tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32021756422669228672024-02-19T04:24:17.481-06:00Diapers, Dogs and Cooking in HeelsThe ups and downs, ins and outs of an older first time mom who is staying at home... mostly I parent, tell stories, cook and craft (in a very limited manner)... if you like that stuff, you just might enjoy my blog!Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.comBlogger371125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-29113065716662167182015-04-29T18:18:00.004-05:002015-04-29T18:18:59.270-05:00Vignettes From My EdgeI started this post in mid-March, and I wandered off without publishing it, because it seemed like such a Debbie Downer. But it is a realistic snapshot of that time, so I'm going to let it stand. And I am going to move forward with a new post as well... let's see if I ever get around to publishing it...<br />
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03/27/15<br />
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So, what exactly does it say about my life when I break one of my toes yet don't notice for at least a day (possibly longer)? Also, what is the universe trying to tell me when I whack that same poor toe really REALLY hard with a rake the day after I notice that it is broken?<br />
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Alec D is has officially entered the Terrible Twos. I don't like to label things so off-handedly, but in his case, it is totally true. He woke up one morning with a burning desire to Do It Myself, shriek "NOOOOOOOOO!" at me all day, and ramp up the drama of any given situation to an 11. He is also in search of a larger vocabulary. He will jump up and down shouting "Ma-MEE-ah" (why the extra syllable all of a sudden?!) at me until I name every object / subject / event in our immediate area. When I hit upon the thing he wants to talk about, I then have to give him more words to describe it. It's exhausting - for both of us.<br />
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<span id="goog_247497480"></span><span id="goog_247497481"></span>This is Alec just after he whispered "nooooooooooooo" at me. Notice the stubborn set to both his jaw and his eyes...</div>
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I am so tired of food. This makes me incredibly sad, because I love food, but right now, I am sick of it. I have a husband who has finally actively joined me in a desire to erase processed foods... but he doesn't have to be in charge of the meal planning, shopping and preparation of said 'clean' meals. He just enjoys them, and feels good about the changes that we are making for our health and longevity. Then I have 2 kiddos who are so picky that their diets currently consist of somewhere between 6 and 10 foods... oh, and the 11-year-old nephew who joins us for dinner most nights is crazy-picky too, but about different things than my guys. So I spend intense amounts of time and effort each day worrying about how to feed my family healthy food that they will eat, yet Don and I are the only ones who eat a full meal on any given night. The rest of them pick and poke and frown and ask to be excused. Just thinking about it makes me tired. And I have lost my love of dinner. By the end of the meal, I just want everyone to go to bed. I don't care if it's only 6:30 - do not speak to me again until I have calmed down... and that may take a while.<br />
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Lily Ruth is really coming into her own. She is blossoming from a shy little bud of a kindergartener who only ever wanted to play School and could only play with her friends if they let her be in charge into a much more willing participant who can almost read, speaks up in groups and has learned how to let her friends have choices and control when they play together. She is sillier and funnier than ever. She is bold with color and has a beautifully open fashion sense. I cannot WAIT to see what's next!<br />
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We went on vacation last week. When you have small children, vacations aren't really a break for Mama. Vacations just mean that all of your regular routine still needs to happen, but without the benefit of your own things, familiar surroundings, or playdates to take the edge off. We still managed to have a wonderful time. The kids were fantastic, the scenery was incredible, and I now have a new fitness goal - to be strong enough to attempt skiing in a year. I haven't wanted to ski since the first and only time that I attempted it 20 years ago, but after learning how to dress for cold weather, and realizing that there is a lot to see up there that I can't get to without riding up that lift, I want to try again.<br />
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I also want to spend more time alone with my husband. He's wonderful, and even though we are together every night, we are so tired and stressed right now that I feel like I miss him.<br />
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There is so much going on that my head spins 24/7. Much of it is just not my story to tell, so I end up writing nothing. *sigh* Well, there are a lot of fun things coming up - including VBS (and I am in charge of crafts!!!!), so perhaps I will find a comfortable groove and a story to tell soon.<br />
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Love you anyway!Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-34219737611931524992015-03-04T14:14:00.000-06:002015-03-04T14:17:17.118-06:00Still Me, Still Here<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ya'll, I have been struggling, and struggling mightily. I don't really know how to explain said struggle except to say that I am struggling with where we ARE now. I am worn down, frazzled and short-tempered. But because all of us are healthy, we have enough money to pay our bills, and good things keep happening, I haven't felt entitled to my struggle. Instead, I have bottled it up and pushed it down. I have forced myself to keep taking steps forward. Until today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today started off hard. I was awakened before my alarm, and it all sort of snowballed from there. By 1:00 I was sitting at the kitchen table paying bills and working to fix several mistakes / oversights / messes caused by my recent inability to focus and/or complete tasks / thoughts / sentences. I stopped to stare at my facebook feed for a while, and there was a post from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AnneLamott/posts/641049732691340">Anne Lamot</a>:</span><br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I have been having a hard time, full of struggle, awful things happening to people I adore, even me. But I knew the plates of the earth were shifting when I dreamed this morning that a friend and I shot and killed her evil husband. We thought it was a perfect crime, except it turned out I'd left my purse there.</span><br />
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Because the small brown paper bag miracle is that I got my sense of humor back, about the truth of who I am: hilariously screwed-up. I seem to be, and strive to be, an incredibly kind, generous lovebug. But I am--and i bet you are--the tiniest bit more complex.</div>
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I know I have a murderous streak in me. We are a violent species. Cain is still killing Abel. I get mine from DNA, the culture, and my mother. She was a short, plump Englishwoman with huge brown eyes, which could turn pinpointed and black when she went into self-righteous trance. I got my brains from her, but also my black belt co-dependence, and tiny, tiny control issues. These always lead to suppressed fury.</div>
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Once my beloved Jesuit travel companion Tom Weston was crunching ice so loudly that it got on my nerves. i asked this man of Christ's love, "Why do you do that?" He replied, "Rage."</div>
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So that is a part of the mix, our dark scary shadow. But so is this:</div>
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A recent day had been horrible in every possible way, beginning with nightmarish weather, very sick friends family feuds; ending with my doctor's nurse forcing me onto the scale, although I was puffed up like a grampus after a run in with full-sodium soy sauce. Then my '59 VW broke down on our main boulevard.</div>
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I was able to glide halfway out of the lane, so now there were one and a half functioning lanes during high traffic. Everyone honked. What a great feeling. It was such a final straw that I got a small miracle. Instead of it breaking the camel's back, I started to laugh.</div>
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Then I said the fourth great prayer: "Please, God, fix my car."</div>
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I turned the key. Click click silence. But they say when all else fails, follow instructions. Or, as my pastor said when I was fearfully headed on a plane 10,000 miles away, "When you step onto a plane, it's a little late for beggy prayers. It's time for trust and surrender." So I sat there mostly believing that she was right. Cars honked. I remembered a sober woman with oral cancer, who'd lost part of her tongue, and was on chemo, nonchalantly telling some sober friends, "I'm not worried. God's got it."</div>
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So I sat there fingering a medallion I wear around my neck, that says, "God's got it."</div>
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Then, Knock knock knock, a man was knocking on my car window, in the pouring rain, making the universal sign of "Roll down your window." I did. He asked if I needed a push. I asked him if he worked for God. He said that he didn't know about that, but he tried to. I took off my handbrake, and he rolled me to the side of the road. He asked if I was out of gas. I said there was no way. There is no gas gauge in my old car, so I keep excellent records. I could prove I had gas, I announced, getting out my gas log. He waved off my effort. Then he set about fixing my car.</div>
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Well, if you have one more minute, I will tell you the excruciating truth: he tried to jumpstart me, although the clicking indicated the battery was fine. He pushed my car really fast, so I could throw it into 2nd gear, and get it started. It started, and died.</div>
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He opened the back where the engine is, blew on the spark plugs, tugged on other things in a mysterious manly way, asked again if I might possibly be out of gas. I got my gas log out of the glovebox, and showed him self-righteously that I had bought ten gallons, but had only used 5. (My mom was a lawyer.)</div>
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He went and got his iPhone, and turned its flashlight beam into my gas tank. "I don't see any," he said, rather apologetically. "We could go to my house and get a gas can. I live nearby." Hah! Like I was born yesterday! Like I don't know that this is a classic modis operandi of serial killers. But I was exhausted, and exhaustion is usually the beginning of wisdom and change. So I decided to practice trust and surrender. I got in his truck and we drove to his house, where got his gas can from his too-neat, Dexter garage, and he treated me to two gallons of gas at the local gas station. He poured it in my tank. The VW started right up. We hugged and kissed and I did a crazy Wavy Gravy dance of gratitude, right there on the road, for everyone to see. Then I filled up my tank, which had been bone dry, Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones dry; despite my excellent records.</div>
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Beauty and mess go hand in hand. The Good can look like a sunrise, or like the winner in an Ugliest Dog contest, all Dr. Seuss spots of hair, and buck teeth. This goodness is the only thing that can ever save us. It is what grace looks like, this unmerited, freely given spiritual WD-40. Grace means that love is bigger than any dark weird shit life can throw at you, or even that we can throw at our nutty, tender, worried, exuberant, baby selves. All truth is paradox. For instance, I miss my mom; and she is also right here."</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just reading this particular post caused the tears that have floated just behind my eyes 24 hours a day for the past several weeks to come gushing forward. They brought their best friend Uncontrollable Sobbing with them. Heeding my mother's recent advice that 'sometimes you just have to cry until you can stop', I just went with it. I cried while I removed my eye makeup and pinned my hair back. Then I cried while I filled the bathtub, added some bath oil, gathered my kindle, towel and robe and got in. By the time I settled in, I was pretty much done crying, so I just read until I could coax myself out of the tub. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I just keep hearing </span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">"When you step onto a plane, it's a little late for beggy prayers. It's time for trust and surrender." I know that it's time. I know that. What I don't know is how to do either. I am a control freak at the end of her leash - barking at everything that moves past me. Completely unable to influence any of it. So, what do I do? Cry some more? Poke at my demons with a stick? Shout my (unasked-for) opinions until somebody does what I say? I dunno.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">What I DO know is that I now have 20 minutes until my daughter steps off the bus and the merry-go-round starts turning at full speed again. Just enough time to fold laundry and wash dishes. Yay.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Here, hold this for me, will ya?</span></span></div>
