Monday, May 21, 2007
Strapped
I am about 98 percent sure this entry will get me in trouble. While my husband is a regular reader, I am not so sure how much he will like it when I write about him, but here it goes... I hate guns. I hate them, hate them, hate them. While I know people use them for hunting, etc. I don't buy any of that crap about, "guns don't kill people, people do." Whatever. Guns are bad. I am sorry, the are. They give people who have no power in the world all the power they have ever wanted, in an instant and at the expense of others. So, when my husband announced he was going to be a police officer, my response was, "but what about the guns...that means you will have guns in our house." I hate it. In the spouses academy (a class for cadet's wives to learn the ropes of being the wife of a cop--more useful than you might imagine), they talked about guns. I asked questions about guns. I thought about guns. Then, they caution such judgement and reminded me that it is his gun that could save his life one day. I see their point. Fine. I want him to have a good gun, be well trained and practice often. And, so far it has come in handy. Situations arise in which he draws his weapon more often than you might think. Oh, and then there was that time this spring when he shot and killed a pit bull that charged him. Even made the paper (pit bulls are a real problem here). I worry about his safety and have told him many times..."shoot first, explain later." While it sort of goes against what they teach in the academy, I rather have him alive and have to have us move to some small town than dead. I would choose to suffer 1,000 times the humiliation, embarrassment, whatever together over having him gone. Okay, so it isn't that I don't think guns have their place, but it is more about that I think there are many, many places where guns don't belong. Back in the day when he was a mere cadet, he saw a neighbor who was a year ahead of him at the grocery store with his kids and he had his gun. Neither one of us could believe it--why on earth would he have his gun with him (out of uniform, not in a police car). So fast forward a few years to the present, and more specifically yesterday morning at about 8:15. He is driving the kids to his mom's house for the day, in the van, out of uniform and I see him get his extra gun out of his car and tuck it in his belt. I couldn't resist. "You are taking your gun?!?" He looked at me, obviously annoyed that I chose to say something. "Yes." "Why? I don't understand why you would need that to take the kids to your mom's." "Oh, car jacking." Okay, now car jacking are happening like crazy right now, I will give him that much. There have been more than 96 so far this year alone and they are pretty much happening all over the city. But, his mom lives out in cornfieldville, and he is in the van with three kids...what car jacker would want our minivan with three kids in it? "Where might there be a car jacking in between here an your moms?" I asked. He proceeds to name an intersection that had a recent car jacking (according to him) that is on the way to him mom's. "Oh, fine. You take a gun yet you let me drive around all day long with the windows down and my purse in the front seat." And, this isn't an isolated incident. In March when we were going to Chicago overnight, I caught him sneaking his gun into the overnight bag. I again asked why on earth he would need that. He again comes up with some lame excuse. I say absolutely not...what if it got stolen out of the hotel room? "Go put it in your gun safe." Fine and he does. But, more and more the gun follows us out. Is it really protecting us? Would he really pull it and leap in to police mode out with the fam? Does it bring me comfort? No. Does it make me feel safer? No. Do I trust that it could save my life? No. Maybe, I don't know. But does it send a good message to our children or to others that he needs to carry his gun around? I don't think so. I wish I understood, but I don't and I never will. Even if I agree to go to the range and learn how to shoot one like I always said I should so I would know how to use it, since it is in my house, if I ever needed to, even then I still won't love guns like he wants me to. I will always hate them.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Maximum Exposure
Oddly enough, the story I am about to tell you has happened to my twice in my life. Let's start with the most recent episode.
Yesterday I am at Panera for a meeting. I arrive straight from tennis at about 1:50. My meeting is at 2:30, so I sit outside. I get a bottled water and check my Blackberry, make a few phone calls, etc.
When I first sit down, all four tables are empty. Then, a middle-aged African American man sits down at the table next to me and gets on the phone. I continue with my stuff and as I am making phone calls, I am worried about being too loud (I always feel like people cannot hear me on my Blackberry, so I am sure talk louder than I need to). I notice how quite he is and wonder how the person on the phone can actually hear him. He continues. Other folks come and go, a young couple about to head off for a wedding and honeymoon, a student, a Panera employee. I take it all in, drink my water and continue to wait.
My appointment arrives at about 2:30. The guy is still on the same call as when he sat down. We are chatting away and then, I see this guy making hand juestures while talking and it sort of draws my attention. I shift my eyes over to him for just a second. Something catches my eye. I stop and think, did I just see what I thought I saw? I look again.
Sure enough. It is a one-eyed snake staring right at me--a brown one. He is exposing himself to me. Now, at first I think maybe this is just an accident, like he is wearing shorts and no underwear and it is just the angle. I wait a few minutes and look again very discretely over the shoulder of the woman I am talking to. No, it isn't a mistake. This isn't just me looking up into his shorts, this is him hiking them up. By now, his penis is resting mid-thigh. He is doing this on purpose and now I can even see his balls.
Panic. I am in total panic mode. Then I think there is no way he is doing that on purpose. Then I think certainly he would feel a breeze on that thing if it was on accident. Okay, plan A. Go tell someone at Panera. I shoot that down as I figure what will they do? Plan B. Call Jeff and tell him to come over here in his police car. No, that won't work. How would I get Jeff to come over here without telling him why and the guy would hear me. Plan C. Tell the guy to stop. No, that is just plain weird and crazy. "Hey, buddy, can you put your shlong away? That is nasty and I am trying to have a work meeting here." Plan D. Wait for someone else to see it and say something, preferably another man who says something like, "dude, put it away." But, mostly women walk by. I watch their expressions with deep intent, I can tell two saw it too.
Now, he is still on the phone, or as I have now come to believe--pretending to be on the phone. Plan E. Ignore, ignore, ignore and hope it goes away. I pick that. I position myself so he can tell I can only see his upper half and as the woman who I am meeting with (totally unaware of what is going on) moves, I move with her.
Nearly an hour later, he is still there and still pretending to be on the phone. I have only listened to about half of what this woman is talking about as I am running through scenarios in my head. I am reminding myself to be careful when i get in my car and to pay attention to see if he follows or stays when I leave. I keep hoping he will go. He doesn't.
Finally, the meeting wraps up. I decide that when I leave, I will go in Panera and tell them. I stand up and look down one more time to see if he is still doing it. His shorts, of which the legs were pulled up near the top of his thighs before are now pulled down past his knees. I just leave and he stays...still on the phone.
I asked Jeff at dinner, thinking because of how he pulled the short legs down to his knees by the time I got up, maybe he didn't realize it was hanging out and then pulled his shorts down low to ensure it wouldn't hang out again. No. He knew what he was doing, Jeff assures me this was an intentional self-exposure. After saying, "You should have called me" we discuss what purpose that would have served and the answer is none. The police would have to catch him in the act to make it a misdemeanor. Nothing would have happened.
So now the odd part. As I said, this has happened to me before. As soon as I was old enough to work, I have worked. My first job, and my job all through high school (and then some) besides that of working for my dad, was at a locally owned toy store in the mall. One day a man came in in shorts and wanted some help with a toy called Blocks and Marbles. This is probably 1986, maybe even 1985. He was wearing those short shorts with the white trim, remember those? His were yellow.
He asked me to tell him about the toy, which was on the bottom shelf. I bent down with him to tell him and his penis flopped out the side of his shorts and rested on the side of his leg. Of course, that motion caught my eye. He continued to ask questions as if nothing had happened. I continued to answer them, trying to act like nothing happened. I told myself he didn't know, that had to be an accident. After a few more questions, I realized this guy totally knew what he was doing. I excused myself and found someone else to help him.
Still troubled, I asked around. Could you feel that if it happened? Would you know you were hanging out if you were that exposed? Could such a thing happen on accident or was it intentional. While I wish it wasn't so, I am now certain he too was a pervert--intentionally exposing himself to a girl who wasn't even old enough to drive.
Oh, men. Really what makes them think we want to see that?
Yesterday I am at Panera for a meeting. I arrive straight from tennis at about 1:50. My meeting is at 2:30, so I sit outside. I get a bottled water and check my Blackberry, make a few phone calls, etc.
When I first sit down, all four tables are empty. Then, a middle-aged African American man sits down at the table next to me and gets on the phone. I continue with my stuff and as I am making phone calls, I am worried about being too loud (I always feel like people cannot hear me on my Blackberry, so I am sure talk louder than I need to). I notice how quite he is and wonder how the person on the phone can actually hear him. He continues. Other folks come and go, a young couple about to head off for a wedding and honeymoon, a student, a Panera employee. I take it all in, drink my water and continue to wait.
My appointment arrives at about 2:30. The guy is still on the same call as when he sat down. We are chatting away and then, I see this guy making hand juestures while talking and it sort of draws my attention. I shift my eyes over to him for just a second. Something catches my eye. I stop and think, did I just see what I thought I saw? I look again.
