Birds in the Attic, Water in the Basement

Oh, Caroline.

2011-11-18T15:07:00.003-05:00

This morning, as with every morning, we were scrambling to get out the door for school. I had everyone dressed before breakfast (that doesn't always happen), everyone got a good breakfast (this doesn't always happen), and we started bundling up to head out to the car. I had "preheated" the car, since it was 31 out there this morning. I had found everyone's hat and mittens, everyone had on a coat, I had packed some things we'd need while we were out. I'd even remembered both Caroline's backpack and the gallon of apple juice she was supposed to bring for her Thanksgiving feast. (Because no Thanksgiving feast is complete without apple juice.) I had managed to keep my cool and not get irritated with anyone as we were leaving, and I was feeling pretty good about things.

Then, as I was walking her up to the steps to her preschool, I noticed that I had failed to do her hair. Or even brush it. Oh well, it was looking long and wavy and lovely nonetheless. No big deal.

It wasn't until I picked her up from school and brought her home that I discovered...

When I'd sent her upstairs to grab a sweater or sweatshirt for school, she had instead grabbed a white 2T (as in, for 2-year-olds) onesie and put it on under her shirt. And added a pair of tight-fitting pajama shorts under her jeans, just for good measure. (It's possible that she may know a man that wears boxer briefs, and she often tries to recreate that look herself.)

All would have still been well, except that she got hot at school. So she removed her shirt and just wore her onesie (!) and jeans ... with the top of her jammie shorts visible above the waistband of her jeans. I'm still slightly mortified.

Dear Toilet, I still miss you.

2011-09-08T13:39:00.003-04:00

It's been 11 1/2 weeks since our bathroom was intact, though I suppose "intact" may be a bit of stretch in describing its condition.

However, since then, it's been much less intact.

The room has been stripped down to just walls and subfloor, with a hole in the floor where the toilet will be. Meanwhile, the foyer has become the storage area for all the new fixtures. If you were to come visit our home, you'd be greeted by boxes and boxes (and boxes). A sink, a toilet, four boxes of tile, sconces, faucet, toilet paper holder, towel ring, etc. Lots of boxes.

I really thought this project would take about a week. I was trying to be cheerful about the lack of first-floor-bathroom. In week two, I started getting grumpy. At about week eight, it ceased being that big a deal. It's irritating when someone has to wait while someone else is in the bathroom, but we're getting by.

That said, it will be lovely when this bathroom is DONE.

At the beginning, I ordered a light fixture for the ceiling and learned that it was on back-order. They estimated 4-8 weeks. I was disappointed that the bathroom would be done long before the light came in, but I decided not to worry about it. Now, it's unclear which will be ready first, the light or the bathroom.

The tile guys came this morning to prep for the tile. Our house is 100 years old, so the floors aren't totally level. This morning, they pour self-leveling compound so that the tile will have a totally flat surface to mount to.

Tomorrow, they'll lay the tile. And then we can get to the fun stuff of installing all the things in that are in the foyer. This is the first time I've ever designed a room, top to bottom, and I'm excited to see how it comes together.

I'll do a photo tour of the room (which Bob is calling the Fritz Carlton, thanks to all the work that our friend Fritz has done for us) as soon as it's done.

I miss having a toilet.

2011-07-19T07:00:00.001-04:00

Downstairs, that is.

Anyway, we're in the midst of a bathroom remodel, by necessity.

The sink didn't drain (we've had that fixed now), and the toilet was about as bad as it could be.

It sucked, but only figuratively.
It rocked, but only literally.

The toilet had to go. And since the floor around it was soft, we ended up in the "while we're at it..." mindset.

Now, everything will be new except the medicine cabinet. I can't wait.

I don't get it.

2011-07-18T12:49:00.004-04:00

We had a wonderful weekend visiting friends in Ohio. We stayed with some dear friends who have a dairy farm. Before we left, we stopped by the calf barn so the kids could see (and smell, and hear, and touch) some calves. They were beautiful, and we had a lot of fun.

However, as we got back on the road, I just kept stewing about what we'd seen. I grew up on a (small) farm, and we raised beef cattle and chickens, and had two big gardens. I know where my food comes from ... or so I thought.

I watched Food, Inc. over a year ago, and it was depressing, eye-opening, etc. And that prompted me to begin my first vegetable garden. We now love eating our own produce. I buy organic milk for the kids, and I figured that was the way to go.

Now, organic isn't enough for me. I keep getting crunchier by the year, and I suppose that it only makes sense. As I learn more, I adjust to it.

Anyway, when we pulled up to the calf barn on Saturday, I said to Bob, "Where's their pasture??" And he said, "There is no pasture." I was stunned. Bob, of course, thought I knew. But no, these calves (and all the dairy cattle) never go outside. They're in their little pens in the barn all their lives. From the minute they're born.

My question to Bob was this:

What kind of world do we live in, that we take newborn calves away from their mommas and give them 'milk replacer' so we can drink the cows' milk, while we feed our own children formula?*

This is messed up.

[Raw milk, here we come. And it is almost enough to make me move to a farm.]

*This is in no way meant as a criticism of women who must feed their children formula. I know there are good reasons for it. But I believe whole-heartedly that the best food for a child is its mother's milk, whenever possible.

Nine Years Ago

2011-07-07T13:10:00.005-04:00

...

I married Bob.

July 7, 2002.

I blogged a little about the wedding weekend last year. And followed it up with a (not comprehensive) list of why I married him.

This year, I'll show you something Bob's doing for me.

I've learned that one of my love languages is home improvement. Bob's speaking my language:

In case that's unrecognizable in the picture, Bob's working on our downstairs half bath. Our friend Fritz has been gutting it, and now Bob's working on eliminating the texture from the walls. (We really love smooth old plaster walls.) And he's working with a toddler in his lap, who desperately wants to be involved.

I love this man.

Happy anniversary, Bob. Nine years, and I pray for many, many more.

The wisdom of Caroline.

2011-07-06T19:55:00.002-04:00

"I don't know if we're going to have any more babies, but God knows, because He's the One who gives us things. And babies is one of His presents, right, Momma? I don't know what His other presents are, though."

That poor chair.

2011-05-24T23:19:00.005-04:00

I suppose it has a better life, looking forlorn and unfinished in my foyer, than if it were in a landfill. Still, I'd like to be done with it.

It's been 276 days. I've soooo missed my deadline, it isn't even funny. Bob's been gracious. For a time, the chair was relegated to the guest room/Caroline's room. Then I decided that I needed to start working on it again, so I brought it back downstairs. (Out of sight, out of mind -- when it was up there, I just didn't think about it!) Now it's the first thing you see when you walk in our front door ... and it's not exactly saying, "Welcome to our put-together home!" It's saying more like, "You will notice that we have a lot of unfinished projects here" -- which is a pretty accurate statement, come to think of it.

Anyway, would you like to see what it looks like now?

Okay. Here we go.

Before:

After:

So it's obviously not done. I'm working on the cushion right now, which is stressing me out a little bit: sewing is not one of my strengths, but if the thing were just straight lines, I'd feel a lot more confident. But the cushion cover involves curves, corners, piping, and a zipper. Lord, have mercy.

Still, I'm making progress, and it feels good to actually be working on it again.

Somehow, having a baby really slows things down. Especially when you keep seeing new milestones like this:

I don't want to miss anything with little Owen ... though I confess: he rolled over for the first time this afternoon, and I only noticed because he thonked his head on the radiator and wailed. That's when I realized that he was suddenly on his back, not his tummy. Sweet guy. He willingly obliged by doing it a couple more times for me so I could record this big moment in history.

There are a lot of times that I wish that my life were different, that I had a "real job", or that I had more freedom, or whatever, but the bottom line is that I'm grateful for what I have.

I have it pretty good. The chair may be unfinished. I may have holes in the plaster ceiling in the dining room, really slow plumbing in the bathroom upstairs, and some odd shoulder pain that comes and goes. But I have it pretty good.

Slow.

2011-03-28T16:18:00.002-04:00

I've never run this slowly in my life.

It's a blow to my pride, even though I'm running down in the basement on my treadmill and no one can see me or judge me. I'm torn between wanting to be faster ... and not caring. The rational part of me knows that I have to run-- however slowly-- now, if I want to be faster later. So it's just part of the process.

But it's just so inefficient!

Still, I'm grateful to be healthy and able to run. And grateful to be able to run at 10:30 at night, safely, with my baby parked next to the treadmill.

I ran four miles last night -- ever so slowly-- and it was a psychological triumph. I wasn't sure I could do it. I'm still not in shape, and my left knee's been hurting a bit. So I just kept the pace easy and kept on going. I haven't run this far in three years.

It wasn't fun last night, but I'm feeling proud today.

I'm thirty.

2011-03-12T10:14:00.004-05:00

My birthday was on Thursday, and Bob took me (and Owen) out to dinner. We went to a restaurant/bar downtown that we'd never been to together (I'd been once before, for a girls' night out, for drinks -- except that I was pregnant at the time, so my drink was Diet Coke), and we had a really nice time. Perhaps, though, it was odd timing to sit and discuss our life insurance policies. Sorry. My bad, Bob. But our State Farm office had called that morning to tell me about a new option, so it was fresh in my mind.

Hey, I know! It's my birthday, so let's talk about life insurance and funerals!

Whoops.

Bob had really talked up my birthday with the kids, and Caroline has been super-sweet about it. She keeps writing me love notes, and making me "presents" (like one of her books, wrapped in a napkin), and paying me compliments.

On another note, I am SICK of pregnancy weight. I didn't lose all the weight after Will was born, so I started this pregnancy a little heavier. That means I have 1 1/2 pregnancies' worth of weight to lose, and it is a burden. Yuck. So I'm setting a goal for myself, like I did after Lucy was born. I ran a marathon when she was six months old. But this time, I just plan to run a half-marathon. The side benefit, of course, is the weight loss. I've gone for three runs so far (on my bargain treadmill in the basement), and I feel simultaneously like I'm in better and worse shape than I thought. The running is hard work, but I can run more than I expected, right off the bat.

So the goal is to run the Carmel Half-Marathon on June 11. It will feel more official once I register, but I'm excited already.

Is it spring yet?

2011-03-04T09:01:00.000-05:00

I find myself longing for spring. Daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, tulips. Warmer weather. Fewer layers to put on the kids every time we go outside.

And gardening.

Last year was my first experience with a vegetable garden. (Excluding, of course, all the gardens Dad had as I was growing up. Of which there were many.) I made some mistakes. I didn't plant some things early enough. I didn't support some plants enough. And I planted most things too close together. They still flourished, but it was super-annoying to harvest the vegetables.

This morning, I felt like planning out Vegetable Garden 2011. So I got out some graph paper, a pencil, ... and some easel paper, watercolors, a permanent marker, a cup of water.

It helps to include your 4 1/2-yr-old assistant, you know.

I had a baby.

2011-03-02T17:08:00.006-05:00

Just over three weeks ago.

I keep meaning to blog about it, but I have so much to say, I can't decide how to narrow it down.

First, though, let me introduce you to Owen Alexander. He is a sweet, sweet baby, and I can't get enough of him.

So, it was Super Bowl Sunday, and I started having some pretty significant contractions at about the end of the first quarter. Bob and I were trying to keep up with the game, but he kept asking me if I was okay. I told him, "These contractions aren't messing around!" But I didn't think it was time to call the midwife.

Finally, when I didn't want to talk or move during the contractions, he insisted that I call the midwife. Though my contractions weren't THAT close together, they were pretty tough to handle, so the midwife agreed that I should go ahead and come in to the hospital. I called Vanessa, who had come into town to help with the kids, and asked her to come over.

We left for the hospital around 2. I'm always terrified that I'm wrong, that I'm not actually in labor, so it was a relief when the nurse checked me and announced that I was five centimeters dilated. (I'd been 2-3 cm for about three weeks.) This was happening.

They started my antibiotic, since I'd tested positive for Group B Strep, and I sat in that bed, excited, and hoping that MY midwife could be there. Sharon is my midwife. She's been the only midwife on staff at the hospital for about two years. But a month before my due date, she hired another midwife. She'd told me that she was planning on being at my delivery even if she wasn't on call, but it was Anne on call that night, and no mention was made of Sharon coming in.

I was really disappointed, but I didn't know if there was anything that I could/should do so that Sharon could be there. Well, as it turned out, Anne had not attended her requisite three water births in order to be able to be on duty alone for one, so she had to call Sharon in. I was thrilled, and tried not to show it, when Anne told me.

Did I mention that at my first appointment with Sharon, we discovered that her husband used to work for Bob's dad? She's been hearing stories about him since they first started dating. Not to mention that we have a lot in common with her, and our kids love her. We wanted her to be there.

My last three deliveries, I've had OB-GYN's attending. This was so, so different. My two midwives stayed in the room with us the WHOLE TIME. I couldn't believe it. I remember them leaving at one point just to find a chair so Bob could sit comfortably by the birthing pool. Other than that, they were there.

(Am I holding my iPhone there? I think I am. I may have been calling my parents, WHO DID NOT PICK UP, to tell them I was in labor. Seriously. I was 9 months pregnant, okay, minus one day, and I called them at three in the morning, and they DID NOT PICK UP.)

The labor went exactly as we'd hoped. Apart from my IV (and the hospital setting, of course), everything was totally natural and un-medical. No pitocin. No breaking the water artificially. No monitors strapped to me. No checking my dilation periodically. No telling me what to do. They just let me have my baby. It was amazing.

Amazing.

So Owen was born in the water. Bob cut the cord (once it stopped pulsing, which was a while later). He nursed well from the start. (Owen, that is, obviously.) He's been happy from the get-go. I am so thankful.

Life is good.

We need to hire an in-home nurse.

