Gingerbread Houses

For about two years now, Phillip has been asking to do gingerbread houses. He would see a kit in the store and ask please, please. I always said no, as it was always my intention to make our own. But, I do a fair amount of baking over the holidays and never quite squeezed that one in.

This year, I finally did it. Last weekend, I used a recipe I have been saving since long before I had kids. I rolled out the dough and used a knife to cut the shapes using a pattern I had made from paper (apparently, the recipe once had a pattern that went with it; but just like when I sew: pattern? I will just make my own!...sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.).

I made one bigger house, then cut the patterns down a bit to make three smaller ones so each of the three kids could have their own to decorate. I had literally just enough dough to get all of the houses cut; my remnant dough pile was probably less than 2 ounces.

They sat all week. Friday night, I glued them together with Royal Icing and let them dry overnight.



















Saturday morning, I gathered tons of possible toppings and organized them in to little dishes and bowls.













Each child took a turn and had open season on the treats (both for decorating and eating). Phillip went first. Before we started, we huddled around their computer and Googled pictures of ginger bread houses for inspiration. He was very interested and kept saying, "now, that's a good idea." Once he hit the table, he began implementing all of his unique ideas. One drawback was that he could not squeeze the icing back himself. Not that big of a deal and I can find a way to overcome it for next year, but this year I could tell it frustrated him a bit.



















Samuel was next. The whole time Phillip was working, Sam whined around asking, "When is it my turn?" Jeff and I were sure once it actually go to be his turn, he would have little interest. But, we were way wrong.













He was sooo into it! Samuel doesn't have much patience for activities that require a steady hand and sitting for more than about three minutes. But, he loved it and told us what every single thing was as he put it on. I helped him with the icing (glue) and he designed everything else!




















And, of course, while Samuel was working, Andy spent the entire time skirting the table asking, "Where's Andy's house?" In class two-year-old form, he is staking his claim on everything these days; everything is "An-nes." Again, Jeff and I thought this would be a quick one. But, no, Andy took the whole thing very seriously.













But, Andy did spend far more time stuffing his mouth than anyone else. In the end, he was careful to select at least one of almost every option on the table for inclusion on his house.



























Andy's was followed by hours and hours of pointing and telling us "Andy's house." He was so proud. They each did an amazing job and were far, far more intentional than I had expected. The houses turned out great, now if I can get them to leave them alone until a little closer to Christmas! Closer to Christmas, I will let them start picking on them; seems sort of gross to me (old candy), but I guess to a kid, candy is candy is candy.



















Phillip's and Samuel's





















Andrew's and Mine

(Really need to move to Flicker, uploading this many pictures on Blogger is a real pain in the butt. And, I have no idea what is up with the spacing. It doesn't look like that in the preview window. Once again frustrated with Blogger.)

I'm Making a List and Checking it Twice

[Argh. Blogger. You really annoy me sometimes. Spell checker not working right now.]

I have been overwhelmed with work for about the past two weeks, literally working 14 and 16 hour days. But, today all five of the proposals were due by 5PM. And by 4PM, they were all uploaded and submitted. Exhale.

So, now, I am catching up. Catching up on email, other projects I have going on that I have pushed aside for the last two weeks. Catching up on being with the kids in the middle of the day and in the evenings. Yes...catching up on blog entries and catching up on getting ready for the holiday season.

But, mostly what I am catching up on is my list making. I started my first list while the last grant I was submitting was still uploading on to the government's submission site. I had a few seconds, so I started a list. A list for work: clients I needed to follow up with, work I needed to give some attention to, things I needed to read and file.

A list for home: things to get at Target, things to do around the house, things to accomplish over the weekend and things to get for people for Christmas. On both lists is to go through other lists and organize the lists, plus update the family calendar (essentially, a big list).

So, you don't need to read too deep in to this one to realize that these lists make me feel in control, or at least like I am headed for being in control. This inital list making process is clearly my way of regaining control after a period of disciplining myself to "check-out" until my work is done. Once I have moved beyond the initial list, the lists are key to my feeling like I am maintaining control.

A simple example of how lists help me maintain my sense of control is my daily food journal. If I write it down, I am good. On days I don't write it down, forget it--I am totally out of control. A list, a journal, a documentation of my plans and thoughts allows me to maintain control and, when possible, quite frankly, sometimes control others. Not necesarrily in a bad way, in a loving, "honey-do" kind of way.

Do you see a theme emerging here? I am not ashamed of being a control freak for two reasons. 1) without it, I would not have accomplished as much as I have wanted to. 2) someone has to be in control, might as well be ME!

But, here is the thing. I try to be very honest about the fact that this is who I am and try to be aware of acknowledging this, but not using that as an excuse for dismissing others. I certainly work hard to be aware of how my actions affect others and what my actions say about me. But, go ahead, call me a control freak: I will proudly own it.

The Pee-Pee

Phillip: We had the Pee-Pee tent up at school today.

Me: The what?

Phillip: The Pee-Pee tent, you know like Indian's used.

Me: Oh, the Tee-Pee.

Phillip: Huh...ya, I guess it's the Tee-Pee.

My Guy Sam

Last night, at the big birthday party with the family, wrapping paper flying everywhere as the boys all three open their presents at the same time, in total chaos, Sam says...

"Oh, I really, really wanted this. I have no idea what this is, but I really wanted it!"

It takes so little to make that guy happy, such a loving heart.

Day 15: I Blew It

Well, I blew it. I missed day 14. Even though that takes me out of the running for the contest, of which I didn't even really understand, I am going to go forward and try to finish out the month posting something every day. This may be impossible given my current work load, but I will try.

I got to my desk yesterday around 4:30AM and didn't stop until my head hit the pillow at 9:30PM. I worked, played tennis, worked a bit more than then got ready for and hosted our extended family for a combined birthday party for Phillip, Samuel and Andrew. Needless to say, I was and think I still am exhausted. 4:30AM again and I am back at my desk...must get to work! An interesting post later or tomorrow, I hope. However receiving very few comments, which isn't too encouraging when it comes to thinking of things to write about.

Day 13: Oh, That Sound!

I can hear it from a mile away. Click, click..click...click. Eeewww. Someone clipping their fingernails. Am I the only one in the world whose mother taught me that this and all other personal grooming should happen in the bathroom? The worst culprit seems to be older men. They pull their clippers out standing in line, at the Y, in restaurants, wherever.

I was recently in a meeting with an older man in a restaurant-a business meeting-and out they came. He clipped, trimmed and clipped some more, paying close attention to a stubborn hangnail. Just make a mental note to get it when you get home-in your bathroom! Same thing at the conference I just went to in Nashville. Smack dab in the middle of a workshop, out came the clippers!

Fingernails are gross. And, they are rather personal. Seriously, they hold DNA. Why would you want to spread that around?!?! Mothers of boys, let's all make a pact to teach our boys that trimming your nails is a personal hygiene habit, that while necessary and important, is best done in the bathroom.

Day 12: A Meme I Can Actually Do...I Think

I am back in Indy after four days in Nashville. Catching up on reading my blogs early this morning and I came across this. Despite the fact that I really don't like reading these kinds of things, I am going to post one on my own blog. I think this is one I can actually do, that requires little knowledge of pop culture or finite conclusions (although I admittedly edited it slightly).