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Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-68695581652613748072015-01-05T14:37:00.001-06:002015-01-05T14:37:31.116-06:00Oh, HI!Oh my. So, I have refused to look at my blog stats to even see how long it has been since I last posted. Perhaps I'll look once this post is done... but I've MISSED YOU! I've missed writing. I've missed taking the time to chronicle the minutiae of our lives. I especially miss the hours that I have wasted staring at social media instead of feeding any sort of creative urges that I might have had.<br />
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That brings me to the NOW. The new year. A time for good intentions and clearing out and moving forward in a purposeful manner. And so I shall - but first, let me catch you up.<br />
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Lily Ruth is FIVE. She is a kindergartener, a ballet dancer, a budding thespian, a singer of silly songs, a tiny fashionista, and an all-around wonderful girl. She is bolder and braver every day. She is wild and funny, stormy and petulant, kind and thoughtful all in every day.<br />
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Alec D is 20 months old. Almost old enough to stop counting by months ;-) He is talking up a storm, running, climbing and changing so fast that it's hard to keep up! He loves water, swings, and work of any kind (For Christmas, he got a broom / mop set and a toy vacuum cleaner. He spent the next 3 hours "cleaning" the house). He stopped nursing January 1st. This week, we will dismantle the crib. Next week, I expect him to learn to solve for "X" :-P</div>
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Dottie Dog just passed her first anniversary of being a dog with a permanent home. She is funny and kind and full of crazy dog energy. I am thankful for her every day.</div>
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Last year was hard and wonderful and full of change. But most of it was just hard. I used almost all of my energy every day just trying to keep us afloat and not act like a total jerk. And we are. Afloat, that is - I may or may not have been a jerk... It took all of us working together, but our family is happy, healthy and whole. I know that I managed to make a few things along the way, and a few story-worthy things happened. If I end up remembering any of it in sufficient detail, I will tell you all about it.</div>
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For now, it just feels good to be typing instead of scrolling on my phone. Let's just call this progress, and hope to build from here, shall we?</div>
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Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-788055226616202032014-05-07T11:16:00.000-05:002014-05-07T11:16:06.675-05:00Alec D Turned 1!I have a hard time reconciling the passage of the last year. Each day seemed eternal yet fleeting. As one who may not be suited to Stay At Home Motherhood, I am irritated, humbled and blessed in every day.<br />
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Just one week before his birthday, Alec took the momentum that he had spent several weeks building, and took off walking. Seriously. Just wandered off. We were at my stepdad's ranch. Daddy and Lily (she has announced her preference for just Lily) were outside with Pops and the horses.<br />
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Alec and I were inside with Grammy. He was standing holding on to her chair just bouncing and giggling. Then he let go, pivoted away and walked off - for somewhere between 8 and 10 feet. We started laughing and clapping, then I started crying... which is unfortunately my go-to when I am overwhelmed.<br />
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He was giddy with the freedom of it all. He didn't stop walking and hooting until well after 10 p.m. This made sleeping in our hotel room a bit of a challenge. We finally turned off the lights and t.v. and let him wander in the dark. He was fine with that for a while and eventually he climbed in with me for a rousing round of If Baby's Not Sleeping, Ain't Nobody Sleeping. Then he passed out.<br />
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Side note: I have talked to several mothers since who relate tales of taking baby who seemed to be in no hurry to walk to the coast and having them suddenly stand up and walk off. Perhaps it's the invigorating salt air?<br />
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We spent the next day at the aquarium.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Lily LOVED showing all of her favorite sea dwellers to her brother. They were united in their loathing of the splash pad play area :-/ After spending at least 15 minutes getting everyone into swimsuits and sunscreen, we spent maybe 5 minutes dragging miserable kids through sprinklers before giving up and drying off. Back to the dolphins for some soothing of the senses, then we made our way home.</span></div>
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The vehement dislike on the part of both kids really threw me. They both LOVE water. On any given day, if things are going poorly, I can dump them both in the tub and turn it around in an instant.</div>
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Alec already shares his sister's love of the pool, and he has only been swimming once. I guess that my tiny control freaks just hated the concept of random giant sprinklers and even more random splooshes of water from above.</div>
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My big guy followed his break though with yet another one - he can now climb the ladder to sister's loft bed. I am exhausted just thinking about it! In what is becoming Typical Alec Fashion, he just walked over to it and began climbing. No hesitation. No previous tries.</div>
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It's almost as though those incoming curls give him bravery, strength and agility beyond measure...</div>
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In Small Blessings news, all of these new skills wear him OUT. While this creates extra whining, it also creates extra snuggle time, and opportunities for me to just sit still and hold him. Moments that are fewer and farther between as he grows.</div>
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I love you, my son. I am so proud of you! Happy first birthday, and many, many more.</div>
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Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-30124283161548123732014-04-16T11:45:00.000-05:002014-04-16T11:45:12.181-05:00Let's Play Catch-Up...Shall We?<br />
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** side note: I once read a book wherein a good portion of the communication was portrayed through e-mails. Said e-mails were titled with a sentence, and then the body was a continuation of the thought from the title. I loved that format. It really tickled me.**<br />
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SO! Toward my goal of re-finding the joy in my motherhood days, I have allowed a LOT to slide... (great. Now that I have typed "a lot", I now have to go read the "<a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html">alot</a>" post from <a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/">hyperbole and a half</a>. I'll be back in a minute - after I stop snorting with laughter... o.k., I'm back.) as in, I stopped keeping up with the dishes and the laundry :-/ As it turns out, those things still have to be done. Apparently, ignoring them just causes large-scale messes that must be dealt with when you are at your most exhausted and emotional. Lame. I was kind-of hoping that the droppings in the garage were from a house elf and not just the suspected mice. They were not from a house elf. So now I have mice AND huge piles of responsibility. Whatever.<br />
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While letting things slide, we managed to have big fun. Wanna see? Well too bad. This is my blog.<br />
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Sister Girl introduced Brother Bear to acrylic paints!<br />
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We did some exploring at the botanical center. There are currently kid-size birdhouses made by architects and designers all over the grounds:<br />
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Our daughter is exploring her limits with brash, adventurous leaps. Sometimes she falls, but she is finally learning the joy of trying until you conquer your fear and achieving something that takes real courage and effort. I am so proud of her! Also, I have started carrying antibiotic ointment and band-aids.<br />
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Our poor garden took a beating during a surprise spring hail storm last week. The plants survived, but seem very confused and a bit bedraggled.<br />
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*sigh* I really think that we are going to have a much lower yield this year than we did the first year. This weird weather and the continued growth of the neighbor's giant oak tree (it now shades a majority of the garden for the majority of each day) combined with my general lack of true garden knowledge mean that everything just seems a bit *meh* back there. I may be wrong. It may just be early days yet...<br />
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Back to my adventures in motherhood... I surprised Lily Ruth with a visit to the splash beach at the zoo - Alec is surprised every time that we leave the house, so he doesn't count. I snuck a bag with their swimsuits and a few towels into the stroller, and we had a ball :-) Alec may learn to walk solely in order to better navigate the shallow water and deep, coarse sand.<br />
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So there you have it. Trying to stay on track with the love and the joy. Finding new times for chores. Finding that this means less time for personal hygiene :-O Oh well.Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-59436202827937022732014-04-02T13:16:00.000-05:002014-04-16T10:56:17.157-05:00Playground RantOR: Why You Are Irritating Me<br />
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Let me preface this rant with a statement - The upcoming diatribe is purely my opinion. As a human adult, I have my very own opinion. It may or may not differ from yours. If you feel strongly about your differing opinion, please feel free to let me know.<br />
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The weather here has finally rounded the corner from winter to spring! Sap is rising in our plants and our spirits. Lily Ruth has re-fallen in love with a neighborhood playground. It is an easy walk away from our house, and if no one else is around, Dottie Dog can run a few leash-free laps around the adjoining baseball field.<br />
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A few days ago, I decided to attempt to circumvent an Arsenic Hour tantrum by taking a late afternoon walk to the playground. I loaded Alec D into the stroller, harnessed up the dog, and passed out sunglasses. Away we went. As we approached the park, we noticed that it was BUSY. Soccer practice on the grass. Picnic-ers and barbeque-ers around the tables, kiddos swarming over the playground equipment. In short, the logical occupancy expectation of a neighborhood park on a gorgeous spring afternoon.<br />
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Here's where part one of my rant begins. As we entered the park via the only opening that a stroller can fit through on that particular side, a couple of young ladies were throwing a ball for a unleashed young and very large dog. As I struggled across the grass with a stroller, an excited dog and a petulant four-year-old, the ladies allowed their (illegally) unleashed dog to bound over and tackle my dog. Now, Dottie is an excellent dog who ADORES playing with other dogs, but she is young and a bit small, and if she doesn't feel dominant, she starts snapping - an issue that we intend to address with a trainer as soon as we can afford one. SO, while I am attempting to keep my young children from being bowled over by a dog interaction that is not going well, I am also being wrapped in my dog's (required BY LAW) leash. After a few half-hearted rounds of calling their dog's name, the girls finally make their way over to us and haul their dog off of mine. At this point it becomes evident that they have not even brought a leash for their dog. They simply wait until we are 'far enough' away, then let their dog go again.<br />
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Now, I am all for having a well trained dog. I understand their pride in the temperament and obedience of their dog. Don't all dog owners ultimately wish for a perfect pooch who walks calmly by your side without the burden of a leash and responds instantly to hand signals and quiet commands? It sure would be nice... But the truth is, even if your dog is perfect, you have NO IDEA what any other dog is like. What if the dog your dog approaches off-leash has aggression issues? What if Dottie had been abused and the interaction really scared her? This is not a dog park. It is a people park. What if your rambunctious, good-natured pup had inadvertently caused injury to one of my kids or to my dog because you wish the rules were different?<br />
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Ugh. Then I spent our entire park visit hauling on Dottie's leash as she whined and pulled trying desperately to get over to the unleashed dog... who was eventually joined by two other unleashed dogs. All of those dogs got to romp and play. Dottie got to wish.<br />
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Ready for part two? Absentee playground parents. Last week, a friend's three-year-old girl harassed on a playground by several six and seven-year-old boys acting as a pack and who's parents made not one appearance. That is one type of hands-off parenting that irritates me. Yes, let your kids run and play and figure stuff out for them selves, but watch them. Do not allow their freedom to include bullying. How is that ever o.k.?<br />