2011-01-10T15:42:00.002-05:00

Saturday of last week, Caroline came down with the stomach flu. Poor girl, she was sick from Saturday evening through the night, and was recovering Sunday. Monday morning, I came down with it. I couldn't seem to shake the fatigue & nausea, even though I was only *sick* for a short time early Monday morning. Thursday morning, I got it again. By Friday, I started feeling better, and by Saturday, I could begin to remember how nice it feels to just be healthy. Phew!

And then Sunday morning, Bob woke up to some nausea, chills, and body aches.

We've had a rough go of it, at our house. Fortunately, several cans of chicken soup later, we seem to be on the mend. Bob went to work today (with lots of warnings from me to take it easy, remember to stay hydrated, etc.). Caroline's gearing up for school tomorrow. Lucy seems as healthy as ever.

And Will's fighting a bad case of diarrhea. (I know. TMI. I'm grossed out, too.)

Will it never end?

At least I have a snowstorm or two to look forward to. It's looking like we should get at least a couple inches tomorrow, with more coming over the weekend, maybe. I've been checking the weather compulsively because there's a state park nearby that offers actual sleigh rides, when there's enough snow, and I'm dying to surprise the kids (and my mother-in-law) with a family sleigh ride, complete with sleigh bells, mugs of hot chocolate, and everything. Soon!

I am in love...

2011-01-05T10:25:00.004-05:00

with these house numbers.

And, lucky for me, Bob bought them for me for Christmas! I can't wait for them to be "installed" ...

When we bought the house, there was a cheap plaque on the wall of the front porch. It had the four digits of our house number, but off-center, like perhaps it had been purchased, on clearance, and had originally had five digits, and they knocked off the last one? Maybe they just installed them off-center. I don't know. But this is the third house for which I've itched to get nice house numbers, and actually attach them to THE HOUSE.

At our first house, we did replace the house numbers, but Bob put them on a (painted) piece of wood which hung by our front door. I really wanted numbers that were big enough to be seen easily from the street, and that were intended to be screwed into the wood over the front porch, or wherever.

After we had this house painted, the plaque has just been leaning on the front steps ... tripping people as they walk, unsuspecting, down the stairs, and confusing the UPS guy, who doesn't come here frequently enough to know our house number. I've seen him slow down, peering at the neighbors' houses on either side, trying to discern what our house number might be.

We can no longer direct people to our house by saying, it's the house after the curve, with the plywood on the side. Soon, we'll be able to simply tell people our address. What a luxury!

Soon, and very soon.

(The house numbers are available from Rejuvenation.)

Happy New Year!

2010-12-31T23:02:00.006-05:00

It's the end of 2010, and all of a sudden (as in, yesterday), we realized that we were about to miss the chance to throw a Centennial Party for our house.

Our first house was built in 1909 ... but we sold it in 2007.

Our second house was built in 1912 ... but we sold it in 2008.

This house was built in 1910! So this was our shot. I sent out an email, and then started calling people, inviting them to celebrate with us. Even though it's New Year's Eve, I could justify having an early party since it's really just a house party. By 9:30, people had left, and I had changed into a brand-new pair of black maternity yoga pants (thank you, Laura!). I'm sitting in the living room, all the lights off except the trees (which put out a lot of light), and Bob's snoozing on the couch.

The kids are in bed, and I just threw out the remainder of the cake, since Lily decided to sample a chunk of it.

We don't have people over much, but we should. Not only do we enjoy it, but the scramble to get things done around the house is good for us.

Not that we got much done around the house, but we had fun.

I'm dreading taking down the trees. If it were socially acceptable, I'd keep them up all year round. Which would be bad for so many reasons, not the least of which is that these trees are really dry already. They just wouldn't make it...

(That's tree #1 on Christmas morning, while the kids were still sleeping hard, recovering from the late Christmas Eve service.)

"Some are silver, and the others gold"

2010-11-17T21:25:00.003-05:00

Old friends are the best.

About a week and a half ago, I got an email out of the blue from my friend Chris. We were really close friends at the end of high school and into college, even though we ended up at colleges far away from each other. I hadn't seen him for something like five or six years.

The subject of the email was "Would you like to have lunch on the 17th?" He lives in DC, so I wasn't sure what he meant. The rest of the email said, "I'm serious. I have a voucher for Southwest that expires soon, and Indianapolis is the cheapest place to fly from BWI. I'd have to leave and come back the same day, but I can get a flight that arrives at 10:45 and leaves at 5:15."

I immediately replied, "Yes! Absolutely."

And then I started planning how to make it work. I really wanted some time to catch up with him without three kids interrupting, so I was able to line up childcare from 9-1, and then Bob watched them from 1-2. This gave me time to drive to the airport, bring him to our town, and take him to lunch. I gave him a really quick tour of our old neighborhood, and then brought him to our house where he got to see Bob and meet the kids. We spent maybe a half hour here before packing up the kids and heading back to the airport.

It was such a treat to see him. You know how some friends, you can just pick up where you left off years ago, and it's as if there was no gap? That's how it was for me. And we had a lot of catching up to do.

His dad died three weeks ago, and I was really sad to not be able to fly down to Florida for the funeral. I really liked his dad.

And it's crazy that I have THREE CHILDREN he'd never met. I think the only disappointing thing was that he didn't get to meet our cats, and he's a cat-lover. Other than that, the day was perfect.

Sometimes I get caught up in the daily tasks, and my life becomes drudgery. I forget to schedule things to look forward to, and that makes for a monotonous life.

Today? Today was like balm for my soul. I love that he thought to propose this plan. I love that we made it work. That it was fun, not too hurried, not awkward. I love friendships that bypass long distances, time apart, and totally different lives and just pick up in the now, with common ground we shared ten-plus years ago and the fun of being together again.

Dear Chris, thank you for coming to visit. And I hope we take a trip to DC sometime soon.

What to do?

2010-10-11T10:33:00.002-04:00

My to-do list is so long that I don't know where to start.

Cleaning the kitchen and starting some laundry would be a good beginning, I'm sure.

But the bathrooms need to be cleaned.

I need to take a huge load of stuff to Once Upon a Child.

We're all still recovering from the yard sale on Saturday. I couldn't sleep, so I got up at four, went outside, and started setting up. I worked straight until 4pm. I just barely broke even. My mother-in-law made $200. Was it worth it? Yes, I suppose so, but it was awfully disappointing. I had advertised a bunch of children's clothing, and I really expected young mothers to come. I had NONE. I think I sold maybe five articles of clothing. Woohoo.

Meanwhile, I unpacked 14 boxes of my mother-in-law's books for people to look through, and then we had to pack all of the left-overs up again (maybe 12 boxes? or more?) for Bob to take to a used bookstore up the hill. (No. Let's be honest. Bob packed all those boxes at his mom's house. Hauled them to our house. Schlepped them up the hill to beside our front porch. I unpacked them. Then he packed them, schlepped them down the hill, loaded them into the van, took them to the bookstore, and unloaded them again. I had the easy part of that job...)

After the yard sale, it had been my intention to give all the left-overs to a friend of mine for a yard sale to raise money for the LLS Team in Training, but since what was left over was junk (except for the clothes), I just took it to Goodwill as soon as the sale was over. The immediate closure was very satisfying. I would have gone to Once Upon a Child immediately, too, but there wasn't time. So I have tubs and tubs and tubs of clothes on the dining room window seat, and apparently those tubs are calling to my children, "Come and play with me! Throw me all over the floor! Momma won't care!" Except I will. I promise.

I just finished rearranging the guest bedroom to make room for an antique oak dresser that my mother-in-law doesn't have room for anymore (and that Bob and I love). I like the way the room looks so much that I'm tempted to go ahead and paint the room to make it lighter & brighter ... though, honestly, I really should finish the chair first. Yes. Must finish chair.

And I need to bake muffins for Caroline to take to school tomorrow for snack. And I need to locate and fill out the form for Picture Day tomorrow.

And I need to find babysitters so that I can attend my mother-in-law's two closings this week, plus Bob's fraternity reunion Friday night, plus maybe an evening out for me on Tuesday? Bob's going out of town, which is horrible timing since he'll actually be out of town when his mom moves, but it's been scheduled for months, way before she had any idea she might be thinking of moving.

This move has been really unsettling (I know. Shocking.) for my mother-in-law, and for us, too. We'll all be happy when she's settled in to her new place. I think she's going to love it there, but initially, I think just some stability will make her happier.

Goodness. I'd better stop talking about doing things and start actually doing things...

First things first: give Caroline a refill of cranberry apple juice. Then: prioritize the to-do list.

Time's a' Wasting

2010-10-08T07:43:00.004-04:00

So I think I'm on something like Day 47 with the chair now. Please don't tell Bob. I really am making progress, and I'm beginning to enjoy it. This is the fun part! Pulling staples out and removing the nasty old upholstery fabric was definitely not much fun. Retrieving someone else's candy wrappers, silver chains, and loose change from the depths of the stuffing was pretty gross.

But putting new fabric on and seeing it fit nicely? That's fun.

The chair's on hold, though, for a couple days.

I'm having a garage sale tomorrow. My mother-in-law is moving and downsizing, and her neighborhood doesn't allow garage sales, so I told her we could sell her excess at our house ... and that gave me a good excuse to round up all OUR excess. And apparently, we have a lot. Like tons of clothing that the girls have outgrown. Like 50 pairs of pajamas. Fifty! Crazy.

So I stayed up late last night, sorting clothes, making price lists, putting price tags on the non-clothing-items. All of our stuff is ready to go. Today, I'll work on my mother-in-law's stuff. About 2/3 of it is on our front porch, and I need to go pick up the rest of it today. (Except for her books, which Bob will get later. I packed two boxes of her boxes the other day, threw out my hip, and started having contractions. I'm only 22 weeks pregnant. It's a little early to go into labor without due cause.)

So, that said, I better get a move on.

I know I've mentioned before how much my grandfather enjoyed making money. Well, apparently, I do, too. I'm excited about this garage sale, in a way that's fairly abnormal, I think. I always wanted to be a cashier but never was, so there's that part of it. There's the organizational part of it, which I enjoy. And there's the profit! Woohoo.

Bob's hoping we make at least $100. I think we'll fly past that number, but we'll see.

Off I go to take a quick shower before the little'uns wake up.

P.S. Anyone want to make a guess at our profit number? And, should I bake and sell cookies? Or leave that to the end and only do it if there's time?

Because I know you're dying to know...

2010-09-30T16:33:00.004-04:00

Here's an update on the chair.

This is what it looks like right now. (And what it's looked like for about a week.)

And here's the fabric I chose, pinned and ready to sew the first piece (the inside of the right arm). Of course, the trickiest piece comes first. (Dear Kate, thank you, thank you, thank you, for the tip about PrudentBaby's how-to's. I followed the instructions exactly for piping, and it worked beautifully!)

I got this fabric for $6/yard. Originally $24/yard.

That sound you hear is me, patting myself on the back.

Remembering

2010-09-11T16:49:00.004-04:00

Nine years ago today, I was getting ready for my Pastoral Counseling class (I was a junior in college), listening to the radio, when I heard the news of the plane crashing into the World Trade Center. It wasn't too long before I heard them reporting it again. (I was only halfway paying attention, and I didn't realize it was a SECOND plane.)

The enormity of it was lost on me at the time. Thinking it was just one plane, I assumed it was a fluke, an accident.

Once I got to class, one of my classmates asked the rest of us if we'd heard about the terrorist attack. I thought to myself, Geez, this is how rumors get started! Something goes wrong with one plane, and next thing you know, it's a terrorist attack!

Oops.

I spent a good part of the day in front of the TV, and as the day wore on, I couldn't shake my fear that something had happened to Bob. You see, he was living in Brooklyn & working in Manhattan at the time. I emailed him. And waited. And then I called his apartment. And waited. (Phone calls were not getting through. The lines were completely swamped.) Finally, in mid-evening, I got an email saying that he was fine. He'd walked his friend Shira home, and he would call me when he got back to Brooklyn.

I was so grateful. He called, we talked, and when we got off the phone, I finally allowed myself to feel the fear that I'd been trying not to face. What if something had happened to him? It was that day that I thought, "Maybe my sister is right. Am I in love with Bob?"

(She had asked me that, point-blank, in the spring of that year.)

At that point, I'd known Bob for about ten years.

I'd never once thought that marrying Bob could be an option. I had no idea he might have feelings for me.

(As my dad pointed out later, any fool could see I had feelings for Bob.)

Perhaps as a result of Bob's post-traumatic stress, things were said more directly and more quickly than they might otherwise have been. September 11th was a Tuesday, I believe. By Saturday, our cards were on the table, so to speak.

We began dating (long-distance), and were married in July 2002, following a (suspiciously short, apparently!) six-week engagement.

On September 11th each year, I am grateful again that Bob was not near the Twin Towers that morning. I think of my classmate in that Pastoral Counseling class whose father HAD been in the Twin Towers that morning, and who was missing for weeks before they found him in a New Jersey hospital.

I grieve for the families who lost loved ones.

And I wince at the prejudice & hatred aimed at Muslims. Surely we can agree that prejudice & hatred do no one any good?

My life would be improved if...

2010-09-10T14:38:00.003-04:00

these three inventions existed:

1. A [safe, of course!] stair-climbing machine for babies. Will would be happy all day, every day.

2. A car-simulator, to help Caroline go down for her nap in the afternoon. At home, she gets tired, but never sleepy. In the car, she's out like a light.

3. Some sort of sprayskirt like kayakers wear. It would attach to the high chair, and fit tight around Will's waist, so that the seat of the high chair would not end up full of smooshed bananas and crushed Cheerios. Yes, the food would end up on the floor, but the floor's easier to clean.

What do you think? Are you with me?