1. What is your occupation? I describe this in many ways...depends on who is asking...and if I think they seriously want to know or are just being polite. To be brief, I am a consultant or a writer.
2. What color are your socks right now? White
3. What are you listening to right now? My kids watching "Air Bud," the soccer version, whatever it's called.
4. What was the last thing that you ate? Three buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup.
5 . Can you drive a standard? Yes, all women should be able to further reduce our need to depend on a man. One car is a six speed (Mini) and one is automatic (van).
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? blue, blue, blue.
7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Jeff, my husband.
8. How old are you today? 34 and a half.
9.Favorite drink? I only drink four things: water, 7-up, coffee and apple juice. Water is my favorite, unless I see someone going for the tap to retrieve it (yuck!). Oh, and wine. I love a nice glass of deep red wine on a cool winter night.
10. What is your favorite sport to watch? Tennis or basketball
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes, of course...I am an American woman!
12. Pets? One cat named Kitty. She is available to a good home!
13. Favorite Food? Are you serious? See...this is one of those questions I just cannot answer. Which meal? Which season? Am I in Indiana or traveling? Who is cooking? Too many to choose.
14. What was the last movie you watched? High School Musical! "We're soaring..."
15. What was the last book you read? No doubt something about parenting.
16. What do you do to vent anger? Yell and blame others. :) Sad, but probably true. I eventually come to my senses.
17. What was your favorite toy as a child? Art Supplies or babies.
18. What is your favorite fall or spring? Spring.
19. Hugs or kisses? Hugs, followed by a kiss to seal the deal.
20. Cherries or blueberries or Strawberries? Strawberries, unless it has something to do with pound cake and homemade whipped cream, then strawberries and blueberries. Dried cherries on salads, but no cherry pie.
21. Living arrangements? Five in the house. Jeff and I share, Phillip and Same share, Andy is on his own and a guest room.
22. When was the last time you cried? It couldn't have been that long ago, but I don't remember (who wants to).
23. What is on the floor of your closet? Nothing. I hate things sitting on the floor.
24. Who is the friend you have had the longest? Stacey. We have been friends since we were five. Do the math! That is 29 years. Still exchange emails, cards, photos and visit (live in different cities).
25. Favorite smells? Another tough one. Food? Outdoors? Indoors? Natural? Man-made? I love the smell of anything vanilla. I love the smell of onions sauteing in butter. I love the smell of a cake baking, I love the smell of Hyacinths. I love the smell of spring or before it snows.
26. What are you afraid of? See previous post about irrational fears. My rational fears? In no particular order: Scary dogs not on a leash. Creepy men (and, you know the kind I am talking about). Loosing someone in my family. Going broke.
27. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheesy turkey burgers. The only beef burger I will eat is from 96th Street Hamburgers, about twice a year.
28. Favorite dog breed? Golden Retriever
29. Number of keys on your key ring ? house, garage, car and others to who knows what!
30. How many years at your current job? 6
31. Favorite day of the week? Tuesday
32. How many states have you lived in? Two...Indiana and Pennsylvania.
33. Favorite holiday? Christmas

Day 11: Unpop Culture

I read all kinds of lists on blogs, but most of them I am not qualified to create for myself. For example, I saw a recent post of "pop culture" on www.withoutrythm.blogspot.com. She answered questions like favorite movie quote, favorite song from the 80s and favorite song intro. Okay, I cannot even name a song with an intro...see how non-pop culture I am?

You should see how many quotes she has listed from movies! I cannot even name five movies in theaters right now. The last movie I saw in a theater? I don't even remember. The last movie I watched on On-Demand? Probably The 40-Year Old Virgin. I don't really like movies as I don't seem to have the attention span for them. And, quite frankly there are so few that at the end, I feel like they were worth the investment of even half of my time. Walk the Line, okay, Walk the Line was awesome!

Favorite 80s song? Well, music really isn't my thing. I have plenty of timeless groups/artists that I love (U2, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, anything Motown or Philly-sound, and miscellaneous other artists that provide occasional listening pleasure. But, for the most part, I listed almost exclusively to NPR or Radio Disney when my kids are in the car. So, that means I am singing along to Arron Carter, Hannah Montana, Ashley Simpson, and Jesse McCartney. My favorite Radio Disney repeat these days is that song, "Unwritten." An ipod is simply an unnecessary investment for me.

Besides, in the the 80s, I was listening to anything but 80s music. Neil Young, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Bob Dylan, the Dead. I think the bottom line is I have never been in touch with pop culture and long ago gave up hope of every being in touch with it. I love to read People Magazine, but I know who less than 25% of those people are or what they are famous for. On top of it, I am not a black and white person--"Favorite" as in just pick one? Nope, that doesn't work for me. Never have been much of a "choose one" kind of girl.

I think I have come to accept the fact that I live in my own little word for culture and it ain't anywhere near pop. but, that is okay. I am sure I have lots of other great things to offer the world beyond the name of my favorite 80s hair band.

Day 10: Six...I Mean, One Degree of Separation

So, I am still here in Nashville at this conference. It is not too great. Enjoying the time away and taking a break from my daily responsibilities, but the conference itself sort of sucks. I think it hit me this morning that what I do is much different than what most of the people here do. I don't think these folks are exactly my "peers." I don't have much in common with them, I don't think. And, I don't mean that in an arrogant way, even if it may sound that way. I just mean it it in the sense that my primary focus is on something else, something different than most of these folks.

Now, the story I want to share. I am totally fascinated with the theory of six degrees of separation. And because I frequently strike up conversation with strangers, I always experience it...and I love it. Last night, I was having dinner in the hotel restaurant alone. I got a tasty glass of wine and was just relaxing, enjoying the moment. A woman was seated two tables down from me, also alone and obviously here for the same conference I was. She ordered and then I struck up conversation with her and invited her down to have dinner at my table.

She joined me and we went through introductions. She said she was from Springfield, Missouri. Wow, I said, that is amazing, my brother went to school in Springfield. Springfield is not the biggest city, so it was a bit of a coincidence. I told her my brother was a pastor and did his undergrad at Evangel College and went to seminary at the Assemblies of God seminary in Springfield. "That's where I work," she said.

Oh my goodness...I told her my brothers name and SHE KNOWS HIM! The world really is a small place. I love it!

Day 9: Me and My Irrational Fears

I admittedly have several totally irrational fears. In fact, for those of you who know me know that I have many oddities about my personality (but that is why you love me :)). Now, before we judge, let's just admit that we all have them...some more than others and some stranger than others, but we all have them. And, they certainly don't stop me from functioning, but they are thoughts that go through my head during certain routine tasks. Today I am going to share some of my most irrational fears (why am I doing this, I have no idea).

I remember about fifteen years ago, I remember watching Oprah one day when she had rape victims on. This young woman told her story and it forever stuck with me. She took a shower in the middle of the day at home and when she turned it off and opened the curtain, there was a man standing there. He grabbed her and violently raped her, then got up and left. To this day, I hate taking a shower at home, during the day or night, when no one else is home. I swear I always here things and peak out of the curtain to try and reassure myself no one is out there.

One night, we had dinner at someone's house with three other couples that we didn't know. Two of the three were memorably odd. One of those odd couples told the story of their young daughter tripping in the kitchen and falling backwards into the open dishwasher. The dishwasher was open, as they were loading it after a big steak dinner. In the silverware tray on the bottom shelf were several steak knives, which plunged into the back of their daughter's leg as she fell into the dishwasher. They said she stood up and several knives were sticking out of the back of her leg. Never forgot that story! I hate knives in the dishwasher (first of all, it is bad for the knives, but second of all--this!) and get nervous when my kids run through the kitchen as I am loading. I even make sure I put "sharper" dinner knives with the tip down.

Another one...kids in the bath tub. I don't have any "babies" any more and often walk out of the room briefly while the boys are in the bath (Sam and Andy usually take a bath together). Trust me, I can hear that they are okay; they are very active in the bathtub. Even though I can hear them in there and know they are fine, I always fear when I turn the corner into the bathroom I will find someone face down in the tub. I must know what I am doing is slightly risky and therefore expect the worse when I return. Of course, I never have thank God.

I have an irrational fear of anything related to vehicles backing up. Either me in a parking lot (it takes me a while to back out because I have to check so many times to make sure I won't hit something) or me or anyone else in the driveway where the kids are playing. I will be inside working on dinner, hear Jeff start a car and have to fight the urge to go out there and check to make sure no one is behind the car. This fear obviously stems from the number of running over stories I have heard over the years, including the one of an IPD officer (like my husband) who ran over his daughter. Typically, our policy is to take the smallest, hardest to keep an eye on child in the car with us as as back up. But, I still fear an accident. Maybe this one isn't so irrational.