Sure enough. It is a one-eyed snake staring right at me--a brown one. He is exposing himself to me. Now, at first I think maybe this is just an accident, like he is wearing shorts and no underwear and it is just the angle. I wait a few minutes and look again very discretely over the shoulder of the woman I am talking to. No, it isn't a mistake. This isn't just me looking up into his shorts, this is him hiking them up. By now, his penis is resting mid-thigh. He is doing this on purpose and now I can even see his balls.
Panic. I am in total panic mode. Then I think there is no way he is doing that on purpose. Then I think certainly he would feel a breeze on that thing if it was on accident. Okay, plan A. Go tell someone at Panera. I shoot that down as I figure what will they do? Plan B. Call Jeff and tell him to come over here in his police car. No, that won't work. How would I get Jeff to come over here without telling him why and the guy would hear me. Plan C. Tell the guy to stop. No, that is just plain weird and crazy. "Hey, buddy, can you put your shlong away? That is nasty and I am trying to have a work meeting here." Plan D. Wait for someone else to see it and say something, preferably another man who says something like, "dude, put it away." But, mostly women walk by. I watch their expressions with deep intent, I can tell two saw it too.
Now, he is still on the phone, or as I have now come to believe--pretending to be on the phone. Plan E. Ignore, ignore, ignore and hope it goes away. I pick that. I position myself so he can tell I can only see his upper half and as the woman who I am meeting with (totally unaware of what is going on) moves, I move with her.
Nearly an hour later, he is still there and still pretending to be on the phone. I have only listened to about half of what this woman is talking about as I am running through scenarios in my head. I am reminding myself to be careful when i get in my car and to pay attention to see if he follows or stays when I leave. I keep hoping he will go. He doesn't.
Finally, the meeting wraps up. I decide that when I leave, I will go in Panera and tell them. I stand up and look down one more time to see if he is still doing it. His shorts, of which the legs were pulled up near the top of his thighs before are now pulled down past his knees. I just leave and he stays...still on the phone.
I asked Jeff at dinner, thinking because of how he pulled the short legs down to his knees by the time I got up, maybe he didn't realize it was hanging out and then pulled his shorts down low to ensure it wouldn't hang out again. No. He knew what he was doing, Jeff assures me this was an intentional self-exposure. After saying, "You should have called me" we discuss what purpose that would have served and the answer is none. The police would have to catch him in the act to make it a misdemeanor. Nothing would have happened.
So now the odd part. As I said, this has happened to me before. As soon as I was old enough to work, I have worked. My first job, and my job all through high school (and then some) besides that of working for my dad, was at a locally owned toy store in the mall. One day a man came in in shorts and wanted some help with a toy called Blocks and Marbles. This is probably 1986, maybe even 1985. He was wearing those short shorts with the white trim, remember those? His were yellow.
He asked me to tell him about the toy, which was on the bottom shelf. I bent down with him to tell him and his penis flopped out the side of his shorts and rested on the side of his leg. Of course, that motion caught my eye. He continued to ask questions as if nothing had happened. I continued to answer them, trying to act like nothing happened. I told myself he didn't know, that had to be an accident. After a few more questions, I realized this guy totally knew what he was doing. I excused myself and found someone else to help him.
Still troubled, I asked around. Could you feel that if it happened? Would you know you were hanging out if you were that exposed? Could such a thing happen on accident or was it intentional. While I wish it wasn't so, I am now certain he too was a pervert--intentionally exposing himself to a girl who wasn't even old enough to drive.
Oh, men. Really what makes them think we want to see that?
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Dream Weaver
I am, and have always been an extremely active dreamer. While I may spend the same amount of time dreaming as everyone else (but I doubt it), it is how I remember my dreams and my physical response that is different. Some mornings I wake up exhausted from overly active dreams.
When I am pregnant (which I won't be again, so I guess worrying about this is over) and hormones are racing, forget it. My dreams are so freakin' bizarre it would scare you. Pregnant or not, my favorite dreams are right before I wake up. They are the longest ones and the ones I remember the most. They are also the ones that have the most relevance to my life, so I pay close attention to what they might be telling me.
Not unusual is it for me to be somewhere and have that deep feeling like I have been there before. More often than not, it turns out I have been there in my dreams. It all comes back to me at some random moment and I see it in my dreams. Now, I don't predict the future or proclaim to have visions that allow me to derail upcoming events. These are just environments, conversations and people who I am always sure I have seen, had or met before.
I have always sort of chalked it up to my level of creativity, thinking the overactive brain on dream overdrive is like the curse of a creative mind. I would love to do a sleep study some time, but there would have to be a good enough reason to get insurance to pay and we know how that goes. It seems as if Samuel has inherited this as well. He too can have rough nights of dreaming leaving him exhausted in the morning and has more often than I can count on both hands and feet sleep-talked or had nightmares.
I remember as a child at least two reoccurring dreams that I would have a few times a year--a sign of emotions swept under the rug. Hmm. But, even today, most of them are just bizarre and each morning I search for meaning and clues from my consciousness. The good news: a lack of dreams can be signs of something more serious (this is a lack of, not a lack of memory of). So, I am good there.
And, while men dream about women, women tend to dream about men and women. Had those, so I am good there. Sometimes, when something happens in a dream you can think it is real. Had those too. Like the time in my dream a crowd was chanting to me "Poke him in the eye, poke him in the eye, poke him in the eye." And, I did. I poked Jeff in the eye with my finger.
But what about ones like this morning's. I was in what appeared to be downtown Indianapolis on Capital Street (even though we are on the East Coast in my dream--New Jersey, maybe Philadelphia), with a friend I couldn't place, sort of loitering on the sidewalk, getting ready to get in the car after an Eagles football game. Okay, where should I start with what is wrong with this picture just in that sentence alone?
I spot a friend from college, Kim Jetter, across the street. She looks exactly the same, as in still wearing an outfit she had in 1993 and driving the same car (it was in good shape for a 14 year old two door Nissan). She is by herself. Long ago, I heard she married someone and had a few kids and still lived in New Jersey, but I never could see Kim as a mom. I was dying to know what she was doing--and she was alone! I pointed her out to the person I was with and even though they knew her, they did not want to say hello. But, I did; I had to.
I had on this weird headbandy-turtlenecky thing that I kept pulling down over my mouth and the bottom of my nose and then would push it back into my hair. I saw her get in to her car and she was waiting for traffic to clear to pull out. I ran across the street and knocked on her window. I could tell in a flash she recognized me, but then she changed her tune and pretended over and over again not to be able to remember me. We lived together for a least a year, I knew she had to know who she was.
She just kept telling me over and over "The Eagles just won the Super Bowl." I kept saying, yeah I know, but remember we went to school together, we lived in that apartment in Germantown Avenue together? She seemed to remember but refused to discuss it. I asked her what she was doing now and she changed the subject and I asked her about some of our other old friends and she said she didn't know what had become of any of them. I was standing there, baffled, pulling the turtlenecky headbandy thing down below my chin so she could see my face and maybe recognize me. She refused.
I said I had to go because my friend was waiting on me. She looked across the street and saw her, and obviously recognized her too and she asked why she didn't come over to say hello. I didn't answer, I turned and crossed the street. We got in our car (a black two door), my mystery friend was driving, and we sat there and watched her pull out of her spot into traffic.
Yes, it is true. I have serious anxieties and issues about my personal relationships (friendships) and this dream is here to prove it. Not being recognized, the headbandy turtlenecky thing, this one is loaded with symbolism and meaning. Wow. I have some issues! I rarely seek outside interpretations of my dreams, as I think I am the best interpreter, but in case you want to learn more about your dreams, check out this website: http://www.dreamdoctor.com/index.shtml.
Off to make a delicious french toast casserole and more for the annual Mother's Day brunch at our house today with my family. It is always a fun time. The weather is beautiful today and I cannot wait to be together with my family! Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms.
P.S. As I started making the breakfast goodies yesterday morning, I had a flash back to another dream from the night before. I always have anxiety about making things ahead. I want things to be "just out of the oven" fresh when guests arrive. But, I also didn't want to be standing over the stove frying bacon and sausage when everyone arrived. I had been planing out my cooking schedule in my head for a few days. while I had decided to cook those two things slightly in advance, I seriously toiled over the decision.
The eve of Mother's Day provided me with a dream that reassured my consciousness it was okay to do that. I dreamt I was walking past a restaurant on the sidewalk that had windows into the kitchen. It was very late at night, sort of middle of the night and while the rest of the world was dead, the kitchen was hoppin. They were cooking bacon and sausage. I said to myself in the dream, "See, even restaurants cook bacon and sausage ahead of time." And then, it all felt better! When I started cooking, I was reassured by my concious that cooking ahead was just fine and it all turned out beautifully.
When I am pregnant (which I won't be again, so I guess worrying about this is over) and hormones are racing, forget it. My dreams are so freakin' bizarre it would scare you. Pregnant or not, my favorite dreams are right before I wake up. They are the longest ones and the ones I remember the most. They are also the ones that have the most relevance to my life, so I pay close attention to what they might be telling me.
