Oh...yeah...uh...its right here.

Zeke: Oh good.

---

Zeke: My butt is making music.

Healing (312-325)

2011-05-02T21:48:00.000-07:00

Depression is a peculiar thing, in that by the time you realize and admit it has become a problem, it has already been a problem for a long while; and alternately by the time you realize it is no longer a problem, it has been gone for an even longer while.

How long have I been breathing now? Days, weeks, months? I look back and try to trace the exact date that living became easy again. The exact moment I stopped shaking. It was November that I hit bottom. It was January when I dug my heels in and decided to climb out. It was February when I really began to allow myself to heal, the only way I know how- writing it out.

And next week, on Mother's Day I get to read that writing-it-out at a Mother's Day show and I have to admit, dangerous as it is, that I think the healing will finally be complete. This show is giving me a chance to own my experience in a way that I didn't think to imagine.

And looking at all those linkies it seems like I've let you all in on this journey of mine.

But I haven't.

I've written emotionally about figerprints on my walls, and thoughtfully about the joy of christmas gifts . I've written humorously about bad haircuts, heck, I even took you step by step thru a day in our life.

But I never admitted when it got hard. I didn't let anyone know how numb I was feeling, how difficult it was to get dressed in the morning. I didn't talk about the mess, physical, emotional, that Josh would come home to or how lonely I was feeling in it all. I didn't mention how I'd lose patience with the kids and baby-gate them into their toy room so they'd leave me alone. And I'm not really sure why. Or rather I am. It was part pride, and part shame. Even though it became clear fairly soon that it was my last miscarriage that set it all off, it didn't seem like a good "excuse". It wasn't postpartum after all, it wasn't my first miscarriage. I should have been able to handle it.

Now it just seems dishonest, that withholding. Fake.

And I'm very sorry.

And so I'll admit to you that yes, I feel better. But I'm still scared. It's not the first time I've fallen into this particular pit, fought these particular demons, and I think the hardest part of all of it is that now I have to admit it's not the last either. It's going to happen again. And with every single breath I take right now I remember that tomorrow it might not be so easy anymore. The walls can cave in at any second.

I'm still walking carefully, trying not to make any sudden movements or loud noises. I'm still not sure when I will be brave enough to try to get pregnant again.

I'm counting. But don't think I never falter.

#312. A husband willing to play with me at Mobius.

313. Dandelion tea, and two faithful dandelion collectors to make every cup possible.

314. Koolaid dyed yarn.

315. Milkshakes.

316. Lilacs budding.

317. My peas didnt freeze!

318. That none of us get what we deserve.

319. My first sunburn down.

320. Zeke's imagination.

321. Calls on the way home, asking if there is anything I need at the store.

322. A cross all decorated with butterflies.

323. Warm meals.

324. Weather reports.

325. A chance to own my experience, to heal, to share.

April Garden Update

2011-04-30T10:52:00.000-07:00

This month I:

Added compost to all the beds. And started composting myself, in a garbage can, in the hopes that I don't have to purchase compost ever again.

Tilled and planted a potato/onion bed.

After measuring our space, Josh and I realized we had extra room- 2x6 feet of it! So we decided to last-minute add a crop of spring onions right next to the potatoes. I even found one teeny tiny onion sprout this morning!

Did I mention by they way that we are growing purple potatoes? This is the color they should be when they are dug up:

I even started my warm weather herbs (basil, cilantro, oregano, dill) indoors. And then Mal got to them....so then I started them indoors again.

Zeke helped me start his sunflowers indoors as well. They need to be potted up soon, it always cracks me up how quick sunflowers grow.

I re-planned the planting of my corn and beans. I had wanted to grow my green beans up my corn stalks, but after more research decided this method wasn't worth sparing Josh building a bean trellis. I would get a lot more of each if I devoted a bed to each. Plus, the more I read about corn the more I was told that in order for corn to pollinate, you need a big block of corn. So now I have an entire corn bed, and an entire bean bed. And as such, I decided to add a bush bean variety as well, which are the last seeds I will buy this year- I swear. Also the last change in plans this year, this is permanent:

I planted peas (a little over 80), carrots (a little over 40), 8 lettuce, 4 spinach, 2 chives, 2 dill, and a few marigolds in the raised beds. The peas I split, planting half at the beginning of the month, and half at the end. I've heard different ideas of when its optimal to plant peas, so its a bit of an experiment. About 1/2 of my early peas are up, we will see if the rest survived as well.

Zeke and I spread wildflower and lavender seeds in his garden. He also "built" a bench for viewing pleasure.

And Zeke, Josh, and I all worked together to finish the rock garden.

I couldn't have done it without Josh's brute strength OR Zeke's creativity. For some reason I was really stuck on how to go about the rock garden. Zeke knew just what to do, though.

Next month I want to:

-Transplant my "warm weather" herbs, and the sunflowers to the outside.

-Plant forget-me-nots in the rock garden.

-Plant calendulas, green beans, corn, zuchinni, squash, and tomato starts in the raised beds. ------Replant more carrots, lettuce and spinach to extend harvests.

-Begin harvesting strawberries, spinach, and lettuce.

-Enjoy some of the tulips Zeke and I planted last fall...if any at all survive Malachi (and they may not).

Malachi Was Here

2011-04-27T16:50:00.000-07:00

Otherwise titled: "In Which I Unveil What Will Most Likely (and Unfortunately) Be A Blog Series" and/or "Reason #4938 I Hate Carpeting"

And yes, those are raspberries. Expensive, out of season, raspberries. I'm pretty sure he was doing a lord of the dance impression on them.

Easter

2011-04-25T08:52:00.000-07:00

On Palm Sunday we went to church, where I spent the first half of the service distracting Josh by poking him with my palm leaf, and then Malachi spent the second half of the service shredding it into tiny pieces. Later on, at home, we died eggs.

Monday (Passover) I thought long and hard about doing a shortened version, maybe a 1/2 hour, of a traditional Hagaddah, and then decided my children didn't have the patience even for that, and I had to save my strength for the last half of the week.

On Thursday we went to a Maudy Thursday Service, where there were no palms to shred and therefor Malachi got rowdy and had to be taken out.

Friday morning Zeke and I built a tomb out of stuff we found outside and sealed up a playdough caterpillar inside. I may not have the daughters to build a fairy garden with but at least I get a grave right?...right?

Later that day Josh and I had the church college group over, where we discussed the significance of Passover to the Christian and to the Easter story. I also spent some time feeling guilty for skipping Monday.

Saturday we ate bbq on our new table (20 for the set on craigslist, woot) for the first time and pretended to not know about the dozen Earth Day celebrations going on around town and dozens of dozens of egg hunts.

I feel more guilty about Earth Day then the egg hunts. I've heard too many stories of children trampled. My kids aren't nearly aggressive enough for that kind of thing. Can you imagine poor Zeke?

Sunday morning the Easter Bunny dropped by, and we unsealed the tomb (for the 100th time, Zeke kept "checking" all weekend) to find a butterfly.

I attempted to explain the allegory while Zeke stuffed his face full of peep and nodded obediently.

Josh had to run off to church right away, because his middle school group was serving everyone pancakes. So the boys and I got dressed on our own and put together cinnamon rolls to rise while we were gone. Then we got dressed again because we were all covered in flour.

After pancakes and service we came home to enjoy egg salad sandwiches, and cinnamon rolls. Yum.

Then we napped. Well, except me. I enjoyed the raising of the lenten internet-limits.

After nap I hid eggs in the backyard for the boys. Zeke was really good about leaving the easy ones for his brother, but once Malachi found out there was candy in there he lost interest in finding any more eggs. I think he ended up with 5 vs Zeke's 19.

Then we had lamb. :)

(293-310)

2011-04-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

The people that count such things say that a child laughs 300 times a day, while an adult averages a measly 15.

All I can say is that I am ridiculously blessed to have these two clowns around.

Because I laughed way more then 15 times today.

And I'm quoting here, "Look! I'm Mario!"

Also, there must be some seriously morose children out there to help balance Malachi. Because this kid? He probably laughs 3x that much.

Usually about things that I don't find particularly funny.

But hey, amidst the chaos I'm still finding the hidden grace, and counting the 1,000 ways I am blessed, 1,000 things to be thankful for; 1,000 ways I am loved by Love Himself...

#293. The list of items a 2 year old thinks are necessary for a 5 day trip.

#294. The list of items left off that list.

#295. Making goals...and reaching them.

#296. Learning a new art form.

#297. Groceries in the back seat- even if its just for a day while the carseats wash.

#298. Sun, hail, sun, rain, wind, sun. All in one hour.

#299. Big overwhelming yarn stores.

#300. Daffodils.

#301. Malachi blowing on my every pretend bite before serving it.

#302. First seeds into the ground.

#303. Four-legged running partners.

#304. Thirty days...and many more to come.

#305. The way Josh and I always think of the same joke.

#306. Exciting Easter plans.

#307. Giving ourselves permission for a much-needed potty training break.

#308. The ability to start over with grace- a lesson I've struggled to learn.

#309. Rootbeer Floats.

#310. Weaning going much easier then expected.

#311. A house filled with laughter.

An Amazing Mother

2011-04-08T09:11:00.000-07:00

Every morning on her way to daycare-and then high school- she goes thru the McDonald's drive thru and buys her 15 month old daughter a hash brown. Every night at 7pm sharp she puts that baby girl in a crib in her room, and doesn't touch her again until 6am, come hell, high water, or hours of screaming. She's done it since she was 4 weeks old.

She never breast fed, it was too hard, and I have personally seen her fill a tippy cup with Dr. Pepper.

And as our babies, almost identical in age, sit at our feet and play together we talk about the words they are picking up, and the faces that they make. We talk about the flu's they've caught and the falls they've suffered, and the valley of darkness called teething. We talk about how love catches you by surprise, how it turns your life upside-down. We talk about what we want to teach our children.

And I tell her that she's an amazing mother. That she is doing a really good job.

I don't say it because its a nice thing to say, because I am trying to be supportive, because she's barely turned 17.

I say it because it's the damned truth. It's the swearing-in-the-middle-of-Lent fucking truth.

I know she's heard 1,000 If-you-loved-your-baby-you-would's. You would breastfeed, you would co-sleep, you would leave those pierced ears alone, you would, you would, you would... I've head them too. I've been berated for delaying immunizations until I could throw something, and then 2 hours later berated for giving them at all until I could cry. I've been told I should this and I should that, and I've had days that I would give anything and do anything just to have someone tell me I was doing a good job. That I was a good mom.

Do you know how hard this is? All these choices?

The sad part is that the only people that really do, other mothers and other parents, are the ones that beat us down the most. That tell us what we'd do if only we loved our kids.

No, not everything she does is the "best" thing. Maybe not even the "right" thing- whatever that means. But I'm not doing every "best" thing ever. Neither are you.

We're all doing the "best we can" thing.

And let's take a moment and honor each other for it.

So, I say to all the mothers reading this: Good job. Truly. You are doing the best you can. I know you stay up at night worrying about the things you can't, the things you don't know, and the things that you won't. But I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't. You're an amazing mom.

March Garden Update (A whole lotta prep)

2011-03-31T19:26:00.001-07:00

I've decided to do a garden update on the last of every month this year. Or rather this gardening year. So April-October...and also lets add- or rather near the last of every month.

I've got 2 kids sick with the fever plague of '11 right now and a calender chock full of things that I'm slowly crossing off so I'm hesitant to make any real commitments right now.

But to commence.

It's April and I can legitimately garden now!!!