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Our experience didn't involve bullying, but it made me a bit more sad. Kids so starved for parental attention that they cling limpet-like to any available adult. As soon as we entered the playground, the circling started. Not at all unusual - kids are curious. They clock each new arrival and gauge the potential for interaction. I started to unbuckle Alec from the stroller, and a young boy (possibly 3 or 4, but big for his age) ran up and started to pull all of the toys from Alec's hands and lap. He proceeded to shake, prod and attempt to 'open' each one. Then the kid turns and starts poking at the dog. All of this happened in less than 10 seconds. I was prying toys from his hands and attempting to step between him and the dog before he stuck his fingers in her mouth. "Aiden. Get over here. Leave them alone. Go play right now" a voice calls out in an unattached, bored manner. Three completely contradictory statements combined with the lack of actual action by the parent in what was obviously an oft-repeated refrain equaled a pretty obvious conclusion - the kid did nothing to change his behavior. In a few seconds, he wheeled off to the next situation... which happened to be shoving Lily Ruth out of the way so that he could use something that her actions had drawn his attention to.<br />
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In the mean time, a young girl (maybe 4?) begins drifting toward us. As Lily Ruth, Alec, Dottie and I climbed up the play structure and started playing, she made laps around us. Each lap brought her closer. Meanwhile, Aiden streaked through the center of our group every minute or so. About every third time through, his mother said the same thing: "Aiden. Get over here. Leave them alone. Go play right now." The girl eventually made her way to us, and as we played, she leaned in with naked longing on her face, but never said a word or actually tried to play <i>with</i> us. She sidled in and made several attempts to cut one or both of my kids away from me so that she could take their place. Aiden continued to rush through and kick / bang on things as he passed. Occasionally, he poked at Dottie, grabbed her tail or announced that he was going to unbuckle her harness.<br />
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I kept my voice sweet and calm. I kept my hands light and off of kids that weren't my own except to remove other hands from my kids and dog. We just kept moving and changing our play. At each change, these kids shadowed us or ran ahead. They crowded onto ladders as Lily Ruth climbed; knocking her aside and stepping on her. The shoved into the tunnel as she moved toward it. They tried to slip between Alec and I as I guided him up steps and down slides. "Watch me!" "Help me!" "I'm gonna do THIS!" Aiden begged for my attention with loud words and big actions. The girl begged with her eyes and her physical proximity. I never heard her name. No one spoke to her (other than me) the whole time we were there.<br />
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The kids and I were quickly overwhelmed. It was time to go. I buckled Alec back in. Aiden grabbed toys and poked at Dottie's ears. "Aiden. Get over here. Leave them alone. Go play right now." He followed us to the edge of the playground. "You NO GO. STAY. Play wif me NOW!"<br />
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We walked away... right into a dog ambush from yet another unleashed pooch. Dottie whined and pulled. Lily Ruth whined and dragged her feet. Alec threw his sunglasses down. I mentally stomped my feet and outwardly gritted my teeth.<br />
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Maybe next time I will find the fortitude to say something to the dog owners. Maybe next time I will find the energy to better deflect or engage the sad kids. *sigh*<br />
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Rant over.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-30256330761446124282014-03-28T13:52:00.000-05:002014-03-28T13:52:14.423-05:00Have You Seen My Head?Because I can't find it. I may or may not have left it somewhere in last week... or perhaps the week before that.<br />
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Just when I think that I have everything under control, I find myself lost in a tornado of early spring colds, weird family stress and temper tantrums.<br />
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My children are amazing and wonderful. I never stop thinking that. Where I falter is my belief in myself. In my ability to believe that I can manage this whole two-kids-thing. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be, ya'll. I kind of thought that it would be hard. In the same way that you pay lip service to understanding things that you know that you <i>should</i> have read up on, but didn't.<br />
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When is it exactly that I will feel like the one in charge? I read blog posts by women who serve their children red lentil with arugula soup and lightly toasted sprouted grain crostini with goat cheese... and I feel like an asshole for the "discussions" (read: arguments) with my four year old about weather or not she will eat anything other than the 6-8 foods currently in her repertoire... Then Alec D pulls himself up on my leg and starts bouncing and whining and honestly, I feel like walking out the damn door.<br />
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I don't, though. I try to take a breath. I try to calm myself... but I usually end up snapping irritably at one or both of the kids then trying to appease all of us with snacks and naps... in front of the t.v. ...<br />
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*sigh*<br />
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The weather is changing. Finally warming. I feel a little like maybe I'm warming too. We can go outside to play and walk the dog. We wait for the school bus while watching snails and pillbugs. Lily Ruth collects worms and Alec eats dirt while I thin out our garden beds and replant the thinned shoots. We get ready for bed while the sun is still saying goodnight.<br />
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Spring truly is a time of rebirth. Perhaps I can get in on this. Allow the new growth around me to open my heart. Let these warm breezes start to blow away needless worry and mismanaged stress. I know it's a lot to ask of a season. For a simple flip of the calendar to fix me. So maybe I admit that the work has to be done by me. I am the one who has to (yet again) reset my focus. Resolve (yet again) to be more grateful for the opportunity to stay home with our children. This is a blessing. I really shouldn't treat it like a curse every day at 5 p.m. when all three of us are left with patience stretched thin enough to be transparent.<br />
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Here's my idea: I want a kid-sized table right at the edge of the kitchen. I want them to be able to sit near me and play or draw or eat snippets of the upcoming meal. Since meal prep time happens to be inevitable, and has lately been a bit strained because the kiddos just want to be with me (and whine), and I just want some damn quiet time (and wine)... I dunno. I just feel like if we could be together instead of separated by walls with the t.v. blaring... hmpfh...<br />
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Obviously, my head is a bit jumbled. Cranky resentment, good intentions, grandiose plans. It's a bird nest up there. Apparently, coffee doesn't unsnarl bird nests. Neither does cheap wine. I wonder if expensive wine and/or tropical vacations are good unsnarlers. If so, could you send me one?<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-84349827562075822752014-03-27T12:00:00.000-05:002014-03-28T14:06:51.293-05:00Gardening Makes Me HungryI am fairly pleased with us as a family. We actually managed to uncover, till and prep the garden beds <i>on time</i>! We even planted a few things. The rest of the seeds will be planted soon, and we have a few seedlings coming from a junior high fundraiser.<br />
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If you care about this sort of thing, we covered the beds with hay a few weeks ago (after clearing them of leaves, acorns and the largest of the weeds). We could have (should have?) done this after clearing them from the last planting season, but a few weeks of weed suppression is better than none. In order to finish prepping them, we uncovered each bed (moving the hay to the weed covered areas around the beds) and tilled (using a tiller rented from Home Depot) a bag of <a href="http://www.ladybugbrand.com/products/Revitalizer-Compost.asp">Ladybug Revitalizer Compost Blend</a> into each bed. Then we just had to rake the soil relatively flat and water the beds really well and we were ready to plant. We planted corn (step one of the Three Sisters garden), red runner beans for the tee-pee and my much loved <a href="http://www.reneesgarden.com/seeds/seeds-hm/vegK.htm">Baby Mesclun Lettuce Mix</a>. By the by - most of my seeds come from Renee's Garden Seeds, and they produce beautifully.<br />
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Oh, and as step one of my personal campaign to make our wonderful little house a place that is not so visually disappointing, we cleared out a completely overgrown and hideous bed in the front of the house to use for flowers and herbs. Very exciting (for me). Don seems invigorated by my plans and helps as much as he can on the weekends. If only I weren't overtaken by compulsions to make huge and sweeping changes in the middle of the week! With some weekend help, I managed to get rosemary, lavender, sage, lemongrass, and a few snapdragons planted. On the "*huh* didn't quite expect that" end of it, clearing the groundcover and weeds from the bed has liberated the grass. New, tender shoots of grass are poking up happily every half inch or so. Um, I guess we should have tilled that bed when we tilled the garden because the roots for the grass are obviously deeper than the raking that we did and new soil that we put down. Oi. Live and learn.<br />
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Both kids LOVE to be outside. Lily Ruth could play for hours in the garden, in her fort or running with her dog. Alec is crazy excited about the outdoors. He stands at our windows and stares out with fingers gripping the sill and eyebrows raised almost into his hairline in anticipation of going out there and putting everything he can see into his mouth.<br />
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All of this time thinking about and working in the garden means that I think about food even more than usual. Um, that's a LOT.<br />
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I've been doing my menu plans, but I've lost interest in sharing them. My recent lack of energy means that I can make good food, or talk about said food, but not both :-/<br />
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We've tried some new recipes, and have even loved some of them. I have started moving recipes that I like to my google drive. Maybe I'll just start sharing those instead :-)Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-28962301516767198932014-02-26T12:48:00.000-06:002014-03-28T14:11:44.612-05:00What Day Is It?Ya'll, if Lily Ruth didn't have someplace to be every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I am not convinced that I would have any idea what day it is. Ever. This whole Stay At Home Mother Of Two "thing" is hard and exhausting and at some point every day I am convinced that it is not for me. That said, I still genuinely thank God at least once a day for the amazing miracles that are my children. No matter how weird, wild, awful or insane the day may be, there are still moments of pure gold. Glimpses of holiness.<br />
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Alec crawls lightning fast into the kitchen where I am making dinner. Pulls himself to standing using my pants. Waits until he has my full attention (which he usually gains by hooting and bouncing) then growls, attempts to zerbert me (through my pants) then takes off at the speed of light while laughing hysterically.<br />
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In a moment of flurried activity while trying to get out of the door, I was listing what we had and what we needed out loud. "Lily Ruth has shoes and a jacket. Mama has shoes and a jacket. Alec is not ready. What does Alec need?" From the other room I hear Lily Ruth "HUMPS!" "What!?" She bursts into the nursery and proclaims "Camel humps, Mama! Alec D needs CAMEL HUMPS!!!"<br />
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Oh MAN! I need these moments. I need to hold them close and pull them out when Alec is crying hysterically and pulling on my leg while I prepare lunch for Lily Ruth and try not to start crying myself or yell at my baby. For when Lily Ruth's eyes narrow and she loses the ability to back down or even just calm down. *sigh* It is REALLY hard to see your least favorite personal character traits reflected in someone you love so much.<br />
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As a four-almost-five-year-old, Lily Ruth's job is to catalog her world, interpret what she sees and find her place in it. It is essential that she find her boundaries and understand how firm or flexible that they are. This means that she is constantly pushing me. Constantly. She has almost stopped the tantrums, but has replaced them with subtle insurrection. Refusing to meet my eyes when I am giving her directions (that she then chooses not to follow). Not stopping a behavior immediately when told to (something she used to do every time). Repeating an infraction that she would normally have not returned to because of the consequences. Trying out her lying skills... Oi. I am not known for my patience, people.<br />