Not unusual is it for me to be somewhere and have that deep feeling like I have been there before. More often than not, it turns out I have been there in my dreams. It all comes back to me at some random moment and I see it in my dreams. Now, I don't predict the future or proclaim to have visions that allow me to derail upcoming events. These are just environments, conversations and people who I am always sure I have seen, had or met before.
I have always sort of chalked it up to my level of creativity, thinking the overactive brain on dream overdrive is like the curse of a creative mind. I would love to do a sleep study some time, but there would have to be a good enough reason to get insurance to pay and we know how that goes. It seems as if Samuel has inherited this as well. He too can have rough nights of dreaming leaving him exhausted in the morning and has more often than I can count on both hands and feet sleep-talked or had nightmares.
I remember as a child at least two reoccurring dreams that I would have a few times a year--a sign of emotions swept under the rug. Hmm. But, even today, most of them are just bizarre and each morning I search for meaning and clues from my consciousness. The good news: a lack of dreams can be signs of something more serious (this is a lack of, not a lack of memory of). So, I am good there.
And, while men dream about women, women tend to dream about men and women. Had those, so I am good there. Sometimes, when something happens in a dream you can think it is real. Had those too. Like the time in my dream a crowd was chanting to me "Poke him in the eye, poke him in the eye, poke him in the eye." And, I did. I poked Jeff in the eye with my finger.
But what about ones like this morning's. I was in what appeared to be downtown Indianapolis on Capital Street (even though we are on the East Coast in my dream--New Jersey, maybe Philadelphia), with a friend I couldn't place, sort of loitering on the sidewalk, getting ready to get in the car after an Eagles football game. Okay, where should I start with what is wrong with this picture just in that sentence alone?
I spot a friend from college, Kim Jetter, across the street. She looks exactly the same, as in still wearing an outfit she had in 1993 and driving the same car (it was in good shape for a 14 year old two door Nissan). She is by herself. Long ago, I heard she married someone and had a few kids and still lived in New Jersey, but I never could see Kim as a mom. I was dying to know what she was doing--and she was alone! I pointed her out to the person I was with and even though they knew her, they did not want to say hello. But, I did; I had to.
I had on this weird headbandy-turtlenecky thing that I kept pulling down over my mouth and the bottom of my nose and then would push it back into my hair. I saw her get in to her car and she was waiting for traffic to clear to pull out. I ran across the street and knocked on her window. I could tell in a flash she recognized me, but then she changed her tune and pretended over and over again not to be able to remember me. We lived together for a least a year, I knew she had to know who she was.
She just kept telling me over and over "The Eagles just won the Super Bowl." I kept saying, yeah I know, but remember we went to school together, we lived in that apartment in Germantown Avenue together? She seemed to remember but refused to discuss it. I asked her what she was doing now and she changed the subject and I asked her about some of our other old friends and she said she didn't know what had become of any of them. I was standing there, baffled, pulling the turtlenecky headbandy thing down below my chin so she could see my face and maybe recognize me. She refused.
I said I had to go because my friend was waiting on me. She looked across the street and saw her, and obviously recognized her too and she asked why she didn't come over to say hello. I didn't answer, I turned and crossed the street. We got in our car (a black two door), my mystery friend was driving, and we sat there and watched her pull out of her spot into traffic.
Yes, it is true. I have serious anxieties and issues about my personal relationships (friendships) and this dream is here to prove it. Not being recognized, the headbandy turtlenecky thing, this one is loaded with symbolism and meaning. Wow. I have some issues! I rarely seek outside interpretations of my dreams, as I think I am the best interpreter, but in case you want to learn more about your dreams, check out this website: http://www.dreamdoctor.com/index.shtml.
Off to make a delicious french toast casserole and more for the annual Mother's Day brunch at our house today with my family. It is always a fun time. The weather is beautiful today and I cannot wait to be together with my family! Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms.
P.S. As I started making the breakfast goodies yesterday morning, I had a flash back to another dream from the night before. I always have anxiety about making things ahead. I want things to be "just out of the oven" fresh when guests arrive. But, I also didn't want to be standing over the stove frying bacon and sausage when everyone arrived. I had been planing out my cooking schedule in my head for a few days. while I had decided to cook those two things slightly in advance, I seriously toiled over the decision.
The eve of Mother's Day provided me with a dream that reassured my consciousness it was okay to do that. I dreamt I was walking past a restaurant on the sidewalk that had windows into the kitchen. It was very late at night, sort of middle of the night and while the rest of the world was dead, the kitchen was hoppin. They were cooking bacon and sausage. I said to myself in the dream, "See, even restaurants cook bacon and sausage ahead of time." And then, it all felt better! When I started cooking, I was reassured by my concious that cooking ahead was just fine and it all turned out beautifully.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Parent-Teacher Conference
Today we had our parent-teacher conference for the middle child--all full of mischief and long, long eye lashes. We were so proud to hear the teacher's comments. But, does it make me a terrible mother to say I didn't hear what I always thought I would?
Nope. None of that. Okay, fine. He can be incredibly rotten at home--totally exhausting and rob any adult within 200 feet of every ounce of energy they have. But, here is the really important part, two things. First, he does know when to do that and when not to. He has a filter that tells him school is a place where he has to make decisions about how he will behave and more often than not--most of the time--he makes the right choice. Second, he loves me so much he can be whoever he wants at home and he knows I will still love him just the same.
I don't know why I had different expectations, but I did. And, here I am to admit I was wrong about that little guy. I always knew he was smart, funny, of incredible spirit and extremely devoted to his family, but I am even more amazed to learn what a good friend he is, how well he listens and participates in class (especially during Bible stories! What?!?). I am so proud to learn he encourages others, supports them when they are sad or feeling left out and rallies the troops to get a job done. That's my guy and I am so glad he shares that side with the world.
Well, I guess I sort of did. We certainly know around here who the ray of sunshine is in the house. But we also know who can turn the sky dark faster than anyone. We know who has the greatest sense of humor. But we also know who likes to fake cry and whine about hurt feelings when a certain someone, I don't know who, tells him his farts smell like hot beans. Seriously, I don't know who says that. Well, I might know.
We know the one who is first by your side when you yell ouch to see if you are okay and offers soft kisses kisses anywhere on the body that appears to have been injured at any point in a persons natural born life. But we also know the one who bulldozes his little brother, stands on top of his back and giggles with delight of his conquer.
We know the one who still likes to be held like a baby, carried and cuddled. But we also know the one who loves girls and is convinced that his penis is an object for public display. We know the one who listens to a story quietly, seemingly enjoying the pictures. But we also know the one who interrupts your sentence to finish it with, "...and then he pooped on his head." We know who has such an eye for beautiful and rich things. But we also know who has destroyed the most furniture, blinds, walls, floors, cabinets, cars and more in this family.
That Sam, he is a real study of polarism. There isn't a lot of grey area with Sam. He is on or off. Happy or sad. Funny or hurtful. Listening or not. Laughing or whining. Torturing or cuddling. So, today I sort of expected to hear about the times he said he hates Jesus or gave his friend a wedgie (how on earth do you spell that?). I expected a report of how he too often uses his hands to solve problems or how he said dammit at snack time.
Nope. None of that. Okay, fine. He can be incredibly rotten at home--totally exhausting and rob any adult within 200 feet of every ounce of energy they have. But, here is the really important part, two things. First, he does know when to do that and when not to. He has a filter that tells him school is a place where he has to make decisions about how he will behave and more often than not--most of the time--he makes the right choice. Second, he loves me so much he can be whoever he wants at home and he knows I will still love him just the same.
I don't know why I had different expectations, but I did. And, here I am to admit I was wrong about that little guy. I always knew he was smart, funny, of incredible spirit and extremely devoted to his family, but I am even more amazed to learn what a good friend he is, how well he listens and participates in class (especially during Bible stories! What?!?). I am so proud to learn he encourages others, supports them when they are sad or feeling left out and rallies the troops to get a job done. That's my guy and I am so glad he shares that side with the world.Really, how can you not love this guy? No one loves you back like Sam. Sometimes loving him is at a high price, the the return on the investment is 1,000-fold. He is one in a million.
Monday, May 07, 2007
The Contract
I recently received a contract via email from my hairdresser. I gotta tell you, this is one of the strangest things ever. People, including me, love contracts. I won't work without one, even for people I have worked with for years. It gives a sense of security, the feeling that you have covered your bases and outlined expectations. But, contracts are by no means iron-clad guarantees of anything.
So, while thinking about this contract in which I would agree to be on time, ask her to fix haircuts I was unhappy with, "within reason" as she won't provide refunds, promising to cancel my appointments within 24-hours (she has a kid, certainly she knows the whole world can shift no less than 5 minutes before an appointment) and promising to give her notice if I am going to find someone else, I wondered what else I would like contracts for.
How about a contract for blogging.
I promise to provide updates as frequently as possible or as deemed necessary by the random, disappointing, celebratory, amazing and humiliating moments of my life. I promise to provide photo documentation when appropriate, a sense of relativity and keep anonymity of parties who have not authorized release of their identities. I promise to make myself vulnerable and seemingly expose my insecurities, anxieties and compulsions. I promise to share the moments that connect all of us as one--as wives, mothers, daughters, sisters and friends. And, I promise to write interesting entries that are neither too short or too long, too sappy or too depressing.