Last month (or rather over the last 2 months) I:

Built and filled raised Beds. Or rather, Josh did. It threw my old graph and plans for a small loop but I am very excited and everything transferred over to the new layout really easily. I wont be able to trench compost anymore, and haven't quite figured out my new composting plan yet...I think maybe in a garbage can?

Planned my garden. I researched what I wanted and how much I wanted to plant. And then I slowly figured out what I could realistically fit, and where everything will go, keeping in mind companionate planting and crop rotations. I used the 30 day trial at growveg.com and found it super helpful. It has settings for traditional row planting as well as square foot gardening, which is nice because I'm using a hodgepodge of both techniques. It aided me in making the following graph, as well as a few first-drafty graphs before it:
Bought my seeds. Or at least most of my seeds. I tried to find tolerant, fast maturing varieties, because I am a bad gardener and our summers are short. I'm starting everything from seed directly outside this year because I don't have patience or space or talent for starting indoors, so fast-maturing is especially important, as I'm losing a few weeks. For my tomatoes I will purchase starts.

Made a graph of what, how much, where, and when I'm planting everything that I'm planting. I also made more in-depth index cards for each thing I'm planting, with growing tips, and space to take notes as the year goes.

Planted Raspberries. Four of them :)

Did a soil test. Our soil is surprisingly good, but completely depleted in nitrate. Good to know.

Started to clear a potato patch, and build a rock garden. I considered potatoes in a can but after research decided against. I just cant find anyone that has actually had luck with this method. Instead I am battling roots to clear a space next to our soon-to-be rock garden.
And raked Zeke's Garden.

This month I want to:
- Research and decide on a composting method.
- Buy last of the seeds (potato, lettuce, herbs).
- Decide if herbs are going in my window planters or in the veg. garden border.
- Finish digging up all the roots in the potato patch.
- Buy and apply compost and an organic nitrogen source yet to be decided on to the garden beds.
- Build trellis' for the peas.
- Plant: carrots, peas, lettuce, spinach (raised beds), potatoes (pot. patch), marigolds (raised bed border), and wildflowers (zeke's garden).
- Maybe start herbs indoors. Maybe.
- Work on rock garden. Maybe.

Phew.

Don't you hate eating your own words?

2011-03-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

Uhg. I hate those moments where one year (or day) you say you would "never" such and such and then the next year (or day) you are ashamedly doing it. Parenting makes you have a lot of those moments.

And yes, I just smacked my kid.

I have always been a big arguer against the hit-kids-for-hitting, and bite-kids-for-biting method of parenting. Someone has to be the adult in the situation, after all. And I am very very aware of the fact that I've got officer Zeke (as we have begun to call him) watching me and the way that I interact with others...copying those interactions step by step, and also sometimes informing me that I am being rude.

But you see, Malachi is a biter. Not, Malachi bit me once, or he is going thru a biting stage. He is a biter. He always has been. He bites me when he wants to nurse (despite the fact that this has never ever resulted in nursing...6 months later it is still his cue that he wants to nurse), he bites me when he is nursing and my milk runs out before he is done. He bites me when he thinks I am ignoring him and he bites me when he is jealous of his brother. Sometimes he also bites me for no apparent reason at all- I am assuming his teeth hurt?

I have tried everything. EVERYTHING. I have been positively militant about the biting never resulting in what he wants it to. If he's biting to nurse I say "no biting" and make sure he waits a looong while before nursing. If he's biting for attention I tell him "no biting" and then leave him alone in the room. I've tried yelling "Ow!" and he thought it was hilarious. I've tried giving him really really mean looks, looks that are sure to bring Zeke to tears, and he just makes the look back at me- and then smiles. I've tried time-ins, I've tried time-outs. I've tried showing him better uses for his mouth, like kissing, and better ways of asking to nurse or getting attention. I have praised him to the moon when he does those things instead of biting. All to no avail. He bites me 2-20 times a day. He has every day for the last 6 months.

Then he started biting Josh. And then the dog. He loves the way she yelps, apparently. And then he started biting his brother- who is not taking it very well, I am here to assure you.

The only living beings safe from Malachi biting, I have found, are the cats. Ziggy because he is not nearly stupid enough to go near Mal, and Mony because the first time Mal bit her she scratched him across the face.

He didn't like that.

And I've decided that now that he is sometimes drawing blood (yes, drawing blood), and his relationship with his brother is on the rocks, and he is sure to soon be the local toddler Parana...well something had to be done.

And reader...

Last time Malachi bit me I smacked him in the mouth.

Not hard. But hard enough.

And you know what? Its been 3 days and he hasn't bit me again.

(268-292)

2011-03-21T10:32:00.000-07:00

"Are you having any more?" she asks. Baby on her lap, baby on mine. It's small talk, but lovingly asked. I open my mouth to answer but pause...

Why does that question have to be so complicated?

I can't very well say, "Well, I want another, even another a pair. Our family, so very full, still seems incomplete. And every time I see a swelling belly like yours I get weak in the knees and teary in the eyes and my own flat (ish) stomach seems desolate. But you see, I have 3 more already, that you don't see here. That I don't see, or ever see, but I feel them. And I'm terrified. Pure terrified to add to the children that I don't see, and not to the children that I see. It keeps me up at night, that fear. Just as much as the longing for another baby keeps me up, especially on those days that Mal pushes me away and runs off. And then there is the fact that I haven't been able to count on a good nights sleep in over 3 years now. I haven't been able to call my body fully mine for over 3 years, pregnancy following breastfeeding following another pregnancy like I've had. And to tell you the truth, I would like to drink. And sleep. And go running, for sometimes hours, and not have my lungs taxed by a uterus grown heavy or breasts tight and uncomfortable with milk. I just hit my pre-baby weight last week. 14 months later. It was hard work and I want to revel in it a bit before I swell out again. But that swell is so lovely, isn't it? That moment you know you are in labor so incomparable to any other. And that newborn smell. You smell the dont you? Doesn't everybody?"

So I say, "Yes." but it doesn't ring true. Or I say, "Not this year." but that wasn't the question, was it? Would "maybe" be a better answer? "God willing" seems so dramatic.

-----------

I'm filling out a questionnaire form for my Listen To Your Mother introduction, trying to answer questions like What is one thing people dont know about you? and What is your personal motto? both cleverly and honestly, in a way that really represents who I am.

I think I'm overthinking this.

------------

Malachi is going thru Arnica like nobody's business and just might get me turned into CPS one of these days.
-------

Still counting...

268. Rushing thru the pages of a book only to put it down at the end and wish you had savored it a bit more.

269. That moment a friend becomes family.

270. The quiet of Lent- just enough darkness to see the stars.

271. Gypsy cold care tea.

272. Honey.

273. The way Malachi roars while holding a giraffe in my face.

274. Google images.

275. All the phrases Zeke picks up from Winnie the Poo on CD.

276. Soft baby skin.

277. The weight of a head on your shoulder.

278. Getting out all the ingredients for a salad, considering, and then making nachos instead.

279. Nacho cheese sauce.

280. Our annual Lowe's date night.

281. Fancy chandeliers.

282. Romantic reminiscing.

283. Atonement.

284. Arnica.

285. Finally reaching pre-baby weight. Even if it did take over a year.

286. Birthday parties.

287. Silly play sunglasses.

288. Watching the thanks of my friends built up on Facebook. A revolution of joy.

289. New Board Games.

290. Dancing to ABBA with my boys.

291. That our 4 newly planted raspberry "sticks" can remind Josh of his grandmother's raspberry patch as a child.

292. Buying life jackets in March in the hope of June fun.

Spec in someone else's eye anyone?

2011-03-14T14:41:00.000-07:00

We are hitting a stage with Zeke where I find myself saying, "Don't worry about what your brother is doing, just worry about yourself." a lot. And I mean a lot. As in every 15 minutes or so. A common shorter variation is, "Zeke, you are not the boss. I am the boss and I am in charge of Malachi."

Or my personal favorite: "Don't tell me what Malachi did, tell me what you did."

It's funny how that one can take all the wind out of your complaint.

"Malachi hit me!"

"Don't tell me what Mal did, tell me what you did."

"..."

"Why did Mal hit you, Zeke?"

"...I took his rhino."

These are all phrases that I swore I would never EVER use against my own children when I was a child. Because my mom said them. Often. And I hated it. Oh I remember my irritation, after my sister would hoard all the Barbie shoes. There was no point telling on her because the only thing my mom would be interested in is the fact that I pulled her hair afterward. The injustice of it! When I was grown I wouldn't ignore the real issue. I wouldn't get so hung up on details like why and what happened after that. I would get right to the root of the problem- the other person.

Now that I am grown I realize that my mother wasn't ignoring the issue. She was just taking it firmly out of my hands. I probably understood this even at the time on some level, but it didn't seem like much of a lesser offense. I would surely have handled it better than her because after all, she obviously wasn't grasping the true story (aka MY story).

I'm sure Zeke feels much the same way when he runs into the room yelling, "Malachi has the BBQ sauce!!!" and I calmly tell him to not worry about his brother so much and focus on himself. I am absolutely aware that he doesn't think I am grasping the full gravity of the situation when I ask him who, pray tell, opened the fridge in the first place and allowed Malachi to get into the BBQ sauce.

Because, the thing is, he isn't around when I take the bottle away from Malachi. And he isn't aware of the intricacies of Mal's understanding of the rules, or even the different rules all together that apply for Malachi. He only knows that he sees wrong. Other's wrong. And stop talking about my little wrong for goodness sake when there is that much bigger wrong going on over there! Yes I took his rhino but never mind that, he hit me!

But just think how much better a world this would be if we all followed my household rule?

Don't worry about what they are doing. Worry about what you are doing. Don't tell me what they did. What did you do?

I am fairly confident that upon death these are exactly the questions that will be put to us. That in prayer, these are the daily questions put to us.

The Lord said these things often, after all.

Ash Wednesday

2011-03-09T09:49:00.000-08:00

Most holy and merciful Father,
I confess to You and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth,
that I have sinned by my own fault, in thought, word, and deed;
by what I have done, and by what I have left undone.

I have not loved You with my whole heart, and mind, and strength.
I have not loved my neighbor as myself.
I have not forgiven others, as I have been forgiven.
Have mercy on me, Lord.

I have been deaf to Your call to serve, as Christ served us.
I have not been true to the mind of Christ.
I have grieved Your Holy Spirit.
Have mercy on me, Lord.

I confess to You, Lord, all my past unfaithfulness:
the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of my life,
I confess to You, Lord.

My self-indulgent appetites and ways,
and my exploitation of other people,
I confess to You, Lord.

My anger at my own frustrations,
and my envy of those more fortunate than myself,
I confess to you, Lord.

My intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts,
and my dishonesty in daily life and work,
I confess to you, Lord.

My negligence in prayer and worship,
and my failure to commend the faith that is in me,
I confess to you, Lord.

Accept my repentance, Lord, for the wrongs I have done:
for my blindness to human need and suffering,
and my indifference to injustice and cruelty,
Accept my repentance, Lord.

For all my false judgments,
for uncharitable thoughts toward my neighbors,
and for my prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from me,
Accept my repentance, Lord.

For my waste and pollution of your creation,
and my lack of concern for those who come after me,
Accept my repentance, Lord.

Restore me, good Lord, and let your anger depart from me;
Favorably hear me, for Your mercy is great.
Accomplish in me the work of Your salvation,
That I may show forth Your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of Your Son my Lord,
Bring me with all Your saints to the joy of His resurrection.

-The Litany of Penitence, a traditional Ash Wednesday prayer

We went to Ash Wednesday service bright and early at 7am this morning.

