Make-overs

You would think since I spent oodles of time trying to give the site a make-over that I would now be flooded with witty quips and kidisms. Unfortunately, no. I wanted to get away from the boxed template feel and as much as I love the pix felt they needed a more consistent tone. I like things simple. Yes, that has been my theme for the last year, simple. Simple food, simple parenting, simple life. Not the Nicole Richie version of course, the one that gets back to actual basics. Paying attention to our food, paying attention to our kids, paying attention to each other and one day paying attention to me. OOOHHHH how idyllic, yeah I know, but seriously it all piles on so quickly. What I have been fixating on this last week is how this time last year I was seeing a cardiologist. I know I've touched on this but honestly until you have sat in the waiting room of a heart specialist when you are still using your own mobility and teeth, you don't know how much things come into perspective. I think it was at that point that I knew I needed the ultimate makeover. We always professed that we both had to work because of the money. Well, when the money goes away you make it work. I was always convinced I could never stay home, that my personality would never allow it. Sitting at home, folding clothes all day, listening to the playful banter of my two cherubs. Not so much. More like fielding play dates and penciling in folding time so I still accomplish something! Last January I was scared. Not oh no what's going on scared but Holy #*%$* there's something wrong with me scared!!! I'm at a heart *$%#@ specialist scared. Through the tests, wires, large expensive machinery, treadmills, cold ultra-sound gel, paper and photo read outs I was told those ever imposing words. You need to relax. Stress has got you here and stress will make it worse. I've taken the words to heart (hehehe). If you perceive me as laid back, I am. If you think we can't possibly not be freaked out in this economy, I'm not. If you think anything is going to get to me, well it does, but I deal with it and move on. I know my limits and know I can't let things fester for my literal own good. It's not such a bad plan for everyone. So I've simplified my outlet of feigned sanity aka my blog, maybe now it really does represent who I'm yet to become.

That mood.

Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn't say the mood. I said that mood. You know the one.
The one that means you're one step away from following through on the threat of taking them outside and beating them with a chicken.
The one that has you reciting The Lord's Prayer over and over in an attempt to banish your fantasy of blocking off that space under the stairs and shoving them all in it.
I'm sure it's this cold that is making my head feel like I've been on a bender of a life time without all the funny stories.
It didn't help that while taking the garbage out I managed to slip on some ice at the top of our front steps and skid four plop, plop, plop, plop, steps all the way down to our driveway, where I continued to skid another five feet four inches before doing a back-flop with the top of my head at the base of the first step. Oddly, the only visible sign of distress is the complete lack of skin attached to the top of my right index finger, apparently it's still on the hand rail.
Elaina my love, that voice is honestly going to kill me. She has been stuck in whine for what seems like an eternity.
"I waaaaaaaaaant waaaaaaaaater!!!!!"
"IIIIII can't heeeeeeeaaaaaaaar iiiiiiiit"
You my friend will be the first to discover the power of a foul used as a projectile. Oh come on, it's not like I'd use one of the big buffs, I'd pick one of the smaller rhode island chicks.
Ethan my precious, you're one more chance bucket is empty. The next time you ram into something, kick something ie; balls, books, Chloe, sister, or bug anyone for your general amusement you too will be faced with flying feathers of fury.
Don't worry Elijah isn't getting off the hook here. Luckily for him he finally settled into a nap. His latest discovery of spitting is not nearly as endearing as you would imagine. Although his latest mantra of "I didn't do it! Chloe did it" really is pretty cute.
So I turn the music up a little higher and dream of a day when I can once again smell the chili cooking on the stove.
Let's hope the trio lives long enough to see that day too.

One Crafty Mama...

NOT!!! I'm admittedly craft impaired. Luckily kids can make a craft out of anything. Currently Elaina is sporting some goggles she made out of an egg carton and large amounts of tape. Ethan has made a bird house out of a box, the rest of the egg carton and some plastic wrap. The birds will eat out of the egg cartons and live in the box. It's an "ice" day off from school so sitting at the table and cutting stuff with scissors seems the activity of choice which is better than watching Diego all day. Elaina may now be trying to fashion some sort of eye wear for the girls since she keeps taking them outside for short stints before coming back in and re-working them. Wire cutters have also been enlisted on Ethan's side. I'm not sure really where my crafty gene went. My sister and I spent days playing with paper dolls that we made. My sister would draw the girls on cardboard, we would cut them out and then trace clothes for them that we colored and cut out. I loved to work with clay, shaping and molding various forms/people/animals to then paint. I'm assuming what little imagination for the ordinary I had was transferred to my children at birth and that's why they are content to play with water bottles and a stick. My sister and I also loved forts and I live in fear every day that my kids will make some of the architectoral feats that we attempted. The dining table in the middle, chairs pulled out to every side, blankets draped over the top and sides to hide our cozy abode inside. Sounds fine, now pan out of the picture to see the toaster, crock pot and dutch oven on the table holding the blankets precariously on the table. Now try to imagine how that one blanket is actually staying firmly against the wall, could it be the 14 staples in the wall or when we ran out of staples the thumb-tacks or brads??? They are always amazed how we seem one step ahead of them in their quest for fun. I only pray we still will be in the teen years.