Stalling

2010-09-05T21:41:00.003-04:00

The chair is now stable. I can sit in it, and it doesn't fall over ... or even creak. It's comfortable! I like it.

So the time has come to start the upholstering process.

And I'm scared to death.

It's not even a scary part yet! I need to start taking the old upholstery off the thing, and I'm just completely intimidated.

Buying fabric would be much more fun.

Step 1, Take 2

2010-08-31T22:37:00.002-04:00

Y'all might want to say a prayer for me. I'm about to go at this chair with some wood glue.

If I mess this up, I won't be able to look Bob in the eye. (He's skilled with wood-working and is still willing to glue the thing for me.)

But thanks to my [foolish?] pride, I'd really like to do this whole thing myself.

I may regret it.

The Chair, Step 1

2010-08-29T20:46:00.003-04:00

So, as I was loading the chair into the back of the van (and Bob reluctantly came to my aid), I realized that one of the legs was, I thought, loose.

That would have been nice.

One of the legs is, in fact, barely attached. As a result, I don't even know if the chair I rescued is comfortable; you can't even sit on it without it collapsing. At least you fall forward-- I hate falling backward.

Bob wanted to glue the thing for me (less an act of chivalry than a self-protective measure, since I've never glued wood before in my life), but alas, he was headed out of town and did not have the time to do it. But he did give me a pointer or two. Namely, put the thing together, clamp it, and make sure you know what you're doing -- THEN unclamp, glue, and reclamp.

So I pulled back the upholstery to reveal the injury, put the thing back together (this involved a mallet), located the clamps, and secured them. Then I put the chair up on its feet, only to discover that the newly clamped leg is about a half-inch lower than its three siblings. Ta-da! The wingback chair is now a rocking chair!

Ugh.

I think I know the problem, but I'm not sure I have the wherewithal to tackle it yet tonight.

Meanwhile, this is the only thing I've done to the chair, other than look at upholstery fabrics at the store, which was totally cart-before-horse of me. And the clock keeps on ticking.

36 days.

Tick Tick Tick...

2010-08-21T22:23:00.004-04:00

Nope, not my biological clock.

But the countdown Bob & I agreed on for a chair I picked up off a curb. 45 days. If I don't have the chair presentable in 45 days, it's going back out to the curb.

Questions: Am I skilled enough to reupholster something? (I've never reupholstered anything in my life.)

Will I have the time to get this done in 45 days?

Should I just totally make it mine, or should I run upholstery & stain ideas past Bob?

Is this piece of furniture even worth it?

It has sweet lines, and we could use more soft chairs, either in the sunroom, or the foyer, or both.

Am I crazy?

Bob thinks so. I may be. But at least there's an end to the craziness. 45 days, one way or the other.

Sold

2010-08-11T16:41:00.004-04:00

In May 2009, we bought Bob a beater. A really ugly 1987 Toyota Corolla. We'd been a two-car-payment family for too long, and we were sick of it, so when his car was totaled in an accident, we decided to go ahead and pay cash for a cheap car.

I was disappointed. I'm a car-lover, and this car was exceptionally not exciting. Rust, dents, dings. Some clear packing tape on one of the headlights. The car came with a custom-cut piece of wood to prop the trunk open, and it had to be closed just so. Some more packing tape on the ceiling of the car, plus, horrors, no cup-holders.

Anyway, it has served us really well. That little car always starts, always runs well. It is the opposite of zippy, and it's a bit noisy, but it's totally reliable.

In early September, our friend Lindsey is going to England. While she's gone, Bob's going to drive her 2005 Ford Focus. There's no sense in keeping the Corolla. We never planned to keep it long-term anyway. So, late Monday night, (well, technically, early Tuesday morning), I posted the car on Craigslist. No pictures, not a whole lot of details. When I got up Tuesday morning, I had an email waiting for me from a guy who was VERY interested in the car. We exchanged a ton of emails back and forth, and they came to see the car at 4:30 that day.

They pulled up in an almost identical Toyota Corolla. (I said to Caroline, "Doesn't their car look just like Daddy's?" And she said, "No, look at their wheels!" That girl is detail-oriented. They had much, much newer tires.) Turns out they were shopping for a car for their son who's about to start his senior year in high school. We really liked them.

They took it for a test drive, and then came and picked it up this morning to have it checked out by their mechanic. They called me this afternoon to say that their mechanic said there was nothing wrong with it beyond old age: that it was safe and would be reliable, and was a good deal. So they just came by with $650 cash.

We bought it for $525.

My grandfather, who loved to make money, would be so proud. Who makes money on a 23-year-old car?

Grandpa, I've never forgotten the day that, as you were pulling out of the driveway, you yelled back to me, "Buy low, sell high!" Of all the parting words, those were the ones you chose. I sure do miss you.

Garden Update

2010-08-04T11:26:00.003-04:00

I've been letting my fears get the best of me.

You know, we have snakes in our yard. And I've been afraid from the start that the snakes would end up in the garden, and I'd reach into some plant to get a veggie, and I'd touch a snake. I'm not actually afraid of getting bitten; they seem as eager to get away from me, as I them.

Anyway, as the plants have gotten bigger (and bigger) (and BIGGER), my fear has grown. I've failed to mow around the beds, since the plants are growing out into the "paths" and I don't want to mow part of my squash (or zucchini, or cucumber) plants along with the grass.

So, the grass around the beds is overgrown. The plants are huge and overgrown. And today, I decided I should do something about it. I got out our little reel mower, thinking it might be easier to control than our heavy, self-propelled mower. I did a bit of weeding. I threw some overgrown squash & zucchini in the compost pile. (The snake skin on top of a zucchini did nothing to allay my fears.) And I started mowing a bit. All went well until I realized there was a snake in the blades of my mower. I stopped immediately, and it slithered off ... into my zucchini plant. Shudder.

I did a little bit more work before calling it a day. It's hot out, and I just didn't have it in me to stay out for too long. I'm maybe a third of the way done with weeding & mowing. Well, no. Probably a fourth. I did stop to harvest some zucchini, though ... after carefully checking to make sure I could see no snakes.

Next up: zucchini bread!

The Sunroom

2010-07-27T10:48:00.005-04:00

We're not done with it yet; Bob does not like the color I chose for the room, so it will probably get repainted, but it's still progress. I did not like the yellow.

Here's the before:

And here's the after:

Next up: changing out this light fixture. Not my style.

Chicago!

2010-07-26T15:23:00.009-04:00

So for Christmas, Jon & Tomo gave us a gift card to the Four Seasons Hotel, with the hope that we could get away to Chicago for a child-free vacation sometime.

I began hoping we could go for our anniversary in July, but the timing just wasn't right. We ended up scheduling the trip for about two weeks later, when we could go for a Monday-to-Tuesday, and my parents could come up and watch the kids. ("Watch." Heh heh. More like "chase." Or "feed and change and bathe and read books endlessly to.")

I felt free the minute we got on the road. Bob got a little annoyed when we hit some construction on the interstate (or the InterNates, as Caroline calls both the internet and the interstate), but I enjoyed it all. Vacation! No deadlines! Just rest, sightseeing, luxury.

I will admit I felt a bit like an impostor checking into the Four Seasons. My family has always stayed in places that are as cheap as possible, and this is really far on the other side of the spectrum. Everything about the place was beautiful and luxurious. Even the maintenance men wore bow ties.

When we got to our room, we discovered that they'd upgraded us ... as I'd suspected they might. When I booked the room, they asked me if we were celebrating any special occasion, and I told them we were celebrating our anniversary. Sure enough, when we opened the door, this is what we saw:

Yes, champagne chilling in ice, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and a card addressed to us, from the Hotel Manager, wishing us many more years of happiness.

Our suite was gorgeous. A marble-floored foyer, two marble bathrooms, a living room, a long hallway with three closets, and a big beautiful bedroom. (With a mattress so comfortable that I now want to buy the Four Seasons Mattress. I'm pleased to learn that you can!) And our rooms looked out to Lake Michigan.

We walked to Millenium Park, past all the shopping on Michigan Avenue, caught a bus to Hyde Park, and walked around the [BEAUTIFUL] campus of the University of Chicago. We ate dinner in a popular little restaurant there, where the waiters wore t-shirts that said "OBAMA EATS HERE." The food was nothing to write home about, but we had a great time. We caught a bus back to the hotel and crashed for the night.

The next morning, we ate breakfast in the Seasons Restaurant. They seated us at a little table for two by the windows overlooking Michigan Avenue. Our food (and my hot chocolate) was excellent, and we lingered on and on. Our waiter was wonderful, exactly what you want in a waiter, and we had a great time. I don't know when I've had such a relaxing breakfast experience.

After breakfast, we headed to the Apple store, where Bob checked out the iPhone 4, and I looked at all sorts of things. We'd seen a young boy walking with his family on Michigan Avenue, cradling his new iMac in his arms, and Bob couldn't resist a trip there. He could have spent a lot more time there.

We headed back to the hotel, packed up, and checked out. It was sad to leave; there was so much more to explore, and we loved the hotel, and I could have stayed & stayed. (Well, no. I could not afford to stay and stay.) We also were missing our children.

It was such a great time, and now I get it. Before staying there, I did not understand why anyone would pay so much more to stay in a "fancy" hotel. I get it now. Everything about it was perfect and restful, and the service was fantastic. I loved it.

Coming Soon

2010-07-22T21:48:00.002-04:00

(I hope. I thought I'd have this done by now.)

I'm planning a post on our trip to Chicago, sans enfants. It was wonderful, and I don't have the energy to do it justice tonight.

But soon. I promise.

Typical Annie

2010-07-15T23:05:00.004-04:00

We had friends over for dinner tonight, and since Bob's been painting the kitchen & sunroom, I had a lot of work to do before they got here. Like moving furniture by myself (nothing too heavy, I promise!), among other things.

I always forget what I intend to do, so I made myself a list. Lists help me a lot. And I got almost everything done.

It wasn't until I was cleaning up tonight that I realized that my list was out on the counter, in plain view. How embarrassing.

It seems to me that I've done this before. I think the last item on my list should now always be "Put list away!"

But, like the last time I did this, at least they knew I'd taken my shower.

Pickles & Ice Cream

2010-07-11T19:19:00.004-04:00

Yup. That's right.

There's a bun in the oven. I'm barefoot & pregnant.

We're thrilled, as are Caroline & Lucy. Caroline's had a hard time keeping it a secret, though to be fair, she only slipped once. I was congratulating my brother-in-law's brother-in-law, upon finding out that he & his wife are expecting, and Caroline asked me why I was saying congratulations. I said, "They're having a baby!" And she said, "We're having a baby!" I said, "No, they're having a baby." She said, "We're having a baby!" So much for that. I covered her mouth then, but it was NOT subtle. This was a couple weeks ago. We'd had an ultrasound, which is why the kids knew (they went to the appointment and saw that little heart beating).

Anyway, thanks to weakened abdominal muscles (yes, this is my fourth child), I'm already showing a bit, so Bob said, "You don't have to tell people yet, but they'll probably start guessing." I'd rather tell people.

Why I Married Him

2010-07-09T09:12:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, when I was at work with Bob for a short time, he gave two different people two different reasons for why he married me.*

It made me create my own list.

I married Bob because:

I love him. (That's the quick obvious answer. And true, of course.)
He makes me laugh. My family sets a pretty tight boundary around what's funny and what's not, and Bob is always pushing past those lines. I love it.
He's very capable. Our dining room table? He built it. My desk? He built it. The lamps in our living room? He built, wired, assembled them. He can paint, he can design, he's an engineer.
He is not as introverted as I am. I really love that he can engage in meaningful conversation with just about anyone.
In our house, I'm the one interested in cars, and he's pickier about paint colors. It works for us. Of the cars we've purchased together (a Honda Civic, a Ford F-150, a Honda Odyssey, and 2 Toyota Corollas), I selected each of them but MY FIRST CAR, the Civic. He chose that one, convinced that I would love a stick shift, though I could not drive one. It pains me to admit that he was right. If I ever come across a minivan with a manual transmission, I'll snap that baby up.
He cares. About the environment, about our family, about the church, about politics, about other people.
I knew he'd be a great dad. And he is.
He really values that I stay home with the kids, despite the obvious fact that having a second income would make a fairly significant impact on our finances.

I could go on, but I bet he'll be annoyed that I've written this much. He's not a sentimental guy.

*He told one person at work that he married me for my handwriting. He told another person it was because I was so strong. (Which reminds me of when we arm-wrestled for the first time. Have I told that story yet?)

Eight Years Ago

2010-07-07T08:53:00.004-04:00

...

I married Bob. July 7, 2002.

And eight years ago yesterday evening, I was lost in Yonkers. I'd dashed out to find a nail place to get my manicure redone. (I'm so not the mani/pedi type ... well, not the mani type, at least. I could get used to pedis.) Anyway, my sister had treated me to a mani/pedi about a week before the wedding, and in trying to drive home (from the salon that very day) (in a truck with a manual transmission, which I really couldn't drive at that point), I messed up the fingernail of my left ring finger. Go figure.

So I had the job redone a week later on July 6th, but then (maybe due to one-way roads? I don't know. I usually have a really good "bump of direction," as my family calls it.) I got lost. I could not figure out how to get back. I think the Metro North Railroad played a role in it, too. I was on the wrong side of the tracks, but couldn't find a way to get across them. I finally stopped and asked for directions at a cell phone store, but the employees were too busy talking amongst themselves to bother with what could be their next customer... They finally deigned to address me, and then, with much impatience, told me how to get back to the SVOTS chapel, where I was currently late for my own wedding rehearsal. By the time I got there, I was in tears. Of course, it was no big deal. They were hardly going to start without me...