Finally, my fears of vomit. This one is so bad, it is less like an irrational fear and more like a full-blown clinical phobia. In fact, it is a whole entry within itself. One day, I will take the time and the risk of disclosing my lunacy on this issue. On the irrational fear side, I would say it is safe to say some of my peripheral vomit phobia fears focus on issues like someone throwing up in the movie theater or at a restaurant, etc.

So, how about you? Got any irrational fears, anything that you know as a rational human being is most likely NOT what is going to happen, but that your subconscious still reminds you of? Public speaking? (I love that) Fear of heights? (I am sort of with you on that one, and it isn't too irrational, as hello....people die when they fall from high places) Fear of clowns or bananas?

Day 8: Nashville

I arrived in Nashville tonight with two colleagues for a conference. I am exhausted...up since 4AM this morning, traveling, out to dinner, and moving hotel rooms three times. Yup...three times. As soon as I arrived in my room, I went to the bathroom and flushed the toilet and could tell something was wrong (just pee, folks). I had to flush three times just to get the toilet paper down.

I called the front desk, they sent up maintenance (or "engineers" as they call them in hotels). He said they would need to come tomorrow morning and replace the toilet. The whole toilet! My colleague, Stacie told me I really needed to change rooms. I called the front desk, they said they could move me and already unpacked I said let me think about it. I rested for a bit before we headed out to dinner. Then, pee again before we left. The toilet was even worse, I thought for sure it was going to overflow. Stacie is right, I had to change rooms.

I did, and they clearly "down-graded" me and put me on a smoking floor (nonsmoking wing of a smoking floor--whatever--it stank). I asked to be moved again. Well, I got an even wierder room, but I am going to make the most of it (or try). I am seriously disappointed. It's a Lowes hotel and I had seriously higher expectations. Lowes are usually very upscale and contemporary. This almost looks like it used to be something else and they turned it into a Lowe's. Either way, I am here.

More tomorrow, I hope. I am too tired tonight!

Day 7: Phillip's Fall Photo Journal

Here are some of Phillip's shots on a fall afternoon. In about twenty minutes with the camera (yes...our Nikon D70) Phillip took over fifty pictures. I will spare you the details and just share some highlights.














This is me in the tree, preparing to jump into the leaf pile. The boys do this and it just looked like so much fun. Of course, I got stuck in the tree and had a big bruise and scrap on my thigh.













Here is a shot of Andy walking through the leaf pile waiting for Samuel to climb and jump.













Samuel heading up the tree ladder.
















Andrew enjoying someone's bottle of water (of unknown age, but at least days old).















This is a fascinating shot. Only to be out done by the next.




























Finally, a view of the beautiful blue sky...a sky like this is part of what makes fall in Indiana so spectacular.

Day 6: Three Uses for Pumpkin

I love baking in the fall. Warm breads, tasty treats, the smell of cinnamon. I spent yesterday morning baking several fall treats. I love anything pumpkin. Here are three uses for canned organic pumpkin puree (not pumpkin pie filling).

1) Ginger Pumpkin Bread with Glazed Vanilla Icing (Phillip and Sam's pick).

2) Pumpkin Cake with Honey Icing (Jeff's pick).

3) A laxative for your dog. It's true. If your dog is constipated or needs to pass an object they have swallowed (like our old Golden who would eat anything, including bars of soap), give them a can of pumpkin puree.

See? Now you know. I saved you a $145 trip to the vet!

Day 5: Shabbat Shalom

We spent Friday night at my dad's house enjoying Shabbat dinner. Shabbat dinner is a celebration marking the beginning of the Sabbath, starting Friday at sundown (Sabbath for Jews is Saturday). It is an evening of relaxation, great food, a little ceremony and prayer, some wine and time with family. We had a great time.

The boys were "good," meaning from some people's standards, they probably looked more like wild animals, but they displayed relative restraint, periodic listening and most importantly, a real enthusiasm for just being there. My dad and his wife relocated to Indianapolis in May from Miami. When I think back to just a year ago, I never imagined I would be huddled up in my dad's house on a crisp Friday night sharing food and drink by the light of a fire. The boys were supposed to spend the night, but had changed their minds by evenings end. In time, I am sure they will be ready and more than willing.

I am so happy to have my dad here with me again. Most importantly, this further expands my children's network of unique adults who care for and love them deeply. Differences are important to me, so I am pleased that the experience for them of my dad's house is so greatly different than the experience at my mother-in-law's house or even my mom's house. Each member of their circle offers amazing and unique gifts to share with them, important lessons to teach them, and admirable qualities to instill in them.

They need to have many examples to choose from when deciding what kind of person they want to be. What I must do is provide the best examples I can, and for me...that is our family.

Jeff's mom brings to the table a traditional sense of family life, a real "Granny," a view of all things old-fashioned and lots of junk food. I am not sure "no" is in her vocabulary and she lets them stay up past 10PM! when they spend the night (they are almost always in bed by 8AM at home). Those are important things to experience.

My mom offers a lifestyle much different than ours. An apartment downtown, lots of pretty things to look at, an interest in building their individual personality and nurturing the distinct spirits in each. They walk, play in the park, play on the computer and actually try new foods (healthy foods). She brings a sense of relaxation, a total absence of urgency (unlike me who is always rushing from one thing to the next), and a spirit of curiosity.

My dad and his wife bring a worldly view of culture, religion, creativity and exploration. They teach the boys to look, notice and think. Ineke lets the boys try things above and beyond their limits, even if it means failure just so they can try and experience. They encourage creativity and my dad plays along with their silly games and endless potty humor.

Just the inner-most core of our large family circle, each of these individuals has qualities that I admire and that are critical to making my children into whole people, who will go on to do great things.

Day 4: The Cucumber's Uncertain Future

I walked into Wild Oats today with a Lesbian couple probably in their late 60s. At some point during their shopping in the crowded produce section, they became separated.

Lesbian #1: Honey...Sweetheart, over here.

No response.

Lesbian #1: Sweetie, over here, I am over here sweetie.

No response.

Lesbian #1: Honey, honey...(hands waving).

Lesbian #2: Oh, I couldn't find you.

She says as she rounds the corner holding a giant cucumber.

Day 3: 1-800-588-2300...Empire Today!

Have you heard that commercial before for Empire Carpet? Totally annoying commercials, yes. But I love Empire Carpet. About three years ago, we had just finished our first go-around of remodeling. The carpet in the family room was the last item on my list. It was berber. I HATE berber. It feels incredibly synthetic on your feet, traps dirt and is less than warm and snuggly to stretch out on in front of the fire.
It had to go. But, going to look at carpet was as appealing as a root canal. I saw an ad for Empire, saw they had like 24-months no payments, no interest. I scheduled the appointment for the next day at my house. The guy came out, he was super and very easy to work with. They really did bring the samples to my house and I could look at them in the very room the carpet was going to go in! It was wonderful.

We bought a mid-level carpet and yes...they really came and installed it the next day. Their contracted installers were polite, clean and quick. It looked beautiful. I couldn't believe it was really THAT easy!

We don't allow shoes in the house (I once read an article about the amount of lead you track in your house each year on the bottom of your shoes...that was it, no more shoes) and the kids cannot eat in front of the television, so the carpet stayed relatively clean, with the exception of the time Phillip threw up on it and the various spots where a naked potty trainer or baby would pee (okay and poo a time or two as well).

But, soon, mystery spots started to appear in places no one had peed, pooped or thrown up. In fact, I got the throw up stain out completely (with Capture carpet cleaner). Every six months or so, Chem-Dry would come and clean the carpets. The stains would disappear for a few weeks, but then they would always start to reappear. The carpet cleaner always had some lame excuse about what the stain was..."It is a sugary stain, must be apple juice." Likely story in a house with three children, but my kids don't even drink juice!

Finally, I switched carpet cleaning companies as I thought maybe I need the "deep clean" of Stanley Steemer. They went on and on about how horrible Chem-Dry is and restored the carpet to its original beauty. Then, they sold me on some "maintenance package" that was an extra $150. Soon, the stains were back.