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Yesterday was a real challenge. Not just an every day challenge. In addition to some subtle pushing, she tried a fairly major power play. I was tidying the house in a pretty manic manner. Both kids were playing in Lily Ruth's room. Then there was screaming. From Alec. When I rounded the corner, Alec was hysterical and Lily Ruth was attempting to hide behind the guest bed. I scooped him up and asked her what happened. She claimed not to know. Then she claimed that he fell. Then she said that she was "just holding him like usual" but he slipped. She was miming standing up straight and holding him under the arms. Then her arms went limp. Crap. She is shooting up like a weed, and he is as heavy as a tank. She knows for a FACT that she is not allowed to pick him up. We have this discussion every. damn. day. as part of a reminder program that she is <i>not</i> in charge of the baby or the dog or the family... So there I am holding a freaked out baby and staring at a freaked out, defiant child. Where the hell is that fabled How To manual for parents when you need it? Why do I not ever feel like I know the right way to react? I'm guessing that verbally chastising the defiant one then banishing her to the indefinite Time Out while you nurse the bruised one is not the right choice...<br />
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You would think that injury to her favorite sibling would put the kibosh on further antics. I would think that. But it didn't. She went ahead and pushed forward with poor listening, some light lying and some serious whining when her friends left after an impromptu play date. *sigh*<br />
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You know, I've had two days of workshops this month (done hurriedly due to poor planning on my part...). After each day, I felt renewed and revitalized. Excited about my career (and eager to someday return to it) and so thrilled to be reunited with my babies after 6-8 hours apart. I felt determined to rejuvenate my parenting and bring joy back to what was becoming a slog. Then the reality of each day sets back in. The teething and the whining. Constantly fluctuating naps. Guilt that I don't have more energy and time for either of them after I'm done just trying to provide the basics (like food, clean clothes and naps).<br />
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We just have to make it through this part. Make it through with as much love and care as possible. Not all parts of parenting are as hard as the first year. Not all parts are as hard as the fourth year. Heck, not all parts are as hard as the forty-first year :-P<br />
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I can do this. I want to do this. And I really want to get it right. Hopefully that counts for something.Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-14745109135841109672014-02-20T11:02:00.000-06:002014-04-20T19:31:44.563-05:00Au Revoir, Monsieur CafeI think I killed the coffee maker. Maybe... Probably... ugh... This will be hard for me to put into words because, you see, I haven't had my coffee.<br />
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When you have hard water, things are different in the kitchen. Special detergents and rinse aids in the dishwasher. Pasta pots develop calcium deposits faster than you can blink. Coffee makers clog with scaly deposits. Oh, and what happens to the poor bathroom is best left unsaid...<br />
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I have noticed for a while (read: possibly months) that the coffee maker needed a quick vinegar cycle. It's just that when I notice it, I am in the middle of making and/or enjoying my coffee. Not really a time when I am amenable to vinegar-related chores.<br />
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So I ignored it and kept my nose in my coffee cup. Until today. When my poor coffee machine took more than 10 minutes to deliver not-quite-3/4 of the liquid that I had requested. During that time, there were repeated check-backs, much eye-rolling, and groans that deteriorated into frustrated growls.<br />
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*sigh* I sucked it up, and grabbed the giant jug of vinegar from the garage. And now the coffee maker is DEED. It sits on the counter gurgling impotently. It's innards bubbling with a thick sludge of calcium, lime, and every other mineral in the city water supply. No water spitting through...<br />
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Standing in front of it whilst holding my rapidly cooling partial cup of crummy coffee didn't seem to have any effect. So I glared at it. Poked at it with a spoon. Jabbed at it with the turkey baster. Nothing. I shook it. Emptied it. Refilled it with vinegar. Nada.<br />
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Now I'm ignoring it. This also seems to be NOT HELPFUL.<br />
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Here's the deal: it may only be half-caff, but I am still addicted, people! What I'm gonna need here is a restaurant-grade coffee behemoth hard-wired to our water supply - STAT. Baring that, I'm gonna need for you to refill my Starbucks Gold Card once a week AND deliver my order by 7:30 every morning. That's a grande brewed half-caff with 3 pumps of toffee nut and a splash of cream. Thanks!<br />
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** update: I tried once more. Vinegar out, water in. Luckily, I only filled it maybe halfway full because after just a few short minutes, there was an audible *POP*, and water began seeping from the BOTTOM of the machine. Um, ya'll, there is NOT supposed to be water seeping from screw holes :-(<br />
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I feel like I should give it a Viking funeral. A pyre of fire or a flaming boat set out to sea. It would make no nevermind to the coffee maker, but I would feel better if I got to set something on fire. Stupid machine. It had ONE job - deliver the coffee.<br />
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*** next day: I managed to make the world's WORST cup of "coffee" with my individual cup pour-over system. SO sad.<br />
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**** Hmpfh. Oddly enough, Don had a coffee maker in the trunk of his car. It has been there since April when he moved out of his old office. He is sharing it with me. It makes crummy coffee, but not truly crappy coffee. I guess I know what I will be using my birthday money on...<br />
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***** Here she is! Bella!!!<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-57728357077767075752014-02-10T11:47:00.001-06:002014-02-10T11:47:16.843-06:00Life (As Always) Marches OnIt was a rough week, ya'll. Let's just say that everybody is physically fine... Well, everybody that lives in this house. The grownups are dealing with a situation that is not mine to share. This is hard for me. Writing has become my way of working through things. Taming the whirlwind of thoughts in my head and shaping it into a cohesive narrative calms me and focuses my thoughts. When the grownup stuff looms large, I tend to feel a bit isolated and silent even when surrounded by others. Telling the story out loud or in print means to me that I'm not isolated. That my voice is heard. Of course, I could always write it out and NOT share it, but my overtaxed brain tells me that I don't have any extra energy, so we won't be making time to do that just yet...<br />
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The kiddos are leaping right along with the glee of siblings who are much adored. As far as they know, it was just a regular week. A pretty good one at that.<br />
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Wednesday, I went up to Austin for my continuing education workshop. It was a really wonderful day. In addition to watching and experiencing some fun, cool bodywork,<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acro-yoga - I did not personally experience this :-P</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwyrQEnhDqwVWod1K4GeLdCF4bFxkKOKpdVZ_uBlqdRhvUGY5OK3YbLd1UUbX-JgKgBybg7cIGGlJ1E9RHv1qy08VUAabO5DA8daisFBjIJKfzjydICUQxuVLSQD1V3cF2BjPsCWz87y7/s1600/IMAG2338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuwyrQEnhDqwVWod1K4GeLdCF4bFxkKOKpdVZ_uBlqdRhvUGY5OK3YbLd1UUbX-JgKgBybg7cIGGlJ1E9RHv1qy08VUAabO5DA8daisFBjIJKfzjydICUQxuVLSQD1V3cF2BjPsCWz87y7/s1600/IMAG2338.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our instructors. Randy is laughing because Shane is muttering "don't drop me, don't drop me..."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting a bit closer than most people get with some advanced Shiatsu</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The work comes back to me in waves - I REMEMBER THIS! I can do this!</td></tr>
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<br />
I was completely on my own for over 10 hours. That has not happened in a VERY long time :-) While I was gone, Alec got to spend his first full day with just Daddy. They had a great time. They even managed to complete several errands AND get sister to and from Parent's Day Out and ballet class! *whew* I was thrilled and peeved that Daddy also managed to convince Alec that bottles are cool. Thrilled because he would have been one sad and hungry baby otherwise. Peeved because I have tried so hard with various bottles and strategies for AGES, and nothing doing. The ladies at Parent's Day Out have been worried and frustrated as well, because he wouldn't drink his milk from a bottle or a cup for them either :-/ One dang day with Daddy, and all of a sudden, he's a pro. Whatever. :-P<br />
<br />
Thursday, I was pretty much useless. After a full day of stretching, lifting, pulling and breathing with intention, I was WORN OUT. I can't even remember if we made it out of the house.<br />
<br />
Friday, I was loading Alec (still in his sleeper) into the car so that we could pick up Lily Ruth and head for 'school' when he threw up all down my only clean sweater. Hmpfh. Well played. ANYWAY - I may have ended up wearing layered tank tops and a cardigan in 30 degree weather, but he showed up at school in his pajamas. So there. After a good day at school for the kiddos, Alec D had his fourth tooth break through! Two up and two down. He has already figured out how to use them to actually bite into things - including me :-/ Nursing just got real up in here!<br />
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Saturday, I took Lily Ruth to the Frozen sing-a-long. That was BIG fun. We stopped at Target first, and got an Elsa dress to add to her current costume:<br />
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(Yep, a contractor trash bag for a cape and a pair of cat ears as her crown. She made it herself!) Then we went to the movie theater and sang our hearts out.<br />
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Yesterday, we ventured into the garden for a bit. I battled climbing vine weeds. Lily Ruth wove stories under the frame of her bean tee-pee. Alec ate hay and played with rocks. Hopefully the weather will be just as gorgeous next weekend, and we can get down to the business of tilling and planting.<br />
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SO, to sum up: Emotional whirlwind swirling just below the surface. Kiddos doing great.<br />
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Oh, and we still have to eat. This is a FACT. So here is the plan...<br />
<br />
Monday: Well, I wanted to make rainbow flatbread pizzas, but Lily Ruth said "No ganks. I like the picture, though. You could make it then send it up in the sky for God to eat after you make it." So I guess I'll make Red Lentils with Cauliflower andSausage again <a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/62698619786473202/"></a><br />
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because it was soooooo good!<br />
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Tuesday: Homesick Texan Carnitas <a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/62698619786409028/">Rachel Doyle's pin on Pinterest.</a><br />
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Wednesday: Crockpot Gyros <a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/62698619786317724/"></a><br />
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Thursday: Mushroom and Provolone Patty Melts <a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/62698619785279265/"></a><br />
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Friday: Family dinner night - definitely calls for Sriracha Broccoli <a data-pin-do="embedPin" href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/62698619786433206/"></a><br />
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Saturday: Could you be in charge, please?<br />
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Sunday: Crapshoot!Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-40883236246271109372014-02-03T22:00:00.001-06:002014-02-03T22:00:17.517-06:00Meh. :-/ After my internal / emotional drama and the external / ridiculous drama of Little Miss Tantrum, I didn't have a lot left over by the weekend, so there is not a whole lot to report.<br />
<br />
On Thursday, just before the tantrum, we made horse sock puppets with Lily Ruth's friend Lola. They are awesome. If I remember later, I'll take a picture for you. As the tantrum wound down, I made paper lanterns for a string of fairy lights as a way to diffuse my insanity. This also falls under the category of "possible picture later".<br />
<br />
On Friday, I made <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/11/jadens-beef-with-broccoli/">Jaden's Beef With Broccoli</a> for our family dinner. This is one of our favorite recipes, you guys. Even Lily Ruth eats a metric ton of this! I sort-of tripled (parts of) the recipe, and made fans out of the rest of our gang :-)<br />
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Over the weekend, I procured the rest of the supplies needed to finish new messenger bags for the kids! Now I just have to carve out the time to make said bags...<br />
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I also had Big Girl Dinner out with friends to celebrate a birthday, and our whole family unit (Dottie Dog included) went to a Super Bowl party at our neighbor's house. Dottie had more fun than should be legal. She played with the neighbor dog for <i>hours</i>, ya'll. She cried when we brought her home :-( To celebrate her social success, she ate the corner off of the coffee table while I nursed Alec this morning<br />
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:-/ jerk.<br />
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Oh well. We already know that we can't have anything nice. This just continues to confirm that.<br />
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On to the menu plan for the week...<br />