And you, what do I expect from you?
You promise to comment (on the blog, not just in emails to me), pass the blog address along to your friends and provide insight into what makes a good entry. Why is this important? This is the whole point about blogging often lost on people older than me--blogging is about sharing and how do you know you have shared something unless someone tells you? My mom never understands it. "And, is the goal for strangers and other people to read the blog?" she always asks. Yes, that is the goal!
So, let me revise the blog contract. I promise to share. You promise to share. The end.
So, while thinking about this contract in which I would agree to be on time, ask her to fix haircuts I was unhappy with, "within reason" as she won't provide refunds, promising to cancel my appointments within 24-hours (she has a kid, certainly she knows the whole world can shift no less than 5 minutes before an appointment) and promising to give her notice if I am going to find someone else, I wondered what else I would like contracts for.
How about a contract for blogging.
I promise to provide updates as frequently as possible or as deemed necessary by the random, disappointing, celebratory, amazing and humiliating moments of my life. I promise to provide photo documentation when appropriate, a sense of relativity and keep anonymity of parties who have not authorized release of their identities. I promise to make myself vulnerable and seemingly expose my insecurities, anxieties and compulsions. I promise to share the moments that connect all of us as one--as wives, mothers, daughters, sisters and friends. And, I promise to write interesting entries that are neither too short or too long, too sappy or too depressing.
And you, what do I expect from you?
You promise to comment (on the blog, not just in emails to me), pass the blog address along to your friends and provide insight into what makes a good entry. Why is this important? This is the whole point about blogging often lost on people older than me--blogging is about sharing and how do you know you have shared something unless someone tells you? My mom never understands it. "And, is the goal for strangers and other people to read the blog?" she always asks. Yes, that is the goal!
So, let me revise the blog contract. I promise to share. You promise to share. The end.
New!
I have figured out how to add a photo stream to this site. View the photos using the link on the right. This is so much easier than uploading individual photos (which I will probably still do some of, when appropriate). I also added some updated links.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
The Birth Day
Today is my birth day, the day I came into the world. While possible, I guess, I think it would be incredibly difficult to truly understand the meaning and miracle of this day if you have never given birth. I have had entries before about the power of birth--the amazing journey through labor ending with a new life in your arms. You know I love it and would do it over and over again.
For my mother, I am not sure it is such a fond memory. I was a long, long labor. A sizable baby that drifted behind the pelvis, which translated into hours and hours of painful back labor and a baby they couldn't get back on track without extensive use of forceps. No one's ideal birth story.
Today is really a day to celebrate my mother's achievement, her willingness to share her body with me, her bravery, her tenacity, her patience, her love for me even before I was born. It is so weird and primal when you think about it. Like the animals we truly are, we grow something inside of us. Once born, they still need years of care, and like mother birds with babies in the nest, we provide food, teach it to fly and how to build its own nest. At first, totally helpless, these babies slowly grow, and grow, and grow until they grow so much that we start caring for each other until finally, they most often care for us. But, no matter what, a mother never loses sight of her babies. And no matter how big they grow to be, they are always her babies.
I could go on and on forever about how amazing life is, and really how it is such a gift from God that denying his existence seems unfathomable to me. He is so obvious in the everyday...really, who else would think of putting hair in an armpit? I am so pleased with the gifts he has given me and our life together. While I seem to be on a perpetual path to work less and spend more time with the kids (a path I never fully travel down), our life is amazing and our family is whole and sealed together for all eternity.
Today on my birth day, I shall celebrate my life and the gifts of love, support, hope, trust, faith and forever-ness bestowed upon me by my mother and father. I will spend no time on my shortcomings, those days I yelled or ignored my kids, those days I wasn't the best wife or felt incredibly fat, those days I just couldn't wait to go to bed and start over. Today, it is all about the good and the gift of life.
I feel the love of my family every day, including my extended family. When it seems as if nothing is going right, I can feel their arms around me, all 40+ of them. My family, despite its warts and times of trouble, extends far beyond visits on the holidays. I am blessed with true love and I fully intend to acknowledge it everyday and to pay it forward.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
A New Heart in our Home
For months now, I have been wanting a new kitchen table. After we remodeled the kitchen this last time, it became entirely too linear for me (which is odd, because I normally do not like round shapes). Our old kitchen table was a hand-me-down, a very nice one but a hand-me-down none the less. It was a rectangular French farm table constructed of pine and had previously belonged to my dad. I loved it and it did its job well.
It is the table where we signed the offer for our first house. It is the table were Jeff and I would do our homework while still in college, taking turns finishing our degrees. It is the table we played cards when I was in labor. It is the table that held the bathtub while we bathed our first baby. It is the table that we ate most of our meals at to mark special occasions along the way.
It was warm, sturdy and forgiving of dents, scratches and paint jobs from the kids. It held spilt milk well, resisted poundings of forks and spoons by the littlest ones and was always great for sorting candy after Halloween. We loved it, but dammit it was time for a new one.
This time, it was going to be round. When I looked at the kitchen and where it was placed in the house, I noticed that we needed a heart. We needed a warm spot that invited people to get closer and share (and maybe would encourage good table manners?). I wanted a round table. The quest began and I finally found one.
Then, the chairs. Must have new chairs. Found chairs too. But, of course, it takes forever to get furniture. Our wait was finally over yesterday. They delivered our new table and chairs (yet to come, our other new furniture for our addition). I am in heaven! As soon as it arrived, I knew it was exactly what I wanted it to be--the new heart of our home.
I quickly unpacked my boxes of new dishes from Crate and Barrel, pulled out the new placemats (which we have never used, this is a new thing too) and just fell in love! The new dishes and glasses--much deserved. Our dishes were my parents when they were married. Purchased around 1985, originally a set of 12. We were down to 7 of one size plate and 6 of another. They also served us well, but now we have our OWN! Glasses? Purchased at Target when we were married and came from a box. That is ten years ago, people! It was time.
Here it is, the new heart of our home.
We had our first meal there last night. Salmon with Shitake Mushrooms, roasted squash and potatoes and a salad (well, at least that is what the adults ate). The boys used real plates and glasses (did you hear that? glasses for dinner). Everyone did great, dinner was so relaxing and cozy. I look forward to creating new memories with this table too. Who knew that the old table could hold so many memories and the new table could hold so much hope.
It is the table where we signed the offer for our first house. It is the table were Jeff and I would do our homework while still in college, taking turns finishing our degrees. It is the table we played cards when I was in labor. It is the table that held the bathtub while we bathed our first baby. It is the table that we ate most of our meals at to mark special occasions along the way.
It was warm, sturdy and forgiving of dents, scratches and paint jobs from the kids. It held spilt milk well, resisted poundings of forks and spoons by the littlest ones and was always great for sorting candy after Halloween. We loved it, but dammit it was time for a new one.
This time, it was going to be round. When I looked at the kitchen and where it was placed in the house, I noticed that we needed a heart. We needed a warm spot that invited people to get closer and share (and maybe would encourage good table manners?). I wanted a round table. The quest began and I finally found one.
Then, the chairs. Must have new chairs. Found chairs too. But, of course, it takes forever to get furniture. Our wait was finally over yesterday. They delivered our new table and chairs (yet to come, our other new furniture for our addition). I am in heaven! As soon as it arrived, I knew it was exactly what I wanted it to be--the new heart of our home.
I quickly unpacked my boxes of new dishes from Crate and Barrel, pulled out the new placemats (which we have never used, this is a new thing too) and just fell in love! The new dishes and glasses--much deserved. Our dishes were my parents when they were married. Purchased around 1985, originally a set of 12. We were down to 7 of one size plate and 6 of another. They also served us well, but now we have our OWN! Glasses? Purchased at Target when we were married and came from a box. That is ten years ago, people! It was time.
Here it is, the new heart of our home.
We had our first meal there last night. Salmon with Shitake Mushrooms, roasted squash and potatoes and a salad (well, at least that is what the adults ate). The boys used real plates and glasses (did you hear that? glasses for dinner). Everyone did great, dinner was so relaxing and cozy. I look forward to creating new memories with this table too. Who knew that the old table could hold so many memories and the new table could hold so much hope.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Under the Laundry Tree
My friend Anne recently had a blog entry about her backed-up laundry situations. Her daughter Ella yelled for the plunger when she found the laundry chute clogged (www.everydayfamily.blogspot.com). Anne just had her third amazing baby.
Laundry is one of those things I don't discuss with a woman pregnant with her third. Is it hard to have three? Will we be able to handle it? Do you ever get any sleep? These are all questions women ask me as they prepare to enter the club. I answer--and truly, it isn't that bad--but the laundry, I never bring up the laundry.
Think about this:
Underwear--weekly minimum: 35
with characters on them: 21 pair a week--minimum and assuming all three make it all day, every day in one pair of underwear.
without characters on them: 14--and, let's hope we don't have any issues making it all day in the same pair!