Finally, the carpet started to look so bad I was embarrassed. I decided to call Empire and complain. I called the 1-800 number nearly three years after I bought the carpet. The operator took my name and number and said she would have the local office call me. I didn't have much faith in that one. Within a few hours, they called. I briefly explained the dilemma and said I knew it sounded strange, but it was true.

Within a few hours of that, they were here to inspect the carpet. He examined, smelled, measured, etc. We discussed how often I had it cleaned, the pattern of the stains, the size and appearance. He agreed that it appeared strange.

He brought in samples for me to look at in the event they were going to replace it. I picked out a new carpet (very similar to what we had) and he said he would be back in touch in a day or two. The next day, he called to say they were replacing the entire carpet and pad for free...Could they come tomorrow to get the job done. No arguing, no speaking to a supervisor, no letter-writing, no questions...just replacing the whole thing!

The installers came and once again, got the job done (these guys did even better work than the first guys). The installer echoed my thoughts on Empire and said they were a great company. He said that carpet can have defects during manufacturing, especially if you have stain protectent put on (as we did). It can clump in areas and actually end up attracting dirt. Or, he said, it could have just been a bad run of carpet. Either way, he said, the stains didn't look right to him either.

Amazing in 2006 to get that kind of service from a large national company, or any company for that matter. So, the next time you need carpet, call 1-800-588-2300, Empire Today!

BEFORE

AFTER

Day 2: Halloween

Halloween around here is a big deal. Of course, when I was little, trick-or-treating was a big deal. Halloween was still an innocent holiday focused on dressing up, pumpkins, and of course candy. In recent years, it has seem to become a religious holiday--according to those who don't celebrate it.

I never ever remember someone when we were little not celebrating Halloween because "its the devil's holiday." But, today it seems to be a hobby of many evangelical to share the good news with the children of the world that Halloween is the devil's holiday. Please, spare yourself. My kids love it and as long as I can keep that influence away from them, I will. It is amazing but true, after trick-or-treating my whole life, I am still not a Satan worshiper.

And so the adventure begins...Pumpkins? Check. Scary porch? Check. Costumes for the kids? Check. Costumes for mom and dad? Check.

Yes...I have started to dress up again. Part of the fun for me was always creating the costume and making it myself, whatever it was. I was Diana Ross, a punk rocker, a giant baby, a pair of dice with my friend, and even a sequined belly dancer that I sewed myself (couldn't have been older than thirteen at the time). Of course, I quit dressing up for a long time until two years ago when Phillip asked me what I was going to be. You think I need to dress up, I asked. Oh yes, he replied. And there folks, is where I was reunited with my love for costume creation.

Halloween is also a big deal around here because it is Samuel's birthday. I tried so hard to push him out before midnight, I really didn't want a Halloween baby, but it has turned out just fine. In the late afternoon we opened presents, here he is with his new soccer ball. He wanted this thing forever!













Then, we had buttermilk pancakes for dinner (his request), got our outfits on, sang happy birthday and ate cake. I made Samuel an ice cream cake--it has birthday cake smashed inside of it; inspired by Cold Stone Creamery's Birthday Cake ice cream.













Then lots of pictures and heading out for trick-or-treating. Nevermind the appearance of the porch. It is new and currently under construction (hence the absence of cedar siding around the front door). Andrew is in a police costume I originally sewed for Phillip (Sam wore it too). He kept pointing at it saying, "Daddy." Yes, I would tell him, you look just like Daddy!










































Jeff was a cowboy, but it was so cold, he had to wear a coat. And here is my costume...(Mary, doesn't this remind you of that time we..okay...I put that wig on in Philly and we took all of those crazy pictures...only this time, I wasn't smoking anything). Pajamas, bathroom, face mask, slippers and curlers.













It was funny, as I could tell many kids were unsure if it was a costume or not. Phillip originally told me not to do it, as it would "be too embarrassing." But, I was warm, comfy, cleared away blackheads and rehydrated my skin with an avocado mask. Sweet little Andrew, so confused by the whirlwind of celebrations would say "Happy Birthday" instead of trick-or-treat.

We had a steady flow of tricker-treaters here. Once the boys returned they were in charge of the door. They enjoyed that just as much as going out. One would open the door, one would scoop out the candy and put it in the bags and the littlest one would stand behind them and go "whooohoooo" at the costumes, with a little "Happy Birthday" thrown in there every once in a while.

At the end of it all, the boys sort their candy. They have yet to do that this year because we couldn't keep Andrew out of it long enough for them to sort it. That will have to be done one day during Andrew's nap or in a separate room under lock and key. I don't think I have ever seen a two-year-old so nuts about candy! So, anyway, they sort into two piles: keep and Candy Fairy. They turn the Candy Fairy bag in to us and we take it to Toys R' Us where the Candy Fairy lives and exchange it for a toy. The more the bag weighs, the bigger the toy they get. Hmm...works quite nicely for all holidays involving excessive candy.

At the end of the day, I tucked Samuel into bed and he said, "I had the happiest birthday" and planted a big wet kiss on my lips. What a wonderful boy.

A Post a Day in November: Day 1

Here is the first entry in the "a post a day in November" contest. You better read and comment...here we go.

Our week has been off to a great start around here. Yesterday, Phillip spent Monday afternoon down at my dad's wife's studio. She is a professional artist and has a studio in the Stutz building. He painted and drew all afternoon. He was focused, creative, and very intentional in his efforts. While I try not to be like this, I am so happy he has taken an interest in art. I love making and doing art and always have. My parents (both creative) nurtured that side of my brain and encouraged exploration.

I had an "art room" across from my bedroom, which was the spare room with a drafting table and oodles of real art supplies, plus all the junk I saved to make art with. I took classes at the Indianapolis Art League (now the Art Center...and the place where I had my first grown-up job). But, Phillip was never much into making stuff when he was little. His preschool teacher would tell me that he rarely chose art during free time. She assured me that was right on track for four-year-old boys, but I was always disappointed. (Yes, yes, I do certainly recognize the creativity involved in Lego play).

Now, he has developed an interest in it. He frequently asks for paper and pencil at home, draws elaborate pictures and describes his vision to us in detail, then asks for help spelling words for a title, such as his picture of life under the sea, entitled: God's Sea Creatures. There are the many Army scenes, but you should see this kid draw a helicopter! And the one he drew earlier this week of police chasing a bad guy with the police dog, but it had footprints, people, the dog-it was a real scene!

On the way home from the studio, he told me how much fun he had drawing so much and how nice it was to be alone in that quite place to draw. I am so glad he has discovered the joy of making art. I think creativity is such an important thing to nurture, it is just flat out handy in life to be creative and able to dream, visualize and conceptualize ideas. But it isn't something you can really "learn" in school. You sort of either got it or you don't. And, in my family, the creativity gene runs very strong; looks like at least ones got it!

A Walk in the Woods

A beautiful fall weekend in Indiana. The leaves are in full display of their fall colors. I love the orange, red and bursts of yellow. It seems to start so slowly, then all of the sudden, they are almost gone. Right on time, though. I always remember Halloween night when I was a girl, walking across the yards in my neighborhood, kicking leaves even in my costumes.

We couldn't resist this weekend, despite the fact that is was a little colder than usual, we headed off for a hike. Samuel was with his Grammy, out to lunch in celebration of his upcoming Halloween birthday. So it was just the four of us.

We went to one of our favorites, nearby Fort Ben State Park. The forest was beautiful and we kicked the leaves all along the trail.

Phillip took his explorer pack that included a jar in case he found any interest bugs so he could collect them and show them to his friend Graham. While the bugs were not out, we still had a wonderful hike. Thanks for a wonderful day!

Bye Bye, Baby..Bye Bye

Can you believe it? I am actually updating my blog. No sense spending a bunch of time on catching you up on the past few weeks. Let's just say it was hectic, mostly with work, but also with some family obligations (the good kind). Although, I am in good company. Seems as if many of my favorite bloggers are on a temporary slow-down.