The boys ate freeze dried fruit and then wandered around.

But no one minded.

And as the ashes of last years palms were brushed onto my forehead I realized we've come full circle- it was Palm Sunday last year that we first began attending this church. And what a blessing is has been to us. Absolutely perfect for this stage of our life. I've rarely attended a church where my children were so welcome. Zeke adores the nursery and his teacher and the other children adore him right back. Malachi, who refuses every nursery attempt and disrupts every service has never gotten one glare.

What a blessing to me, to us, to feel so loved.

I wanted to just pop in to say that I'm going to be just slightly MIA over the next few weeks. Not that I am going to be gone completely, my life is organized such that leaving the internet for 6 weeks would wreck more havoc then it would create peace. But I will be stepping back just slightly. I have a few posts pre-written, so don't despair for my blog. And I am sure I will step into Facebook from time to time, though I wont be able to keep up with every update.

I welcome the break, honestly. And I hope you are able to have a peaceful Lenten season as well.

Fashion trends, Bloomsday Training, and other updates

2011-03-06T15:51:00.000-08:00

We've been busy starting some fashion trends around here...
Like boots on your hands.

And stickers on your forehead. (And yes, that is Zeke dancing. You know you are jealous of his mad mad skillz.)

And being the all-around cutest, curliest-headed, kid in the ~~block~~ ~~state~~ planet.

In other news Josh asked if Zeke could watch Star Wars with him. (That sounds like he asked my permission, but it was more of a what-is-your-opinion-because-I-will-defer-to-your-expertise kind of situation.) After a few hours of back-of-the-mind thinking, and a well timed question to the great Facebook I decided against it. We both love those films enough that we want to wait until he can really love it. Also he tends towards nightmares and it is just plain not worth risking. I think 5 or 6 is a better age, which means Mal will be more like 4 but heck, younger kids just get all the fun.

I did compile a list of (mostly Disney) films I thought we could all watch together as a family. Zeke already loves The Aristocats, and Jungle Book but he tends to want to watch them again...and again...and again, which Josh and I just can't handle. There are so many good old ones that aren't too scary for him that we figure we might start slowly going thru them together.
Tonight we are watching Winnie the Poo :)

I also finally started training for Bloomsday. The snow is melted off enough that I can kind of see the sidewalks. Kind of. I fell pretty bad on Saturday but I'm pushing on. My plan is that I will run Sat, Sun, Tues, and Thurs (ish) every week. Saturdays, Sundays, and Tuesdays will be 3 miles (just under 30 minutes) and then Thursdays I will increase by 1 mile every other week. So it will look like this:

wk1 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 4 miles.
wk2 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 4 miles.
wk3 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 5 miles.
wk 4 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 5 miles.
wk5 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 6 miles.
wk6 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 6 miles.
wk7 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 7 miles.
wk8 Sat ect 3 miles, Thurs 7 miles.

Runners, does that sound like a good plan? The farthest I've ever run right now is 3 miles. I did the couch to 5k last Fall and I'm find it fairly easy to get back to that distance. I will definitely be there next week when "the plan" begins. I would love to be able to run the full 12k in May though.

The last big item of news is that I found out I was accepted as a performer at the big mother's day show on Thursday. It didn't take me this long to mention it because it's not a big deal to me (oh boy is it ever) but because I wasn't quite sure what to say. I am deeply, deeply aware that for every one of us that saw our name on our list that day there was another person that did not. I am extremely honored to be able to tell my story but also sad that not everyone can have that opportunity.

But I suppose that is why I love blogs. There, we all tell our stories.

On Balance Beams and Favorite Racecars

2011-03-04T16:27:00.001-08:00

"We are going to go to someone's house today. There will be lots of kids and you can play." I tell him. It's the usual morning run down and he's trying to put as much oatmeal onto his spoon as he can- I'm not sure at first that he hears me.

But after scooping a mile-high helping into his mouth he looks at me, "Joe and Judah's house?" He knows his rythms and we missed our usual play-date with Joe and Judah this week.

"No, this is going to be a new house." I admit, falsely cheerful. He is thinking, I can tell by the way his spoon is held, suspended before his bowl, and I hold my bread.

"Has they been to my house before?" he asks.

"No...but you have seen them at the mommy meeting. Remember baby Becky? You like that baby."

He looks at me again, good and long this time. It's almost as if he is weighing my feelings, the same way I am weighing his.

Thinking about it, he probably is. This is Zeke after all. The kid that reads my emotions as if they were written on my forehead. The one that watches my face as Mal wiggles away and runs off, and silently puts his toys down to come place his head on my shoulder; the boy I once caught tiptoeing carefully past me as I stood in the bathroom downing a handful of "emergency chocolate". He's trying to figure out how important this is to me and I try to silently express that it's all up to him. That its nothing to me.

"I will bring Lightning McQueen." he decides and goes back to his breakfast.

--

I knew it was a bad idea- bringing a toy. Not only a toy but his favorite toy. We talk during the drive about how he can leave it there to wait for him, about how if he brings it inside he will have to share it. I'm starting to feel stressed, and wonder if I'm expecting too much from him... It seems like I'm always expecting too much from him, or not enough. Never the perfect amount.

Why can't I ever find balance?

We get there and he carries Lightning under one arm. He is silent, ill-at-ease with children he doesn't know very well and an environment he has never seen. I wish it wasn't like this. I wish he would run and play, exuberant as he is at home. Is it the right thing to do? Forcing him into these social situations? Am I stretching him or am I hurting him?

Of course there is a fight over the race car. Of course there is. It's easily settled; Zeke is reminded that he agreed to share and that we will be taking the toy back home when we leave, he finds the giant stuffed Diego doll to play with. But it still throws me into more doubt. I expected too much, that he would be able to remember to share. I should have just insisted we leave it in the car.

--

Driving home I wonder if it's always going to be like this- parenting. Is there always so much doubt? It is always such an act of balance? I watch Zeke in my rearview and I try to read his mind. Did he enjoy himself at all? He seemed to open up a bit at the end but I know him, I know his constant request to "stay home."

The mind reading is no use. His green eyes are unreadable. This child is a mystery to me, layer upon layer, more complex then I could have ever imagined. Brave and shy and loving and independent and quiet and funny.

And resilient.

That's the part I have to remember. Because this IS a balancing act, and more then once my ankle will twist and we will fall off this beam...but we just need to get back up. We will try again. Maybe slower, maybe not so many flips and flashes. But I'm confident that if I just keep trying, well, we can survive the falls.

Inbreath (#253-267)

2011-03-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

It is one week until Lent. And is it strange that I feel myself yearning for it?

Lent is probably my favorite time of the liturgical year. I'm not sure it's supposed to be. It is a fast, after all, a time of repentance, of self denial. But for me it has always been more of a time of slowing down, of realigning my lifestyle and goals with my values. A time to pray more, read my bible more, and make a good old-fashioned attempt at being a better person.

It is the Winter's last, great in-breath, before the manic, almost excessive, out-breath that is Spring.

And how wonderful that the church year and the natural year are so perfectly aligned. What better time is there for Lenten focus then these last clinging weeks of winter? What better time for Easter's joy then those first bright weeks of Spring? Nearly wasteful in their color and life. I know it was purposefully done, but it was also perfectly done.

Lent approaches and my soul is ready.

The Moments of Grace never cease...I continue to count them.

#253. Reservation confirmations.

#254. A friend to save the tree frogs with- particularly if they are well-versed in the dangers of the Bo-bo brothers.

#255. Chick flicks, and the chicks to watch them with.

#256. The picture-perfect comedy of a line of muddy pawprints, right past the drying mop.

#257. Warm nan.

#258. Rousing choruses of "Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee".

#259. Feb 15th chocolate sales.

#260. Someone to laugh with every night about the days misadventures.

#261. Books on CD.

#262. The UPS truck stopping right in front of my door.

#263. Malachi cheering Zeke wildly as he goes to the potty. May they always be each other's number 1 supporter.

#264. New felt slippers- warmth for these last cold weeks.

#265. Tango dancing in the livingroom while fat snowflakes fall outside.

#266. Sticker books.

#267. Breathing in.

Today I showed two strangers my soul

2011-02-26T13:50:00.000-08:00

As one of my exercises in the "Year of Me" I decided to audition to read an original essay on motherhood. Not because I necessarily expected, or even hoped, to be picked to perform it during the Mother's Day show but because it would challenge me in ways I don't normally challenge myself but wish I did- writing something more serious then a blog post, putting my stage-frighty self thru an auditioning process, ect.

It ended up being more of a challenge then I expected however, because, you see, I ended up writing two pieces. And while I was very very proud of the first...the second...the second was my very soul revealed. And so I spent weeks in limbo. Editing and rewriting both. Changing my mind over and over again. Do I read the first? It is the one more likely to be picked, definitely, with its neat and trim lesson at the end, its bright outlook and its universal appeal. And really, it is a very good essay, some of the best stuff I've written in years...

Or do I read the second? That raw, painful peek into everything I am-and everything motherhood means to me. It has no neat and trim lesson, it is not universally appealing or even acceptable. It is nothing but myself, liquefied and boiled down; desperate faith and failed intentions.

I decided on the first.

But I brought the second anyways. Even in the waiting room, at the cusp of any decision.

And as I sat there, allowing myself a fleeting daydream of actually being chosen and coming home from vacation to read (because I have so little actual expectation of being one of the 10 or so of 21 auditioners that I planned a Seattle vacation right into that weekend, but no so little humility that I didn't also plan a back-up early return) anyways, as I indulged in my daydream, I realized that as much as I loved that first essay...I couldn't choose it. If I was going to put myself out there, I was going to put myself out there. Me. Desperate faith and failed intentions. The coffee sustained and imperfect me. Even if it isn't PR friendly and even if it isn't easy to choke down I had to read that second essay.

Because suddenly the worst case scenario changed from being emailed a list without my name on it, to seeing my name on that list and knowing that I wimped out.

I read my second essay. And my voice was clear.

*Just so you know, the second essay was this blog post, rewritten and refined. And the first essay is not to be wasted, either, I think I will save for my own Mother's Day post.*

Winter's Last Laugh?

2011-02-25T15:23:00.000-08:00

I certainly hope so.

The Many Misadventures of Malachi

2011-02-23T12:49:00.001-08:00

You may have a Malachi if you...

Sometimes find the popper in the toilet...Or all the kids' socks...or the play dishes...or your hair claw...or a peanut butter sandwich. If you find yourself holding your bladder because you fear looking at the toilet, well then there is a good chance there is a loose Malachi in your home.

Another indicator is if your heart starts beating frantically every time you hear, "The babies making a mess!"
And you hear it an awful lot.

Or if you wait until the very last second before putting on shoes and socks.

If you one day find yourself running into a room and yelling, "Everyone STOP yelling!" without a shred of sarcasm...

Or ordering 2 large pizzas for 4 people, two of whom barely reach your waist,

Or if you're afraid your arm might just break off from carrying so much weight...

Well I hate to break it to you, but you might just have yourself a Malachi.

Conversations With Zeke

2011-02-19T14:20:00.000-08:00

Collected over 6 or so days.

Josh, "Zeke get in the car right now."
Zeke, "Dada! Don't be rude to me!...Momma, Dada's being very rude."

Me, "God help me."
Zeke, "God helps me. He helps me when I'm stuck in the mud. He has a tow cable."

Me, "No, Zeke, we aren't having cookies for breakfast. You need to choose oatmeal, or eggs."
Zeke, "You are sooo mean, you are hurting my feelings!"

Josh, "Don't lick the plate, buddy."
Zeke, "But there is sugar all over it. I have to lick it!"