I don't remember much about the rehearsal, but then we all headed down to Central Park, where we had a picnic with Chinese take-out. Lots of fun. I wish I could remember the fortune from my fortune cookie. It was hilariously a propos (how do you make an accent grave, for French words??), saying something reassuring about "tomorrow night."

Then Bob headed back to his apartment in Brooklyn, and I headed back to Yonkers for the night.

Does anyone sleep well the night before the wedding? I didn't. It was just so hard to imagine what my life was going to be like. I was 21, still in college, moving from Florida to NYC, marrying a man I'd known for 10 years, but dated for (maybe?) 10 months.

Big, big changes.

The best decisions of my life.

No regrets.

Trip to the Park

2010-06-30T15:59:00.004-04:00

We live walking distance from the park. We don't go as often as we should. The girls love it. Here we are, ready to go.

Caroline, racing toward her first trip down the slide:

She loves to climb these.

I tried to keep Will in the shade. Poor guy. I bet he can't wait 'til he's racing around with the girls.

Lucy is in heaven at the park. Give that girl a slide, and she is a happy camper.

I wish I'd taken a picture when we got home. Three tired, thirsty kids. I was able to transfer Will to his bed without waking him up. Lucy was eager for her nap. Caroline's still fighting it, but she's not going to make it long.

And sleeping kids make for a happy momma.

The Midnight Bandit

2010-06-29T13:22:00.004-04:00

Last night, late at night, I was awakened. Bob had checked the weather and determined that the overnight high was only going to be 73, so he turned off the A/C and opened our windows.

Out the windows, I heard the distinct clinking of empty soda cans. Enter the Soda Can Recycler. This has happened at least once before, where I notice that all the soda cans from my recycling bin have disappeared, but the garbage/recycling truck hasn't yet come by. So, of course, nosy woman that I am, I (first woke up Bob and then) hopped out of bed and joined Lily at the window to see who was out there.

I had suspected, as one of my FB friends had suggested, that it was a guy who rides around town on a bicycle, often pulling a trailer of recyclables. I was wrong. It was a large woman with a very small dog, armed with nothing but a large black garbage bag. I give her props for her thoroughness. She went through every single item in both the recycling bins. (Yes, I watched the whole thing.) (Lucky for me, I'd left the front porch light on, so the action was somewhat lit.) And then she and her dog disappeared into the night.

I think I may begin doing what my brother-in-law does: just completely separate all the cans so it's one-stop-shopping for the Soda Can Recycler.

*(I prefer to sort all my recycling, and I do, in the house, but then I throw it all in the bins together for the garbage/recycling truck. I wish our town required sorting, but they actually discourage it. Go figure.)

Phew.

2010-06-28T10:05:00.004-04:00

Today is one of those days when just making it to the morning naptime feels like a huge triumph. Toward the end of my pregnancy with Lucy, my back started killing me. It hurt during my pregnancy with Will. And now it's begun hurting me again. I think it has something to do with routinely walking around with 20-30 pounds of children on my left hip.

Anyway, last night, I hobbled up the stairs to help Bob with putting the kids to bed ... and then I just went to bed. I knew I didn't have it in me for another trip down & up the stairs. This morning, I'm better, but not much. I'm a little leery of pain medication, assuming I'm much more likely to do more than I should, if I'm not feeling the warning pain messages my body's sending me. So I've just been trying to lift the kids as little as possible (thank God that Will can now climb the stairs by himself!). The two little ones are down for a nap, and I'm about to lie down on the couch downstairs.

I'm going to be checking into my insurance coverage, because I believe I'm ready to see a chiropractor. I know they often get a bad rap, but I'm ready to give it a shot.

As my college roommate pointed out, I brought this on myself...

That's 40-ish pounds of children I'm carrying, and I do that more than I should.

Let there be light.

2010-06-18T17:28:00.008-04:00

Not too long ago, our neighbor's tree came the rest of the way down.

It took our power line down with it. And damaged the entrance cable. And other stuff that I don't understand.

This happened on a Tuesday. We were without power from about 2pm on Tuesday to about 5:30pm on Wednesday. And hosted a party at 8pm on Wednesday. It was CRAZY, but everything came together just in time. I am awfully grateful for electricity. I really take it for granted, but laundry, cooking, keeping food fresh, having light in the bathroom, cooling the house ... all these things are pretty essential to my everyday life.

I don't have much to report these days. Nothing new to the house, except the new electrical service. But I've been taking pictures of my garden, so that's what you get today.

That's a carrot.

A black-eyed Susan, transplanted from my sister's front garden in PA.

Begonias. (Still waiting to be planted.)

Lettuce. I like it.

Mother's Day rose. Still lovin' it.

A tomato blossom.

An eager cucumber vine.

If I can just keep Lily from destroying any more plants (current count: one bean plant, one squash plant, one leek), I'll be in good shape. The rope fence is not entirely reliable at keeping her out. We're looking into other options.

Change is in the air.

2010-06-09T16:43:00.003-04:00

Bob has accepted a new position, and it was announced yesterday at work. He's excited about the new position but sad to leave his current one. He's been there for over six years, and though he's staying within the same company (and in the same building!), he's still grieving .

I understand how he's feeling (well, as much as I can, I suppose), but I'm excited. And the people that we've built relationships with are still going to be there. We'll still get to see them.

BUT...
Bob won't be on call 24/7/365.
He won't have to leave parties that we are hosting (though, to his credit, he did make it back by midnight on New Year's Eve), or dinners with friends.
He'll be able to choose his hours, work from home if he wants, and figure out how he wants to do this job.
And get paid a little more, too.

I am THRILLED that he'll be working less. As the application/interview/second interview process went on, family time definitely became the biggest plus for me about this job.

He starts July 5th. Bring it on!

Gardens make me happy.

2010-06-04T08:53:00.005-04:00

My garden is starting to look like a garden, finally, instead of three burial plots.

Most of my vegetables are up and recognizable, but a couple things are looking like they're not going to sprout, like peppers and spinach. (I should have started both much, much sooner.)

I'm going to take you on a partial tour of the garden today.

Lettuce:

Cucumbers:

Leeks:

Carrots:

And now, we'll move on to the rest of the grounds. Last summer was our first summer in the house, and Bob wanted to let the garden area around the garage do its own thing, so we'd know what we had there. Ooh, boy, did it look junky in all its glory. Tons and tons of weeds, with a few flowers thrown in.

This year, Bob's worked really hard (with the "help" of the girls) to weed the bed and prepare it for new flowers. We left the flowers that were there, of course. And by "we," I mean "Bob."

Some orange lilies:

Pink lilies:

Yellow and red are still waiting to bloom. They're gorgeous. Last year, we put some of the orange & red ones on my father-in-law's grave for Father's Day. I plan to do that again this year, if they're still blooming.

This hydrangea was part of the Easter flower arrangement at my mother-in-law's church. She gave each of the girls a plant, and I put them in the ground in front of the garage. I did a poor job of tending them, and we weren't sure they'd come back ... but they did!

My Mother's Day gift that keeps giving.

2010 is the Year of the Coupon at our house. This tree was free, using a coupon. I thought I'd killed it, leaving it for too long in our refrigerator, and not planting it in a big enough temporary pot. But when I finally put it in the ground, I started really faithfully watering it in, slowly & deeply, so the roots will grow well. And now I'm beginning to see little green buds on what was once a glorified stick. (By the way, these are the first pictures for which I've EVER used the manual focus option on our camera. It's a learning process.)

The first blossom on my new geranium.

The funny thing is, though, that as much as I love plants and flowers, I don't like to have too many in the house. I get overwhelmed by too many houseplants. My kitchen/sunroom have been overrun for months, and I'm dyin'. I'm moving them out. I can't take it anymore. Good thing they can all go outside, this time of year...

The evolution of a geranium

2010-06-01T10:12:00.004-04:00

I like geraniums a lot. So I was really disappointed to discover that one of my children had broken off a huge bloom from one of my geranium plants. I put it in a vase with water and left it on my windowsill for a long time--longer than I should have ... but then I noticed it had developed roots! So I planted it and tried again. And again.

This is a newly vased set of four geranium cuttings (actually from one long stalk that snapped off, and then I cut it into sections).

This is a cutting that's been in water for a while. See those roots?

This is a geranium that was one of the centerpieces at my baby shower for Caroline, in 2006. Still going strong.

This is a pot of two geranium plants that I bought at the farmers' market last summer. These things are taking off. (And the pot itself was the first Christmas present I ever bought for Bob. He admired it at a museum, and I went back later and bought it.)

And this: this is a pot with some geraniums that I started in a vase. Yes, that's right. See all those new leaves? And those flower buds? I'm awfully proud of these little guys.

And, because I know you're dying to see it: the pulpit in our foyer. The story on that will have to come another time.

Telephone

2010-05-28T22:27:00.002-04:00

Do you know the children's game Telephone? Everybody sits in a circle, and one person starts a "rumor." They whisper it to the person next to them, who whispers it to the next person, and so on. The last person to hear it says it out loud, and then everybody laughs at how different it is from the original.

Well, this story may be like that. I don't know.

This is a true story. It happened to some friends of the in-laws of a friend of my sister's. (Got that?)

So the family is in Chicago for a day, and they decide to go to the aquarium. They've heard great things about it, and they know their kids will have a good time there. But, they've only been there for a little bit when they realize that their four-year-old is missing. They look for him quickly, don't see him, and grab a staff member from the aquarium to report that he's missing. The staff shut down the aquarium, and they find him THREE HOURS LATER. Ellen, my sister, was telling me this, and I was practically hyperventilating. I cannot even imagine the fear and panic those parents must have been feeling.

So, they finally find him, and they're so relieved that they just leave. The older siblings are a little annoyed because in the midst of all the panic, they never really got to have fun there. They've been on the road for just over an hour, and everybody's kind of zoned out, and the little boy says, "Daddy? Getting lost wasn't the worst thing I did today."

And the dad, only half paying attention, says, "What was the worst thing you did today?"

"I have a flamingo in my backpack."

No one's quite sure what to think. But they have to check. They pull off the road. The dad hops out, runs around to the passenger door, and opens the backpack.

There's a baby flamingo inside.

They turn around and drive back to the aquarium.

They return the flamingo.

They are asked to never return.

True story.

Growth & the Color of the Day

2010-05-25T07:46:00.007-04:00

My garden is growing. And, we had to install a "fence" to keep Lily out. After the weekend's rain, though, the rope had stretched enough that she just jumped over it and ran through my garden beds, so Bob tightened it up on Sunday afternoon.

The girls helped me label the seedlings coming up yesterday.

This little zucchini sprout makes me happier than I can say.

And my tomato plants (which, apparently, my dad didn't think would make it!) are doing just fine, thank you very much!
This is my Mother's Day rose. I can't wait to get it in the ground. And I didn't even attempt subtlety when we were at the greenhouse picking it out: this is what I would like for Mother's Day each year. A new rosebush.

Changing the subject: Lucy has been having trouble identifying colors, so I decided we should make flashcards.

Necessary supplies: paint, paper cut to size, paintbrushes, baby food containers for the paint, tape to hold the paper in place on the table, and Caffeine Free Diet Coke.

Caroline was very focused and methodical, covering every inch of her paper.

Lucy's still working on finding a comfortable grip on her paintbrush.

The finished products:

Today's color of the day:

Quotes from my house:

2010-05-13T13:30:00.004-04:00

"I'm just going to put this beer on top of the frozen breast milk." --my husband, on chilling some beer in the freezer

"Not everyone has a pulpit in their foyer." --Bob again. And I want to know, if you don't have a pulpit, why not??

"But I've had a hard day, and I need to snuggle." -- Caroline, on why she didn't want to get up from her nap yesterday.

And, I'm sorry for this, but every time I think about my garden, in my head I hear "Plants in the ground/ Plants in the ground/ Looking like a fool with your plants in the ground..."

On my mind:

2010-04-30T12:05:00.004-04:00

My throat hurts, a lot.
I really really want to get a treadmill. I keep checking Craigslist for a good deal. The only question is if I'm willing to have it out and visible in the house ... you know, since I'm trying to make the house more cozy. Nothing quite says cozy like a treadmill.
I have so much laundry to get done before we head out of town for a week! And not much time to get it done.
We're planning to get away (without kids!) for our eighth anniversary in July, and I'm excited already. We're both running on fumes these days. My parents are going to stay with the kids, and we're going to head to Chicago and use the gift certificate generously given to us for Christmas. (Thanks, Jon & Tomo!)
Bob's mentioned the Iowa Writer's Workshop a couple times to me lately, and it was enough to make me go check it out. Because, you know, I'm ready to start a career. (Not really. But I occasionally think I'd like to be a pharmacist, and Bob suggested that, rather than going to pharmacy school, I should study writing. And make good use of that Accounting degree I worked 3 1/2 years for.)
Really, my dream job would be to buy old houses and rehab them. And make a profit, I guess, though really, I'd just like to see the houses come alive again.
Will has decided he likes solid foods, which makes my life easier.
The tree next door is still down. No sign of any trimming or clean-up any time soon. Is it possible that it's our tree?

(Can you see the top of the neighbor's skateboard ramp? And the sword that's stuck in the tree trunk that's still standing? No? Well, I can.)

We had a really nice time with my brother-in-law Jon, when he came last weekend for a quick visit. Caroline really loves her uncle Jon, and it was no surprise when she wanted him to put her to bed. And it didn't hurt that she got to (try to) skype with Tomo in Japan on Jon's new iPad.

April showers

2010-04-25T23:20:00.002-04:00

Leviticus 26:

³ " 'If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, ⁴ I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees of the field their fruit. ⁵ Your threshing will continue until grape harvest and the grape harvest will continue until planting, and you will eat all the food you want and live in safety in your land."

...