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Mon: Easy roasted chicken, steamed asparagus, butter garlic noodles<br />
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Tuesday: Red Lentils, Cauliflower and Sausage with fruit<br />
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Wednesday: Mama's gonna be in class!*<br />
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Thursday: Rigatoni with tiny meatballs<br />
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Friday: Family dinner - including sriracha broccoli :-O<br />
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Saturday: Homesick Texan Carnitas (didn't make them last week - tantrum night)<br />
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Sunday: eh. Crapshoot<br />
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That's my big plan for the week. That and sleep. I could sleep for a WEEK, ya'll!<br />
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Not that I'll get to. I'm pretty sure that these guys would not allow even a nap, never mind a week of sleep :-P<br />
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* I <i>have</i> to take classes to keep my massage license current. I <i>get</i> to take a class from my favorite Shiatsu instructor on Wednesday!!Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-69327544700108309842014-01-31T13:11:00.002-06:002014-01-31T13:13:49.102-06:00Tantrum DaysOh. Mah. GAW. Yesterday was a 10 on the Epic Tantrum Scale you guys. Since turning 4, Lily Ruth has done some experimentation with temper tantrums, begging and whining. This is not necessarily news-worthy - she's 4. If she wasn't testing boundaries and pushing limits, I'd be worried. We even had a few weeks of full-blown screaming tantrums that lasted for a minimum of 30 minutes each.<br />
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This blew all of those out of the water. I am still reeling. When I texted my husband at 3:37 with "possibly the worst day ever. Do not come home without vodka", I was only kidding a little bit. Luckily, he gets me. He came home with hugs and pomegranate vodka.<br />
<br />
It started over candy (or rather, the lack thereof in Lily Ruth's hot little hand). It continued as a refusal to calm down. It escalated as she battled to stay angry.<br />
<br />
"I am going to THROW this!" "Lily Ruth, you know that if you throw something, the consequence is that it will be taken away."<br />
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"NO, Mama! I am GOING to throw this, and don't you DARE take it away from me! Don't you DARE!"<br />
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"I am GOING to get out of my room. I am GOING to get my things back!"<br />
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"NOOOOOOOOO! Don't you DARE throw the candy away! I AM GOING TO BITE YOU!"<br />
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This is where she went into pure Berserker mode. A tiny hurricane of angry fists, furious kicks, gnashing teeth and top-volume shrieking. I held her at arm's length as she raged at me. At one point, she actually managed to grab a handful of my hair and pull. I slapped her hand before I even realized it.<br />
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"I HATE YOU! I am NEVER going to love you. Never. Ever. AGAIN."<br />
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"I am going to call Daddy and tell him that you are acting like a JERK, Mama. I am going to write him that you are throwing my things and acting AWFUL."<br />
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It went on. And on. And on. By the time she wound down enough to stop screaming, there were three large containers of things from her room in the garage, and the contents of the candy bowl were in the garbage.<br />
<br />
When she came to me white faced and red eyed to ask for water, I was shaking with the effort of holding her back physically and the mental effort of not losing control myself. I made her a large glass of ice water, and led her to the couch. I folded her grasshopper-long legs into my lap and wrapped her in a hug. I leaned my head against hers and whispered "I ALWAYS love you. Always. Even when there is screaming, I love you." She started sobbing again. We hugged for a while. Then I unfolded myself and went in to comfort poor Alec who had been awakened from his nap by all of the screaming. He had himself had been crying for quite some time, but I had been unwilling to let Lily Ruth out of my sight until she calmed down. *sigh*<br />
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Don made it home not too long after it was all over. It felt like an eternity. I was completely wiped out. We made (giant) cocktails in to-go cups and bundled everybody up for a walk. After a few minutes of banal pleasantries, I told Lily Ruth that we needed to talk about what happened.<br />
<br />
I started with why and how it began. I walked her through the series of events and reminded her of each opportunity that I had given her to calm down and change her behavior. Don and I both talked about how opinions and emotions are both allowed, but temper tantrums are not appropriate ways to express either. We talked about the fact that a temper tantrum will NEVER (not even ONE time) cause Mama or Daddy to give in to a demand. I finished up by reminding her that the loss of candy and toys were a direct consequence of her actions, and asked her if she understood that...<br />
<br />
"Yeah, but I get all my stuff back later." She skipped off to pick a weed.<br />
<br />
Crap. All for naught?<br />
<br />
"Actually, Boo, you will get three things back tomorrow, and we will talk about the rest of it later."<br />
<br />
"O.K."<br />
<br />
Ya'll, I don't think I am cut out for this. Is it too late to pack her off to boarding school or even sell her on etsy? That's right - etsy. I made her. She's handmade. Therefore, etsy instead of e-bay. I'll bet if I don't mention her propensity for tantrums, I could get a FORTUNE for her.<br />
<br />
We made it home, and Lily Ruth retired to the back yard with Dottie Dog to play with the ridiculously over-sized stick that she had picked up on the walk. Soon, she had broken it into two, and was racing around the yard using them as comically large drumsticks.<br />
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"Mama! Come out here and listen to the noises that I am making! Do you like my sounds?"<br />
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Oh Baby Girl. I love them.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-7556513858117815452014-01-28T23:29:00.002-06:002014-01-28T23:30:13.686-06:00Still A MessAfter yesterday's tirade, I still feel unsettled. Today has been at best, a difficult day and at worst a terrible day. Currently, it is fair to middling, but it ain't over yet.<br />
<br />
Poor Don has a massive sinus infection and didn't sleep AT ALL last night, but he still left early to see the doctor and worked most of the day. Poor Alec is either teething or going through separation anxiety or both - whatever the cause, he is either ON me or crying. Actually, he is so miserable that sometimes he is crying even if I am holding him :-/ Poor Me is emotionally exhausted and physically a wreck - my arms and back ache from holding Alec so much, and my temper is on a hair trigger. Poor Lily Ruth is convinced that I am trying to pawn her off out of spite and that she is going to miss out on something. *sigh*<br />
<br />
After Alec's morning nap, I attempted to corral the troops and get ready for a run to the grocery store. That weekly menu plan isn't going to shop for itself, people! I managed to dress Alec, style my hair and apply the only 2 cosmetics I have time for these days - concealer and mascara. I was attempting to dress myself when Alec crawled over to the dog water dish and soaked himself head to toe in less than 3 seconds. I shrieked at him which caused him to begin screaming in a truly epic fashion. I picked him up and apologized. He continued screaming. I stripped off his sopping wet clothing while crooning sweet things in his ear. He kept up the crying, and began rubbing impressive amounts of snot into the shirt that I had just barely managed to put on. I gave up and sat down to nurse him for the umpteenth time.<br />
<br />
Since today was going so poorly, I called my (step)Dad and asked if he could take Lily Ruth to lunch. It was my intention to get her out of the House of Misery and give her some quality fun time with someone who loves her very much. Instead of seeing it that way, her first response was " 'out you, right?" (I love that despite her daily vocabulary and word usage growth, she still has a few Little Girl foibles in her speech! 'Out for without. Comote for remote...) When I confirmed that Alec and I would be staying home, she immediately balked and announced "that's not what I <i>want</i> to do." I dismissed her refusal, got her dressed and zipped her into her coat, but before we could get out to the car, she announced that she wasn't going to eat. She just wasn't hungry. I buckled her in to the carseat anyway, and waved as they drove away.<br />
<br />
While I bounced and walked with Alec, I composed a scolding speech to Lily Ruth in my head. One that I knew that I wouldn't ever give, but I organized my thoughts nonetheless. I was inwardly ranting on and on about how important it is to spend time with family. How important it is to get to know them and to just <i>be</i> with them... then I stopped... because I felt like a total hypocrite. I spent yesterday convincing myself that I didn't need part of my family. That it wasn't important. That they weren't worth the emotional risk. So where do I really stand? Do I care or not? Will I risk or not?<br />
<br />
Oh, Lawdy! I wish I had answers. I wish I felt stronger. I wish that I felt like a better version of myself. One who could push past years of little girl wishes and big girl disappointments and just be the bigger person who always does the right thing. That's who I want my babies to see me as.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-89516860785687548722014-01-27T18:17:00.000-06:002014-01-27T18:17:31.598-06:00In Which I Am A MessMy brains are mush, ya'll. I am a mass of wildly swinging emotions, and all I want to do is sleep. No, I am most definitely NOT pregnant, so there's only one other thing that makes people act like this, right? Family.<br />
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My hope is that in writing and editing this, I can make some sort of sense out of the information I have, and how I feel about it.<br />
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My mom dropped an emotional bombshell on me last night. I love that woman. I love her deeply, madly, truly, fully... but DAMMIT! I have no idea if she is aware of this, but she drops bombs about my biological father and his family when I can't do anything about them. Like the time we went for pedicures. Two and a half hours side by side. Not a peep about anything 'heavy'. On the way home, she starts talking about how crazy busy the rest of her day is going to be. Two blocks from my house, she blurts out that my paternal grandmother has colo-rectal cancer, and it's always best to be aware that these things are lurking in our family trees. Then she basically shoves me out of the car at my door and races off down the street...<br />
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A bit of background: my parents married when my mother was 17, and my father was not much older. He was, however, being shipped off to Vietnam. While I was that age, I was working in restaurants, drinking too much, meeting my husband and making bad decisions that only impacted me. My dad was fighting a nasty, horrible war and jumping out of aircraft. My beautiful, feisty mother was alone on army bases far from everything she knew and trying to make a home out of everything she found. When he came back, things fell apart. They were divorced before I was born. My mom never said anything bad about my dad when I was growing up. He just wasn't around.<br />
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I met him for the first time when I was in high school. We ran into each other a few times in the next few years. He made it to my high school graduation, but not to my wedding. We never had direct contact, and eventually, my mother grew tired of playing go-between. She announced that if we wanted to communicate, we could buck up and do it ourselves. Neither of us seemed capable of figuring it out, so we let it drop.<br />
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Last May, just after Alec's birth, mama mentioned a call from him, but never said anything about it's content. Last night, as we stood in her kitchen making birthday dinner for the incredible man that I now call Dad, she leaned in and confided that she (the inveterate worrier) had "found something new to worry about." "Lay it on me" I belted out; confident that it had to do with Alec and something that we had failed to baby proof or are completely unprepared for - the field is vast as we are genuinely completely unprepared for a LOT of things. Instead, she told me that my paternal grandfather was diagnosed with congestive heart failure last May, and she hates to think that I might never meet him. "Do you think you might need to meet him?"<br />
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Wait, WHAT!?<br />
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She stirred the mushroom sauce and talked sotto-voice about how wonderful he is and where he is from. She mentioned that my dad has a half brother from his dad's second marriage who is also pretty great. I clutched my son and inwardly swooned.<br />
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"There might not be too much more time. Or maybe there is. What do you think?"<br />
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What do I think? I lost it a little bit. "What about the part where I'm FORTY YEARS OLD and none of these people have said a word to me!?" Why is this MY responsibility? Do they even want to talk to me? If so, why have they waited so long? It's not like I'm hard to find. "Shame," she said. "I think it's shame."<br />
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Some other portion of our family and our evening intervened, and we both let it drop.<br />