Get this...I am participating in this blog entry every day in November deal. There are prizes, but I have no idea what they are. They say...but it is all Greek to me as they are related to technology and serious blog publishing. So, I am not in it for the prizes, more for the discipline and challenge of entering something every day.

Now on to this entry. I kissed my baby goodbye last Tuesday as he turned 2. I just cannot believe it. No more babies, for real. His skin is still soft, his hands, wrists and feet still stubby and chunky with delicious and kissable baby fat. His hair is still baby silk and his tummy still as round as a pregnant woman in her third trimester. But, his mouth is full of teeth, he prefers to walk most of the time instead of being carried and he talks using real words that communicate feelings, wants and needs. "More milk please." "Where's Daddy?" "Ohhh....Hi, Kitty!" "I want num [gum]." "Where's Elmo?"

Yes...gum. I know he is only just two, but have you ever handed out gum to two older siblings and been able to get it by a bossy two-year-old who is seriously convinced he is at least four? I just give him the tiniest little corner of a piece..honestly.

He is still yummy, but it is slipping away. Turning two and heading toward three is the beginning of the end (and the beginning of the beginning of the rest of the beginning...I know it is not the end, but certainly the end of the baby chapter). When Phillip was born, I wasn't crazy about the whole baby thing. It got so much easier for me by the time he was slightly more independent and could somewhat communicate, even with just expressions (say around 6 months). But, by the time Andrew was born, I had let much of that newborn/infant angst go and loved every second of it.

Perspective is responsible for a lot of that. I try to tell all of the women I know who have their first baby that is it hard in the beginning, but they should hold on to the fact that one day...sooner than they may think...that baby will thank them with a big, adorable, gummy smile. That baby will want only its mommy to hold him. That baby will work hard to crawl across a room just to climb into your arms. Then, it all starts to make sense (at least for me).

Magic are the moments you make them feel good, needed, loved, warm, safe, and comforted. Touched by the hand of God is the love between a mother and child. And each child so different than the others. Andrew has a spirit that reminds me of Sam and Phillip combined. He is so different than he was the day he was born.

Seems obvious I am sure, but before I go to bed, I stop in to see Phillip and Samuel sleeping and I still see that baby's face I studied so often while nursing them. Phillip's soft curvy nose and rosy cheeks. Samuel's furrowed brow and perfect little mouth. But, Andrew is so different than he was and his personality is, while incredibly wonderful and strong, much different than I thought it would be. I am not sure I have ever seen a two-year-old truly enjoy his birthday so much.

He loved to open the presents, got excited clapped his hands as the paper revealed his new treasures. He concentrated as we sang Happy Birthday and worked hard to blow out each of the two candles. He licked his plate clean of cake and icing and then, right back to playing with his new toys.

When it was all over, we heard that familiar silence heard mostly only on Christmas morning at our house, when everyone is busy playing quietly with their new toys. He went to bed happy as a peach, no doubt feeling safe, secure and loved by his big, loud family.

Long Overdue

A new post is long overdue and is forthcoming. But for now, check out Jeff's blog which has exactly what I would have posted on my blog (if I had time and he hadn't already posted it). For Father's Day and his birthday, I got him a history flight (www.historyflight.com). The flight was last Friday...he had a great time and it was wonderfully fulfilling to watch his excitment. Check it out at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com.

More later (really).

Do You Keep Score?

We had some long-time friends over for dinner last night with their little girl. We enjoyed a nice meal, had some great conversation, shared some wine and the kids happily played together. When they were leaving, my friend said next, we come to her house. We both looked at each other and sort of laughed.

A nice life they have indeed, a beautiful and sweet mild-mannered two-year old in a pretty house--all seemingly manageable. Here? Three boys in often loud, chaos that involves weapons, a sharp eye for anything breakable, plenty of wrestling and always farts. Do you really want to have us over?

While I concede we don't always make great company at "your house" it isn't just the kids. I spend my entire visit at someone else's house scanning the room for potential towering launch pads for bodies, breakable treasures that seem to have blinking lights on them flashing "Get me, Sam!" and apologizing profusely. A good time had by all? Most often not.

Maybe we should go more places so they learn to behave, but I am sure that will come in time. For now, they are little boys and too many rules just makes for lots of conflict. Conflict makes for frustration and frustration makes for punching! Don't even ask me to take them to a restaurant, I will likely laugh right in your face (unless there is outdoor seating).

While I don't usually enjoy myself at the home of others (unless the kids are home with the babysitter), it sure is nice to be invited. We do a fair amount of entertaining here, which I love. I have shared before how much I love to have a great meal with friends. But, it seems as most often, the invitation to someone else's house is never extended.

I try to think that not everyone likes to entertain like I do, but then, being the obsessively-insecure-about-any-kind-of-relationship-outside-of-my-marriage kind of girl that I am, I obsess and think they don't like us. I think they came over here, we chatted over dinner and they didn't have a good time and decided they didn't like us. But really, I think it is more that people just don't like to have people over any more.

Do you keep score? (That is a hint to comment, all you stealth blog-readers). Do you expect a return invitation if you welcome someone in your home? I certainly don't want the invitation if it is nothing more than a formality, a "now we have to have them over to our house." Trust me, it is no picnic in the park to have us over (unless we are outdoors, then all of the above doesn't apply and the boys are great). So, the invitation itself has become just as good as the actual event.

In other words, just getting invited makes me feel validated. Then, I usually talk them in to coming back over here. Not a martyr, just want to actually enjoy myself and that is most often done in our own home where anything they break, I know I already paid for.

More Summer Vacation

I had intended to update this sooner and finish out the discussion about vacation...but I should know better by now. I am just not reliable! Here are some more photos of summer vacation.

The weather was not great, rarely any sunshine all week, which made the lake seem very cold (and it was). The overcast skies and strong wind made the surf extremely rough, the beach was red-flagged every day we were there (that means no swimming). Of course, the boys swam some along the shoreline. I love this picture Jeff took at Tunnel Park beach.




















One day, while Samuel was off with Oma and Grandpa, Jeff and I took a very long bike ride along the south shore of the lake with Phillip and Andrew in my bike's trailer (a heavy load indeed). The bike ride ended at the marina only to discover, thanks to some local folks, that there was a foot path all the way out to the lighthouse, Big Red. We walked, played a little in the water and rode home. A great morning!














The dune was beautiful and the lighthouse was worth the walk. Nice little beach to wade in the water (unless you're Phillip, who almost always gets all the way in).














A trip to the dune rides just outside of Saugatuck was beautiful. We saw deer, wild turkeys and beautiful views of the dunes with a backdrop of Lake Michigan.














A three mile round trip hike in the woods brought us on to this beautiful beach on Lake Michigan in Dunes State Park. Rough and cold water, but boys who were soaking wet and sand-covered.














Here is how Andrew spent most of his vacation...doing the Neste plunge into the sand, followed by several roles around in it. It was funny, but made for a messy boy every day we were within 50 yards of sand. It took a few days to get all of the sand out of his ears.














We left Holland after five days and headed to our second stop, Oscoda. Let's just say it sucked. I could give you a long list of all of the disastrous things about Oscoda (one of which is the "keep out" sign and mysterious puddle on the beach at the house next to us--can you say combined sewer overflow?), but we will wrap it up by saying we stayed one night and headed to a Westin in Detroit (with a full refund from the spot in Oscoda).

Detroit was fantastic! A ton to do, including the Motown Museum which gives you a tour of where it all started, up close and personal. You tour Barry Gordy's apartment, see the desk where Diana Ross answered the phone and then into the recording studio where it ALL happened. You can touch the piano little Stevie Wonder played, we stood where the Jackson 5 recorded, and much more. A fantastic tiny museum and a really big deal to me--a huge Motown fan.