And my favorite of all...though it may more accurately be called conversations near Zeke:

Friend on the phone, "Do you have to call me back?"
Me, "No, Zeke is just being attacked by a bear."

Gardening stories (and moments 239-252)

2011-02-15T13:46:00.000-08:00

Every time I go off of coffee, because I am pregnant, or because I think I'm going to have a heart attack and I haven't figured out it's my allergy pills yet, or because I'm not sleeping well, or just because I need to prove to myself that I can, it is so horrible that I swear I wont ever touch the stuff again.

But then every time I get back on the coffee addiction train my productivity goes up so much that I swear I will never put the stuff down again.

And I suppose that is as good an explanation as any as to why I spent a little under 5 hours on Sunday in the backyard, digging, moving large rocks, and otherwise chipping away at our spring
to-do list.
I got out the coffee press last week.

But of course that is not the whole story.

It fails to take into account that it was 50+ degrees out there. In February. In the frigid north, that is the kind of weather that cant be ignored. That is the kind of weather only caused by weather angels and I was duly elated.

It also fails to take into account the sight of crocus buds breaking thru the winter and dirt. The first hope of Spring, that season that we each of us know comes every year but all the same almost doubt will arrive.

And so I got out a shovel and tilled the garden after church while the boys napped.
And then I gathered up the fallen sticks and raked up the leaf mulch I had spread around the bushes and over the bulbs to hep protect them thru the winter, carefully scooping it away from the crocus buds.

And then as the man and boys of my family joined me, one by one, I attacked this area:
This out-of-the-way corner has never been that high on the to-do list in past years as it was just
overgrown with ivy and rogue grass. It wasn't necessarily ugly and so shaded besides that I wasn't sure what it would be fit for. Anyways we had quite a to-do list; evil rosebushes with 3 inch thorns to dig up, neglected shrubs to prune and nurse to health, a vegetable garden to plant, and weeds...oh the number of weeds I pulled that first summer!

But Sunday, filled with the excess energy of 3 cups of coffee and the sight of new growth in the yard, Sunday I decided to finally do something about that corner. And lo and behold after some pulling and digging and all-around sweating, underneath all that dirt and ivy were paving stones. I've been dreaming of a rock garden for a few years now. Since here, in fact, and I'm beginning to think this is a perfect place, and this a perfect year for each of us to take a stone upon our shoulder and build a memorial of thanks.
The best part is I wont have to fight the ivy when it tries to grow back. Which it will as the
neighbors planted it right on the other side of the chain link fence. I'll just train it to grow
around our rocks.

There are many annoyances to moving into a new house, and therefor a new yard. It takes time, and work, to make it your own. But I think I will be sad when these little surprises have run themselves out. The morning Josh looked out the window and said, "Well, it seems we have tulips." The day our crazy unidentifiable bush flowered bright red blooms which later fruited what looked like (but definitely weren't) pears. We are entering into our 3rd year in this house soon and I can't help but think I have discovered all its secrets.

Digging up that old pathway of paving stones may very well be the last.

Or at least the second to last. We still don't know what in the world that bush is.

And that is my rather long explaination of #252.

Always counting...

#239 Bright blue January skies.

#240 Sun salutations.

#241 Husband-editors.

#242 Little boys goading eachother to greater and greater silliness across the dinner table.

#243 Really big plans, and the graphs to represent them.

#244 Playing outside again- almost every day.

#245 The book of common prayer.

#246 New baby cows.

#247 The freshest possible milk.

#248 The sound of scales dutifully practiced coming up the stairs in the morning.

#249 Phone calls, just to talk.

#250 Coffee.

#251 The first growth of the year.

#252 Spring Discoveries.

What's been happening

2011-02-11T20:55:00.000-08:00

I guess the biggest event around here lately has been that Josh decided to pick up playing guitar. I must say, watching my almost painfully math-minded husband (the joyful math and physics minor...and in his defense philosophy too but you cant have 3 minors), anyways watching my math-geek hubs think thru music in math terms is quite entertaining. It's totally legitimate and all that- just also totally not the way I think of it.

Music was always more my territory before, since Josh could read music but not much other than that. I suppose I will just have to scoot over to make room for a new outlook. I'm totally excited about him learning, though. We are that creepy family that sings together in the evenings after dinner. Seriously. It's too idyllic to be believed, I can't believe I'm even admitting it here. But since my dreams of having a piano are getting nowhere fast, a guitarist in the house could be useful.

And the best news is that his teacher is not only the best guitarist I've ever met (and I dated quite a few guitarists, having a bit of a "thing" for them) but also a man with a true heart and talent for teaching. Thanks Johnathon, you are the best.

Zeke says, "dada, I didn't know you was a rock star!"

And for his part, Zeke has been busy making valentines. All of them for rock-star dada. Sorry grandma's. I would sneak you one but Zeke made me write DADA on them to be sure I was clear about who they were for. If it makes you feel better, I am chopped liver as well.

Mal has been busy pushing Zeke around on his tricycle. We've been kind of wondering when he will figure out that this is a lame deal for him and insist on getting a ride now and then himself. So far he is thrilled every time Z yells, "Baby! I need a push!!"

For my part? Writing and rewriting essays for this event. It'd be a lot simpler if I could just decide what I'm doing, then at least I'd only be writing and rewriting one, instead of 2. I've officially gone over the line of over-thinking it. Auditions are Feb 26th and Im pretty sure my usual stage fright will be over-ridden by the joy that at least then it will be over and I can never think about this again, lol. Josh who has had to listen to all 3 of my essays in various levels of completion several times, has been more patient then an angel. My only excuse is this is the first time I've written for anything other than a blog in 3 years. I decided to audition to prove to myself that I could, but I think I may be proving myself the opposite.

Tears of Rachel

2011-02-09T14:16:00.000-08:00

*This was the first essay among quite a few essays on motherhood I wrote, my main technique in writing always being to write as much as I possibly can for a few days and then slog thru it all later to see if any of it is worthwhile. Staying on track has always been a bit difficult for me, and this particular piece ended up a bit overtly religious for the essay's (secular) purpose, and was therefor scrapped even though it is my favorite of the bunch. But my heart has been with it the past few weeks anyways. Unwilling to let go.

I would have been due this month, had I not miscarried last June.

It's funny how the heart counts the days, even when the body has stopped.

Anyways, in honor of my child that was not.

- - - - - - -

"Thus saith the LORD; A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping; Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted for her children, because they were not." Jeremiah 31:19

The most heartbreaking thing about miscarriage, I have unfortunately been privy to find, is that no one, not even the sufferer, is ever quite sure how to phrase what, and therefor how much, was lost. Was it an embryo? Was it a baby? Was it, and this hit me like a wall of cold air, simply medical tissue? Having no words for it somehow makes it worse. Maybe that's because I am a writer, and it is thru words that I navigate this life. Clumsy. Slow. First in person and then again thru words.

When it comes to miscarriage there are just...no correct words.

No one knows what to say, how to mourn, or how to measure your mourning when there is nothing to shroud, nothing to bury, and no rites of passage to be said. It is all too vague, neither medicine nor religion giving clear lines to follow. What has been lost? Was it a child or just the expectation of a child?

The doctors, they parse their labels out according to when exactly in development "the loss" has happened; embryo, chemical pregnancy, fetus, clinical spontaneous abortion. Their terminology has always meant little to me; their cold and technical mummering completely outside of my experience. I never got any further than "loss".

All I ever knew was that I had lost.

I was Rachel, weeping for my children that were not, refusing to be comforted. I was Martha, leaving my sister behind at the mourning house to proclaim, "Lord if thou hadst been here..." Lord, if though hadst only been here... I was Job, tearing my robe. Shaving my head. Falling down to the ground.

I know the feeling of empty arms, of an empty womb. I know the salt tears that wont stop running, and the painful knowledge that where once two hearts beat in rhythm now there was only one. I know what it means to be numb. What it means to cry in bed with my husband, wrapped around each other and lost in a sea of grief.

But I also know to keep reading. That grief is never, can never be, the whole story. I know that Job, having fallen to the ground, commenced to worship, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taketh away," he wept, "blessed be the Lord."

I know that Martha, running to meet Jesus at the city gate in her desperation to cry out, "Lord if thou hadst been here!" was not an accusation but a proclaimation of her faith. "I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give thee." she said.

And I know the same. I have made my peace with my Maker and with my fractured body. I wept but I also was soothed.

And of course I know that Rachel, the barren and weeping Rachel... eventually she was given two sons.

And then, so was I. I am the mother of two, perfectly healthy, and more than perfect sons.

But in the most secret corner of my heart. That corner where we mothers of miscarriage take our unborn dead to bury, I am the mother of five children.

Because, even though no one knows what to call it, what terminology is correct, or what it all means, five times life quickened in my womb. Only twice did I cradle a newborn babe in my arms, only twice did I feed that child of my breast, and only twice was I privledged to experience the sharp pain/joy of gradual seperation that is watching that child grow up. But five times I was a mother.

I finally put batteries in my camera

2011-02-04T15:44:00.000-08:00

A boy-update... for certain people who "miss their granbabies".
Malachi, once having walked, almost never crawled again. He's taking great delight in the ability to carry things from room to room. So he does. Often. Rarely is any given item in the room where it logically belongs anymore. As I speak our entire collection of mac and cheese boxes (and we have quite a collection, being devoted Costco members) are on the couch, having dutifully been carried there one by one.
Right now he is busy taking all my shoes into the kitchen.
He has also discovered the joys of his tongue.
It's really quite a large one, somehow wider then his mouth, and with the ability of strange movements that I'm almost confident I can't copy. It is also rarely contained inside his mouth anymore. More often he looks like this:
Both boys have also taken great pleasure lately in touching their tongues with one another, its a game Mal invented and it will throw them into at least 15 minutes of giggling. Often even more. As this is an activity that I absolutely refuse to take part in, I'm glad at least they have each other.
This kid thinks he's hilarious. That much is certain.

Zeke, much to my amusement and even slight dismay is suddenly turning into ALL boy. We fight monsters all. day. long. We fight them to get into the kitchen, which they have blocked. We fight them for stealing our toys, which have obviously not been misplaced by were viciously stolen...by a monster. We fight them before eating and before going potty and sometimes we must walk very very slowly and whisper, because they are sleeping. But monsters are notoriously light sleepers so we inevitably wake them up and must then fight them.
Then, to change the pace a bit we fight dragons instead. Or the "bad guys".

Often there is a princess involved.

When he isn't fighting, he is deeply involved in his "school work".
Here he is seen organizing different colored buttons with some pliers.

I was torn on starting preschool activities at 2, but now that its been a few months I'm happy I did it. Zeke loves his preschool shelf, and begs me to do some "school" with him almost every day. And he was ready, he identified all but 4 letters today :)
He was also camera shy this morning. Hence only being in pictures with me. I didn't mind so much.

Bow Down to the Awesomeness of my Chart

2011-02-03T08:37:00.001-08:00

Every morning I ask Zeke if he wants to go to the library story time today; or to our mindful mama's meeting; or to preschool co-op, or what-have-you. And every morning for a week now he has said no. "I want to stay hooooome and eat yoooogurt." was his exact answer today.

And so home, for the most part, we have stayed.

It's difficult at times to remember that he is a person too, with plans for his day and moods. And both kids have seemed extra tired lately, not really wanting to do much. I try to respect their desires on how our day should go when I can, because very often I can't. We WILL go to Costco this afternoon, for example. But I'll admit, I am also getting very tired of staying home. I haven't been anywhere since church on Sunday. Pretty soon we will have to switch from respecting their needs to respecting mine.