Bugs and I don't mean the crawling ones...

Oh yes, we are in full lock down. It started with Elaina and I, we recruited Elijah yesterday and today Ethan has joined our ranks. Since for some unknown reason, only to be explained by the evil virus coursing through my body, I uncharacteristically opted out of taking any sleepy medicine last night. Waking up every 15 minutes in shivering fits while bundled in my electric blanket, I was able to hear Ethan getting up and heading for the bathroom not once but two times. Uh oh, he's one of us. I can't claim the sun as being up but eventually I did just give up and go to the living room, Ethan soon joined me. He looked green. He didn't think he looked green of course and thought I should look at him in different light. Oh for the days of not wanting to miss school. Honestly, I didn't want to walk him there! "You can stay home, it's OK!" "I'm fine, I want to play with my friends" "I don't think you're friends want to play with YOU!" "Ill call if I don't want to stay" "fine" I relent, get everyone dressed/bundled and literally out the door when I take one more stab at not walking 3 houses down in 25-degree weather. The thermometer. AHA!!! 99.9 I knew it!!! Off with the coats, get a pillow, blanket and full control over the remote. And here we sit. Luckily a couple cups of coffee, some sudafed and I'm at a good 85% of normal which I will need, to tend to the every desire of my 3 congested cherubs. Elaina sounds the worst but being a girl is wrestling with Chloe on the floor after spending 10 minutes outside supervising egg production. Ethan hasn't left his spot on the couch, since giving him permission to be sick. He can no longer move his arms more than 4 inches to the left or right and groaning lamentations of a dieing man have taken over. If only he could speak in Shakespearean prose; But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state... Luckily Elijah is too young to work it, he's happily playing monster trucks through the phlegm filled hacking. And what do I do to discourage his fore lorn plight? A blanket, plenty of kisses and cocoa on the way, I'll never pass up an opportunity to baby my oldest, once again I apologize to his future wife, you'll understand one day when your baby turns 7.

Good Enough...

At what point in my life did I decide the definition of good enough. Currently, I get up in the morning look myself in the mirror and make a decision. Shower or not? In the shower, do I really need to wash my hair or is it a pony day? Little gloss and some mascara or full on re-do? Getting dressed, should I wear the shirt w/2 spots? I can cover it with that sweater that only has 1 or just go with the shirt with 1 stain even though that tear is getting kind of big now. Eh, this is good enough. When I was working I was the first in line for the "secret sale" at Saks and was admittedly pretty proud of the deal I got on my Gucci sunglasses. This isn't to say I'm still not a sucker for a good deal, not by a long shot, I've actually gotten pickier! Apparently though as of late I simply don't care. Maybe it's a phase something that will pass with the cold weather and fog encased sky or maybe it's an indication of something bigger. What else am I passive about. Do I spend enough time playing with the kids? Being with them yes but really interacting with them, sadly no, I'm stuck on it's good enough. Do I spend enough time on myself? I have my hobbies all of which can be done with them here, is it ample to recharge those batteries and refuel my spirit? No, but that too has become good enough. How to get out of the passive cycle, how to change the so called every day and what I have made of it. So the shopping ensues, the closet has been cleaned out and a couple nice, stain free shirts should be coming via ups man in a couple days. Some tidying is taking place, the outside is an easy place to start, the inside is another beast altogether. AAAHHH, the inside. Where God has been diligently working and I have been doing my best to A. ignore or B. Justify my inability to stand up and just tell everyone about this wonderful Lord that is forever challenging and surprising me. It has to end. I have to leap out of the plane and know the chute will open!! I'm tired of telling people I will keep them in my thoughts, dinner tonight is in my thoughts, I will pray for you... When you tell me that xyz is driving you nuts, can't go on, you have no money, you're not getting pregnant, you are pregnant, the kids are always sick/won't sleep/throwing tantrums/won't eat/eat everything, who knows what the problem of the second is!!! The first words out of my mouth will be I'll be praying for you, because I will. That is not your personal excuse to now sit around and wait, the potty training fairy is not going to knock on your door and make all your dreams come true. I've been way too passive, way too long. Trying to not rock the boat, keep everyone happy. But if me professing my faith which is such a part of me causes someone to no longer speak to me well, enough said. I'm done with thinking that going to church on Sunday is good enough. I'm done side stepping what I really want to say in the "best interest" of those involved. It's put up or shut up time, we're either growing in our faith or we're killing it. Accepting good enough, is killing it.