Socks--weekly minimum: 35
Kid socks that never seem to match again: at minimum 21 pair, but no one ever makes it all day in just one pair. They take them off while playing and then if we need to leave, they cannot find them so they get a new pair, bringing the real total up to more like 27 pair.
Grown-up socks that we spend lots of time matching: at minimum 14 pair, but add on top of that Jeff's work socks vs. nonwork socks and my tennis socks vs. nontennis socks and the real total is more like 24 pair for us.
Pants--weekly minimum: 25
Kids pants that we cannot tell whose is whose and spend a great deal of time trying to decide which drawer to put them in only to have one child snatch a pair from another's drawer: at least 21 but most weeks involve mud, paint, water, messy meals, a missed shot at the toilet (we are all boys here) and the reality is more like 25.
Grown up pants: as few as possible. Those jeans aren't dirty yet!
Shirts--weekly minimum: 25
Kid shirts that all have a particular meaning and are best worn on certain days but we don't know what days those are until we inadvertently suggest a particular shirt only to be met with screams of NOOOOOO it is not a Bob day it is an Army day: 21 at minimum but add back in the water, messy meals, mud, chewing (what is it with my kids and chewing on their shirts), pee (to avoid a half-moon of pee on the bottom of the shirt, you need to lift the shirt up a bit when you pee) buggers and more, it is upwards.
Grown up shirts: that shirt matches those jeans...it isn't dirty yet either! Unless it requires an iron, then straight to the cleaners.
We do laundry once a week, which is all day Sunday. Folding makes for good work while watching my week's worth of DVR'd shows. Most weeks, we do about 7 to 8 loads. Front-loaders have made a big difference in our lives. All in the name of love!
I would share the food consumption, but for those of you who don't know us, you would be convinced we all weigh 400+ pounds. You should see the looks I get at Wild Oats when I purchase five loaves of bread at a time. Hello...? I have three kids and it is called "small-batch bread" so the loaves are not huge. One round of lunch and a piece of toast or two and the loaf is gone.
It is coming up on 6AM, I better get to work. Until next time, my friends!
Laundry is one of those things I don't discuss with a woman pregnant with her third. Is it hard to have three? Will we be able to handle it? Do you ever get any sleep? These are all questions women ask me as they prepare to enter the club. I answer--and truly, it isn't that bad--but the laundry, I never bring up the laundry.
Think about this:
Underwear--weekly minimum: 35
with characters on them: 21 pair a week--minimum and assuming all three make it all day, every day in one pair of underwear.
without characters on them: 14--and, let's hope we don't have any issues making it all day in the same pair!
Socks--weekly minimum: 35
Kid socks that never seem to match again: at minimum 21 pair, but no one ever makes it all day in just one pair. They take them off while playing and then if we need to leave, they cannot find them so they get a new pair, bringing the real total up to more like 27 pair.
Grown-up socks that we spend lots of time matching: at minimum 14 pair, but add on top of that Jeff's work socks vs. nonwork socks and my tennis socks vs. nontennis socks and the real total is more like 24 pair for us.
Pants--weekly minimum: 25
Kids pants that we cannot tell whose is whose and spend a great deal of time trying to decide which drawer to put them in only to have one child snatch a pair from another's drawer: at least 21 but most weeks involve mud, paint, water, messy meals, a missed shot at the toilet (we are all boys here) and the reality is more like 25.
Grown up pants: as few as possible. Those jeans aren't dirty yet!
Shirts--weekly minimum: 25
Kid shirts that all have a particular meaning and are best worn on certain days but we don't know what days those are until we inadvertently suggest a particular shirt only to be met with screams of NOOOOOO it is not a Bob day it is an Army day: 21 at minimum but add back in the water, messy meals, mud, chewing (what is it with my kids and chewing on their shirts), pee (to avoid a half-moon of pee on the bottom of the shirt, you need to lift the shirt up a bit when you pee) buggers and more, it is upwards.
Grown up shirts: that shirt matches those jeans...it isn't dirty yet either! Unless it requires an iron, then straight to the cleaners.
We do laundry once a week, which is all day Sunday. Folding makes for good work while watching my week's worth of DVR'd shows. Most weeks, we do about 7 to 8 loads. Front-loaders have made a big difference in our lives. All in the name of love!
I would share the food consumption, but for those of you who don't know us, you would be convinced we all weigh 400+ pounds. You should see the looks I get at Wild Oats when I purchase five loaves of bread at a time. Hello...? I have three kids and it is called "small-batch bread" so the loaves are not huge. One round of lunch and a piece of toast or two and the loaf is gone.
It is coming up on 6AM, I better get to work. Until next time, my friends!
Thursday, January 11, 2007
I Have a Blog?!?!
Bet you think I forgot about my blog! Well, I sort of did. I took some time off from work over the holidays, focused on organizing and cleaning out closets. It has been a real struggle for me to get back in to work. I think I have finally re-entered work, but am now once again hopelessly behind due to all my goofing off.
Seems like the universe will not let me forget about my blog, though. Everyone has a blog. I read an article and it suggested as a professional, you should have a blog. Another, to get a reputation as an expert and draw attention to your company, comment on blogs. On NPR, go check out the blogs of the guests, commentators or hosts. On television, read the blogs of reality stars, like Dr. 90210 (oh, that might be a good one, that guy is a total freak).
Alas, I did not forget. I even have an entry swimming around in my head, but it will have to wait until I feel less pressure to get my work done. I have overextended myself this month and must complete these projects as promised. Until then, we part. See you in a week or so (I hope). Don't stop checking in...
Seems like the universe will not let me forget about my blog, though. Everyone has a blog. I read an article and it suggested as a professional, you should have a blog. Another, to get a reputation as an expert and draw attention to your company, comment on blogs. On NPR, go check out the blogs of the guests, commentators or hosts. On television, read the blogs of reality stars, like Dr. 90210 (oh, that might be a good one, that guy is a total freak).
Alas, I did not forget. I even have an entry swimming around in my head, but it will have to wait until I feel less pressure to get my work done. I have overextended myself this month and must complete these projects as promised. Until then, we part. See you in a week or so (I hope). Don't stop checking in...
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
A Christmas Meme
I intended to post this BEFORE Christmas (originally written on 12/20), but delayed it until I took a picture to include of either our outdoor decorations or our tree. However, it is now December 28 and I still haven't taken a picture of either, so I am posting this entry now.
This will be my last entry before Christmas (I think), because I think no one will be reading blogs again until after Christmas. Things are in full swing. I would really like to keep Christmas a secret from the kids until like five days before, but I don't think the rest of the world would cooperate. They are SO hyped up about it. Every night ends with all three literally jumping up and down or on their beds with excitement for Christmas. The family dramas have reached their pinnacle and are hopefully over until next year (you just cannot make everyone happy all the time). The presents are all purchased and wrapped. Christmas Eve dinner is planned and Christmas day is fast approaching.
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? Hot Chocolate. Egg nog is so freakin' nasty. Hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, preferably small ones but out of desperation, big ones will do just fine. On a cold day after outside play, I even let the kids drink it on a blanket in the family room (on the carpet) while we watch a movie.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa does not wrap. Most gifts are from us. Usually, three or four big things are from Santa and they go unwrapped.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? White, white, white and lots of''em. Although, we have been discussing the fact that we all like blue lights too. So, maybe next year when our house isn't red anymore, we will experiment with some blue lights.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? No.
5. When do you put your decorations up? While Thanksgiving often marks the beginning of the planning to decorate and working on arranging the house to accommodate the decorations, we usually don't decorate until December 1st.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? I make French Toast on Christmas morning with Challah bread or real French bread, with bacon and sausage and we have a nice family breakfast.
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: I have many. Christmas was always a wonderful holiday in my house. The year my dad put a present under the tree and told my brother and I he would give us $100 if we could guess what was in the box. We tried and tried, forever. No idea. Finally, Christmas day, we opened it up and it was a box of paper. Dot matrix printer paper. Huh? Wait right here, my dad said. He brought in an Apple Macintosh computer. Now, think early 1980s here...the home PC was really just on the market. We were so excited, but we really didn't even know why. I loved that computer. A short other one is the puzzle I worked every year and still do. In fact, just completed it with Phillip last night. Or the books we used to read, I have them all and still read them to my kids. One was originally my brothers, from 1971, about a little bear whose family is getting ready for Christmas. It is a scratch-n-sniff and it still smells! I love that book.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? There was a way to see from the upstairs hall into the living room by the fireplace. One Christmas eve, I snuk out on the little balcony and peered in the living room, only to see my Dad putting out a Snoopy phone. My mom was busily organizing other things around the fireplace. It dawned on me...they do that, not Santa! Oh well, who cares--I GOT A SNOOPY PHONE!
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We spend Christmas Eve with my mom. Most often that means exchanging gifts with her on Christmas Eve. So, there is a little opening involved. But, no opening of our gifts to each other. I tried so hard every year when I was little to get my parents to institute this tradition and they just wouldn't do it. Now, I understand why and I am not at all for it. I know, I know, some folks have that open a box of new pajamas tradition. Fine, because you wouldn't really give that as a gift on Christmas anyway (except maybe to me...I could use a new pair of flannel pajamas. My office is super cold in the early morning hours).