The Detroit Zoo is beautiful and huge. We stayed there for two nights, but still didn't do everything we wanted to. The highlight was certainly The Henry Ford, an amazing complex created by Ford, including Greenfield Village--worth every penny. It is simply amazing. We didn't get to see everything we wanted to there, so will certainly go back (I discovered a Ritz right near by :)). Our Henry Ford experience ended with an amazing tour of the Rouge, the largest manufacturing facility and the site of much of Ford's history, as well as a tour of the new F-150 plant. I am not a Ford girl, but it is moving to see industry at work in the U.S. I am certainly very intrigued by Ford and have added a book about him to my must read list.

Here are Jeff and the boys at Greenfield Village in the artisan part, we watched medal smithing, glass blowing, printing, pottery, and much more! This is a very special place.














One of my nicknames bestowed upon me by my loving husband is Leona Helmsley. Yes, the witchy hotel owner who practically whipped her staff if standards every fell below perfection. I am a serious hotel snob, thanks to my childhood days. I feel most at home in anything with four stars and above.

The Westin was great, with its plush robes, heavenly beds and heavenly shower heads. And of course, the best thing in life...room service! The boys had their own room adjoining ours and loved it to pieces. Just like I did when I was little (only I didn't give them the minibar key so they could eat a $3.00 package of M&Ms). Ahhh....














We had so many great pictures from the trip. You really cannot go wrong with the Nikon D70, it makes everyone feel like a pro photographer. For more vacation photos and for photos of Samuel, not even four yet, now riding his bike without training wheels, visit Jeff's blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com.

Good news on that front--he returns to light duty today. More later (well, maybe more soon..).

What I Did on my Summer Vacation

Instead of one long post about our vacation, which I really rather not rehash in full detail and in response to my husband who thinks my blog entries are too heavy, I will provide a series of entries that chronologically document our vacation in photos (with a little narrative).

So here are the first few days...

We headed to Holland, Michigan. The drive was about 4 1/2 hours. Jeff thought the drive was great, but I thought it was an eternity, as I heard my name more than 1,000 times in that 4 hours. Mom, mom, mom, mommy, mom, mama, mama, mommy, mom. And, the car was packed--oh, I am sorry, the van was packed, so that should be a pretty good indication of how much stuff we took.

I usually don't take this much stuff, but figured since we were only going four hours away, instead of the usual 16+ to the west coast of Florida, I could take more--including a ton of food so I didn't have to buy it there and I could help ensure we continued to eat pretty healthy stuff. The food took up a lot of room. So did all of the beach crap (where we go in Florida, we know what they have--chairs, umbrella, etc. so we don't take anything). And we took our bikes on the new bike rack. We were totally loaded down.

We arrived safely and the house we rented turned out to be rather nice. We arrived around 4:00, so we settled in a bit and then headed off for a dinner out and to the grocery store. The next day, we spent shopping in downtown Holland. They have a street of very cute and unique stores with stuff you would actually want to buy (not just vacation/tourist crap). We had lunch at a local micro brewery and eventually headed back to the house for exhausted Andy to nap and to meet my dad and his wife who were joining us.

A Revelation

At the close of my last entry, I think I had a revelation about my body image issues. It isn't so much about wanting to be accepted by boys (although that period in my life was still traumatic and difficult), it is more about wanting to be accepted by girls.

I have always had a difficult time maintaining friendships with females. I don't know why, but I just sort of suck at it (and I am sure if I thought hard enough about it I could figure out some reasons why I suck at it). I was one of those girls who my best friends in high school were always boys. I had a hard time relating to girls my age, and I still find successfully maintaining female relationships one of my greatest challenges.

So, now I see that perhaps feeling skinny makes me feel more powerful than other women in the room, sending a message that I don't need them to like me. Hmmm. This sounds a bit crazy, but I think I am on to something. In fact, I am certain there was a point in my adult life when I picked friends who were "worse off" than me because I felt they needed me more and wouldn't leave me for better opportunities.

That said, this also goes back to that same period of my life (around 5th to 7th grade) where I had a huge and devastating shift in friends. The move from fifth grade in our elementary school to sixth grade in the junior high merged our small group of friends with kids from other elementary schools. Somehow, lots of them knew each other and new clicks formed, that did not necessarily include me. Then, my life-long best friend that had moved away (and we were still friends long distance) moved back, and for some reason, we were not really friends again. My only other friends developed interests that I did not share and I sort of found it difficult to fit in there too.

Like I said, I am still challenged by my female friendships. In fact, in my mind, I seem to always wait for my friends to leave me. I worry and fret over the state of friendships and work hard to do the best I can in them, but I still feel as though things are temporary and investing is dangerous. Sometimes I think I invest too much too earlier and I scare friends away, then I think that is crazy, just follow the path of the relationship as it naturally develops and I do that (sometimes with success, sometimes not).

I do think I have made significant progress in this area over the past few years and now have several successful friendships (but, I will confess that this issue was a topic of some counseling while I was pregnant with Samuel and I have only recently succeeded in the past few years due to conscious effort). Anyway, the point is is that I really think that my body image issues stem from my need or desire to be accepted and included in that mainstream "girlfriend" culture, which I feel I have always been on the outside of. Enough.

A Response

A post in response to several comments I got from my post on body image (several were via email instead of posting comments on Blogger). Of course I know the weight and body image is not the real issue...I watch Oprah, you know.

But, the deeper image still focuses on my physical body. Trust me when I say I am confident with the person I am, despite how others may feel about my personality "challenges," I am happy about who I have become and recognize those very things others may find offensive, worrisome, etc. are the same personality traits that make me determined, successful, creative, and passionate.

Now, that doesn't mean I am always proud of my behavior or think I always act the way I should--not so. I do get embarrassed about some of my choices, stressful moments, snaps, and grumbles (examples of this will be found in upcoming posts about our recent vacation). I am happy with me. I am still working on many things, and always will be, but I like me. What I don't always like is my body. Why? Because early in adolescence, I was quite the short and fat kid, and quite frankly, a late bloomer. I remember 7th grade as the worst year for this and I believe that much of my body image issues relate to this time in my life--coupled with choices later in my early years to confuse sex for love (have we had that conversation yet? Maybe not...my dad reads this blog).

In 7th grade, I started to like boys. But, one boy (who I didn't like) was particularly cruel to me. Andrew Cassis, I am sure he is a loser today, but at the time, he was one of the ring leaders of the popular group of athletic boys (I grew up in a very sports focused town). 7th grade is the first time I wore a bra. One day, Andrew Cassis went to snap my bra strap (a favorite past-time of junior high boys) and there wasn't anything there. He took that and ran with it. I finally convinced my mother I needed a bra (even though I really didn't) and she bought me one.

I remember the first day I wore it as I spent probably almost an hour picking out the perfect shirt to wear with it (it was a pink oversized oxford with printing on the back--hey, it was the 80's). I wanted it to show a little, I really did--this was a big moment--but I didn't want it to look like I wanted it to show. I waited for Andrew to see it and he did, and I couldn't wait for him to snap it, hoping I would meet the threshold of acceptance and the taunting would stop. He snapped...and then, taunted me for weeks that I was wearing a bra.

Meanwhile, (on the homefront, I was watching my horny teenage brother treat women like meat and focus on their physical appearance. I would hear him and his friends talk about girls, bodies, boobs, and football--that was it (until one day he became a serious Christian...yet another story for another day). I wanted so bad to have that level of acceptance that the popular kids did and I thought for sure if I was just taller and skinnier, I would. But, I was always on the fringe of the popular group, never right in it. We lived in a very middle to upper class community and competition for material things was steep. I often had many of my schoolmates beat in that department, but somehow got made fun of for it instead of accepted for it.

For example, Jordache jeans were the thing...everyone wore them very tight and cut off with scissors (fringy) on the bottom. My mom wouldn't buy them for me. Instead, I wore Guess jeans, which at the time we had to drive to Chicago to buy. And, the result...they made fun of my jeans. I swear. One day, my dad picked me up at school in his car and an Andrew Cassis groupy happened to see it and guess what? They teased me because my dad's car was an expensive foreign car.