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I found a wine glass, and made it mine.<br />
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When we got back to our house, I started my rant. My poor husband. He of the toothache and case of exhaustion. He finally stopped me and said "I think that you have all of the dads and grandpas that you need." He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. Then he led me down the hall so we could put our children to bed.<br />
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I slept like a baby - up every hour, and restless in between.<br />
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As a child and a teen who had an occasionally adversarial relationship with her step-dad and two younger brothers that felt like two too many, I just <i>knew</i> that <i>my</i> dad would treat me differently. I had overblown fantasies of him coming to take me away and make me feel special. As a twenty-year-old, I decided that I had no need for this mysterious figure that I knew only through a handful of old photos and meetings that I could count on one hand. In my thirties, I found that I was no longer angry, but I wasn't interested in being the one to pursue a relationship, either.<br />
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So. Here I am. A forty-year-old, long-time married, mother of two. A planner and organizer. An avid reader. A novice writer. A teller of tales. A lover of ridiculous adventures. An excellent friend. A massage therapist. Pretty good at making things. Even better at cooking. Surrounded by those who love me.<br />
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And ya know what? This is where I choose to stand. I am not going to put myself out there and risk. Not this time. In this relationship, I am the child. I am the one they chose to walk away from. If they're so great, and I'm missing out, they can take the risk. If they choose to make the first move, I'm right here. In my nest of crazy love.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-26980587132406422302014-01-26T22:17:00.001-06:002014-01-27T10:28:04.309-06:00New Week, New PlanMenu plan, that is. I have more to say, but right now, it's Sunday night and I am too tired to post anything else...<br />
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Monday: homemade pizzas<br />
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Tuesday: Pork chops and Cauliflower Gratin<br />
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Wednesday: Roasted chicken, quinoa and broccoli<br />
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Thursday: Carnitas tacos and such<br />
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Friday: family steak night<br />
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Saturday: rigatoni with tiny meatballs<br />
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Sunday: crapshoot...<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-46710787232891338212014-01-21T15:51:00.001-06:002014-01-21T15:51:56.947-06:00Fish SoupI have no idea what brought this story to the front of my exhausted brain, but here it is...<br />
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When my younger brother Lucas was much younger than he is now, we lived in an "established" (read: not new or fancy or suburban) neighborhood. A nice little house with a backyard just right for make believe adventures and plastic splash pools.<br />
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Being an older house, it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. One winter, we had goldfish. Well, we probably had goldfish over more than just one winter, but this is a story about a particular instance of having goldfish in winter, not a log of goldfish-having experiences. This particular winter, Lucas was old enough to be really mobile, and to really think about things. One of the things he spent a good deal of time pondering was the goldfish bowl and it's occupants. To be fair, we all spent at least part of the day thinking about the fish as their bowl resided on the kitchen counter.<br />
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Our regular babysitter had also given some thought to our fish. She gave us a small heater for them. It perched on the lip of the bowl, and dangled into the water. We kept it's dial set between one and three, and it kept the fish water at a nice lukewarm temperature. One night, it got really cold. The kind of cold that we just don't get down here very often. The kind of cold that grown ups talk about all day. The cold became something that a small boy was giving a lot of thought to. Something that worried him mightily. By the time night rolled around, he was worried how the cold would affect the fish. He made a plan.<br />
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He crept out of his warm, snuggly bed and padded his little footed sleeper clad way into the kitchen. He carefully pushed a chair up to the counter, and contemplated the fish. He decided that yes, indeed, they were cold. He decided that this observation required action. He reached his tiny fingers up and turned the dial of the fishbowl heater up and up and up again. He may or may not have turned it all of the way to <i>eleven</i>. Then he maybe (just maybe) gave the bowl a satisfied pat or two and (definitely) climbed carefully down. Then that sweet, thoughtful, sleepy boy made his way back to his bed.<br />
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We woke up the next morning to a fishbowl of roiling, boiling water, and two<i> very</i> warm fish.<br />
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On a completely unrelated fish note, we went to the zoo yesterday. Alec D is as much in love with petting goldfish as his big sister is. He holds as much of his arms as he can reach into the pond and waits for the fish to come up and lip his fingers gently. When they do, he hoots excitedly, bounces like crazy and splashes like mad.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-35597370870828706652014-01-20T13:37:00.000-06:002014-01-20T20:19:01.794-06:00Refresh, Renew, RebootSO, this time of year is alternately wonderful and hard for me. I love the renewal of the new year and warming weather, but I often (read: pretty much always) freak out around my birthday. I take stock, and find myself and / or my situation to be lacking in one or more areas. Then I fall into a pity party quagmire. It makes for a fun February. :-/<br />
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This time, I would like to preempt all of the whining and poor me-ing and just get started on the improvements and the moving forward. In order to make that happen, I am starting spring-type growth projects now.<br />
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This weekend, we broke in to the garden - the gate was sealed shut by climbing vine weeds - and started to clear out weeds, leaves and acorns. Don even started weed whacking the stepping stone path so that we can navigate safely ;-) I sorted out the seeds, drew up my new plan, and updated my spreadsheet... yes, I have a garden spreadsheet. I am a nerd who's brain reacts better if I enter information onto a spreadsheet then print it out and stare at it. I am who I am. As soon as I sort out the desktop and the printer, I will scan in this season's garden plan and share it with you. I know that you're waiting with baited breath. We still need to till, add soil revitalizers, cover the beds with hay for a few weeks to kill off weeds, and add new soil. THEN we can plant. *whew*<br />
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I have also decided on a few new projects to keep my brain occupied. I am going to make a new messenger bag for Lily Ruth - a slightly larger one that can hold her lunchbox or her ballet kit. Enlarging the awesome pattern from <a href="http://www.craftbuds.com/kids-small-messenger-bag/">Craftbuds</a> should be a good challenge for my nerd brain. I am also going to make a messenger bag (using the regular pattern) for Alec D. Yes, I know he can't carry it himself, but I need a bag of that size for his Parent's Day Out supplies, and I love to make stuff!!! Oh, sorry. I got a bit defensive :-P<br />
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Oh, and I am continuing to do good(ish) work with the meal planning. Last week, I didn't quite stick to the plan, and I didn't manage to do one big shop, but it was still very helpful. Here is this week's plan:<br />
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Monday: Gnocchi with Sausage and Kale (didn't make it last week :-/)<br />
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Tuesday: Pork Chops with Cheesy Skillet Rice and Green Beans (from Mel's 30 minute meals)<br />
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Wednesday: Curried Lentils with Chicken and Potatoes<br />
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Thursday: Jayden's Beef with Broccoli<br />
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Friday: Family dinner night - I think that Grandmother is making chili!!<br />
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Saturday: Post-Gardening PIZZAS!<br />
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Sunday: Let's just call Sundays "Crap Shoot Sundays" and admit that I cannot plan out that far, shall we?<br />
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I will leave you with a few images from our lives this week. They pretty much speak for themselves :-)<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-31930316812965886142014-01-15T11:02:00.000-06:002014-01-20T14:57:52.375-06:00Snark DayI have been perusing Pinterest for Valentine ideas. If you weren't already aware, I adore Valentine's Day. Not so much the actual day, but rather the emphasis on love, acknowledgement of love and the color red. Those things all excite me very much.<br />
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Lily Ruth has decided to make Minion cookies and heart-shaped crayons for her classmates. I am working on a pink wreath. I wrapped the Styrofoam form in vividly pink yarn, and have begun cutting hearts out of felt.<br />
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I have been debating embroidering Sweetheart-type messages onto said hearts. My dilemma is this: do I 1) stick with traditional stuff like "love you", "you're sweet" and crap like that, 2) go slightly more modern with "you rock", "shine on", "beseme", etc. OR 3) go completely nuts and mimic my favorite Valentine pin with "it's not u, it's me", "bite me", "not bad 4 ur age", "lookin'... o.k."? :-P<br />
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I know what Kittyn would pick. That cat is sassy. I know that not everybody would get the joke, and I don't want to offend anyone just to tickle my own funny bone... perhaps I'll go slightly modern for the wreath, and make the snarky hearts as gifts for those who will appreciate them. That sounds like the right thing to do.<br />
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Maybe while I'm at it, I can hand emboss business cards with bitchy sayings that I can hand out when strangers piss me off. No one would expect that. I could be out of there before their brain deciphers the fancy font and registers the insult. I think that I might really be on to something here. "Your attitude stinks, and your shoes offend me." "That was uncalled for - you should suck it." "Life's too short to waste any more of it near you."<br />
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Ahhhhhhhhhh, Wednesday. How I have missed the freedom of being childless for just long enough to get a few chores done then start some trouble!<br />
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p.s. I tried to embed my pins here for your enjoyment, but they've changed stuff since the last time I did that, and I can't figure it out :-/<br />
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p.p.s. I decided to leave the hearts unadorned. I like it :-)Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-50800623503676077482014-01-12T16:25:00.000-06:002014-01-20T14:59:14.906-06:00Sleepovers Vs SleepOh Myyyyyyyyyyyyy. Lily Ruth had her first successful sleepover last night!<br />
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We attempted a sleepover with the same friend a few weeks ago, but we did it wrong, and it ended in a full-on screaming temper tantrum from Lily Ruth. Her friend Lola went home disappointed and confused. In case you were wondering, it is totally easy to get it wrong - especially the first time, and especially if the participants are 4 years old. We invited Lola to sleep over, then extended an invitation to Lola's 6 year old brother and wonderful mama to join us for dinner. We ended up keeping the kids up too late, and they were exhausted by the time they crawled up into the loft bed. We thought things were going well until there was crying. Lily Ruth was inconsolable, and kept insisting that she needed to sleep alone and she didn't know how to act at a sleepover. She was unable to articulate what (if anything) had happened to bring this on, and she REFUSED to calm down. Oi. Within minutes, she was shrieking at top volume. Lola's mom came to pick Lola up, and it took an additional 40 minutes for poor Lily Ruth to calm down.<br />
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This time, when the girls cooked up their sleepover plan, we decided to do it differently. Lily Ruth and I discussed in advance what we needed to do differently (just Lola, go to bed earlier). Then we went for it.<br />
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The girls were both happy when the climbed the ladder last night. We got them situated, and kissed them goodnight. The giggling started almost immediately. We decided not to intervene unless it got loud enough to possibly wake up Baby Brother... which happened twice... all of a sudden, it was 11 o'clock and they actually DID wake up Alec. I stormed in and demanded that they KNOCK IT OFF IMMEDIATELY AND GO TO SLEEP. I didn't hear another peep... until 5:30 am. Lily Ruth maintains that they did not sleep at all. I told her that I did not care, because they didn't wake <i>me</i> up :-P<br />