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? I put the lights on the tree and the kids hang the ornaments (and I don't go back and rearrange). I do hang the fragile ornaments up high, though. About half of all ornaments end up on the floor or carried throughout the house by whoever is the youngest that year. This year, Andy loves to hang three small ornaments that are bells from his pointer fingers and carry them all around. The other two areas of interest are the mantle (it's a long mantle), where we have our Christmas snow globe collection, our collection of Santa photos from each year, the nativity scene and stockings. Plus, a menorah to honor and recognize the Jewish side of my family. Each year, we intend to light the candles during Hanukkah and say the prayers and talk a bit about what it means, and some years we succeed, but most of the time it is hit or miss. This question is about the tree, isn't it? Oh well, let me tell you a bit more. I also put up Christmas artwork of the kids throughout the house, including several pieces by me when I was 6 and 7. The gingerbread houses we made are also on display in the living room and a very special framed picture my mom had made that is sort of a collage of pictures of me and my brother with Santa when we were children, plus a very special one of my Dad with Santa when he was a child. Finally, the boys' favorite decoration is the advent calendar that holds a special surprise each morning. Candy, a small toy or a clue to find a larger toy, book, or treat. Only five more doors to open!
11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Love it. My favorite Indiana winter day? Several inches of snow, sunshine and 30 degrees.
12. Can you ice skate? Yes, of course.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? The Snoopy phone or perhaps a kitchen I got for barbies (but, I didn't have Barbie, I had other more socially conscious and realistic barbies thanks to my recovering-hippy mom-I liked them better). The one that I got that was a bit on the edge for her was Darla, she was a Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader.
14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? Totally family and memories. I love seeing everyone enjoy the day together, relaxing and really, truly making memories.
15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? Cookies and usually whatever I make for dessert for our fancy Christmas Eve dinner. This year, a pumpkin cake with buttercream icing and a praline topping.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Christmas Eve dinner, no matter who comes. I love to cook a gorgeous meal, share nice wine, eat by candlelight, relax and visit with family and friends.
17. What tops your tree? An angle I bought one year when Jeff and I were still dating (been married almost 10 years) for about $2.30 off the clearance rack after Christmas at Service Merchandise one year. Jeff was returning something at the service counter and I just happened to pick it up. I would like something nicer, but now it has so many memories I am not sure I could part with it!
18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Totally giving! I work hard to find special gifts for everyone that I think they want and will love. I enjoy seeing their reaction and hearing things like, "how did you know I wanted this?!?" I take careful notes all year on what people need and want and so to finally give it to them is so much fun!
19. What is your favorite Christmas song? Carol of the Bells. Silent Night. Joy to the World (that one always makes me cry on Christmas Eve), Little Drummer Boy, Do You Hear What I Hear? I love the ones that talk about the birth of Christ. The hokey Christmas ones are fine too, I enjoy them, but the don't necessarily "move" me like the ones that are actually hymns.
20. Candy canes: Not really.
21. Favorite Christmas movie? Elf. Like, the funniest movie I have ever seen.
22. What do you leave for Santa? I have a special plate and cup for cookies and milk, yet inevitably, almost each year we end up forgetting and I have to stick it out after the kids have gone to bed. We also leave lettuce or carrots for the reindeer. Will try hard to remember this year!
Merry Christmas!
This will be my last entry before Christmas (I think), because I think no one will be reading blogs again until after Christmas. Things are in full swing. I would really like to keep Christmas a secret from the kids until like five days before, but I don't think the rest of the world would cooperate. They are SO hyped up about it. Every night ends with all three literally jumping up and down or on their beds with excitement for Christmas. The family dramas have reached their pinnacle and are hopefully over until next year (you just cannot make everyone happy all the time). The presents are all purchased and wrapped. Christmas Eve dinner is planned and Christmas day is fast approaching.
1. Egg nog or hot chocolate? Hot Chocolate. Egg nog is so freakin' nasty. Hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, preferably small ones but out of desperation, big ones will do just fine. On a cold day after outside play, I even let the kids drink it on a blanket in the family room (on the carpet) while we watch a movie.
2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa does not wrap. Most gifts are from us. Usually, three or four big things are from Santa and they go unwrapped.
3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? White, white, white and lots of''em. Although, we have been discussing the fact that we all like blue lights too. So, maybe next year when our house isn't red anymore, we will experiment with some blue lights.
4. Do you hang mistletoe? No.
5. When do you put your decorations up? While Thanksgiving often marks the beginning of the planning to decorate and working on arranging the house to accommodate the decorations, we usually don't decorate until December 1st.
6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? I make French Toast on Christmas morning with Challah bread or real French bread, with bacon and sausage and we have a nice family breakfast.
7. Favorite holiday memory as a child: I have many. Christmas was always a wonderful holiday in my house. The year my dad put a present under the tree and told my brother and I he would give us $100 if we could guess what was in the box. We tried and tried, forever. No idea. Finally, Christmas day, we opened it up and it was a box of paper. Dot matrix printer paper. Huh? Wait right here, my dad said. He brought in an Apple Macintosh computer. Now, think early 1980s here...the home PC was really just on the market. We were so excited, but we really didn't even know why. I loved that computer. A short other one is the puzzle I worked every year and still do. In fact, just completed it with Phillip last night. Or the books we used to read, I have them all and still read them to my kids. One was originally my brothers, from 1971, about a little bear whose family is getting ready for Christmas. It is a scratch-n-sniff and it still smells! I love that book.
8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? There was a way to see from the upstairs hall into the living room by the fireplace. One Christmas eve, I snuk out on the little balcony and peered in the living room, only to see my Dad putting out a Snoopy phone. My mom was busily organizing other things around the fireplace. It dawned on me...they do that, not Santa! Oh well, who cares--I GOT A SNOOPY PHONE!
9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? We spend Christmas Eve with my mom. Most often that means exchanging gifts with her on Christmas Eve. So, there is a little opening involved. But, no opening of our gifts to each other. I tried so hard every year when I was little to get my parents to institute this tradition and they just wouldn't do it. Now, I understand why and I am not at all for it. I know, I know, some folks have that open a box of new pajamas tradition. Fine, because you wouldn't really give that as a gift on Christmas anyway (except maybe to me...I could use a new pair of flannel pajamas. My office is super cold in the early morning hours).
10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? I put the lights on the tree and the kids hang the ornaments (and I don't go back and rearrange). I do hang the fragile ornaments up high, though. About half of all ornaments end up on the floor or carried throughout the house by whoever is the youngest that year. This year, Andy loves to hang three small ornaments that are bells from his pointer fingers and carry them all around. The other two areas of interest are the mantle (it's a long mantle), where we have our Christmas snow globe collection, our collection of Santa photos from each year, the nativity scene and stockings. Plus, a menorah to honor and recognize the Jewish side of my family. Each year, we intend to light the candles during Hanukkah and say the prayers and talk a bit about what it means, and some years we succeed, but most of the time it is hit or miss. This question is about the tree, isn't it? Oh well, let me tell you a bit more. I also put up Christmas artwork of the kids throughout the house, including several pieces by me when I was 6 and 7. The gingerbread houses we made are also on display in the living room and a very special framed picture my mom had made that is sort of a collage of pictures of me and my brother with Santa when we were children, plus a very special one of my Dad with Santa when he was a child. Finally, the boys' favorite decoration is the advent calendar that holds a special surprise each morning. Candy, a small toy or a clue to find a larger toy, book, or treat. Only five more doors to open!
11. Snow! Love it or dread it? Love it. My favorite Indiana winter day? Several inches of snow, sunshine and 30 degrees.
12. Can you ice skate? Yes, of course.
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? The Snoopy phone or perhaps a kitchen I got for barbies (but, I didn't have Barbie, I had other more socially conscious and realistic barbies thanks to my recovering-hippy mom-I liked them better). The one that I got that was a bit on the edge for her was Darla, she was a Dallas Cowboy's Cheerleader.
14. What's the most important thing about the holidays for you? Totally family and memories. I love seeing everyone enjoy the day together, relaxing and really, truly making memories.
15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? Cookies and usually whatever I make for dessert for our fancy Christmas Eve dinner. This year, a pumpkin cake with buttercream icing and a praline topping.
16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Christmas Eve dinner, no matter who comes. I love to cook a gorgeous meal, share nice wine, eat by candlelight, relax and visit with family and friends.
17. What tops your tree? An angle I bought one year when Jeff and I were still dating (been married almost 10 years) for about $2.30 off the clearance rack after Christmas at Service Merchandise one year. Jeff was returning something at the service counter and I just happened to pick it up. I would like something nicer, but now it has so many memories I am not sure I could part with it!
18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving? Totally giving! I work hard to find special gifts for everyone that I think they want and will love. I enjoy seeing their reaction and hearing things like, "how did you know I wanted this?!?" I take careful notes all year on what people need and want and so to finally give it to them is so much fun!