Things continued to get worse during 8th and 9th grade, until I resolved that I couldn't go to the big public high school with these dicks. I didn't play sports, wasn't a cheerleader, had become a terrible student and feared the social pressures of the high school. My parents were very supportive and we investigated several alternatives. Found one and I went. But, some of the same problems persisted (at least in my head). The small private school had a much different culture, but I still was stuck with the mindset that I needed to look a certain way to be popular. While this time I was more in the popular group, I was still a bit fringy because I joined late (these folks had been schooled together at private schools for years). To me, it was most likely my physical appearance that kept me on the fringe.

This sort of started my path during my late adolescence and early twenties of confusing sex for love and acceptance. Not to say I didn't have any successful relationships with guys before getting married, they were not often rooted in love, but rather gaining acceptance. I am sure by now, you get the point and further details forward won't be possible at this point or on this blog because my dad reads this. Maybe one day I can share more about this challenging journey I embarked on from this point forward, which still leaves me concerned about the appearance of my body as a measure of acceptance--and quite frankly, as a means to separate myself from other women in the room, who I have always felt less than accepted by.

P.S. I thought Nicole Richie looked good, but in a recent photo, she now looks horrible and far, far too skinny even for me!

New Post, but Old News

I posted my previous entry that I had drafted and hated. But, because I saved it as a post, it was sort of archived and you will need to scroll down past the two most recent entries to find it. I titled it Old News (which, at this point is exactly what it is).

Celebrity Weight Loss Secrets

I must find them out.

Remember the first time you heard your own voice on the telephone…maybe you listened to a message you left on an answering machine (back in the day), or tape recorded your voice with a cassette recorder (that is really back in the day). I remember. And, I remember thinking that is not me. No way, that is not my voice. I hear my voice differently than everyone else.

Just like my voice, I see my body differently than others. When I was growing up, my two best friends were A) a girl who was a bean-pole and B) a girl who was almost a tiny doll. Here I was short and chubby. I remember being in the doctor’s office and him telling my mom that she had to cut the Pepsi (which was the one junkie thing we were allowed to have). I also remember it helped. So did growing four inches my freshman year in college.

But still, I had body issues as an adult. Then came pregnancy and child birth. I have weighed within ten pounds of the same weight since high school (obviously not while pregnant, but I always lose the weight). But, the parts of my body that bothered me then, still bother me now: my Jewish booty, my birthing hips, and my thunder thighs. I hate them, or at least am obsessed with stewing over them.

Every day is a constant battle for me not to eat everything I want to—which would be any kind of baked good and a daily maybe pint or so of ice cream. I don’t eat fast food—that is not a struggle for me—and I don’t eat candy, unless you count chocolate. If it involves chocolate, I love it. I have had periods where I eat everything I want, and even still I gain about 10 pounds when I should be a whale. But, being a whale isn’t really in my genes (on either side); I am blessed with a high metabolism, a strong need to stay busy, and a family who wouldn’t tolerate of a fat person (literally, my grandpa used to have a license plate cover that said “Weaver Rules: No Fat Chics,” my grandpa!)

I keep a daily food journal that shows how much water I drink (at least 100 ounces a day), how much coffee I drink, what I eat for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I skip at least one meal a day, with one meal being pittance and the third meal (usually family dinner) being my only real caloric intake. I did institute the food journal for other reasons too, like to track what foods or how much coffee leads to have heartburn and the other digestive upsets creeping in with age.

But, the bottom line is that I have a huge problem with portion control. Despite the fact that I made the meal, I have a hard time, while eating the food, convincing myself that this yummy food (or even sometimes not so yummy food) will be here tomorrow or that I can make the dish again another time. I often just cannot get enough food at a sit down meal. I am trying to work on that, but my mom will tell you I had a love affair with food even as a baby. I love everything about food—the smells, the textures, the tastes. I love preparing it, cooking it, sharing it with friend and family. For me, there is nothing in the world like a good meal. Food is love.

I weigh myself at least once a day. I track my daily weight in my journal. I am struggling to lose the 7 pounds I gained when I finally stopped nursing Andrew in the spring. I really want to weight 128, but I know my body likes to weigh 130. But, 130 doesn’t seems skinny enough for me. I want to be skinny. So, maybe I am warped on this one. I know whenever I see a picture of myself I am studying my body—do I look fat? Maybe my perception is a bit skewed. I stand in line at the grocery store and read the trashy magazines to try and find out how these celebrities do it because I think they all look great (well, some really are skin and bones).

I love it when people use words like tiny and skinny to describe me; I replay that in my head over and over…often while I am having a conversation with myself about whether or not to eat a giant bowl of ice cream. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But, it is a constant struggle and a constant conversation in my mind. “I really want ice cream. Yeah, but don’t you want to be skinny more than you want ice cream? Not today…today I deserve ice cream.” I have lots of conversations with myself about food. On the way to the fridge in the morning when I am starving, I say to myself over and over, “…protein, protein, protein” to ensure I end up with a small piece of whole grain bread with a bit of almond butter on it instead of strawberry preserves, which I would then have to write down in the sugar column.

Okay, enough…you get it, right? I am obsessed with my weight and my body and I have serious food issues. I am Oprah! In fact, I think I even know where my food issues come from…but that is a whole other blog entry. Wish me luck on accepting 130 when I hit it (about three pounds to go) and the ability to maintain it and let go of all of this craziness associated with my body. Really, I thought I had a positive body image, but post-babies, I realized I am nuts.

Blame it on the Rain

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the rain, but yesterday was a day that just couldn't end fast enough for me. I know, every day is a gift from God, blah, blah, and should be cherished, blah, blah, and watch my kids discover, blah, blah.

The day actually started as a carry-over from the night before. We had an adventurous Sunday and spent most of the day away from home. We got back home at 8:15, way past bedtime. We rushed Sam and Andy through bath (PJ was spending the night at my cousin's house), read stories and tucked them in. Now, sometimes when we do a rush bedtime job like that, it takes the kids a little longer to settle down and fall asleep. Understandable. Sam finally drifted off after about an hour or so, which would mean he was up past 9:30.

Andrew, my dear baby-or I am not such a baby anymore, more like a full-fledged terrible-twos, couldn't pull it together and fall asleep. Talking and whining turned into screaming and crying. And 9:30 turned into 10:30 in to 11:30 into 12:30 and so on. I brought him in my bed and he was so restless, he couldn't sleep--and neither could I. Jeff came to bed around 10:30 and I had him take him back to his bed. He didn't sleep, neither could I.

I tossed and turned and then he reappeared in my bed around 12:30. I snapped at Jeff and told him to get him out of our bed because I couldn't sleep with him being so restless. Now, there are three of us who have "missed our window" for getting to sleep. Laying there troubled with the thought that my alarm will go off in five hours or less, I finally took something to knock me out and it did, and I don't know what happened past 12:45.

I woke up, spent about an hour and a half on a blog entry and then realized I hated it. It is just a bunch of crap about what I did and when. I don't know...doesn't seem like very interesting stuff. Yet, those are my favorite blogs to read. I usually skip over the entries that start like, "Depression has left me a hostage in my own life." Snore. Just as I almost never watch a movie these days that will require me to think (and, I am in luck as there aren't many), I can often not bring myself to read such heavy stuff from a stranger. Just tell me some funny nursing story or about your husband's recent inheritance.

After that, I rushed out the door to an 8:15 meeting way on the north side of Carmel. Have I ever mentioned before how much I hate rush hour traffic? But, it went rather smoothly and I arrived right on time. A good sign, I thought. Finished the meeting, drove home to check in for an hour or so before heading downtown for a lunch meeting with someone from the lieutenant Governor's office for lunch.

I am checking email, when my computer locks up and the screen goes black, then blue with a serious warning/error message. This is the second time this has happened in two days. I call the computer guy, we start discussing. He accesses my system remotely and works for about thirty of my fifty minutes home. We chat briefly by phone, he says he might come by today to look at things. I love this guy, by the way, he is fantastic. I get ready to leave, try to finally check my email and the screen goes blue again. I call, he says he will be over shortly.