In the meantime, I will show you what I've been doing these past home-bound days. You know, other than changing diapers and cleaning the fridge and playing hide and seek.

Is there anything more satisfying then a chart?

From left to right, or north to south as it were...

Bed 1
1 Squash hill (probably butternut)
2 Zuchinni hills

Bed 2
3x2 square feet of Carrots (probably 40-50)
2 Tomatoes (Jet Stars if we can find starts)
2 Cherry Tomatoes

Beds 3 and 4
2 rows of Green Beans (10 each) growing up
1 row of Corn (5 each)

Bed 5
2 double sided Pea trellis' (15 peas per side)
with Spinach in the shade between (7 successively planted)

Bed 6
Zeke's Strawberry Patch

The brown lines between each Bed represent my walkways. I'm going to dig them into 8 inch deep trenches for trench composting, and fill them as we go. Last year I used the end of the garden (what is now a squash bed) as a compost pile but it didn't really work out for me. Composting is apparently beyond my skill. Seriously, its not just letting stuff rot...there is an art to it. Trench composting seems much less an art and more like dumping garbage in a hole. That I can do.

It also makes me feel way less guilty about all those waste-of-space walkways. My garden is deep enough (a little over 6 feet) that I need them if I ever hope to reach the back but they still grate my nerves.

Anyways, if it works out for me I will just move the walkways every year and soon have a nice layer of compost over the whole garden, 8 inches deep.

You may also have noticed all those little flowers. They are Marigolds, Calendula's, and Cosmo's. All picked for their qualities to fend off slugs and dogs, attract pollinators, and feed nasty bugs that would otherwise eat my veggies. They are my guard-flowers, if you will.

Below you can see our Potatoes will be growing in a trash can. The raspberry bush that I want (and Josh needs to remove a different bush to make room for) is also represented, even though I doubt we will get around to it in time. It would need to be planted in March. And then there is Zeke's sunflower house that I'm hoping to put in his digging area. If I can keep him from digging them up.

I also made an at-a-glance chart with all of my amounts to plant alongside the various planting dates, and another more in detail month-by-month To Do list, including planting garlic (and also something else...I don't want 6x25 feet of garlic) in the fall as a winter crop to enrich the soil.

Now I just have to wait a few months to start....

In all honesty I'm glad I did it all, though. I looked at the calender the other day to check the dates for Easter and remembered that we have a really really late Easter this year (April 24th). So late in fact that almost my entire usual-garden-planning time will be smack in the middle of Lent, which would have left me little time to read all the gardening books and blogs I have been. So late even that the bunny wont be able to give the boys all the garden seeds, as the spinach, peas, potatoes, marigolds and maybe even the carrots will be in the ground by then.

Oh well, they can get the sunflower seeds ;)

Garden Dreams

2011-02-01T16:59:00.001-08:00

We had unseasonably warm weather last week. It threw us for a loop and several times, in fact, either I or Josh have talked about Spring as if it was just around the corner- despite the fact that it is in fact still 2 months away. And even though today has been a much more average 20 degrees, it was still blue skies. So inside the heated house I was still thinking Spring; contemplating making pom pom flowers for my sometimes empty vase, spying eagerly out the window in search of a crocus bud, wondering what clothes await me in Mal's size in storage, and for that matter what size he will be, and how many things I had in 3T last year, I think Zeke was still mostly a 2, and what I will have to purchase to get us thru.

And I just couldn't resist it. I got out my household planner and I started planning out our garden.

I've decided on repeating last years' Peas, Spinach, Green Beans, and Tomatoes, throwing out the Peppers (which were too spicy for my boys' tastes) and the Lettuce (because it ended up really soft with no crunch, I don't know why), and adding Carrots, and Potatoes, and some sort of Squash...maybe a butternut or an acorn? Oh yes, and Zeke will be in charge of the Strawberries again, and adding Sunflowers to his domain. We might make them into a Sunflower house like this, I haven't decided.

So now I am looking up all my old gardening posts, and googling companionate planting, and searching for growing tips. Last year my basic plan was- throw as much compost as I could afford down (it wasn't much), stick in the seeds, and wait. It worked out great but I think this year I want to develop a real plan and grow my knowledge base a bit.

Gardeners out there, any favorite books, blogs, or sites? Want to send me your garden plan so I can shamelessly copy it?

I've got 4 months to overthink this.

Fingerprints (#224-238)

2011-01-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

It hits me as I sit, indian style as they used to call it in my Idaho school, in the hall. There's a bowl of water in the cross section of my legs, a damp rag in my hand. I'm scrubbing the fingerprints that seem to always be present on the lower two and a half feet of wall. Washing walls is a chore that I never envisaged as necessary before kids, but suddenly its something I do two or three times a year.

But then it hit me, so sharply that I actually paused in the middle of ringing out my rag, leaving it to drip onto my jeaned leg- these fingerprints will not always be limited to the lowest 2 1/2 feet of wall. No, they will rise higher and higher, slowly as the years pass by. Like some awful and inevitable tide rolling in.

And then they will be gone.

No more fingerprints.

I considered leaving them, at least on some small portion of out-of-the-way wall. A tribute. A reminder of this time of sticky peanut-butter fingers and even stickier kisses. I can almost imagine how the fingerprints would grow upwards, changing with the times. The peanut butter and finger paints of toddlerhood morphing into the dirt smudges of boyhood...and when they are teens? What will be on their fingers for me to find then? Ink from hours of writing? Dirt and sweat from playing some sport? The dust of pencil, or the leftover dried residue of paints, that the artist seems to always wear?

I shake my head, and I finish ringing out my rag- shoulders square for the task ahead of erasing all these memories from the walls. But in a softer place than my shoulders I am making sure not to erase these memories from my heart.

#238. Fingerprints on the wall.

Always, always, on the lookout for Moments of Grace.

#224. New, earlier bed times.

#225. Zeke's first book to "read" to me. He's memorized Dr. Seuss' B Book.

#226. The way Mal grabs my whole head and squeezes. The best. hugs. ever.

#227. Blanket forts filled with pillows, stuffed animals, and books.

#228. That after two days of throwing up, I get to put salt on anything I want to guilt free.

#229. Brightly colored balloons.

#230. A cat that jumps out of the bathroom drawer.

#231. Guests bearing gifts.

#232. Date night.

#233. Bagged salad for 59cents. Next to mixed shredded cheese, its my favorite convenience food.

#234. The billowing warmth of steam rising from the stove.

#235. Homemade sushi and flowering tea.

#236. Pajama day.

#237. Breakfast cookies.

PS. oh man how long has it been since I've had any pictures on here? Please forgive me, I'll work on that :)

An Answer

2011-01-26T21:18:00.001-08:00

And the emails came pouring in. You wrote to me to tell me why you blogged, you wrote to me to tell me why you read my blog, you wrote to encouraged me, and you wrote to relate with me and I have to admit, I smiled. And I realized that this, this is in part why I blog. It is one lonely mother's way of reaching out.

It gave me much to ponder and I thank you from my heart. All of you. And I think this, especially, hit the nail on the head: "If ours is a generation of oversharing narcissists, then we're also a generation of voyeurs. And maybe that's part of it; everyone likes the proverbial peek over the hedge."

I think THAT, in the end, is what my blog is about, it is simply a peek over my hedge.

And I like that.

The thing is, life is beautiful. And I like that this blog gives me an outlet to share that, to live that fact twice and publicly. It forces me to stop, and notice it. And, though I have few readers and dont plan on ever having more than a few readers, it forces you to stop and notice it too. That life is beautiful, and there is much to be thankful for. And that, yes, sometimes life is messy and hard to look at but none of us ache alone.

And so now that my blog's identity crisis is over, I can move on with my internet-life. :)

2011-01-24T15:26:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about blogging lately, thinking about words. About their power and intensity; about their beguiling charm. I've been wondering, Why do I do this?

For the past two months, as I've been watching with rapt attention, two wonderful bloggers have been sharing their thoughts, their friendship, and their letters to one another. It's created a ripple affect amongst a small corner of the blogging community and its created a ripple affect in my heart.

And to be honest, it's created a bit of writers block.

Well, no, not writers block, really. Because, you see, I have been writing, I am always writing. Since the day I learned to form painful and imperfect letters I've been filling page after page, notebook after notebook. So I am still writing, just not here.

In the last few weeks I've been coming here and sitting motionless. Searching for something, a snippet, a small story to share, not so much because I want to but because I don't want to see this space lay fallow... My heart hasn't been much into it. Or maybe my heart has been more into it? Because I am searching for every word instead of simply letting the flow move to my fingers?

So why do I do this? Not writing in general, I know why I write. I write because to me, to write is to think. To write is to live. If I don't mark it out- sometimes haltingly and sometimes with a fervor that results in cramped fingers and words missing on the smudged page- if I don't live it that second time it's as if the thought never existed, the experience was half lived.

But why so publicly?

It's a question worth asking, even in this time and age of Facebook status' and Tweets and the apparent end of all privacy. It's a question worth asking even of my generation, oversharing narcissists the lot of us.

It's not as if it doesn't have it's downfalls. I've never been much moved by the occasional mean comment or e-mail, but I wont go so far as to say I enjoy receiving them. I was once memorably told that I am not only egotistical for naming my children like I did but that they will surely grow up to hate me for it. If this is because they are biblical names, or because they are old testament names, or because they are long and kind of heavy names wasn't clear, but the idea that my kids will have yet another reason to hate me didn't brighten my morning.

It seems perhaps relevant to me that in weeks of pondering I still don't know. I don't know why I blog.

I guess what I'm saying is not knowing why I write is suddenly rendering me silent. If I don't know why I write how do I know what to write?

What was once easy is now hard. What am I doing here?

He Wants to Be Two

2011-01-19T22:03:00.000-08:00

"I WANT TO BE TWO!!!" That's what Zeke has taken to screaming the last two weeks. "You are two." I always insisted, sometimes reassuringly, sometimes with a great sigh, sometimes with clenched teeth and hands, trying with all my might not to shake him. It never helped but in this stage of "terrible two tantrums" I feel like I have to at least try to reason with him, even though I know there really isn't a point.

Tantrums aren't really Zeke's thing, usually, so they have really caught us off guard. I decided that the uptick in screaming (or should I say downtick in emotional control?) was directly related to not napping anymore and so the last two days Zeke has taken a nap again. It has helped. A lot. Apparently he becomes a completely different person when he is tired...an unhinged and possibly dangerous person. I can't blame him too much. He gets it from me.

And so today he was caught up in his sleep again and I had my old Zeke back. The one that stays up too late at night and sings "Everybody Wants to Be a Cat" from Aristocats in his bed for a half hour but hey, not one screaming episode all day. Plus he finally explained to me this afternoon what the heck he's talking about when he says that he wants to be two.

"Like a not-a-baby. Like a good boy with no screaming."

After this revelation he ran off to take Claudia for a walk (he likes to leash her and then make her follow him all around our yard), and I sat a bit stunned, and a bit humbled. Right in the middle of his hour-long tantrums he was screaming at the top of his lungs that he didn't want to be screaming? It puts a whole new perspective on my son, so awash with emotion right now, but trying so very hard.

Being two is hard.

Happy First Birthday Malachi!

2011-01-18T00:01:00.000-08:00

Today Malachi turns one.
It's a bit hard to believe, honestly.
I know it's the cliche but, where did the time go?
Was it honestly only a year ago today that I lay exhausted, on this very couch, and watched Zeke solemnly give his hour-old brother knuckles?
It must be true, because here is this toddler, oh so suddenly.