19. What is your favorite Christmas song? Carol of the Bells. Silent Night. Joy to the World (that one always makes me cry on Christmas Eve), Little Drummer Boy, Do You Hear What I Hear? I love the ones that talk about the birth of Christ. The hokey Christmas ones are fine too, I enjoy them, but the don't necessarily "move" me like the ones that are actually hymns.
20. Candy canes: Not really.
21. Favorite Christmas movie? Elf. Like, the funniest movie I have ever seen.
22. What do you leave for Santa? I have a special plate and cup for cookies and milk, yet inevitably, almost each year we end up forgetting and I have to stick it out after the kids have gone to bed. We also leave lettuce or carrots for the reindeer. Will try hard to remember this year!
Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Five People We Should All Know
So, I have this strange rash. Yes, it's true. Who wants to hear about an adult having a rash. really, who wants to hear about anyone having a rash?!? I hear that word and cringe. But, I do. It's weird and I don't have any other symptoms to go with it. I have had Shingles before and know how painful that is. While the spots look like Shingles, they don't feel like'em.
Plus, Shingles are often in one area. I have spots, or more like patches, on my torso, legs, and arms. My question is do I call the doctor or not. Seems to be nothing, then I start thinking about the flesh-eating bacteria that can kill you in an instant, starts out innocent enough and then--it's over. Really, it happened to a board member of an organization my mom worked for a few years ago.
I need someone who is a doctor to just look at it or listen to me describe it--not to diagnose is, but to tell me if it is worth the hassle of going to the doctor over. With my kids, usually I ignore rashes for a few days, unless they have other symptoms. If they persist, I will call. Well, while I don't have other symptoms, it is being a bit persistent.
Who can I call? Who do I know that is a doctor or a nurse? That got me thinking. There are five people I think we all need to seek out and have in our lives--for moments just like this.
1) A doctor or nurse. Just to ask things like, do you think I should make an appointment for this? Ever heard of anyone having symptoms like...whatever? Who would you recommend I see for ....whatever? I play tennis today with an infectious disease doc. Let's see if I get the nerve up to say, "Hey Katie, can you take a look at this?" If I chicken out, I play with a nurse on Thursday night.
2) A tech guru. You know, for those weird error messages or a stubborn program that you install, uninstall and reinstall like six times and it still won't work but it is no doubt due to some stupid thing I am, I mean you are doing and I would be too embarrassed to have my professional tech guy out and pay $65 per hour for him to tell me I forgot to click on an icon or accept the user agreement.
3) A psychiatrist or counselor. Really, not for full therapy, but for a good reality check every once in a while or to help me, there I go again, I mean you, analyze a situation or someone's behavior in a non-objective way. Yes, regular old friends can sometimes do this too, but the opinion of a pro would certainly resonate louder with me.
4) A lawyer. Just to clarify those, "that's not legal--is it?" moments where you feel like you are really getting screwed or want to really put the pressure on someone, but are quite sure how to do it. Just someone to say, "hey, what does the law say about this...or that?"
5) A do-it-yourself-er. Got this one covered. My dad is the greatest at this. He cannot walk past something that is awaiting repair or adjustment in my house without getting out tools. And, he is so good at it, we never have to worry. The guy has saved us no doubt, tens of thousands of dollars in home repair/improvement costs. If he can't do it, we have someone out to give us an estimate, I tell him what they say, and he deciphers whether it sounds right or not.
Thoughts on who else is important to have in your life? No mushy stuff here, please. For this post, only self-serving responses that have little, if any value in the real world.
Plus, Shingles are often in one area. I have spots, or more like patches, on my torso, legs, and arms. My question is do I call the doctor or not. Seems to be nothing, then I start thinking about the flesh-eating bacteria that can kill you in an instant, starts out innocent enough and then--it's over. Really, it happened to a board member of an organization my mom worked for a few years ago.
I need someone who is a doctor to just look at it or listen to me describe it--not to diagnose is, but to tell me if it is worth the hassle of going to the doctor over. With my kids, usually I ignore rashes for a few days, unless they have other symptoms. If they persist, I will call. Well, while I don't have other symptoms, it is being a bit persistent.
Who can I call? Who do I know that is a doctor or a nurse? That got me thinking. There are five people I think we all need to seek out and have in our lives--for moments just like this.
1) A doctor or nurse. Just to ask things like, do you think I should make an appointment for this? Ever heard of anyone having symptoms like...whatever? Who would you recommend I see for ....whatever? I play tennis today with an infectious disease doc. Let's see if I get the nerve up to say, "Hey Katie, can you take a look at this?" If I chicken out, I play with a nurse on Thursday night.
2) A tech guru. You know, for those weird error messages or a stubborn program that you install, uninstall and reinstall like six times and it still won't work but it is no doubt due to some stupid thing I am, I mean you are doing and I would be too embarrassed to have my professional tech guy out and pay $65 per hour for him to tell me I forgot to click on an icon or accept the user agreement.
3) A psychiatrist or counselor. Really, not for full therapy, but for a good reality check every once in a while or to help me, there I go again, I mean you, analyze a situation or someone's behavior in a non-objective way. Yes, regular old friends can sometimes do this too, but the opinion of a pro would certainly resonate louder with me.
4) A lawyer. Just to clarify those, "that's not legal--is it?" moments where you feel like you are really getting screwed or want to really put the pressure on someone, but are quite sure how to do it. Just someone to say, "hey, what does the law say about this...or that?"
5) A do-it-yourself-er. Got this one covered. My dad is the greatest at this. He cannot walk past something that is awaiting repair or adjustment in my house without getting out tools. And, he is so good at it, we never have to worry. The guy has saved us no doubt, tens of thousands of dollars in home repair/improvement costs. If he can't do it, we have someone out to give us an estimate, I tell him what they say, and he deciphers whether it sounds right or not.
Thoughts on who else is important to have in your life? No mushy stuff here, please. For this post, only self-serving responses that have little, if any value in the real world.
***UPDATE***
When I arrived at tennis yesterday, I told the infectious disease doc I had something I wondered if she could look at for me, just to let me know if I needed to go to the doctor. Her eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, "Is it a rash?!" Katie recently relocated here from Denver for her husband's job. She has not been working for a few months, but starts a new job at the med center in January. Needless to say, she was totally excited by the opportunity to look at a rash. She asked lots of doctor-like questions and shared some ideas of what it might be. She even took me in the locker room after tennis to further examine my torso. The good news, she said it appears to be a rash related to a virus and asked me if I had had any fevers or sick kids lately. I had a fever one day, when Andrew was first sick, with the horrible cold is is just getting over. So, yes and yes. That's it! I guess I had something and this is the result. The rash itself isn't contagious---phew!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Family Trait
For some reason, potty humor runs in my genes. I cannot help it. I knew it was true love when my future husband to be could beat my uncle in a farting contest. "Welcome to the family, Honey!" And, let's face it...I live in a house with three boys. Potty humor better be on the top of the list.
It cracks me up when I hear people say things to their kids like, "Our bodily functions are not funny." Are you kidding me?!? The trick is just to teach them timing. Good timing is everything in effective humor, anyway. Farts are not funny in church, for example and the diarrhea song is not school-time material.
The other night we were all in the van on the way home from Christmas at the Zoo and Jeff started teasing the voice command feature. You are supposed to be able to push a button and tell the car things like "radio on" or "heat on" or ask it questions like "temperature in degrees" and it should tell you the outside temperature. Ideally, it should also work with the navigation system and you can say, "find home" and it will navigate you home.
But, here is the catch. It doesn't respond well when there is background noise. Even the noise of the air conditioner can totally throw it off, so how about a van full of three little kids. Honda sort of got it wrong on this one. If you are driving a van...hello, it is probably full of kids...and chances are it isn't quite in there.
So, we just use it for fun. Like this...
An adult (let's just leave it at that): I have diarrhea.
The car: Heat on maximum.
An adult: Who farted?
The car: DVD on, Chapter 5.
An adult: I think I pooped my pants!
The car: Heat on 80 degrees.
An adult: I have really bad gas!
The car: Radio on.
It went on and on. I know, I know. Is this really raising great men? No. But, we laugh and laugh and laugh and those laughs do help raise great men.
It cracks me up when I hear people say things to their kids like, "Our bodily functions are not funny." Are you kidding me?!? The trick is just to teach them timing. Good timing is everything in effective humor, anyway. Farts are not funny in church, for example and the diarrhea song is not school-time material.
The other night we were all in the van on the way home from Christmas at the Zoo and Jeff started teasing the voice command feature. You are supposed to be able to push a button and tell the car things like "radio on" or "heat on" or ask it questions like "temperature in degrees" and it should tell you the outside temperature. Ideally, it should also work with the navigation system and you can say, "find home" and it will navigate you home.
But, here is the catch. It doesn't respond well when there is background noise. Even the noise of the air conditioner can totally throw it off, so how about a van full of three little kids. Honda sort of got it wrong on this one. If you are driving a van...hello, it is probably full of kids...and chances are it isn't quite in there.