⁹ " 'I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers, and I will keep my covenant with you. ¹⁰ You will still be eating last year's harvest when you will have to move it out to make room for the new. "

These are beautiful verses, and now that I have a garden, I feel much more in tune with the weather. I need rain for my crops. All of a sudden, we have been sent rain in its season, and my little tomato plants are liking it.

Unfortunately, the beautiful big old weeping willow tree that's between our house and our neighbor's? It didn't make it through the rain unscathed. It was in rough shape already, scarred, awkwardly trimmed, but what was growing grew well. Tonight, I was really sad to discover that a huge portion of the tree, almost half of it, fell today. If it hit their house, it was just barely: I don't believe there's any damage to the house. But, oh!, the tree! Even in its uneven, awkward state, it was still a thing of beauty. Now it's mostly ugly, with a patch of beauty.

I am grieving.

An archaeological dig...

2010-04-21T10:05:00.003-04:00

or at least it feels like one.

In the course of digging my garden, I have come across:

4 marbles
1/2 of a bone
1 souvenir-type bicycle license plate from California that says JOSHUA
1 clothespin
1 piece of some kind of gear
1 metal tube, rusted, and filled with soil

and, of course:
lots of earthworms
a snake hole, I think
rotted tree roots
tons of ants
some rocks

It's been fun. And I'm not quite done. Beds 1 and 2 are complete and ready for planting. Bed #3 has been single-dug (as in, all the soil removed to one spade's depth); next up is to turn the next spade's-depth worth of soil with a pitchfork, then put a layer of compost on top of that, and then return the topsoil to the bed. Bed #3 has been my most efficient yet, with the single-digging taking an hour and a half. The turning and composting is fairly quick, and I hope to get that done today. The most tedious part for me is breaking up the clods of topsoil so that the top of the bed is airy and ready for new roots to dig in.

I hope to plant the first seeds in the garden by the end of the week, and my seedlings that I started inside are doing well already.

I'm finding gardening to be very addictive...

We are Dorks.

2010-04-19T07:26:00.004-04:00

Yes, we are.

I planted some basil and cilantro seeds in some little pots on my kitchen windowsill. They came in a sweet little kit from my sister, for my birthday a while back.

As the seeds started growing, I became suspicious. The basil didn't look like basil at all, but more like parsley. I told Bob they'd given us the wrong seeds in that little kit. I was amused and annoyed. I was getting ready to call Ellen and tell her about the mix-up, when all of a sudden, Bob solved the problem.

I had just put the the labels on the wrong pots. It's true, that never occurred to me.

And you know how I said we are dorks? Well, Bob was super-gluing something yesterday, and set the super glue down on his desk. No, not on his desk exactly, but on a book. And last night, he brought this down to show me. Yep. Super glue stuck to his Bible.

We are dorks.

Our beloved Vanessa

2010-04-15T09:00:00.004-04:00

is getting married. Vanessa has been our go-to babysitter for a while now, and she's leaving us on Saturday, after she up and gets married. I'd be grieving big time if I weren't so happy for her.

She offered to babysit one last time on Tuesday, and then last night, she and Jordan came over for dinner. In the week preceding her wedding, I was really honored that my girls (and boy) got to have two more nights with her. And it didn't hurt that they brought their new Great Dane puppy Zeke with them.
I asked Caroline yesterday who was coming over for dinner, and she said, "Zeke!"

Zeke was a big hit with all of us, even Lily, who wasn't quite sure what to make of him while he was here, and then looked all over the house for him after he left.

That's Lily sharing (maybe grudgingly?) her stuffed duck and her dog bed. Have I mentioned how much I love that dog?

And Vanessa, I don't know what we're going to do without you. But we think Jordan's the best, and we know you'll be happy.

May God grant you many happy and blessed years together!

Spring weather makes me happy ... and productive.

2010-04-14T11:17:00.004-04:00

This time of year, I just can't get enough time outside, and the kids are perfectly happy with that. We inherited some horseshoe pits in the yard, and Bob took the wooden frames of the pits out, but we left the sand. Good thing we did! The girls dig and dig and dig in that sand. It's by far their favorite thing about the yard.

My favorite things? The size of the yard, the amount of sunlight, the fact that we have big trees (though I would change the kind of trees if I could), the fact that it's fenced (though it's a chain link fence in disrepair).

Since 2010 is the year of the garden for us, I've started digging the beds. Following the instructions of the books my dad gave me, I've been double-digging. I've been pleased with it, so far, but it is back-breaking work. As in, this morning, I found getting out of bed to be a bit of a challenge. That's okay, though. I can use the exercise.

Before:
The newly christened gardening gloves (a Christmas gift for Bob from my sister). (And, yes, I used them first. I feel a little bad about that.)

Digging out the first layer of soil.

My four-legged helper. I love this dog so much.

First layer out, second layer turned. Next: compost, then topsoil back in.

It was at this point that my neighbor said, "That's a pretty small garden!" And I thought, YOU go turn over 40 square feet of soil by hand, and then we'll compare notes. Especially since I've got another 80 square feet to go.

The newly baptized.

2010-04-12T08:08:00.003-04:00

It looks like maybe he's crying, or about to, but I promise he didn't. He had a great time.

He's pretty much always happy in the arms of his godmother. What a wonderful day it was...

My sweet baby

2010-04-11T23:05:00.002-04:00

Will was baptized today. It was a beautiful service, made all the more beautiful by his happy disposition through the whole thing.

I'm going to try to post my favorite picture from it tomorrow, but I'll need to censor it just a bit. (Babies are baptized in the altogether, if you know what I mean, in our church, and I don't want to post an indecent shot.)

Today's baptism was in direct contrast to Lucy's baptism in October 2008. Whew. I wouldn't want to relive that one...

(That clip only shows a fraction of what was by far the most painful baptism I've ever attended. Imagine a child screaming through the whole service. Yep, that's what happened. Lucy was hungry and MAD.)

Crazy.

2010-04-01T18:43:00.002-04:00

This is Holy Week, and it makes sense to me that it's been a crazy week so far. Our church has at least two services per day, and my goal was to take the kids to one a day.

That hasn't happened.

We're having the ceiling in the girls' room drywalled ... and I'd put some pictures in here, if my hard drive weren't FULL ... so I've been hanging around, waiting on the guys to show up each day. They're not comfortable with our dog (a 120-lb. Great Dane. Why would that make you uncomfortable??), so I need to be here when they're here.

Yesterday, I waited all day for them. Today, I gave up around 1. They showed up at 4:42. I was a bit surprised to see them.

The girls have both been tired lately, since they've been going to bed later, what with the sunlight in the evening and all. Will's been cranky, irritable, not wanting to nurse when he's hungry, not tolerating rice cereal, but not liking other solid foods either.

Here's how the evening has gone down so far:

dry-wallers here past 6pm

they arrived while Caroline was asleep in the living room with nothing but her skivvies on

one child had a huge accident in the sunroom while I was talking on the phone

Bob had more people sign up for the Seder than he was expecting (no, we're not Jewish; he's the pastoral care director for a retirement community with people of lots of different faiths), so he had to make an emergency run to the liquor store for more wine

his mom called to tell him she'd been throwing up all day, and could he go get her a chocolate sundae from a little shop in town

Will's been crying most of the evening

I have little girls covered in sand, since they thought it was hilarious to put sand on each other's heads while they were outside today

I've learned that we have more snakes (many more) than I'd realized in the back yard. And they live right near where the garden's going to go, which is freaking me out.

Lucy picked up some dog poop with her bare hand today.

Bob's working late tonight, and tomorrow's going to be crazy, too.

C'est la vie, non?

Is it any surprise I've put the kids to bed early just so I can breathe?

Sunday Funday

2010-03-31T11:18:00.003-04:00

On Sunday, Bob & I were both itching for a little fun, and I really wanted to get out of town.

So I spent a little bit of time online, searching for something fun to do that wouldn't cost much money.

I ended up settling on a walking tour of Lockerbie Square, a neighborhood in Indianapolis where old homes have been lovingly restored, and some new ones have been built to complement the existing historic architecture.

It was so much fun ... despite that fact that it was raining, so we did a driving tour, and Caroline slept through the whole thing.

Bob and I love small old houses. Our first house was small, and even though we have a big one now, we love the creativity that comes with making the most of small spaces.

And this was a new addition that was part of an old house. Bob's sold me on the idea of a modern addition added to an old building, not trying to blend in. Additions that are made to look old are nice, too, but I'm loving this little addition.

Here it is with the rest of the house.

This picture I snapped for Bob. He's always checking out paint colors, and he liked the siding/trim/window color scheme of this house. He's totally convinced that our windows need to be dark, with lighter trim, kind of like this house.

And this one? This one made us think of our first house. This is a house we would buy. It's so cute! And if there's anything that can sell me on a house, it's sweet windows.

Then we went to an antique mall, and a shopping mall (where the girls got to ride escalators, and we bought nothing but a snack for them), and then out to eat. So much fun for so little money. I could drive around and look at houses all day. I suppose that's part of why I liked selling real estate...

Sorry the pictures are a bit dark and gloomy. I had forgotten the "real" camera and only had my phone.

Growth

2010-03-25T08:50:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I started my garden, and I found it totally overwhelming and exhilarating.

First of all, I was armed with three different gardening books, plus the information on the seed packets, and a lot of the info was conflicting, which left me conflicted.

When do I plant this seed?
How deep?
How far apart from other seeds?
With what soil & sun requirements?
How many should I plant?

When Bob and I first started talking about our garden for this year, I was thinking about one bed of plants. Then, a couple weeks ago, I drew up a tentative plan, and ordered the seeds. For two beds.

With the seeds, and my trusty books (because there are very few projects that I don't first start with a trip to the library), I drew up the "final" plan. "Final" is in quotes because it probably isn't the final plan. Final for now.

The garden is now three beds. Three 4'x10' beds, plus walkways. All I can say is, it's a good thing the yard's big enough, because I'm not willing for the garden to completely overtake the space where the girls play.

I planted tomatoes, leeks, and lavender seeds inside last night. I am so excited about them, I feel like a kid with a pile of Christmas presents under the tree. I keep sneaking over to check on my seeds, even though I know that there's nothing more to see than there was an hour ago.

Bob's thrilled, too. We're looking forward to eating fresh produce from the garden, and freezing some for the winter.

And the lavender just equals joy for us. We love the stuff. We had a lot of it at our first house, and we plan to have lots of it here. My seed packet included 100 seeds, and I planted 48 last night. I was sure Bob was going to tell me that was overkill, but his response instead was, "When are you planting the other 52?!" Clearly, we're on the same lavender wavelength.

And speaking of lavender, guess who's getting a new ceiling in the bedroom? Yep, the girls. And Caroline informed me that she and Lucy want a purple one. Like ceilings come, all assembled, painted, and ready-to-go. I resisted, but Bob's all about it. He wants to know why they shouldn't have a purple ceiling? Well, for starters, because I don't want a purple ceiling, and this is MY house! Okay, so he's right. A purple ceiling it is.

And I hope we buy an external hard drive for my computer soon because I have no room for pictures. How can I blog without pictures?

P.S. Just to clarify, my garden will include more than just tomatoes and leeks. Lots more planting to come soon.

Watch your language around my child!

2010-03-20T12:42:00.000-04:00

So Lucy, like all young children, has her own terms/pronunciations for things. Some of them, I get. Some of them, I don't.

This one, I didn't. It was clear, from context, that when she said, "momo-feagan," that she meant "more." But the origin of the phrase, I didn't know.

Then, it evolved into "mo-feagan."

And then, I realized she was saying, "more freakin.'" As in, "More freakin' cheese, please, Momma!"

Who taught my child that? Where would she hear such a thing?

Oh, wait.

It's possible...

No.

But maybe...

Oh, I hope not.

She learned it from me.

It was a sad day when I realized that.

Hoo-dote

2010-03-19T06:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I took the kids for a walk around downtown, going to the bank, the library, and our favorite local coffeeshop. We had a great time. The girls were in the double baby jogger, and Will was in the backpack.

As we were getting ready to go, I heard a cat (it sounded like a kitten) mewing. I could hear its collar tags or a bell, too. I kept checking for it because it sounded like it was under the car, but I couldn't find it.

When we got home maybe two hours later, I could still hear it. I checked the inside of the van first, then opened up the hood. There it was. A cute little black and white teenager kitten, sitting on my engine block.

The girls immediately lavished their love upon it, and then started playing in the yard. Everywhere they ran, the kitten raced after them. It stuck around until Lily came out; then it scurried back into my hood.

We put out some food for it last night, and this morning, I pulled it out from under my hood again. Later in the day, I gave it both milk and water (it enjoyed both), and then it took another nap, where else?, under the hood. This evening, we were all out in the backyard: Bob splitting firewood, the girls playing, Will taking it all in. I pulled the kitten out (I had never used my hood release before all of this. Now I'm a pro.), and he played with us, scampering behind the girls, or Bob, as they moved about.

Tonight, Lily needed to go out. I let her out, and Caroline said, "What just climbed the tree?" I thought she was talking about a vine or something, but then Bob came to me and said, "Did you see that?!"

Well, it was the cat. By the way, I asked Caroline if she wanted to give it a name. She decided it should be called Hoo-doh. Then later, I realized I'd missed the last consonant. It's actually Hoo-dote.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: HOO-DOTE!

You never know what you might find...

2010-03-18T16:31:00.005-04:00

when you live with Caroline. [Warning: this post is picture-heavy.]

Take this, for example: stadium seating, Caroline-style.

A crayon in the living room during quiet time:

Thank God for Oxi Clean.

Caroline took it upon herself to fill Will's pockets while he was doing some tummy time. (Because what six-month-old doesn't need a maraca and a marker?)

Momma, I drew a long snake!

Yes, honey, you sure did.