Malachi at one can walk 3 or 4 halting yet sturdy steps, much to his mother's chagrin and his father's delight. We had a bet on if he would walk before his birthday and Josh won by 5 days. He eats anything, and often everything. He has 5 teeth. He doesn't say a darned word. Not a single one. He plays his cards close to the chest, this one.
He adores his brother. He will not abide being left out. He loves splashing in the bathtub, can toss a ball with the best of them, and will push a toy car around the house for hours, he especially delights in ramps. He is 100% boy. He gives the best bear hugs I have ever experienced in my life.He is full of determination. I wont say stubbornness, because I don't see it, not yet. He is not stuck in his ways, but he is very very determined. He laughs. At everything. Great rolling belly laughs and oh boy does he have the belly for it. He is happy 95% of the time and stark raving MAD the other 5%. I call him my angel, Malachi meaning angel. But I'll admit to calling him Malachi the destroyer as well. There is that other %5...

We threw him a very small party last weekend. Poor second children never get quite the hoopla do they? But there were balloons and presents and cake and what more can a one year old ask for? He seemed pretty happy.
We love you Mal.

Why I Took This Job in The First Place

2011-01-12T11:28:00.000-08:00

I find myself, before my morning cup of tea has even had time to cool, standing in the kitchen with a sobbing two year old. His round little shoulders jerking with excess emotion, and tears running freely down his face, even dripping off his cheeks. He had hit his little brother on the head with a bumblebee shaped maraca and the ensuing punishment- seperation from all instruments and playmates- has thrown him neatly over the edge of emotional control.

But really, that had not been all.

It had already been one of those mornings with Zeke. One of those mornings that don't wait for your tea to cool. A "very hard day" as he would say himself. First he had to get his night diaper taken off even though he was "too busy". He wanted to wear his train sweater, but his train sweater was dirty, one sleeve coated in peanut butter from the day before. He chose to have a bagel for breakfast, but we found outselves out of bagels and so he found himself facing the choice between applesauce and toast, or oatmeal...two distinctly unappatizing options as he was sure to let me know. And then his brother, oh his brother! He broke the trains! And then he was following him! And then, inspired by the devil himself no doubt, and in an attemp to ruin all chances of brotherly peace forever, he had the audacity to touch lightning mcqueen!

Really the mishap with the Bee-Bop Band had been the last straw.

"I need a bandaid!" he wailed, between hard sucking in breaths.

And contemplating that not all injuries are ones of torn flesh or fragmented bone I take a testing sip of tea, and then a greater one, and then I went to the bathroom to retrieve the requested cure.

A patch for my sons bruised heart.

I very seriously administered the remedy onto his chin, following his shaking finger to the offending spot. "Is there anything else I can do to help you?" I ask him. And he thinks for a second, chest still heaving.

"I want you to sing mommy songs and do the dishes."

"You want me to sing mommy songs and do the dishes?" I repeat, even though I know he hates when I parrot him back like this, as if I dont understand his words.

But he is patient, and he nods.

"Do you want me to bring you a chair to sit in?" I ask and he nods again.

When I bring it, his tears start anew and he moans, "I cant get up!"

But I lift him onto the chair and turn towards the sink and the almost permanent pile of dishes that can be found in any mother's kitchen.

I start to sing mommy songs. All the songs I've been singing since my kids were tiny babes and the songs I've been singing since even before that. The Beatles and Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash and Ella Fitzgerand and so many hymns both old and new. I start with "The Battle Hymn of the Republic", because I know he loves it, and move onto "I'd Rather be an Old-time Christian" after that. I peek him calming down out of the corner of my eye as I place the (now clean) mixing bowl onto the drying rack and go into "The Folsom Prison Blues", "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Across The Universe" in quick sucession. I sing "Cry Me A River" before remembering that Mal is my jazz lover, not Zeke. Zeke loves the old southern hymns best and so I start to sing "I'll Fly Away" and by the time I'm onto "That Old Rugged Cross" and the last cast-iron
skillet, I can hear that Zeke is singing along.

I stop singing and close the dishwasher. Im thinking about the healing salve of music, and company. The peace and safety in the knowledge that the world chugs on, despite personal turmoil and pain. I'm thinking about my youngest son, who's happy playing sounds I've been hearing from the playroom all this 45 minutes or so and my husband who's at work "in
the city" as Zeke has begun to call our downtown area.

Lost in all these thoughts I hear from the chair that's been placed in the middle of my kitchen, "I was putting my shoes on this morning and it was really hard. But I didn't give up."

"I know, I was so proud of you."

"Im gonna go play." he says as he jumps from his chair, running to join his brother. A smile on his face, despite the tears that have not quite dried.

I go upstairs to get dressed, no shower for me today, Malachi will need me any second now. He averages an hour of play-alone time a day and my hour is running out fast. But there is a smile on my face too, because I've been reminded why I took up this job in the first place.

Moments #207-226

2011-01-10T10:34:00.000-08:00

I can't believe how long its been since I updated this list- the last one was before Christmas! So I will ask you to forgive me for backing up a bit.

Speaking of the future, though, Malachi's birthday is in 8 days! I'm in a little bit of a shock. Although not so much shock that I'm not planning our celebrations. Zeke and I decided on a balloon themed party after he fell in love with this cupcake design. Did I mention Zeke is planning his brother's whole party? I'm going to be making the cupcakes out of this very simple yellow cake. Hopefully it will be a keeper because I'm yet to find the perfect yellow cake. And of course there will be lots of real helium balloons too.

And my favorite part, a birthday crown. (As you can see, Zeke got one as well.)
Made just a bit big so that it will hopefully last the years (it fits my head a tad tightly, so I'm guessing it'll be a tad loose on Mal).
I cut everything by eye, and used the craft felt that I already keep around the house. They are by no means nice crowns. But they are my first sewing project to not bring me to frustration and swearing. And they were made with all the love I have in my heart.

And now backing up a bit,

#207 A little boy passing scraps to the puppy underneath the table.

#208 Clean, fresh water.

#209 A mess of wrapping paper.

#210 My sisters fiance reading Zeek a new dinosaur book. A family growing.

#211 God come down into the body of a helpless babe.

#212 A whole tub of train tracks- hours of time to myself.

#213 Sneaking in one last Christmas carol, days after the holiday has ended.

#214 Trees heavy with snow.

#215 Finding I actually do enjoy wine- if its the right wine.

#216 Knee socks.

#217 Truffles.

#218 The way Mal grabs my whole head with both arms and squeezes. The sweetest of hugs.

#219 A puppy bounding across snow taller than her.

#220 A 3 day weekend, 2 days after a 5 day weekend.

#221- Our very own "frosty"

#222- Staying up late with the sewing machine and a big cup (or three) of tea.

#223- My first sewing project to not produce a half hour or so of swearing.

3 Thoughts

2011-01-08T19:03:00.000-08:00

The first thought: I have pregnancy-fever. I am missing being pregnant, and missing giving birth...but at the same time I am very not ready for another newborn in the house. I've committed to 2011 being the year of no new children (all the better to focus on myself) and I'm still great with that, even thrilled with that, but...I miss being pregnant. That feeling juxtaposed with this article, which I came across last week, has got me dreaming about surrogacy.

What a beautiful experience that would be. To carry another woman's child for her. It's something that I would very very seriously consider where in not for...well...the darned truth. Which is that I'm probably an awful surrogacy candidate. While I'm amazing at being pregnant when I successfully get pregnant, an an absolute champ at childbirth, I am also assuming most women would want a surrogate who's had less miscarriages then them. Josh and I have never medically looked into what our problem is- bad eggs, bad sperm, bad body- but there is obviously a problem.

I hate thinking of myself as broken.

The second thought: After a long break (Thanksgiving all the way to New Years) Zeke and I started doing preschool again. I was really glad for the break and am now equally glad to be starting up again. We did "S is for Snow" last week, which was also just a really really fun subject. We cut paper snowflakes, brought snow inside to the kitchen sink to play in, made a snowman, built an igloo out of marshmallows, painted a snowstorm with white paint, and talked all about how snow was water frozen. Next week we get to do trains, inspired by the wood train set he got for Christmas and is now obsessed with. I was so excited by my library finds that I brought them all out 2 days early- there are some great books available about trains.

I always assumed that when we start homeschooling we would do year-round. But the fact that even now on our very very light preschool curriculum I am burnt out by Thanksgiving teaches me otherwise. In my worst moments it also makes me wonder if I am cut out for this. But that is neither here nor there.

I have discovered why every homeschooling family I know takes the entire month of December off, as well as a full summer break. When we begin I think that we will plan on doing the same.

The third thought: I'm having warmth issues. The other day I thought to myself, "Why, I have really enjoyed the snow this winter. What a strange thing, I always HATE winter!" And then I realized that we have only just begun. Today we are 19 days into winter. We have something like 69 days left.

This realization immediately made me cold and I haven't fully warmed up since. I think the problem is that despite what the farmers almanac might have to say about it, winter starts as soon as you swallow that last morsel of pumpkin pie in November and it ends...well around these parts in ends in April if your lucky. Sometimes it's more like May.

I might have to make a few more scarves.

A Day in The Life - 1/4/11

2011-01-04T12:45:00.000-08:00

I did two Day in the Life posts last year. One in March, and one in July. I had planned on doing 4, spread out thru the year, and obviously for various reasons that didn't work out. Most of those reasons were me forgetting all about it, but a few were me not feeling like it. Every 3 months seems often for such a boring, and yet time consuming to write, post. I plan on doing 2 this year. One in January (aka yesterday) and one in July. That way I still get the benefit of looking back on an "every day"day, and even one in different seasons, but there is actually enough time lapsed to make a difference in our lives.

This particular day ended up being an extremely boring one. But then again, that is pretty normal for us in the middle of winter when I dont much want to leave the house because it looks like this outside:
Anyways.

PART 1: A SLOW MORNING WITH NO WHERE TO BE

7:30 Zeke wakes up in his own bed. Since he went to bed last night, stayed in bed all night, and then woke up this morning, all without a tantrum, he gets to watch TV. (We have resorted to bribing our toddler with TV for every 12 hours he goes without tantrums. If he lasts the entire day he gets TV right before bed, if he lasts all night he gets it right when he wakes up. TV is really the only reward he cares about and sadly this hasn't really added up to that much TV.)

So Zeke picked out his outfit for the day, brushed his teeth, and requested Dinosaur Train. I made tea, checked my email, and start to read "Water for Elephants" while he watched his show.
After a little while Mal woke up too so I threw some pants over his onesie ( Now that its cold my "three outfits and then you are naked" rule might count as cruelty. So the new rule is Mal's clothes dont get taken off until they are destroyed. I still go thru 2-3 outfits a day.)

8:30 We "paused" Dinosaur Train and all went to go make breakfast. (Yet another *explanation* We never turn off a show around here. Instead we wait until riiight before the credits and "pause" it for "later". It doesn't matter to Zeke if "later" is days and days, and a toddler crisis is averted.)

Zeke and Mal both had Rice Chex while I did last night's dishes. Zeke ate 4 bowls worth. For some reason I thought I could have something different then them and made myself an onion bagel. After the boys saw it this is all that was left:
I made another.

9:30 I deposited the boys in the toy/school room, helped Zeke build a train track:
convinced Malachi the sound matching eggs were better then irritating his brother by destroying his train tracks:
and then gathered up all the bedding in the house for cleaning.

The boys had lasted that long nicely, even switching places with the trains, so I decided to risk a shower before starting the washer.
I only had to yell from the shower 3 times. Twice when Zeke locked Mal out of the room, once when Mal was "chasing" Zeke.