Then, Samuel has a total meltdown--and I mean total. With the new nanny still sort of "in training" I felt like I needed to intervene on this one. By now I am going to be ten minutes late to this important meeting. I try to calm Samuel, but with no success. I get frustrated and carry him up to his room and put him on his bed and tell him to wait for his dad, who I just saw drive down the street. I leave. I race downtown, find a perfect parking spot right in front of the restaurant.

I figure God is really trying to turn this day around for me and try to let him. I try to change my disposition and smile, find something to be happy about. I head into the restaurant and they say my party isn't there yet. I think that is weird because I am 15 minutes late. I sit at a table and wait. Maybe it was at noon and not 11:30. I wait some more. I call. I wait some more. I decide to leave, thought maybe something changed and she tried to email me but given my technical state, I didn't get the message.

As I am walking out the restaurant, I see her sitting at another table--with three other people. I approach her (she is one of those people who seems a bit crabby anyway, who I am never quite sure what she is thinking or if she likes me), and inquire about our lunch date. She says it was last Thursday and I didn't show. Of course not, I am showing now! Shit. Way to go. I apologized over and over and asked to reschedule. Sent an email to schedule, but haven't heard back yet.

Then, about two blocks from my house, I hear a horn as I pass these two cars and I see one smack into a telephone pole, flip on its side in a ditch, then back on the ground and heading toward a house. I kept going as several other people stopped and turned around. I wanted to see, but that was all I would be doing at that point was watching. There were enough people already at the scene. Another moment of me thinking God is trying to tell me to snap out of this and quit feeling so sorry and down on myself.

I come home, trying to have a new attitude, but guess what...more technical difficulties. The computer guy is here, at my desk. It is necessary, but frustrating. A few hours later, he instructs me to significantly clean out my email box and teaches me how to save email messages in my client files (fascinating stuff for a techno-idiot like me). He leaves, I spend an hour and a half going through A-D in my emails, filing what I can, deleting the rest.

I start dinner. Much of the fresh corn I bought in the country has grubs, no big deal, I break it off. I go get Andrew up from his nap. His room is a disaster and he is sleeping standing up, folded in half with his torso and head laying on his bed-if that makes any sense. He is a crab. He cries and cries. The other boys are outside and come in and out, whining with various requests. I keep pushing them back outside. It's hot they say, it's summer I say. The final step after a challenging evening is to put dressing on the salad. I grab the bottle, give it a shake in the air and dressing flies everywhere. This is it...this is my day.

I call the computer guy again after dinner, as the computer locks up again and won't even let me in to clean things up and install service packs as he suggested. He hops on again. We get the kids off to bath and in bed early. Once again, an hour later, two are still awake--Andrew and Sam. I am considering suing lawmakers over daylight savings time. It has really screwed our bedtime into a heaping pile of conflict.

I head to bed at about 8:30. Kids still awake, I tell (well, I yelled) Samuel that he will have to take a nap tomorrow because he is up so late. I am going to stick to that, too. He had a horrible day as well and I am certain it is because he is tired. I am ready for school to start, but not for summer weather to be over. I am already dreading winter.

What a lousy day. I am optimistic about today and look forward to starting over. Now, must get to work. I will probably go through the other post I wrote, clean it up and post it soon, it will be out of chronological order--but hey, it includes pictures!

Old News

Here are bits and pieces of the update post I did a few weeks ago after a long absence of posting. I have cut out a lot of meaningless ramblings and excessive details (I am virtually obsessed with details).

The past few weeks have been some of the most challenging for me in recent years. Things are smoothing out as I sail towards vacation (five days on Lake Michigan, four days on Lake Huron, or what I kept saying was Lake Ontario), but some of the recent weeks testing me in new ways.

Jeff had his knee surgery on July 20th and I cared for him after. I also cared for the three kids as he was totally immobile and we had no child care that week. I prepared meals for everyone, bathed everyone, kept the house up, tried to work my normal 50-60 hours (but barely managed 25), did all the errands (Jeff usually does a lot of those) and crawled in bed every night exhausted. Many nights I shared my bed with visitors for various reasons (nose bleed, teething, bad dream), as Jeff was nesting in the guest room as to accommodate his many medical devices and odd sleep schedule.

It was exhausting and I had many days when I could hardly exhale. Those were the days I should have been blogging, but was too busy to even find ten minutes for that. I was often totally overwhelmed, but despite it all, somehow managed to do a pretty good job. I did loose it a few times with the kids, but as to be expected. The boys and I had some good summer fun together and some much needed time spent playing, chatting, running errands and cuddling.

By then end, I really felt a sense of a reconnection with the kids and my parenting skills were refreshed in a good way. This was a good thing because we had a new nanny start on July 31 and it was important that I model the way I want her to communicate with our kids. And, speaking of kids...looks like this is it for our clan. While under the knife with the knee, Jeff also had a vasectomy.

I am not 100% positive I don't want more kids, in fact I do want more--two more. But I am about 95% positive that I cannot do it again. I can do pregnancy again, labor, delivery, newborn babies, etc. But, I don't think I can do another cold/flu season in Indiana with the smallest of children, I don't think I can do another toddler emptying every cabinet in sight (even the ones that are "childproofed"), I don't think I can do another terrible twos or potty training. Jeff and I joked and said if they came out at age five, we would both be all for more...but they don't. And, that journey to five is very special and valuable, but just plain exhausting.

Back to the course of time over the past few weeks...so, Jeff is on the mend. He sent me flowers thanking me for taking care of him. The new nanny started and seems to be slowly getting it. The first day, I was so disappointed and ready to give up. But, optomistic Jeff said we needed to give it more time and he was right. She is learning, trying and definately succeeding. The good thing is is that she sees how great our style works for our kids. She has helped the boys peacefully resolve conflict and talk things out, she has ended one of Sam's fits, and turned the tables on a bad day. She is open to learning and trying to get the hang of it. Every day is getting better and better. I also think maybe it is a good thing that I am not totally blown away in the first few weeks. I was with our old nanny and then, she pooped out and totally disappointed me.

We have spent a lot of time together as a family over the summer and it has been terrific fun. However, I think everyone is ready to get back into the swing of school, work, etc. Our garden has been tremendously successful. Tomatoes abound. I canned home-made marinara sauce the other day with herbs and tomatoes from the garden. We ate our carrots, have had an endless supply of cucumbers, enjoy watching our pumpkins and watermelon grow and wake up every morning to look out the back window and see our giant sunflowers.

Many new starts recently too. Jeff started a blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com. Phillip took a pottery class at the Art Center and just loved it. I had Jeff buy some shelves for our room where I can display the boys' creations and see them everyday. Samuel started Karate, he was in heaven, but as we were all celebrating his success, he decided he didn't want to do it anymore. Stubborn boy. Andrew has started...well, being two as his birthday gets closer and closer.

Yesterday (now a few Sundays ago) we went to my new nephew's dedication at my brother's church (he is a pastor of a church in Carmel) and then out to lunch with family afterward. The night before, Samuel told Jeff we were going to "his cousin's church to see him get advertised." And we did. It was great fun. The boys were great and enjoyed the time with family. They each took their new back packs with a few toys to play with in church, if needed.

In fact, Phillip went to spend the night at my cousin's house last night. His first sleep over at someone's house other than grandparents. Of course, Jeff reminded me, they are still family as it is my cousin. I am not surprised that we didn't get a call last night. He has been dying to spend the night at someone's house. My cousin has lots of kids, lots of land and lots of toys. His son that Phillip spent the night with has, according to Phillip before we left, "lots of Legos with lots of weapons." A slice of heaven for PJ.

Still Looking for a New Post?

Are you checking back only to find the same old post? A new one is coming soon...I promise. Right now, just getting through each day, trying to get caught up with work, etc. I have had many days lately where I have composed great blog entries in my head, but never found the time to transfer those ideas into words on the page. Instead, faithfully plugging away at work in hopes to get caught up or regain a sense of control! More soon, for real. (oh great, and now Blogger's spell check is whacked out and not working).