This is what happens when Caroline dresses herself. Pajama shorts worn as underwear, under a bathing suit, with hospital-issued non-skid socks, plus Daddy's shoes.

This is a bag she packed so she could go see her uncle Jon in Japan. (That's right, Caroline, bring that teapot!)

This is the "barn" she built around Will. "He likes it, Momma!"

She was using rubber bands on a little peg board, and she'd been given strict instructions to NOT TOUCH THE FLOWERS. She swears she didn't, but, um, what's this??

Oh, Caroline, how I love you.

A Boy and his Dog

2010-03-17T11:17:00.002-04:00

So Will discovered Lily, our dog, about a month ago. She provides him with endless entertainment. Just seeing her walk by makes him smile.

Lily doesn't mind being loved so much, either.

When she's looking for some lovin', she will bring you her stuffed duck so that you'll play with her. We don't throw it for her (inside), but we know what she's looking for, so we give her lots of good rub-downs. It makes her happy. Last night, Bob and I were busy cleaning up the kitchen, so she took her duck to Will. Put it in his lap, in his bouncy seat. And he gave the biggest belly laugh ever when she took it back.

I tried to recreate it for you, but of course, it wasn't as sweet as the first time.

Be warned: if this looks the slightest bit dangerous or violent, I promise you it wasn't.

Also, in case you're wondering, I couldn't get the duck away from Lily at one point. I think it was stuck in her teeth. We finally got it out.

Our church is part of our family

2010-03-14T13:20:00.003-04:00

Do you have young children? Do you take them to church?

Have you ever had that sinking feeling that, though they are YOUR children, you cannot control them, and you need help?

You haven't? Okay, come back and read tomorrow's post, but not this one.

The morning started with a small battle in the bathroom with Caroline. You see, she likes to go to the bathroom in other bathrooms. A little variety. (Grocery shopping at Target? Let's go to the bathroom! At a restaurant? Let's go to the bathroom!) So I wanted her to try to go to the bathroom at home before we left for church, so that we wouldn't make the inevitable bathroom trip in the middle of the service. She didn't want to try. I sent her in to the bathroom anyway. When I went to check on her, I found her with a SOAKING wet baby wipe ... and I do not want to know how that thing got so wet. Preemptive bathroom trip: fail.

We get to church, and all is going well. Caroline announces that she has to poop. I leave Will with Lucy's godmother Demetra, and take the two girls to the bathroom. So far, so good.

We go back into church. The kids are doing relatively well, though I'm a bit flustered, since I prefer to have Bob with me, helping keep the kids in line. You know what they say about going from two kids to three (or more)? No more man-to-man; now it's zone defense. So true.

A couple minutes later, Caroline tells me she needs to pee. Are you serious? Yes, she is. So this time, I leave Will in his car seat, Lucy with Demetra, and Caroline & I go to the bathroom. When we get back, they're reading the Gospel already. And then I look down and see that while Caroline did wash her hands, she failed to wash off any of the soap on the BACK of her hands. So back to the bathroom we go.

By the time we get back this time, Lindsey's holding Will, Demetra still has Lucy, and I'd like to actually participate in the service. Caroline starts asking me if she can go see Michelle, her godmother (um, no. A little too much activity from our family this morning. No more trips across the church.). When it's time for Communion, Caroline ends up going with Brian, her godfather. Lucy's with Demetra. Will's with Laura, his godmother. I go up for Communion, blessedly by myself.

And I feel like a loser. This morning felt like musical children.

The kids really weren't misbehaving or acting up; they were just needing different things from me at the same time (the nerve of them!), and I only have two hands. At home, I can prioritize, and if someone melts, so be it. But in church, the stakes are higher. I really do not want my family to be a distraction for anyone from the service. So demands need to be dealt with right away, before any meltdowns.

I'm incredibly grateful for my church family. I might have just left in the middle of the service, if people who love us and our children hadn't stepped in to help me.

So thank you.

Life at our House

2010-03-12T16:30:00.000-05:00

I was reassembling a table that I wanted to reposition in the foyer, and Caroline was cracking me up, so I grabbed the ol' iPhone to record it for your viewing pleasure.

I'm really sorry about my cold. I think it's annoying to hear other people cough, so, again, sorry.

And, I promise, I try to keep clothes on my kids, but they really prefer to be buck nekkid. I've had her put her clothes back on at least three times so far today. Our children are indecent.

My favorite part is how she switched her delivery technique when I told her to talk like she's 3 1/2.

Enjoy.

Fire!

2010-03-12T08:14:00.004-05:00

At about 4:45 Monday morning, Bob woke me up to tell me that he could see a house burning. Sure enough, we looked out the windows on the east side of our house, and we could see flames shooting up into the sky. Fortunately, the fire trucks were there already (four of them, plus various SUV's from the fire department) and a couple police cars. It scares me a little to think that I would not have awakened. Or maybe they turned off their sirens when they got close? I'd like to think that except that the house burning (three doors down from us) is only about a block and a half from the fire department. So you'd think that the sirens were on at SOME point, and that I should have heard them.

This is just part of the activity.

This guy arrived right after the fire trucks left and the police opened up the street again. He's the Servicemaster guy. Honestly, I know there's a need for it, but it grossed me out that he was peddling his services right after the fire.

So it turns out that the entire second floor was engulfed in flames. The fire was started, apparently, by a child playing with a lighter. As Bob pointed out, what's a child doing UP at 4:30, let alone playing with a lighter? Who knows. We know the fireman who led the search and rescue team (he reportedly climbed over another fireman during the fire, because the other guy wasn't moving fast enough for him), and he said that he's not sure if the house is salvageable or not. The first floor has a ton of water damage (go figure!), and there's a dumpster out front where they're throwing all the contents of the house.

It's a big old house, that was cut up into apartments pretty badly. I love old houses, and I'm almost always in favor of saving an old house, but in this case, I feel like it might be better to start over.
I'm really glad no one was hurt. And I am on a smoke detector mission. Smoke detectors, people!

Hope for Spring

2010-03-09T16:09:00.003-05:00

Today, the weather was so fantastic, we couldn't resist spending a lot of time outside. I have seen evidence that the daffodils (that my dad planted for me last year for my birthday) are starting to come up. It looks like one of our hydrangeas made it through the winter. I'm assuming our crocuses & hyacinths & tulips will appear soon.

And...

it's time to plan our vegetable garden. I'm reading the two reference books my dad gave me -- well, skimming the appropriate parts -- and trying to apply all that information to our specific plot size, climate, etc. I know the general vicinity of where the garden will be, but I really need to nail it down, so to speak, and figure out how big? And choose, once and for all, what we're going to grow this year. And buy the seeds.

I'd really like to stick to heirloom varieties. I'm not a fan of genetically modified FOOD. If the heirloom varieties are less hardy against weather and bugs, so be it. But I really don't see any reason to eat something that could never grow on its own if it hadn't started in a lab somewhere.

In other news, tomorrow I enter the last year of my twenties. It feels a little strange. College feels like a lifetime ago, and yet I still feel young enough that sometimes I'm shocked to find myself the mother of three children. It makes me think of my grandfather, who at 90-ish, told my dad he still felt like he was about 17 inside. Amazing. Perhaps that's why he lived to be 96?

Crunchtime has passed. Now it's catch-up time.

2010-03-04T10:31:00.004-05:00

We're back home now, having had a great time in Tennessee with my parents. I know you're dying for the details, so here goes:

The girls helped their Poppy feed the birds. The minute my dad came downstairs that morning, Caroline announced to him that "The birds are hungry, Poppy! We need to feed them!" And my dad obliged. I love that he did.

He also asked if he could take a look at my iPhone. I expected that to last a minute or two, or for him to ask questions about how the thing worked. Nope. He figured it out and had a blast with it. Is my dad going to get an iPhone? Never. But he sure enjoyed playing with mine.

Caroline enjoyed sharing some cereal with her Pokey. And Lucy got to help her Poppy make some biscuits. (I don't have pictures of that.)

And this is from my budding artist, Caroline. Drawn with crayon on the top of the dog food canister. We're working on boundaries, like, you know, drawing on PAPER, and not just any paper (like books), but CAROLINE'S PAPER. If I didn't love this little drawing so much, I would have been really mad.

I brought my knitting, thinking Mom & I could have a good time doing some knitting in front of the fireplace. That would have been great if I'd brought my pattern. Oops.

All good things must come to an end (as I keep telling myself about this miserable cold I've been fighting since Saturday), so now we're back home. And my shrunken laundry heap is about to grow again, once I unpack our clothes. Totally worth it, though. We sure love visiting my parents.

Crunchtime, again.

2010-02-26T10:56:00.006-05:00

So today, I'm getting ready for a trip to visit my parents in Tennessee. I can't wait. I really really love visiting them. But ... before I leave, I really should:

clean the house
get caught up on laundry (though we all know this will never happen)
go back to the grocery store tonight to exchange the gallon of milk I bought this morning, took home, and discovered was SOUR (in fairness, though, I should also say that I called the manager at PayLess, and he said to bring it back, and he'd exchange it AND give me my money back. Not bad.)
bake some granola bars (Right, like this is crucial before we leave. But I still want to.)
wash & dry all of Will's diapers so I don't come home to week-old dirty cloth diapers
go to Macy's and buy new sheets (again, not crucial. But our fitted sheet has a huge rip in it -- thanks, Caroline!, and I can't find any spares). And they're on sale!
maybe make a spare spare key? I had three extras made, and I'm down to one.

On the bright side, I have, so far today, put a load of laundry in the washer, washed the dishes, and vacuumed.

And I have someone coming to buy a table from me at noon. (Craigslist is a wonderful thing.)

And I have cleaned and hung my full-length mirror. Someone who shall remain nameless, but who is featured in this picture, took it upon herself to decorate my mirror with red & green crayon.(Hint: It wasn't me.)

I better get started.

Before I do, though, I realize that this post is a little heavy on sentences starting with "And", as well as lots of parentheses. It's just the way I work. (And I'm sorry.)

No Way. (Installment Three)

2010-02-25T11:35:00.003-05:00

If you haven't read installment two yet, read it here.

So Lindsey had told me that I could be pretty flexible with when I opened envelopes 1 and 2, but that I really should open envelope #3 at 2:30. Goodness. That implied that SOMETHING was scheduled, but I sure didn't know what. A friend or two had suggested that it might be a massage, but I'm just not the massage type. I mean, I don't wear make-up (as in, almost never, as in, last time I wore lipstick, Caroline said with evident concern, "Momma, what's on your lips?!"), I don't blow-dry my hair, I don't paint my nails, and I don't get pampered.

Well, until yesterday.

Yep, envelope #3 was a one-hour Swedish massage scheduled for 3pm yesterday, with Sean, at a yoga & wellness spa. Also downtown. Also on Main Street. (Everything was on Main Street! Which just goes to show you that I live in a cool place with a downtown that's really enjoyable.) Well, you might say that I was a bit nervous. I googled "Swedish massage" to get an idea for what I might expect. And that really didn't do anything to make me less nervous. Hmm. I really should have shaved my legs! And I just wasn't prepared for this! Ack!

Anyway, I got there and met Sean and really appreciated that he talked me through my options. Full body massage? Back? Neck? Shoulders? Arms? Etc. I asked for back, neck, and shoulders.

We headed upstairs, he left so I could get undressed, and then I got up on the table, under the blanket. When he came in, he started to arrange the sheet over me ... when he realized I was ON TOP of the sheet. Oops. Embarrassing. He left, I got under the sheet, we tried again. Okay. Phew.

My goodness. Have you ever had a Swedish massage? No? Well, you should. It was just lovely. I got to choose oil vs. lotion, what scent of oil (or unscented). The room was very dark, peaceful, some candles burning (though I suspect they were those fake electric ones), some music playing. He said, "It seems you carry most of your tension in the left side of your back, and your left shoulder." Well, yes. Let's see here. My left shoulder and back are responsible for:
purse
diaper bag
3 1/2-year-old
2-year-old
6-month-old

I can see how I could carry some tension there. (And, to clarify, I don't pile all three kids on my left hip at the same time. But I almost never carry any of the above on my right side.)

Well, he worked that tension out until I felt positively floppy. Then he left so I could get dressed. Well, I was very relaxed, feeling almost dreamy. And I forgot there was a small step-down in the room. So all of a sudden, there was a very big thud. Me falling down. And my masseuse called, "Are you okay?" Of course, everything was fine except my pride. You know, my name may mean "full of grace", but I'm anything but graceful. I'm always running into things, bruising myself, moving too quickly and forgetting that furniture/doorways/walls are where they've always been. (See: the Bruise.)

Anyway, I picked myself up, and attempted to get dressed in the mostly-dark. That's easier done when you're in your own room, and not positively mushy from relaxation. And I was terrified that I wouldn't be dressed when he came back. Thankfully, he called out, "Are you decent?" before coming back in. I was.

He showed me some stretches I could do to help my back, and then he tried to get me to consider coming back. Well, twist my arm! Well, no, he probably wouldn't twist it, would he? But he might do some deep-tissue massage on it... Anyway, I am sad to say I did not schedule another massage. Or should I say, I have not scheduled my next massage ... yet. I'd really love to go back.

I could get used to this.

By the way, I never thought I would hear the question "Are your jeans stretchy?" without feeling like the question was TOTALLY inappropriate. Funny how it wasn't.

Anyway, I still had 45 minutes of freedom before 5:00, so I went to the library to return a dreadfully overdue book (the one with the knitting pattern for the sweater I started lo these many years ago) and had the brilliant idea to photocopy the pages I need. Then I browsed the entire magazine section, as well as the DVD section, and the kids' section. Can you tell I was enjoying my day off? No deep thought allowed.