By the time I was clean, teeth and hair brushed, and dressed for the day, Malachi was standing at my legs desperate for attention and the sound of frantic barking and hysterical laughing told me that Zeke was playing with the dog.

So we cuddled up to read a few books. Mal especially enjoys the lift-the-flap ones.
Zeke gets jealous and says he's sick.
He has the tissues to prove it and blows his nose several times.
I offer to read "Thomas and the Naughty Diesel", Zeke's newest favorite book, and he agrees while arguing that "Diesel isn't naughty, he's a good engine!" Josh and I suspect that Zeke really identifies with Diesel.

Claudia is all riled up from Zeke's playing earlier so the boys and I throw the ball for her a while, we've been trying to get her to master the "give" lately. Mal especially loves to throw the ball.

PART 2 LUNCH AND SOME SCATTERED NAPS

11:00 Malachi gets hungry so I sit in the rocking chair to nurse him and suggest to Zeke that he play tug-a-war with the dog. The boys have a hard time playing catch with her without me, since Claudia wont forfeit the ball for them. But, being evenly matched in strength, tug-a-war is a perfect game.
Mal is acting sleepy so I take him upstairs and put him down for a nap. Zeke and I do some preschool. We sing, count, read a few books about snow, and play with some new play dough he got for Christmas.
Then he does art with some stickers at the kitchen table where he can see and talk to me while I do my daily chores (feeding the animals, sweeping, ect) and put some potatoes in the oven for lunch.
When he's done he asks if we can play Rock Band. I'm fine with that.
12:30 Malachi wakes up right in time for lunch. We "pause" Rock Band and doctor up our potatoes with sour cream and chives.
1:00 Zeke is delaying finishing his meal so that he doesn't have to take a nap. We argue about naptime, while I get out his special nighttime cup and put the (now clean) sheets on his bed. He asks for 400 different toys he needs to sleep with, and I finally threaten no TV if I have to come in the room again.

Mal plays in the living room while I spend a while online, writing this, reading blogs, checking my email, and asking for advice about nap time struggles on Facebook.
2:00 Mal is getting cranky so we spend a while playing together with stacking cups (he likes to put the little ones inside the big ones, and then take them back out). He's still cranky so nurse him and put him down for a nap on the couch (Zeke is STILL awake in their room- though quiet)
I light some candles and have some prayer and meditation time. Then I get Water For Elephants back out....its really good. I steal Claudia away from Mal to cuddle with.

4:00 Both boys wake up- almost simultaneously. They get diaper changes and then play with cars in their bedroom while I do all my Tuesday specific chores- puting all the clean sheets on beds, cleaning the litter box, cleaning up both bedrooms, and vacuuming upstairs.

PART 3 THE EVENING

Before I'm quite finished, or its quite 5 o clock, Zeke yells "Daddy!"

Yep, that was the door.

Malachi, who is usually thrilled to see daddy at the end of the day, wants nothing to do with him. Its true he hasn't had much mommy time. So Josh ends up making dinner according to my verbal directions while I stand in the kitchen holding Mal. It's Tuscan Soup.
While it simmers we all move into the livingroom where Zeke throws himself dramatically on the couch and says he's had a "very hard day." I ask him what would make his day better and he answers, peeking thru fingers, "cookies." Since I had been thinking that very same thing I agree and we head to the kitchen.
We make snicker doodle dough and then it in the fridge to cool. Malachi is now perfectly happy to sit in the livingroom with daddy. They throw the ball for the dog.

I put the last touches on dinner and Zeke sets the table.

We all eat. Malachi tries to jump out of his highchair several times.
After dinner Josh takes Mal to the bathtub and Zeke and I roll the cookies in sugar and cinnamon. Zeke then joins his brother in the bathtub
and I man the oven, clear the table, and look up the difference between different varietals of wine on the internet. Josh and I are talking down the hall to each other about wine, and trying to figure out which ones I'd like (So far I havent likeed Merlot (too bitter) or Chardonnay (too sour), but I DID like the Syrah my mom gave him for Christmas). Josh loves all wines so this discovery was exciting for him.

We pajama the boys, eat a few cookies each, and Josh and Malachi transfer our phone numbers to our new phones (we both got upgrades delivered in the last few days).
Zeke plays with his trains, I can hear him acting out Thomas and the Naughty Diesel. I sneak over to a corner to read more of my book.

9:00 Bedtime. Josh takes Zeke and I take Mal but I fail utterly and when he comes downstairs Mal is still up. So then Josh takes Mal as well, and I go back to my book, feeling just a bit guilty but not enough to stop reading.

It only takes him a few minutes to put Mal down (Josh has a magic touch) and we play a couple rounds of Blokus To Go (We aren't exactly "to go" but this version is 2 person, while normal Blokus requires 4). We each win once. Both games are very close.
10:00 Josh isn't feeling particularly well so we go to bed early.

Goodbye Twenty-Ten

2011-01-01T04:35:00.000-08:00

2010 was neither a great, nor an awful, year so I feel a bit apathetic at its passing. We had our traditional wreck of a New Years Eve (Josh and I have never, ever, been able to manage a good New Years Eve for some reason...the day might be cursed for us). We went to a party with the other Bloom leaders plus their families....and lasted about 3 hours (8:30) before Zeke threw a Super Tantrum and had to be carried out and home. It had something to do with wanting water, but not the cup I offered (seriously).

I took a bath and was in bed by 10.

Then I woke up at 4am wide awake.

Over-all, honestly, the night was a good example of the entire year. I had some high goals and the best of intentions, but things were just slightly out of control. Twenty-ten was the year of the best intentions.

I'm hoping for a bit better, come 2011.

With the kids a bit older now, turning respectively 1 and 3 in January and June, and for once in my adult life, no baby on the way, I want to really try to focus on myself this year. 2010 was a survival year. I did what I had to in order to survive and I didn't much get around to anything past survival (aka anything for myself). It was all about filling the kid's needs, then the husband's needs, and the various commitments I had made in mindful mamas and in church and for Bloom and honestly after that? I was passed out.

In 2011 I want to take the time to take care of myself. There is a lot that goes into that. I want to take more care in the way that I dress, wearing clothes that I like...clothes that make me like me. I want to take the time to shower and do my hair and maybe even a bit of makeup. Every day. As a person that doesn't actually understand what one possibly does in a morning routine that lasts over 30 minutes, I think that is a manageable goal. I want to cultivate stronger friendships, something I've said I was working on for a few months now, but have been too shy about putting myself out there to actually accomplish. I want to make the time to exercise. It's ridiculous that in the 24 hours of a day it's impossible to carve out 20 minutes every now and then to be alone and run. I am going to commit, absolutely commit, to kicking the depressive, postpartumy, funk I've been in for the last 6 months since my last miscarriage. Its not ok for me to feel like this all the time and if that means I need medical help, well then I need medical help.
So here is to 2011. The year of the mommy. Or rather the year of the Courtney. Because this year, as great as mommy is, I'm going to be more.

And it all comes down

2010-12-29T09:13:00.000-08:00

There is always a bit of mourning when Christmas ends. The baubles come off the tree, the twinkling lights are taken down, the nutcrackers are boxed away. Every year I consider leaving it all out at least until the New Year, but a large part of me craves our normal schedule and an end to the insanity, not to mention an end to the sweets when I finally gain the bravery to step on a scale and see the results of all those cookies and fudge and caramels and birthday cake and kettle corn. My love for regularity inevitably beats my love for chaos and fudge, and so every year I end up taking down the tree as soon as we are back from our Christmas travels.

And then the house, despite my best efforts at winter decorating, seems suddenly desolate. I go overboard for Christmas, for sure, filling every nook and corner. But part of the problem is there just isn't much to put out on the shelves come winter time. In the Spring I have a seemingly endless supply of pink and girly baubles and fresh flowers and paper flowers. In the Summer I get out my collection of seashells and Zeke brings in his favorite rocks and sticks and the flowers just keep coming, switching to the sturdier summer varieties. Fall has its pumpkins and scarecrows and dried corn and fallen leaves gathered.
In the winter I'm left with...pine cones. And old books, and teacups, and a great collection of beeswax candles that I received for Christmas and thought about doling out over the whole year but in the end set out in one grand display, figuring I could use a little excess during these short, cold days. But it still just doesn't compare with the effect of 3o something little wood soldiers and a freaking TREE in the house.
So this week we wean ourselves off of Christmas. We will finish off the truffles and caramels and candy canes. We will skip chores to build really, really, big train tracks for Thomas to explore. I'll look thru my new hymnal to find songs to replace all the Christmas tunes I've been singing the kids to sleep to. Zeke will go to bed every night hugging his plastic Lightning McQueen to his chest, the special Lightning McQueen cup Santa was good enough to bring by his side (oh yes, we are a bottle-free family now). Malachi will ignore all his toys to chase after Zeke's tricycle, despite being way too small for it.
I suppose it isn't all bad, either. This weekend we will have New Years to celebrate. On the eve we have a party to attend and on the day itself I've got big plans for caramel corn, sparkling apple cider, and playing Wii all day in our pajamas. So its not as if we will be quite to life-as-normal for at least a few more days.
And Zeke and I are both geared up to re-start preschool after our long- since Thanksgiving- winter break. We are doing S is for Snow next week and the paper snowflakes and sock snowmen we're making will in part make up for the lack of Christmas decorations around.

Happy Birthday To Me (#98-206)

2010-12-20T16:53:00.000-08:00

Christmas, as wonderful as it is, seems to take over the entire month of December. Any poor soul with a December birthday can easily account to that. For those of us with the ill luck to have been born on THE DAY itself, well, we get lost in the shuffle even more then most. Heck, even I regularly forget about my birthday.

I turn 25 in 5 days, on Christmas Day, and I'm not complaining but in the last 10 years? I've had 2 birthday cakes. I've counted. Maybe pointedly enough that my husband will be sure I get one every year from now on.

And that is why #206 is my leftover birthday cake. It seems obscene, birthday cake this close to Christmas...but I am enjoying every bite.

I'm well loved.

98. The fact that every time Zeke breaks out in song (which is often), Malachi stops whatever he is doing to dance.

99. My husbands mad cookie decorating skills. He wont admit it, but he's way better then me.

100. New recipes for veggies that are starting to feel very old.

101. Piles and piles of cookies on the counter.

102. 45 degrees and snowy.

103. Cowboy boots.

104. The silence of naptime.

105. That we have the wealth to pick out gifts for the needy.

106. Dripping icicles.

107. The smell of Christmas trees.

108. Piles of presents under the tree.

109. The last person crossed off my list.

110. A whole morning of nothing but fudge.

111. The last cookie.

112. Making another batch.

113. Real mistletoe and the bestest man to kiss.

114. Can I say fudge again?

115. Zeke's constant chattering of what everyone should get for Christmas- if he were in charge there would be a lot of trains passed out.

116. Taking a long hard look at my to-do list and playing the Wii instead.

117. Twinkling lights.

118. Finally getting the boys to smile- at the same time- in the same direction- with snot free noses.

119. Sweater vests.

200. A night out with friends. Or rather my husbands friends? Or the fact that really, they are all the same.

201. 36 hours (and counting) with no puppy accidents, that's thru a night people!

202. Zeke's version of "Frosty the Snowman"

203. Malachi's "momma momma momma momma!"

204. A re-commitment to lookign nice from time to time.

205. Re-bleaching my hair, twice because its so overdue that my peroxide actually expired.

206. Leftover birthday cake.

Brotherhood

2010-12-18T14:40:00.001-08:00

Mal is 11 months now (today in fact) and the boys are hitting a stage for the first time where they will run off and play together. I mean, they always played, they would wrestle and hug and tickle with mommy supervision, but it was always Zeke playing with the baby. The last few weeks have been the first time they have really played together as equals and friends.