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Oh, and yes, you read that correctly. They woke up at 5:30!! They played fairly quietly in Lily Ruth's room until about 7:30. Then they flung themselves loudly into the living room and started watching movies on Netflix. *sigh*<br />
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They both had a marvelous time, and even after breakfast and Sunday School, they still wanted to play together. The mamas put the kibosh on that. They parted as happy, loving friends.<br />
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Six and a half hours is not enough sleep for 4 year olds. It might possibly be enough for a 40 year old, but this particular old lady was awakened multiple times by a teething baby :-( so nobody got enough sleep last night. Lily Ruth held it together until just after 2 pm. Now she's snoring on the couch. Alec and I napped in the rocking chair for a bit. Don is playing football on the playstation with glassy eyes. I'm sure we'll recover. Someday.<br />
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The only thing I have had the energy to do is stare at Pinterest for a while and come up with a menu plan for the week. Here it is! 3 of the 5 days planned are on my Pinterest board. The shrimp pasta is going to be a totally-winging-it-thing, and the risotto is already on this blog :-)<br />
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Sunday: Sauteed Shrimp and Spinach in Creamy Sauce over pasta<br />
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Monday: Crockpot Gyros (with salad)<br />
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Tuesday: Tortellini and Sausage in a Cheesey Tomato and Cream Sauce (with broccoli and cauliflower)<br />
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Wednesday: Gnocchi with Sausage and Kale<br />
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Thursday: Risotto with Mushroom and Peas (and grilled chicken)<br />
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Friday: Family Steak Night (including Dragon's Breath sauce over <i>something</i>)<br />
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Saturday: crapshoot - I'm outta ideas.<br />
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Happy eating, blog friends. Remember, Food is Love! I will leave you with this image of Alec D and Dottie Dog wrestling WWE-style:<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-24688606725296274132014-01-07T22:57:00.000-06:002014-01-07T22:57:29.524-06:00To Sleep, Or Not To Sleep...These are from October of 2012. I had obviously intended to add more of them, and had perhaps intended to flesh them out a bit, but never got around to it. Any further details are lost to the mists of sleep deprivation and time, but I cannot bear to delete them!<br />
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<i>Vignettes through exhausted eyes:</i><br />
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I should have turned out the light ages ago, but I didn't. I'm awake and reading waaaay past my bedtime again. A subtle movement in the doorway catches my eye. Lily Ruth stands quietly. Eyes mostly closed, brow furled against the light, sippy cup and blanket clutched tightly. "Come on in, Baby Love" I say softly. She nods in agreement and skirts her sleeping dog. "I just needed you" she states as she climbs over me and settles in.<br />
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Another late night. Pregnancy hormones wreck havoc on a mama's routines. At the thump of tiny feet hitting the floor I pause my reading and wait. Nothing for a few moments, then a tousled head appears. "I need to go POTTY" she states brightly. I leap up and herd her into the bathroom. I seat her sleepy self on the small seat, and she drapes her arms around my neck. As her weight melts into mine, I realize that she's telling me a story. "My body just said 'Wih-we Wuf, you need to go tinkle' and I said 'oh, o.k.' so I got up and told you and you put me on the potty and then I tinkled and I really did have to go..." Her voice trails off and her eyes slide shut as I lift her up and carry her into our bed. "You forgot my agua." *sigh*<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-21838932266380369162014-01-07T22:49:00.001-06:002014-01-07T22:50:06.387-06:00Alec the TitanMy son is a Titan. Not necessarily a Titan as in the Titans who fathered the gods of Olympus, but a flame-haired master of his universe. But if we're being honest, and not just exaggerating in order to make a point, his hair is blonde-ish / brown-ish with a beautiful copper corona (psst: in this case, a corona is a glow visible in moderate to great sunlight).<br />
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The red hair began to show very early on, and came as a surprise to me... and my husband. When initially questioned about it, I replied that the color obviously came from the devil himself. Then we laughed hysterically.<br />
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When I repeated that anecdote to my mother, she "reminded" me that we were Scottish, so the red hair was not a surprise. I expressed surprise at the news that we were Scottish. She continued to act like this was information that I already had, and "repeated" a story about a great (great-great?) -grandfather, a long-distance bride, and a case of mistaken identity based on a beard that grew in red. It's a great story. If I loved you more, I would type it out here. But I love ME and SLEEP more than I love YOU, and also, it's not the point. The point is that my mother, The Keeper of the Family Lore is an inadvertent story hoarder. She has listened to and stored family stories for her entire life. She loves stories. She will practically mug people for biographical stories. She especially loves to share stories. The problem is not one of intentional hoarding. The problem is that she is so used to having all of this knowledge in her head, that she feels like we ALL have the same amount of family lore rolling around in our brains. I personally haven't heard a story older than my own great-grandparents in at least ten years - thus, my claim of hoarding.<br />
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To be fair, my mama and I have been through our share of wild, busy, stressful, amazing, exhausting changes in recent history. There hasn't been a lot of time for sharing of anything other than love. But if we don't tell more stories more often, the stories die. We can forget who we came from and how blessed we truly are. We forget that we are Scottish Titans Who Braved Untamed America.<br />
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Maybe it's time to listen more. You know. So we won't forget...<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-63734472965796033952014-01-06T17:47:00.001-06:002014-01-06T17:47:56.992-06:00Where Have You BEEN!?WOW! I haven't published since July!? My poor, lonely blog. Just as I felt like I was really finding my voice, too! Well, I<i> meant</i> to publish all kinds of things. I even composed numerous posts in my head as I fell asleep at night... but, um, stuff got in the way. Stuff like THIS:<div>
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I absolutely cannot believe that 8 whole months have passed since the birth of Alec D. The time has simultaneously flown and dragged by. As a family, we have weathered extreme stress and experienced great joy. The act of getting us all through each day clothed, fed and relatively unscathed has left me a bit depleted. I was also sans laptop, and our desktop is ancient, unwieldy and in a terrible location, so I was unmotivated to sit and compose posts even though I have plenty to say.</div>
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I fully intend to tell you all about Lily Ruth and ballet class. I have so much to say about Alec the Titan. I opened an Etsy store. We even have a new dog!</div>
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But in the way of most new years, I am starting this one with a bit of resolution. I want to feed my family in a more organized manner. No more running to the store every day or freaking out after 5 o'clock when the store run hasn't been done and both kids are so tired that they are losing their minds. Plenty of people in this great wide world manage to keep this stuff organized. This is not beyond my grasp.</div>
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So here is my menu plan for this week. The main dish recipes (aside from the stuffed shells - which I make up as I go) are on my Pinterest boards :-)</div>
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Monday: Spicy turkey burgers with oven fries and broccoli & cauliflower</div>
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Tuesday: Stuffed Shells</div>
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Wednesday: Chicken and mushroom farro risotto and asparagus</div>
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Thursday: Philly cheesesteak green peppers and quinoa</div>
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Friday: Family steak night</div>
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Saturday: - I dunno. What are YOU having? -</div>
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Sunday: - crapshoot. possibly nothing -</div>
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And I will leave you with this tidbit: Lily Ruth was sitting at the table with her great-grandparents and a veterinarian kit. Writing furiously and talking on her "phone", she wrapped up her business then turned to Grandmother. "When do you want to bring your dog in for his appointment?" Ruth replies "how about tomorrow at 3." Lily Ruth consults her paperwork and states firmly "it will have to be today. Tomorrow is my day off."</div>
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Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-42793529897546087802013-07-23T21:20:00.000-05:002013-07-23T21:20:29.815-05:00SiblingsLily Ruth is an incredible big sister. She's loving and protective. She's inclusive and silly. Alec is the first person that she looks for in the morning, and (almost) the last kiss that she gives each night. It is fascinating to watch her watch him. It thrills me to see that most of her actions toward him are motivated by sheer love and her delight in sharing her world with him. It also completely tickles me to notice when she is motivated by a need to be SEEN when all (or most) of the attention in the room is focused on <i>that baby</i>.<br />
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It follows that I have very few pictures of Alec alone. When the camera comes out, she snuggles in close to make sure that she is included. Now to be fair, a lot of the time, the camera comes out specifically because the two of them are so precious together.<br />
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Since the day we brought him home, she has sung to him when he's crying and begged to play with him when he's not. I spend a good portion of each day reminding her to back away from his face and give him some space because she just NEEDS to be so very close to him. His face lights up when he sees her. He works to get her attention. They delight in making each other laugh.<br />
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Some of their best times are in the morning. Maybe it's because they met in the morning...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">less than 2 hours after his birth</td></tr>
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Whatever the reason, I'll take it. I'll take the bond, the sweetness, the smiles...<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 week</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2 weeks</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 weeks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdY2HuafmAOwXLmzRwceATYe0N4sJfj_a2jf9nOdIPgq-kD06R1Fb0qZqtc45axA37pVe-CSdwAvBiBuO3NwUxhe4T3S_9LkTUW4UDCZW_nTWYGTm6y67FueWuA1stLsgAetDywi9SDYt/s1600/siblings+6+wks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdY2HuafmAOwXLmzRwceATYe0N4sJfj_a2jf9nOdIPgq-kD06R1Fb0qZqtc45axA37pVe-CSdwAvBiBuO3NwUxhe4T3S_9LkTUW4UDCZW_nTWYGTm6y67FueWuA1stLsgAetDywi9SDYt/s320/siblings+6+wks.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 weeks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9n8wJNw1We-RiVWpiQ3mdPPfy01goxLT51JLoUEq3LLY__qw5Y3cWzd2hGdS1aJCNO5QzsL1iK4VvrSDz4qx1yeozTD486NZwDlwrsachQf6J2chtSTsKkhIDzoe7daV44lZRVm757_Q/s1600/siblings+9+weeks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9n8wJNw1We-RiVWpiQ3mdPPfy01goxLT51JLoUEq3LLY__qw5Y3cWzd2hGdS1aJCNO5QzsL1iK4VvrSDz4qx1yeozTD486NZwDlwrsachQf6J2chtSTsKkhIDzoe7daV44lZRVm757_Q/s320/siblings+9+weeks.jpg" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9 weeks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpm2LBsWYtmxImDTxWeo1t6suA6IwyiO8pD5Iap7zj2DaMEj8wvoabJ7TpavgrySBD9J2250iTS21Andc5kv4DLkCm_NV9rhml1OTzHQIk7Wivy2n2Fi0rOtmB7xexoVRcIwpVJecBjWE/s1600/siblings+12+wks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpm2LBsWYtmxImDTxWeo1t6suA6IwyiO8pD5Iap7zj2DaMEj8wvoabJ7TpavgrySBD9J2250iTS21Andc5kv4DLkCm_NV9rhml1OTzHQIk7Wivy2n2Fi0rOtmB7xexoVRcIwpVJecBjWE/s320/siblings+12+wks.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12 weeks</td></tr>
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OH that love!<br />
<br />
What a blessing. Thank you Lord for the smiles! The smiles see me through the rest of it... except maybe the sleep deprivation. Nothing can see you through sleep deprivation except sleep, sleep and more sleep. If you happen to have any extra sleep, please send it right over. You can even send it C.O.D.Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3202175642266922867.post-50644399426197108132013-06-18T22:41:00.002-05:002013-07-21T17:27:24.312-05:00Baby BoyAlec Douglas arrived SEVEN weeks ago! He is perfect and healthy. I am recovering nicely. Don and Lily Ruth are over-the-moon happy, and both have been immeasurably loving and helpful. I have been unable until now to find time to sit down and write this out, but with the help of the notes I made at the time (excellent forethought!), here is his birth story:<br />
<br />
This is a looong and mildly graphic story of childbirth - you have been warned.<br />
<br />