I am amazed how I spent my entire day in the presence of other people, and yet it was just the perfect amount of solitude for me. No unwanted conversation. No questions from children who like to have every minute of the day narrated for them ... and in the absence of my narration, who narrate it themselves. (Ahem, Caroline.)

And even though there was a scheduled appointment, and a scheduled end-time, the day felt so free. For the first couple hours, it was all I could do to keep from crying. This was just the nicest thing. I can't even describe it. Though goodness knows, I've used a lot of words trying.

I didn't worry for a minute about my children who know and trust Lindsey and who just adore Vanessa.

It was a day I won't forget. Lindsey, thank you so much!

No way. (Installment Two)

2010-02-25T10:53:00.006-05:00

If you haven't read installment one yet, read it here.

So. I opened envelope #2 and found a gift certificate for "Royal Lunch Treatment" at a new local vegetarian restaurant downtown. I called Bobbi back and said, "Let's go to __________ restaurant!" since we'd been vague about where to go. I met her at her new office (we used to work together, back when I was actively selling real estate ... and the office has moved since I left), and she gave me the tour, and then we headed out to lunch. It was a cold day. Her CR-V has seat-warmers. Very pleasant.

We got to the restaurant, and it was packed with mothers and small children. Bobbi wondered at first if they were all my friends, but I'd never seen any of them before. We were seated at a high table but asked if we could move, since there was no place to put our coats, purses, etc. They moved us, and then when they saw my gift certificate, they said, oh, so YOU'RE the lucky one. Wait! We had a table set up for you! And they brought over a candle for me. And a sticker with flowers. :)

Bobbi and I ended up ordering the same thing: a grilled cheese sandwich (homemade cheese on Great Harvest bread) with a cup of fajita soup. It was really good ... and perfect fare for a cold day. I really enjoyed it. The restaurant is very healthy, totally (or almost totally?) local, and pretty alternative. Lots of vegan options that sounded foreign or out there to me, but also some things that sounded pretty good. It was a cozy spot, and such a nice treat. (And, I still have money left on this gift certificate ... as I do at coffee shop ... so I'll be back. The gift keeps giving.)

We headed back to the office where I got to see some more of my old co-workers ... and then I opened envelope #3.

Oh. My. Gosh.

(More coming soon.)

No way. (Installment One)

2010-02-25T08:37:00.004-05:00

Do you remember how just the other day, I was talking about how low I was feeling? Running on fumes? Blue?

Well, my goodness. My friend Lindsey took it upon herself to give me a day off from the laundry, the cooking, the kids, etc. Mostly the kids, though.

On Tuesday night, she sent me a message on Facebook, warning me to be expecting a visitor around 10am. I said, "Who? You?" (except without capitalization). She was very vague about it, telling me not to worry about it, but saying she was tempted to say St. Nicholas was coming over. (In a nutshell, St. Nicholas is known for his secret gift-giving.) This didn't make any sense to me until the end of the day yesterday.

Anyway, yesterday morning, I was trying not to think too much about my "visitor" ... remembering that she'd said I didn't need to worry about it. And then I saw my friend (and our beloved babysitter) Vanessa pull up outside. And I remembered writing on Facebook about how I needed a vacation. I thought, aha, Lindsey has planned for me to have a babysitter for two hours or so! Nice! I can run a couple errands that I never feel like running when I have three kids in tow (which is ALWAYS).

When Vanessa came in, she asked me if I knew what was going on. I said, "Nope!" We chatted for a couple minutes, and then she told me that Lindsey was coming over soon with some things for me, and said, "Why don't you go take a shower?" I said, "Am I going somewhere?" And Vanessa said, "Yes." So I raced upstairs to take a shower, and when I was all dressed, I discovered that Lindsey was downstairs, too (grinning to beat the band) (and I have no idea where that phrase comes from). She showed me three envelopes, each with a time written on them, and told me to open the envelopes at the specified time -- and not to come home before 5. The 10:15 envelope contained a gift certificate to my favorite local coffee shop.

So I fluttered around the house, getting ready to go (very inefficiently, because that's how I operate), grabbing a couple books, my knitting, my purse, (and yes, my Medela pump, because Will eats every three hours-ish, and even though there's plenty of milk in the freezer for him, I would be pretty darn uncomfortable to go that long without feeding him), and my phone.

I love that little coffee shop. I got a spicy hot chocolate (with cayenne pepper!), and when Kim asked me if I wanted any toppings, I said, "Everything you've got!" I sat down with my books and my knitting and had a grand old time. I'm knitting this sweater I started in 2004 or 2005, and it's a very complicated pattern, and I'd made a mistake somewhere but hadn't had an uninterrupted minute to sit down and try to figure out my mistake ... so I couldn't do any knitting. BUT I had the time yesterday to figure it out, get everything straightened out, and just enjoy the knitting. I sat facing a window, so I got some lovely southern sunlight ... and a good seat for the pick-up line I witnessed. Or so I thought.

[Nursing break. Typing one-handed is not my thing.]

This guy struck up a rather stupid (I thought) conversation with the woman at the next table. Then she responded with interest, and he totally played it off like he wasn't interested. Hmm. I couldn't decide if that's just the way guys work, or if he really wasn't interested in her, and really was just interested in the size of her Macbook. (His was newer and faster, and why would he care?)

Anyway, I called my friend Bobbi to see if she wanted to meet up for lunch, since I haven't seen her in months and months (like 9 months maybe?). And then I remembered envelope #2.

Key some suspenseful music here.

Installment 2 coming soon.

Writer's Blogck

2010-02-23T14:39:00.005-05:00

I got nothin'.

I'm in the midst of some winter blues. I'm feeling burned out. I'm tired and emotional. I don't feel much creative energy to create any witty or interesting posts.

So, in the interest of self-renewal, I'm going to go take a nap.

Before I go, though, here are some pictures of our little goobers.

Caroline, modeling her new winter hat (knitted by a woman in our church) and my pajama pants.

Bob & Will doing push-ups, while Lily supervises. Or looks away, actually.

My sweet Lucy Goose. Man, I love that girl.

That's it. Over and out.

Surprise visitor

2010-02-21T16:46:00.004-05:00

I was just sitting at my computer, and I happened to see some movement out of the corner of my eye.

Looks like we have a new guy in the neighborhood.

Well, hello, Mr. Possum.

Yes, that's a hay bale. Yes, I live in town. It's my neighbor's, and I'm not sure what its purpose is, but hey, my neighbor probably wonders why we don't do something about our garage.

I'm not sure this picture captures how much the garage leans. It does seem to capture the ugly insulation "curtain" on the door, the unlandscaped foundation, the drooping downspout and gutters, its unpainted siding. (It is painted, of course, but we didn't paint it when we had the house painted. It makes more sense to straighten and reinforce the building first, then paint it.)

Projects, projects. It's very difficult to prioritize.

Temptation/Impatience

2010-02-19T16:25:00.002-05:00

I really want my house to be all that it can be (go army!) right now. Anyone else feel that way?

And I despise my refrigerator. I really hate it. My mother-in-law bought it for her kitchen a couple years ago, but she hated it so much, she banished it to the garage. Really, I thought, how bad could it be? Well, that bad. When we bought this house, it came with no appliances, which is just as well, I suppose, considering how much we had to scrub down the kitchen cabinets, the floors, the walls, the doors, the windows. (And I really shouldn't pretend that we've done all of that. We've scrubbed all the floors, I scrubbed every inch of the cabinets, some of the walls have been cleaned, Bob's working his way around the windows.) By the way, quick trivia: how many windows do we have in our house? Answer: enough that having them prepped & painted was going to be a HUGE expense. Real answer: 34, I think. Not including the windows that are part of exterior doors.

So my mother-in-law gave us this refrigerator when we moved in.

Anyway, on a whim the other day, I looked at eBay for refrigerators. Big mistake. Turns out, there are good deals, just waiting for me! I'm watching an auction for a refrigerator that's everything I want (except for location ... it's hours away, in OH). Twenty-five minutes to go, and it's totally affordable. I need to just sit on my hands (even though I realize that would make blogging difficult).

To strengthen my resolve, let me quote a book I'm reading: "You want to make your home better, so the first thing you ask is: What can I buy? Wrong. For most of us, the problem isn't having enough; it's having too much (of the wrong stuff)." [from Living in Style Without Losing Your Mind by Marco Pasanella] True enough. And I recommend the book.

Full disclosure: this is big talk from the woman who couldn't resist a "good deal" for the house today at Goodwill. If Bob approves of my purchase, I'll reveal it to you on the blog. I know you're all waiting with bated breath.

Honesty. Sort of.

2010-02-18T07:00:00.001-05:00

The other day, I went into the girls' room to check on them, and I found Caroline clutching her hands together against her abdomen. I was concerned that she was hurt, so I asked her what was going on. Her response? "I don't have a baby wipe!" Which meant, of course, that she had a baby wipe. She's not allowed to get baby wipes out, since she has been known to remove all the baby wipes from the container, and then jam them back in, but all crumpled together, so they no longer feed out one at a time.

Anyway, sure enough, she had a baby wipe. I was thankful she only had one.

Yesterday, when I realized that she was wearing jeans ... but commando, I asked her where her underwear was. "Not in the toilet!" Good grief. You can imagine my relief when I later found it on the couch. And no, I don't know what it was doing on the couch, or why she would forget that she'd taken it off and put her jeans back on.

And Lucy? Well, I was looking through my House Beautiful magazine, and as I passed this ad, she said, "Bob!" I think he'll be pleased to know that he's featured in an ad. Maybe.

And why does she periodically call him Bob instead of Daddy?

Happy Birthday to Me!

2010-02-17T11:15:00.005-05:00

I had just brought in the mail, when I happened to glance out and see a box on my front porch. Did the mail female bring it? Did the UPS truck stop by when I wasn't paying attention?

I wasn't even expecting a package.

But when I saw Gardener's Supply Company on the box, I thought, it must be from my dad. Yep, sure enough, the card says "Happy Birthday! -Dad"

When my parents were here not too long ago, I was talking with Dad about how this is the Year of the Garden. Bob & I have made this pronouncement before, but this time, I'm for real.

So Dad said, "I'm going to get you a seed-starter kit for your birthday!"

The kit includes two of these 24-seed starting trays, soil, fertilizer, little stakes for marking, and more. I can't wait.

And since my sunroom, the area where my computer is (which Bob calls my InterNest), the place I'm sitting right now, gets tons of southern and western light, I know just where I'm going to put them.

The tough part is going to be figuring out what to plant, and when. Although, when my parents arrived, they came bearing gift after gif t ... and I'm not sure that I can claim to not have enough information now.

But seriously, I could see us growing lots of herbs (basil, of course, and thyme, dill, chives, parsley), and tomatoes, potatoes, onions, leeks, asparagus, cucumbers, squash, zucchini, lettuce, spinach, green beans, sweet peas, bell peppers, garlic. I could go on.

Anyway, lots of planning ahead.

I'm excited at the prospect of growing things without chemicals, knowing that everything was ripened in the sun, nothing was shipped anywhere, shrink-wrapped, etc. I also like the idea of saving money. Big surprise, right?

Moving on.

Remember when I said I failed to take pictures at our house blessing? Well, I lied apparently. I found a couple shots of Caroline & Bob, when she was pretending to be a daddy (drinking a beer) and pretending to be a momma (drinking a diet coke). That girl is too much.

And I found our to-do lists, which I apparently left sitting out for God and Everybody to see during the party. Classy. But at least everyone knew I'd taken a shower. (And Bob actually finished his to-do list, he's just not as OCD about checking things off his list. Funny. He seems to prefer the actual DOING of things.)

P.S. It's not actually my birthday, and won't be for about a month. I think my dad was just really on the ball this year.

It's your lucky day

2010-02-16T11:29:00.003-05:00

because I was going to do a photo documentary of the Evolution of a Bruise upon my Leg. However, when I went to do a sync-up of my iPhone & computer, my computer miraculously restored my phone to its settings from before its untimely crash. Which means that while my pictures & videos from before the crash are recovered, I've lost the pictures I've taken since then. I think. I need to figure this out.

Anyway, you all are saved from the (interesting, I promise!) changing nature of the bruise I got the other night when I got up in the middle of the night to race into the girls' room (and afraid of a disaster, Miss Clavel ran fast and faster! -- name that book) to check on a wailing Caroline. Unfortunately, I forgot that the side table that's beside my bed, and has been since we moved in over a year ago, was beside my bed. I slammed into that table, but of course, I didn't slow down, because I was concerned for Caroline.

All was well. Until the morning, when I felt some pain and discovered the Bruise.

Anyway, moving on from the Bruise.

Over Christmas, Caroline fell and knocked her two front teeth loose. It was pretty traumatic (definitely more so for me than for her), but I'm very glad that it looks like it's all healed up pretty well. But here's the interview I did with her (because I had just gotten an iPhone, and it has a video camera!). Please excuse my wimpy voice at the beginning. I don't know what my problem was.

I'm one frugal momma.

2010-02-15T08:47:00.002-05:00

This year, I decided to track my savings with coupons. I started clipping coupons in the middle of the year last year, but I don't really know how much I saved.

So, here's the tally for 2010:
January -- $63.22
February so far -- $39.77

We've never actually had a clothing budget because we just don't buy clothes very often. But all of Bob's clothes for work were starting to wear out all of a sudden, and we just couldn't afford to go replace all of his stuff at the Brooks Brothers prices of $79 per shirt and $150 per pair of pants. So, I started shopping on eBay. This year, I've gotten him three pairs of pants and two shirts. One of the pairs of pants was still brand-new (with tags attached) (and it was a more expensive pair of pants than the $150 ones), and the other items were used but showed no wear. So I'm comparing what I paid to what it would have cost if I'd bought everything brand-new in the store.

Brace yourselves.