Let me tell you, it makes showering around here a whole lot easier.

Brotherhood is just such a funny dynamic. It's very different then sisterhood. Different then friendship. They love each other, and they are merciless with each other. And watching their relationship develop has been a true joy. I've always been a bit of a believer in the influence of age order on people's personalities (the fact that before Malachi we were a family of first-borns always seemed a bit telling to me, for example) but Malachi and Zeke seem to defy all the rules with each other.

Zekey is so phlegmatic, so passive and so slow to act (or react) that Malachi has really taken charge between the two of them. Mal is of course too small for much of his personality to be set but I think he might be the first loud Clark. We are many things, us Clarks, but loud isn't really one of them. We are a decidedly understated family, soft spoken and not much for forcing our own way.

Mal seems to have more personality then the other three of us put together.

So Mal may be the little brother, but he is quickly becoming the brother in charge. 90% of their games are Mal-invented games and without fail every time I leave them in the toy room playing their separate activities, when I come back Zeke has joined Malachi.

I read somewhere once that your siblings will be the people with you for the longest. Friends can come and go and even parents will die, but your siblings will always be there. The person that knows you the longest is almost always your sibling.

I'm so glad they have each other.

Christmas Pictures

2010-12-14T10:41:00.001-08:00

I was without the internet for a while...something about construction and moving us to a new server, and then forgetting to move us back to our old server all happening of course on a weekend when they aren't open to complain to.

The funny thing is I didn't really miss it. Sure there was that recipe I had bookmarked, and the address to that birthday party in my email, and the pattern in my ravelry queue. There were opportunities missed, and irritations. But for the most part? Didn't much miss it.

But now, of course, I am sadly behind on everything internet related. So instead of writing out the post I was planning I will just leave you with a few complaints on how very hard it is to get a good Christmas photo of the kids.
First they wont look at me.

Then, my favorite, a yawner and a nose picker at the same time.

Then they aren't looking at me again.

Then the dog butts in.

And finally...one for my money. One.

I'm trying again today...wish me luck.

Getting in the Spirit

2010-12-08T21:42:00.001-08:00

We've really kicked into the Christmas spirit this week, despite the fact that I have been sick pretty much since Thanksgiving. The holidays wait for no man, after all. Not even for a sick mama.

So we started by baking up a cookie storm. Sugar cookies, and mexican wedding cookies (aka snowballs), and my "famous" mint chocolate cookies. And when those dwindle down we may start thinking about fudge.
This is my first year in quite a while not participating in a cookie exchange, and I have to say...it's kind of nice. I think in the end we baked a little over 6 dozen cookies for home and office use and that was a BIG difference from the 15 dozen I made last year, plus fudge, plus caramels, plus truffles. I'm not saying I wont ever do it again...just that the break was enjoyed.
After that we set up our Christmas tree.
Or shall I say Christmas bush? Zeke picked out the fattest tree I think I have ever seen. But it looks just perfect all dolled up with ornaments.

We even went Christmas shopping to fill out the bottom of the tree, and Zeke picked out and wrapped a gift for a little boy his own age who's family our church is sponsoring. We had been worried about how well this would work out for him, picking out a toy that he will probably want to keep, but he did great with it.

We've even "unwrapped" our first Christmas gift...
Claudia!!
Even though she is technically MY Christmas gift Zeke has been telling everyone how "daddy brought him a doggy for his own". And maybe it is partly true. We had pretty much decided on the name Kaylee after all when Zeke ran down the hall yelling "Come on Cla-la-la, I will show you my dinosaurs!!" And of course, off she ran and as Claudia she was forever known.

Other holiday activities have included, watching classic Christmas films (most notably Frosty the Snowman), singing carols (Jingle Bells was an instant hit), drinking hot chocolate (Zeke prefers tea, the wierdo), eating snow...

And passing out from the exhaustion of it all.

Oh yes, and oh so pathetically trying to get a good Christmas card picture...but perhaps that deserves a post all its own?

A Dirty Rotten No-Good Day (#82-96)

2010-12-04T12:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon found me crying, in public, in the snow. (And I never never cry, let alone in public) You see my car was stuck in the snow, my baby was screaming in the backseat, a plow was coming up behind me, a tow truck was on it's way, my car keys were lost in the street, my husband wasn't answering his phone, and I had just gotten 2 simultaneous text messages- one from my babysitter saying she had heard my kids had pink eye and wouldn't be able to babysit that night if it was true, and the second isn't actually my story to tell but let's just say it made the rest of it look like a vacation.

So there I was, crying, in public, in the snow.

Did I mention that my cat had been missing for a few hours already? Yes, my Mony Mony, who never ever leaves the yard, had gone out this morning and not come back. If it was Ziggy I would have shrugged it off as a protest of the new puppy (new puppy!), and expected him back when he decided rotten looks are better punishment then silence. But Mony never leaves the yard and she wasnt even wearing her collar so she had no registration tags on. She is also the epitome of catness and far far too aloof to admit something as measly as a dog could affect her. She had taken one look at the puppy from the top of the stairs and continued on with her day.

So by hour 6 of being missing I was pretty sure we'd find her corpse in the spring thaw.

I was, in fact, looking for her dead body when I got stuck in the snow.

And the blessed thing about days like that, the days where just everything seems to go wrong, is that you hit a point where you really notice all the small things that go right. There is always light somewhere.

And my husband did eventually call me back and remind me that we have a spare "valet" key in his office. And after that quick run into the house I got my car at least started back up which made it possible for my mail man and the elderly man that lives across the street to give me the push I needed to get into the driveway. The plow came thru, which made me give up all hope of finding my keys, but at least now I know I wont get stuck again (at least until another snow). Allowed into the house the baby took a 5 hour nap and when I went outside to shovel my neighbor, bless his soul, helped me clear out the snow against my driveway that the plow created. It turned a 3 hour job into a 1 and a half hour job and I almost cried again in pure thankfulness.

I convinced my sitter that she wouldn't catch pink eye as long as she didn't rub her eyes incessantly- which is true, the boys had been on meds for 2 days and their eyes were no longer pink or weeping, just a little swollen, in fact today is our last day of medicine- and she agreed to come after all. So I was able to make it out to Josh's office Christmas party. Thanks to the neighbor's help shoveling, I was even able to look good. All the pity I received at the party, the hugs and the donated drink tickets (everyone got 2, I assume to avoid a repeat of last year's party where everyone got drunk), made me feel a fool, but also made me feel very very loved. Between people that get my facebook status' and people that were in the meeting Josh left to answer my frantic phone calls I think everyone got to hear about my day.

And then, when I got home and put the puppy out to do her business before bed, in walked Mony, and I went to bed telling myself "do over". And that is why #96 is- That you get to start fresh every morning.

Moments of Grace #82-96

#82 I'm thankful for myself. I know my sister said it in jest at the Thanksgiving table but it still stuck with me all day. I'm very thankful for the opportunity, the freedom and ability, to become my unique self.

#83 The kid's table.

#84 Leftovers, particularly when eaten before the day is even thru.

#85 The magical being that is "uncle" to Zeke and all the years he has to enjoy it.

#86 Online weather reports.

#87 Neighbors who offer their car out for loan, because they know mine cant get anywhere.

#88 Pediatricians who come to my door.

*89 New puppies.

#90 People willing to give you that push you need, whether its a literal push on your car or something more more abstract.

#91 Phone calls in sympathy...right when the tears start.

#92 Plowed roads.

#93 Someone to shovel with, side by side.

#94 Hugs. In particular I will say Nathan's hug, I loved his "Oh Courtney, I was watching on Facebook and was going to leave a comment but I'd just rather say it tonight, I'm soo sorry" or something like that.

#95 The cat coming back.

That's What I Get For Making Plans

2010-12-01T08:25:00.001-08:00

My last post was auto-posted, and full of misinformation. Which just goes to show that I probably shouldn't make plans, because I am not nearly as predictable as a mouse or a man. We actually got snowed into Idaho and had to stay an extra day, so Sunday I wasn't driving home so much as enjoying an extra day of Thanksgiving. And therefor we didn't start Advent on time, we started a day late.

It was a good Thanksgiving, however. Full of family and food, and aren't those the things that Thanksgiving is about?

Malachi was mostly enjoying the food:

While Zeke mostly enjoyed the family:
and the "pajama party" (aka sleeping bags on grandma's floor with the cousins) that I didn't get caught on ~~film~~ memory card.

The other thing I feel foolish about is after visiting family, and my moms three schnauzers, and Josh's mom's scotty, and his grandma's scotty, and most deadly his brothers brand new australian sheppard (my favorite breed EVAR) I started thinking about getting a dog again. I started thinking hard and admittedly not with my head.

Even though Josh and I have been seriously talking about a dog for almost 2 years now, and have almost come to the brink of getting said dog numerous times, we have always decided that the timing wasn't right yet for our family. Most notably, 4 weeks or so ago.

But even though all those arguments still exist...I have a baby...I have limited time for training...ect. Well how much my kids loved that aussie, despite the fact that she is a rambunctious critter and jumping and kissing them everywhere, it took me over the bridge.

The really ~~embarassing~~ funny part is that Josh and I said in October that if we were to get a dog right now it would be 1. Not in the winter when the 3 feet of snow outside would inhibit both potty training and leash training. 2. Not a small breed, as Josh calls all dogs under 30 pounds rats. 3. Not a puppy, because oh Lordy are puppies 1,000x more work then a dog. 4. And a mutt, because Josh has strong feelings about the purposeful breeding of dogs when there are so many good ones that need a home.

And here we are, talking to the owner of a 9 week old (puppy), Toy (aka small breed), Australian Shepard (purebred) that he purchased and then quickly decided he couldn't keep, in December (winter).

Which just goes to show that I shouldn't make plans. Again.

It's not that we don't have our reasons. There are pluses to puppies, most notably that we have small children and cats and not many dogs are socialized well for both. There are pluses to getting a small dog, most notably that we have small children and a small car. There are even pluses to this dog's purity in breed. Our local animal shelter has a bad habit of selling pit bulls and calling them something else and this dog was going to end up at an aussie rescue anyways. And despite my brother's taunting of being an animal racist, the risks are too high to allow a potentially aggressive animal into the family. There is even a plus to it being winter (I'm impatient?).

But I suppose the real lesson here is that sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. It wasn't exactly a "good" idea for Josh and I to get married right out of high school. Looking at statistics we are pretty much guaranteed to divorce...3 years ago. It wasnt a "good" idea to have our first child when we did, we were poorer than poor and riding on the expectation that things would work out.

And no, getting a puppy right now is probably not a "good" idea. Heck, if this puppy went to rescue I'm not even sure that our application would be accepted. Aussies are notoriously hyper-active, stubborn, and destructive when bored. They are also loyal, great with kids, smart as all heck, and eager to please...but lets look at all the facts straight. This is not only a puppy, but a puppy that will require a strong hand.

But I'm in loooove.

So hopefully next week I'll be inviting everyone I know over to help me get this puppy used to crowds :)

1st day of Advent

2010-11-28T16:42:00.000-08:00

Today is the first day of Advent.

And although we are currently on the road from Thanksgiving, I know that at home this:

Has already been transformed to this:

Nutcrackers at the ready, candles hopefully not already lit, and an empty Jessie tree, awaiting its first ornament.

So long Fall.