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah...

I read an article about blogs and how "mom blogs" are some of the most popular because we have such a wealth of situations that we can write about. There's work if the mom doesn't stay home, home if she does, the kids, dog, in our case stupid chickens, our hobbies ie; reading, photography, knitting, drinking heavily after the kids go to bed, favorite recipes... you get the idea. We can vent about our children which happens more often than not, or maybe even our husbands which I would obviously never do since mine is a saint for still coming home every night, that coupled with the fact that he reads this. Hi hon. I could talk about politics but I'm trying to keep my stress level in check, raising 3 kids raises my blood pressure enough. I could talk about the trip to the grocery store this morning and how after I threatened Elijah within an inch of his life to stay right by the cart he proceeded to pull the entire thing over on himself. Or how when on our way to the next store I looked in my rear view mirror only to discover two naked children smiling back at me. How they got their clothes off while still buckled in is still a mystery. I could talk about how much I love that I had a meatloaf in the freezer that I just had to pop in the oven along with some potatoes and roasted broccoli, dinner done, effort zero. The chickens (or how I'm now referring to them 'the stupid chickens') are always great fodder. I could tell you how they have decided to only lay eggs on TOP of the cabinet in their coop we use for storage and not in the 4 nests we have for them. I could tell you how we expanded their shelf top nests to three since they were all yelling at each other to get out so a new girl could get in. Thinking of course that they are the most spoiled birds in Eastern Washington with no less then 9 nests for 8 hens that are laying and they all STILL lay in one nest and STILL yell at each other to get out and move along "Where or where will my precious egg go??!" stupid chickens. But I digress. I'm happy I can still find humor in the same old same old. 2 loads of laundry sitting on the bed and 2 in the washer/dryer, folding time is MP3 time and I can't wait to listen to my new favorite song "By my side" by Tenth Avenue North. Yes, mom blogs will not fall by the wayside, I've never been accused of having nothing to say.

You talkin' to me?

Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? that comprises 90% of the conversations in my house. Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? about the 23rd one my response is markedly harried. WHHHAAAAAT????? I plead. But the inquiry is quickly lost, the adhd that all humans under the age of 16 suffer from has kicked in and they have moved on. When they are newborns you can tell by the cry what's wrong. oh that's nothing he's just tired, or sounds like someone needs a diaper change or get me that bottle stat!!! The cry has now evolved from a WWWAAAAAAAA to a MOOOOOOM! Each with their own special meanings.
mooOOOM? with the squeaky rise of a field mouse on the end means I really want something but don't think you're going to give it to me.
moooommy? very quiet and high with the added y means I love you soooooo much please let me have...
MOM MOM MOM MOM means Ethan and/or Chloe is doing something particularly devious.
mama? can easily be swapped for moooommy but generally only used by Ethan, means he wants something and is oddly asking for it instead of swiping it and hiding somewhere to be consumed at which point I will A. find the wrapper or B. smell it on his breath.
MOm means I want something now and feeling pretty full of myself that I can snap at you like this.
MOOOOOMMMY MOOOOOMMMY as loud and drawn out as possible means please let me out of my room before I die, I swear I won't snap at you again.
Oddly the bearer of most mom requests is probably Ethan with Elaina pulling a close second. Ethan's requests gear toward a treat (a word that conjures visions of nails and large chalkboards) or to play with him, since there is "nooooooobody to play with meeeeeee". Considering he doesn't really want to play with you as much as he wants you to watch him play, many pleas are squelched where they stand. Elaina's aren't so much requests as demands, usually involving the word now, a hand on her hip and if she's serious, her eyes rolling to the top of her head at the end of the tyraid. Hence the frantic moooooommy screaming that ensues from being thrown in her room. It's all getting documented here, one day they will have their own babes and I will sit with them and scream their names till they frantically come running, fearing I've fallen and can't get up, only to have me question what they want and say I'm fine with a you're a crazy person look on my face. I think calling and hanging up when they answer will suffice when we aren't in each others presence. What comes around little ones, what comes around.

So ends the honeymoon...

It was actually pretty comical for me to re-write the post yesterday considering that feel-good-oh-it's-beautiful-blah-blah-blah-thing ended weeks ago. The following was written on December 27th, Ethan's 7th Birthday.