So, we just use it for fun. Like this...
An adult (let's just leave it at that): I have diarrhea.
The car: Heat on maximum.
An adult: Who farted?
The car: DVD on, Chapter 5.
An adult: I think I pooped my pants!
The car: Heat on 80 degrees.
An adult: I have really bad gas!
The car: Radio on.
It went on and on. I know, I know. Is this really raising great men? No. But, we laugh and laugh and laugh and those laughs do help raise great men.
To Play or Not to Play: That is the Question
Really, how much do you or should you play with your children? For me, no matter how much I do, it never seems to be enough. Last week, I was so burned out from a recent rush to a deadline that all I felt like doing was hanging out with the kids. So, I quit working around 2:30 in the afternoon. I left my office, the nanny went home, and Jeff was already home and relaxing. I read Christmas stories, played Legos, and some monster trucks. About an hour later, I wanted to glance at a magazine and relax on the couch a bit before it was time to start dinner. Relaxing mid-day is a rarity for me, I sort of have to give into it when it happens.
I wrap up my Lego session, after building a fantastic space station with Phillip and Samuel, and plop on the couch. They continue playing for a bit, until Phillip wonders in the family room where I am sitting and says, "Mom, will you play Legos?" I just did, I said. Now I am going to read a magazine for a bit. Here it comes..."You never play with me." Of course, I replay the last hour for him, seeking credit for my efforts like a pissy teenager.
Playing with the kids around here usually follows one of these scenarios:
A) We play, all together. It is great fun. Then, someone decides they are not being treated fairly, is getting fewer turns, didn't get tossed as high as the last guy, or wants to play another game alone with you, like Battleship or Sorry. It is like they set me up to say no, or if I do say yes, the game ensues, only to be interrupted so many times by siblings, it is totally disrupted.
B)We all play together for a set period of time and when I exit, each one asks that I now play with them alone. An impossible task, and even when I break it up, someone always reports "cheating" of someone getting more time or playing something that was more fun than what they played with me.
C) I play with one alone only to be bombarded and interrupted with whines from the others of when is it their turn to play with me to the point where we actually hardly played at all, only distracted and reacted to interruptions.
This was easy to manage with just one. I would play with him for a bit, and then he would play by himself for a while. Play with me, play alone. When number two came along, this took a little more planning and arranging. When Sam was an infant, I could easily play cars, or things that I could do while holding or nursing him. As Sam got older, this became increasingly difficult as it was his main mission to suck every ounce of attention out of a room and direct it at him.
Still, I tried. Puzzles with Phillip and then on to cars with Sam. Back to monster trucks with Phillip and then blocks with Sam. Sometimes, we would manage to all play together, but that was always very short-lived when Sam was little (and often didn't end well). When number three came along, life was so much more complicated than it ever had been before that I had (or devoted) less time than ever to actually playing with the kids. And, like Sam when he was little, number three seems less interested in playing most of the time and most interested in just disrupting and destroying everyone else's playtime...oh, how I love the determination of two-year-olds.
Phillip and Sam play really well together, most of the time. But, there is also the delicate balance of giving them time to play alone (which is important) and making them share (which is equally important). Sometimes, Samuel and Andrew can even get a good game going, but theirs often ends in tears. Three creates odd-man out, naturally. This is a growing problem in our house and I think it will only get worse, not better, as that third man becomes more and more aware of when he is being left out.
I am being honest here, so let's not be too judgmental, but it is most of the time really difficult for me to get down and play with them and not think of all the things I should be doing, like paying bills, cooking dinner, laundry, organizing the closet, or running errands. So, I am ashamed to say after number three, I am sure I play with my kids a lot less than I should and certainly less than they want me to.
Now, I am probably being too hard on myself, as I know I do play with them and I try to keep a realistic picture of how much and what I am playing with them to make sure it is well-rounded and balanced (arts and crafts, Legos, games, etc.). I make sure the answer isn't always no and I love to see the smile on their faces when the answer is yes, I can play. But, it seems to never be enough. That, my friends, can be discouraging.
So, in a perfect world, after my Lego adventure, Phillip would say, "Gee Mom, thanks for choosing to play with us first instead of reading a magazine and relaxing. We had a great time playing and together we built a really cool space station. I enjoyed your company, and now, you deserve some down-time. Go read that magazine and relax. We will play quietly in here for a while."
Well, a girl can dream. And, until that happens (which would be: never), I will instead suffer through constant guilt, followed by friendly reminders from two of my children (and I am sure all three, once he can actually say these words), that "you never play with us."
I wrap up my Lego session, after building a fantastic space station with Phillip and Samuel, and plop on the couch. They continue playing for a bit, until Phillip wonders in the family room where I am sitting and says, "Mom, will you play Legos?" I just did, I said. Now I am going to read a magazine for a bit. Here it comes..."You never play with me." Of course, I replay the last hour for him, seeking credit for my efforts like a pissy teenager.
Playing with the kids around here usually follows one of these scenarios:
A) We play, all together. It is great fun. Then, someone decides they are not being treated fairly, is getting fewer turns, didn't get tossed as high as the last guy, or wants to play another game alone with you, like Battleship or Sorry. It is like they set me up to say no, or if I do say yes, the game ensues, only to be interrupted so many times by siblings, it is totally disrupted.
B)We all play together for a set period of time and when I exit, each one asks that I now play with them alone. An impossible task, and even when I break it up, someone always reports "cheating" of someone getting more time or playing something that was more fun than what they played with me.
C) I play with one alone only to be bombarded and interrupted with whines from the others of when is it their turn to play with me to the point where we actually hardly played at all, only distracted and reacted to interruptions.
This was easy to manage with just one. I would play with him for a bit, and then he would play by himself for a while. Play with me, play alone. When number two came along, this took a little more planning and arranging. When Sam was an infant, I could easily play cars, or things that I could do while holding or nursing him. As Sam got older, this became increasingly difficult as it was his main mission to suck every ounce of attention out of a room and direct it at him.
Still, I tried. Puzzles with Phillip and then on to cars with Sam. Back to monster trucks with Phillip and then blocks with Sam. Sometimes, we would manage to all play together, but that was always very short-lived when Sam was little (and often didn't end well). When number three came along, life was so much more complicated than it ever had been before that I had (or devoted) less time than ever to actually playing with the kids. And, like Sam when he was little, number three seems less interested in playing most of the time and most interested in just disrupting and destroying everyone else's playtime...oh, how I love the determination of two-year-olds.
Phillip and Sam play really well together, most of the time. But, there is also the delicate balance of giving them time to play alone (which is important) and making them share (which is equally important). Sometimes, Samuel and Andrew can even get a good game going, but theirs often ends in tears. Three creates odd-man out, naturally. This is a growing problem in our house and I think it will only get worse, not better, as that third man becomes more and more aware of when he is being left out.
I am being honest here, so let's not be too judgmental, but it is most of the time really difficult for me to get down and play with them and not think of all the things I should be doing, like paying bills, cooking dinner, laundry, organizing the closet, or running errands. So, I am ashamed to say after number three, I am sure I play with my kids a lot less than I should and certainly less than they want me to.
Now, I am probably being too hard on myself, as I know I do play with them and I try to keep a realistic picture of how much and what I am playing with them to make sure it is well-rounded and balanced (arts and crafts, Legos, games, etc.). I make sure the answer isn't always no and I love to see the smile on their faces when the answer is yes, I can play. But, it seems to never be enough. That, my friends, can be discouraging.
So, in a perfect world, after my Lego adventure, Phillip would say, "Gee Mom, thanks for choosing to play with us first instead of reading a magazine and relaxing. We had a great time playing and together we built a really cool space station. I enjoyed your company, and now, you deserve some down-time. Go read that magazine and relax. We will play quietly in here for a while."
Well, a girl can dream. And, until that happens (which would be: never), I will instead suffer through constant guilt, followed by friendly reminders from two of my children (and I am sure all three, once he can actually say these words), that "you never play with us."
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Compliments Only a Mother Could Love
Sam and Jeff cuddled on the couch. Jeff whispers something in Samuel's ear.
Samuel says, "Mom, you are so beautiful."
"Ah, thank you sweetie," I said.
Samuel whispers something in Jeff's ear.
Jeff says, "Mom, you are so nice."
"I appreciate that," I said.
Jeff whispers in Samuel's ear.
Samuel says, "Mom, you are the best."
"Samuel, you are so sweet to say that."
Samuel whispers something in Jeff's ear.
Jeff says, "Mom, you are so hairy and skinny."
I'll take it.
Samuel says, "Mom, you are so beautiful."
"Ah, thank you sweetie," I said.
Samuel whispers something in Jeff's ear.
Jeff says, "Mom, you are so nice."
"I appreciate that," I said.
Jeff whispers in Samuel's ear.
Samuel says, "Mom, you are the best."
"Samuel, you are so sweet to say that."
Samuel whispers something in Jeff's ear.
Jeff says, "Mom, you are so hairy and skinny."
I'll take it.
Monday, December 04, 2006
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.)
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.)
Friday, December 01, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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