Aside from the gallbladder surgery, and a few weeks of prodromal labor, my pregnancy was pretty uneventful, and very healthy. Because of the prodromal labor (more intense than Braxton-Hicks, but tapers off before becoming full-blown labor), my midwife group did not expect me to make it to my due date. Imagine our surprise when I showed up for my 40 week appointment ;-) After a membrane sweep and an hour or so of monitoring (Alec's heart rate was low when she checked it, but leveled out nicely while being monitored), I was sent home to wait until he was ready to show.<br />
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The following week, I was standing in the kitchen (right around 3 pm) making a snack for Lily Ruth when my water broke :-O It was truly an odd sensation. Not a huge gush, but unmistakable for anything else. I cleaned myself up and explained to a very curious Lily Ruth what happened ("remember how we discussed that baby Alec was growing inside a water balloon in my belly? Well, that balloon broke because it's time for him to come out!"). Lily Ruth insisted that we all put on green. Green dresses for Mama and Lily Ruth. Green shirt for Daddy. I took one last picture of my baby belly:<br />
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I called the midwife on-call for that night to give her a heads up. She congratulated us and reminded me that it was a waiting game now. If contractions started and seemed to be increasing in intensity and frequency, I could labor at home for up to 24 hours. If contractions didn't start, she wanted to see me at the hospital by 6 a.m. For those who do not already know this - hospitals do NOT like for women with broken water bags to hang out for more than 24 hours without delivering the baby. They become increasingly nervous about the baby and/or the mother developing an infection once that protective bubble breaks.<br />
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Lily Ruth began telling stories about being pregnant with her daughter Penny and having her "membranes swept last Saturday". I was still slightly leaking amniotic fluid, and definitely felt a new and more intense pressure on my pubic bone.<br />
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We hung out at home for a while. No contractions.<br />
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5 pm - I decided that I wanted cookies (!?). Using dough from the freezer, Lily Ruth and I made sugar cookies. Then I made buttercream icing - from scratch. Not a huge effort, but delightfully distracting :-)<br />
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6 pm - we decided to walk the neighborhood. There was a storm coming in, and I wanted the pressure change to have it's full effect on my laboring process. We watched the beautiful black clouds roll in, and felt a few small raindrops, but I only had a few small contractions. Not the real thing yet!<br />
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We had dinner, got Lily Ruth packed and ready,<br />
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and delivered her to the Homestead to spend the night. No contractions.<br />
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9 pm - we went to bed around . We watched t.v. and stared into space. No contractions. Don fell asleep around 11 p.m. I fell asleep around 1 a.m. Don woke up around 1:30 a.m. and moved out to the living room. I woke up around 3:30 a.m. and joined him. No contractions. We stared at BBC America for a while.<br />
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4 am -Don couldn't take it any more. "We should just get ready and go to the hospital." I agreed. We ate (lightly), finished packing, dressed and wandered to the car. Still no contractions.<br />
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5:30 am - We checked in to the hospital, and were settled into a labor suite. No triage for me since my water had already broken. Lauren (the midwife) came in to talk about our options. Basically, my options were 1) pitocin now or 2) pitocin later (pitocin is a synthetic hormone that induces uterine contractions). She explained that since my labor had not already started on it's own, it was unlikely to do so before the 24-hour cut off. We were welcome to hang out in our delivery suite until 3 p.m. and start the pitocin then, but the longer we waited, the more nervous the pediatrician and nursery team would become. It would be more likely that they would keep Alec for observation. She also reminded us that we would be unlikely to really rest between now and then, therefore we would not get any <i>less</i> tired than we already were. We voted for pitocin now, and called my parents to join us.<br />
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6:30 am -The pitocin was started at it's lowest level (a 2). It was supposed to be monitored and probably increased every 15-30 minutes until my body established a regular contraction pattern. Luckily for me, it was time for a shift change, and they forgot to increase my pitocin level until later. With the shift change, we lost Lauren, and gained Amy. The great part about this midwife practice is that by the time you deliver, you are comfortable with all of the midwives. It is a blessing to have any one of them deliver your baby.<br />
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6:43 am - My first contraction hit. It was INTENSE. I had to stop talking to breathe and use my low tones when each one came on. They were immediately 5 minutes apart and gradually became stronger. Because of the pitocin, Alec and I were both being continuously monitored, so I was unable to leave the hospital bed to labor. I had forgotten that this would happen. I was disappointed about being stuck in the bed, but I felt like I was holding up pretty well so far...<br />
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8:15 am - A nurse came in and increased the level of the pitocin to a 4. My contractions moved to 2-3 minutes apart, and became even more intense. I could feel quite a bit of pressure in my low back, so we called the nurse back in.<br />
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8:50 am - I "demanded" that the nurse turn off the pitocin. I had decided that enough was enough of that awful stuff. It was obvious that my contractions were consistent and increasing. The pitocin was turned off, and the midwife was called in to check my progress.<br />
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When Amy checked me, I was only 5 cm dilated (and had a bulging forebag of water?!). I had expected a lot more in the way of dilation. She mentioned that she expected the rest of my labor to progress quickly, and said that she would check in on me soon.<br />
<br />
My contractions increased in intensity again. I had my support team (Don, Mom and Dad) raise the head of the bed as high as it would go. Then I draped my laboring self across the top and held on for dear life. Low tones were harder to maintain. Amy came back into the room and asked if I wanted to labor on the ball for a while. Since the pitocin was off and the monitors on me and Alec looked good, I was now allowed to leave the hospital bed!<br />
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After quite a bit of maneuvering, I was on the ball and leaning against the bed. Amy spent about 15 minutes watching me handle contractions, then she excused herself to check on other mamas and to check in at her office (across the parking lot). Soon after she left, the contractions increased in intensity again. I was having a much harder time controlling my breathing and using any kind of tone. Something that Amy said earlier while watching me came to the front of my mind: "it's just the baby coming down." I began repeating "It's not scary, it's just the baby" on a loop during each contraction and visualizing our boy moving down and out safely. I was holding Don's hands across the bed and my mom and dad took turns applying counter-pressure to my low back... at least I think that's what was happening... all I know is that pressure was being applied, and I managed to yell "NOBODY BREATHE ON ME!" at some point... sorry, guys!<br />
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Contractions started coming with almost no break, and I felt my legs straighten me to almost a standing position. I found out the true meaning of pressure, and I yelled "I'm PUSHING" - because I was. Completely involuntarily. My mom raced out into the hall to find <i>someone</i> with medical knowledge to join us in the birthing suite - anyone! She found a nurse, and the room was soon bustling as the nursery nurses and the l&d nurses rushed to prepare the room.<br />
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A nurse told me that I needed to get back up on the bed. I told her no. I said that I couldn't. I looked Don in the eye and told him that I couldn't do this. It was too hard and it hurt too much. I knew that I was in transition, and it felt like it was happening FAST. I could feel our son moving out of my belly and preparing to make his entrance. I was trying to get on the bed, but the contractions were only seconds apart, and I felt unable to move during them, so I had very little time to make adjustments to my position before a new one hit. I made it onto the bed on my knees then held on to Don's neck and screamed into his shoulder for a few contractions. I knew that Amy wasn't back yet, and all of a sudden, I was 1) bound and determined not to have that baby with just some nurses that I had never met in attendance, 2) terrified that he was moving to fast, and I was about to tear, and 3) um... really afraid that I was going to poop. Ridiculous. All of it. If the baby is coming, there is almost no stopping it. Still, I held on to Don and refused to move from that spot. I changed from just screaming into his shoulder to yelling "NONONONONONONO." When queried as to why I was freaking out, I just said "I'm SCARED. This is too scary."<br />
<br />
That's when Amy made it back. She very calmly let me know that she was there, and asked me why I was scared. I told her that I needed help. She said "I'm here to help you." I stopped yelling at everybody, and moved into a half-reclined position on the bed. I flipped out when they tried to hold a monitor on my belly for a moment to check on Alec - I had no idea how much the <i>outside</i> of my belly hurt until then!<br />
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I actively pushed for two contractions, and he began to crown. Amy asked me to wait. I told her I would try. I held through 1 or two contractions, then she told me I could push again. On the next push, his head delivered. My mom said that visually, it was stunning - just after his head appeared, his arm popped out. Alec had a nuchal arm (a hand that stayed directly next to his face during delivery)... um... it was really uncomfortable... on the next contraction, the rest of his body was delivered, and they handed him to me!<br />
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My first though was "he's so LITTLE!" I held him for several minutes until his umbilical cord stopped pulsing. Don cut the cord, and Alec was wrapped up and handed to his Daddy. Alec looked directly into Don's eyes and said "huh-WOW, huh-WOW" I said "I know, buddy! That was FAST!" From turning off the pitocin to holding our son, it was almost exactly 1 hour. My fears about tearing proved real. My fears of pooping were groundless ;-)<br />
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Don and my parents snapped pictures and stared in awe at that beautiful baby as Alec was weighed and measured. He was 7 pounds, 7 ounces and 19 3/4 inches long.<br />
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My mom almost refused to let my dad hold him. But her generous nature won out in the end. I DID remind her that he already had an alarm band on his ankle. If she tried to sneak him out to love on him all on her own, she'd be in biiiiiiiig trouble :-P<br />
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As soon as the after birth delightfulness was completed (a healthy placenta and only two tears requiring stitches), Don raced out to retrieve Lily Ruth. He was so excited, and we both wanted to share him with her as soon as possible!<br />
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While he was gone, I wandered into the bathroom to clean up before Lily Ruth returned. I didn't want the blood to scare her. Well, apparently I lost more blood than they thought, because I 'grayed out' in the bathroom. I felt it coming on, so I sat down until it passed. I was fine, but I was partially unresponsive when my mom and then my nurse tried to check on me through the door. Oh LORDY. That triggered a 'Code Yellow' (fall alert) in the labor and delivery ward. Nurses everywhere. An armed security guard at my door. Administrators with concerned faces... I had to tell a bazillion people that I did NOT fall - I sat down. My nurse (a timid, tiny thing), was shaky after that. Oi. Oh, and in the midst of it, Alec's security band came loose. After my 'warning', my mom was convinced that the guard was there to make sure she didn't try to leave with Alec.<br />
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Despite the insanity, I managed to get cleaned up and re-situated in the bed. Soon after, Lily Ruth raced into the room yelling "ALEC! ALEC DOUGLAS!" Her face upon meeting her brother was priceless.<br />
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Soon it was time to get ready for the move to my recovery room. I got up again to head into the bathroom. My nurse caught me as I tried to close the door. Dude - if she didn't want me doing things by myself, she shouldn't have left me alone! Ugh. I had to convince her NOT to call another code yellow when I mis-stepped then caught myself.<br />
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The remainder of our stay was uneventful. Just (a tiny bit of) resting, an intense amount of bonding, and all of it eased and aided by a truly wonderful staff.<br />
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All in all, it was amazing and scary and full of intense, incredible emotion. Our family is healthy and happy.<br />
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<br />Lily Ruth's Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10455214123732507362noreply@blogger.com2