So ends the honeymoon

Yes, it was pretty. Yes, it was majestic, serene, unencumbered, weightless fluff. Now it just sucks. The kids are done playing in it. I'm done shoveling it. the girls are done hiding from it. Chloe is done swimming in it. I'm ready to see just how much of my lilac bush I can salvage from all the broken branches. I'm ready to see if any of my winter veggies survived under the tarp (props to Territorial Seed if they do!) I want to see if Ethan and Elaina can ride the new bikes they got for Christmas and most of all I want out of my HOUSE!!! Playing pioneer woman was fun for about 2 days now I want to drive my car and play on the Internet which hopefully I will be able to do next week. I've managed to learn a lot the past few weeks.

1. Make sure you have hard copies of all address' and phone numbers, especially at Christmas time! I was sending cards as I received them.

2. Make sure the cookbooks you have are usable. No really. I have purged about 10 from my collection as having no redeeming value. All the international cookbooks in the world won't help you make a simple birthday cake. I depend way too much on the Internet for inspiration and/or recipes.

3. Burn all mp3's to CD, a player full of music does you no good if you can't charge it.

4. Don't make fun of people that finish Christmas shopping in July. Living in a town of 30,000 is great until you no longer have the Internet to use for shopping. Get it done early.

I've been forced to get in touch with my creative side which honestly is more than a little dusty. Ethan wanted a spider cake for his Birthday today. Normally I would peruse thousands of cake designs on-line and alter to my abilities which are remedial at best. We did manage to put one together and it was all a 7 year old could ask for! Not bad mom. Yes, my baby turns 7 today. At this moment in time he wants to be a paleontologist. Last night he climbed into our bed because he was dreaming of giant bats and he wants his first mp3 player. Still my baby and so grown up at the same time. Still doesn't want to go to 'sleep away' school (college) because he won't be living with us (me). I of course know that will change most likely in the next year. Ethan charges to the top of the sledding hill shouting "I'm first, I'm first" all the way, only to turn over the right to his little sister, not out of brotherly love mind you, but because his sense of adventure is equal only to my own. Once he saw she survived and no ambulance's were needed he couldn't get enough. And so another year comes to an end, well almost. I've learned a lot this year, just didn't know so much of it would be in the last 3 weeks.

In like a lion...

Yes, I know. It's been a while. Rest assured I have a valid explanation. The computer died and with a full blown winter storm coming 2 days later I was stranded, unable to get to my parents who had a new computer for us. The long story short version goes something like this... Right after Thanksgiving our pastor called for a fast(food) the idea of fasting from the computer admittedly popped in my head and I chose to ignore it. The church fast started and my computer died. nice. I tried hooking up our Internet to our laptop only to discover that Chloe had bitten the connection in 1/2 while I was tinkering with it. Message now received loud and clear. We would be fasting from the computer whether I wanted to or not. Warp ahead to about 3 feet of snow and 3 weeks later we are now back on-line. Simply trying to catch up at this point. I have written some blogs by loooooong hand and the following was titled Zero.

Zero December 16 th

How can zero be so cold? by definition it seems it should be neutral. Neither hot nor cold. But this I assure you is not the case. Zero. is. cold. Spending the last 10 or so years in a sweltering climate where we BBQ every Christmas has left us a bit in awe and honestly more excited then my three kids. The last time I really lived anywhere with measurable accumulation was fresh out of high school, I lived downtown Portland and I can picture a photo my sister took of me and my cat Bambi standing in the snow. The city of course shut down with the threat of a flurry. Eastern Washington is not so sympathetic. We have no less then 10 inches right now and Ethan had a 2 hour delay. Portland schools were all cancelled with their dusting. Today will be the coldest with a high of about 10 expected but the perfect blue sky and beaming sun dancing off the powdery crystals seriously has brought a new appreciation of my surroundings. Everything looks clean, white, fresh. I want to stomp through every billowy drift. My camera has not left my side. Every drip off the icicles sends my gloves flying as my frozen fingers try to zoom in and out, switching apertures in search of some combination that can capture the awesome wonder of zero. Maybe next year I'll be able to with more practice but I doubt it. A picture can never really show the bit of steam rising from a snow covered rose or capture the hilarity of a squirrel leaping a path to the nearest tree only to shower his buddy down below with an avalanche from the branches over head. Or the sound of V after V honking frantically in the sky wondering where their pond went. The crunching of snow tires and the belly rolling giggles of a sled being pulled over the icy ruts in the road can only be locked away in memories past. Everything has value and beauty, even zero.