I bought, as I said, three pairs of pants and two shirts, for a whopping total of $85.80. New, I would have paid $708. Yes, that sound you hear is me patting myself on the back.

In other financial news, I e-filed our federal and state taxes last night and look forward to seeing those refunds direct-deposited into our checking account.

Dave Ramsey would be proud.

House Blessing & Open House

2010-02-13T20:02:00.006-05:00

I had a great time. I really did. I'm grateful for the presence of our friends, and it felt like a blessed event.

I also learned more about entertaining, how to set realistic goals, and what not to do last-minute.

What I did right:
showered before the event (it was a tough call; it was T-1 hour, but it needed to happen)
baked some things the day before
delegated some things to Bob
put dirty hand towel from downstairs bath in the dirty clothes
(I didn't do this, but Bob did, and I liked the approach) announced that our house is a work in progress, and yes, we do know that there's a hole in the dining room ceiling.
invited some of our former neighbors whom we haven't seen in a long time. It was so much fun to reconnect.
held off on finishing our taxes (which I was itching to do), even though the last statement I needed arrived in the mail yesterday.
held off on finishing Andre Agassi's autobiography, which I'm loving. Loving.

What I did wrong:
spent precious time on the day of the event straightening all the paper in my recycling bin. Because, you know, everyone who comes over will be scandalized if it's not straight.
forgot to put a clean hand towel in the downstairs bath
realized at T-30 minutes that one of my children was naked, and the other two needed wardrobe changes. Hence, I was upstairs with three naked children when the first guests arrived.
tried a new recipe the day of the party. Made a double batch. It was a flop. Tried another new recipe. It flopped. Threw three batches of no-bake (in this case, no-good) cookies away.
waited too late to mop. Nothing like inviting people in to your kitchen with a wet floor. I skipped the mopping. I'm hoping no one was horrified.
failed to take pictures.
allowed our 3 1/2-year-old to stay up three hours past her bedtime, until it reached the point that she was acting completely drunk, and doing things like pulling down her eyelids and saying, "What are these??" in a very profound way.

Conclusion:
We have some great friends whom we really love. And we like spending time with them. And we should do it more often.

The three sweetest words in the English language.

2010-02-12T07:00:00.001-05:00

"You were right."

I'll have to tell Bob. I finally asked Caroline about this picture:

And you know how I thought it was a head, over a torso (with breasts!) with arms & legs? Well, I was wrong.

Turns out, (and now I vaguely remember Caroline saying something about it when I found this drawing) this is a picture of Caroline. With a crown. But not because it's her birthday. Because she's a queen. So the smaller circle, up over the big one? That's her crown. And we may need to work some anatomy classes into our busy schedule, because apparently, her arms and legs are coming out of her head.

At our house, on birthdays, the birthday girl gets to wear a crown at dessert time. The "crown" is my mom's tiara from when she was on Homecoming Court in high school. I used to love trying that thing on when we would visit my grandparents' house in Iowa, so when we were splitting up my grandparents' things, as my grandmother prepared to move in with my parents, I asked for the tiara. I knew that my girls would have as much fun with it as I did. And they do.

Crunch Time

2010-02-11T10:06:00.006-05:00

So we've asked our priest to come bless our house tomorrow. And then, we decided to make it a house blessing/open house. We've invited people from church, people we work with (or in my case, used to work with), former neighbors, other friends, etc.

I really thought that hosting such an event might give us added motivation to finish some projects. And it did -- just not the ones I was hoping for.

I tried and tried to find a rug for the foyer. Without a rug, it really feels unfinished. And it is. Actually, it's unstarted. While my parents were here, we went to TJ Maxx (thanks for the tip, Allison!) and found two rugs I liked. I bought them and brought them home, knowing I could return them if Bob didn't like them. And he didn't. But he was willing to live with them if a) we agreed they were temporary, and b) I liked them. So we agreed to live with them. But then, all through the night, the rugs kept coming into my dreams, and I was stewing over them, and finally I realized that I wasn't as wild about them as I'd thought. You know how sometimes something you didn't like grows on you? (Awkward sentence, I know.) Well, I experienced the opposite effect with these rugs. They shrank on me, if you will.

Sorry to talk so much about rugs. There are so many things more important than rugs, and yet, in my Project Coziness, I'd like to get this "right." And no, I don't mean to imply that there's one rug that's right for my foyer. One of many, I'm sure, I just need to find them.

I fell for this PB Kids rug. I really like it, and Bob likes it, too. And if we decided it was too bold for the foyer, it would be a great kids' room rug.

Cute, right? Except then I discovered that the rug is not one even height. It's textured.

So that rug's out. It's just not the one for us.

Anyway, so we won't have a soft rug in the foyer tomorrow night, but we will (drumroll, please) have a bath/shower that's no longer missing a tile! Thank you, Bob. I don't know how long that tile has been missing, but it was missing when we moved in (13 months ago), and hallelujah, Bob fixed it last night. The tile doesn't totally match (it's a slightly different shade of white), but I told Bob that what might be an eyesore to other people is beautiful to me.

Other projects to finish before tomorrow night at 8 (and if you're local, you're invited!) include installing some kind of lock on the downstairs bathroom door. It freaks me out when there's no lock on the bathroom door ... except in my own house, of course. But for everyone else, I'd like for them to not be worried that someone might walk in on them. Because that's never fun.

Kitchen progress: there hasn't been any. I did fill two holes with a product called Great Stuff. (Should I be in marketing? Because even I could replicate that thought process. What should we call this stuff? It's really great stuff. Oh, I know, let's call it Great Stuff!) And I did do some sanding. But there's a lot more to this kitchen project, so even though Bob's in Chicago today, I'm not going to surprise him with any more house projects when he comes home.

I did set up a table and chairs in the foyer, and I can't make up my mind about it. Does it look good? Bad? Weird? I think Bob's leaning toward weird. But I don't like having an empty room for people to walk into, especially when we have some furniture to work with in the basement and attic. So, there's a table & chairs in there.

Is this too weird? Is it okay? I don't know.

My prediction?

2010-02-07T17:05:00.002-05:00

The Colts.

And I hope I'm right -- but if not, I'll be happy for the Saints. How's that for diplomacy?

Apparently my notes to self don't work.

2010-02-05T23:17:00.007-05:00

Do you remember the Sharpie that I may or may not have put through the wash with a HUGE load of clothes? And how I reminded myself to check pockets? (Because, yes, I may have ruined a sweet little sleeper of Will's.)

Well, I forgot.

Load #2: I was unloading the dryer, and this fell out:

Thank goodness it survived its ride through the washer. Caroline, who picked it out, all by herself, while her mother bit her tongue (as in, I bit my tongue, not Caroline's), would be really sad if it died.

Load #3: I pretreated a batch of cloth napkins, burp cloths, and some hand towels, put in the detergent, and some bleach, and then went down right before supper to iron the clean napkins. And discovered that I'd never turned the washer on.

And then I stopped doing laundry for the day, because obviously, I wasn't doing such a hot job. My laundry mountain is shorter now, but not by much.

This is pretty much the only activity around our house today. The girls have been reading books with Pokey, and Pokey's been holding Will, and the girls have been playing with Poppy, and Poppy's been holding Will. That's about it. Can you tell Pokey melts around her grandchildren?

And this is the beauty that is outside. I love it.

Check your pockets.

2010-02-04T12:10:00.008-05:00

My parents are coming in tonight for an impromptu visit. That means that, by supper time, I really should:

attack the mountain of laundry upstairs

run to the grocery store
make a pie crust or two
bake bread
clean the house
cook supper

And during that time, I'll have to face all kinds of distractions. Like:
and:

(If you've ever seen a cuter baby boy than this one, I don't want to hear it, because you're lying.)

And the three kids together: No wonder I never get anything done.

And, while I'm dealing with all my distractions, I need to remember to check pockets before washing clothes. Because it would be pretty bad if I did a huge load of laundry and then found this as I was loading the dryer:

I would never do anything this stupid. Right?

Right?

While we're talking about language...

2010-02-03T18:00:00.001-05:00

Caroline talks a lot about the past and the future, and she has specific (and consistent) ways in which she does this.

To describe something that has already happened, she says, "Last night a year ago..." As in, "Did you make me a cake for my birthday last night a year ago?"

To describe something that's going to happen, she says, "Sometime on Thursday..."

Just so you have a heads-up, that's what those phrases mean. Every once in a while, Bob gets confused and says something like, "Did you tell Caroline we're going to Chicago on Thursday?" And I say, "No, did she tell you that? ... Oh wait. I'm sure I told her we'd go to Chicago some time soon. To her, that's on Thursday." The little goober.

She does like to read, so perhaps she picked this up in the sports section.

Stupor

2010-02-03T12:38:00.005-05:00

In most ways, Caroline is like Bob. For example, she smells everything. Everything. It really grosses me out, but Bob is her champion in this. We have senses for a reason! We should use them!, he says.

But when she wakes up, she's a bit like me. If Bob talks to me about something when he's leaving for work in the morning (and I'm still in bed, mostly asleep), I will often respond like I know what I'm talking about. But I have no memory of it afterward.

Caroline, however, is just in her own zone when she wakes up. It's best to give her space so she can enter the world of the living in her own sweet time.

Anyway, Friday afternoon, I had to wake her up from her nap because we were going to meet Bob's mom for supper at the Olive Garden. I woke her up, knowing I would incur her wrath just by rousing her. So I quickly followed up "It's time to get up" with "We're going out to eat with Nena! At the Olive Garden!" She thought that through, and then remembered that the Olive Garden is next to a car wash that she loves.

But since she'd just awakened, she did not possess the ability to sort through her collection of nouns and come up with the appropriate ones. So she said, "Are we going to go see that thing with that thing in that thing?" And I, knowing exactly what she was talking about, because I AM HER MOTHER, said, "Yes, honey. We are."

Oh my goodness, I love my kids.

Frazzled.

2010-02-02T11:04:00.005-05:00

Last night, Lucy was having a rough time. She was asleep, but then Caroline woke her up, and she has a hard time going back to sleep. I went in and comforted her, but she wouldn't stop crying when I left, so I got her some more milk.

Then she woke up around midnight, and again, there was no pacifying. I decided to just her cry it out, but Bob proposed letting her sleep with us. Oh boy. As soon as she got in bed with us (and the two cats) (in a double bed), she decided it was time to play and giggle and touch my eyelids and roll around. I was starting to get really annoyed, so Bob proposed that he go sleep on the couch. I didn't really see how that would fix anything except for Bob, so I nixed that.

Ultimately, Bob put her down in a different room, but with another cup of milk. She finally fell asleep.

Then Caroline fell out of bed and woke up wailing. I went in and held her for a bit, consoled her, and then tucked her back in.

Then Will woke up a time or two. I shouldn't complain because he sleeps through the night EVERY night, but still, I could have used a quiet night from him.

This morning, the girls dumped a huge load of blocks all over the house, I'm waiting to hear back from my doctor's office on whether or not they need to see me (I think I have an infection), or if they can just call in a prescription, I have an upholsterer coming to give me quotes on redoing a chair and couch (and, while we're at it, maybe the dining room chairs, and some cushions for the window seat?), and I really should shower. But if I'm in the shower, will I miss the call back from the doctor? I think it's worth the risk.

Good grief. May naptime come quickly--

Speaking of naptime, Caroline fell asleep on her sleeping bag during naptime yesterday. And when I say on her sleeping bag, I mean while it was still in its stuff sack. Crazy kid.

Pet Peeves

2010-02-01T18:11:00.001-05:00

FYI: I started this post when pregnant with Will. I'd like to be clear with you all that I'm not pregnant.

I hope this post doesn't come across as too negative, but I've noticed lately that I have a lot of pet peeves. I would like to think that this is pregnancy-related and these little things won't bother me after the end of August. We'll see...

Here's the list. It's not comprehensive, which is sad. I guess I have a lot.

cars not parked straight in our driveway
not unloading the dish drainer before stacking wet dishes on top of dry
the word "potty"
phrases like "go bye-bye," "go night-night," and "go potty"
being called "Mommy"
people telling my children I have a baby "in my belly." It's not. I've been clear with Caroline that there's a baby in my womb. I know this isn't a big deal, but I'd prefer to be a little more accurate. Someone I know was told (as a child) that the baby comes out of Mommy's bottom, and this person was grossed out for at least a decade until that was straightened out. Nasty, nasty.
toilet seats left in the upright position
mayonnaise. Does it have to be a staple of all sandwiches? ... because I can't stand it! (Well, I'm not all that cracked up about sandwiches in general, but with mayo, I won't touch them.)
people who leave their shopping carts loose in the parking lot
people who park across lane lines and take up two spots
packages being opened incorrectly (like upside down, or when a resealable container is damaged, so it's no longer resealable)
typos (though of course, I create typos, too)
Craigslist listings that use the word "beautiful" in the heading. Sorry, that's not descriptive enough for me.
Winter.
Cats that scratch furniture. (Ahem, Katie & Janie.)

Perhaps I should loosen up a little?

Update: Um, I guess it's not pregnancy-related. These still annoy me.

Security System

2010-01-29T15:45:00.003-05:00

When we were getting ready to close on this house, I called one of the utility companies (I don't remember - gas? electric? phone?) to set up service. I couldn't just transfer service from our old house to our new one because there was a period of about three weeks when we didn't need service. In other words, we had sold and moved out of the old one, but not yet into the new one. We camped out at my mother-in-law's for that period of time, and it was crazy to start heating a house that we didn't own yet. (And weren't totally sure we were going to. It was pretty stressful.)

Anyway, so I called the gas company (my brain works! I remember now!), and they offered, as a free service, to go ahead and get our other utilities set up for us. I remember feeling skeptical, but I agreed. Then they pitched all these other products and services that I didn't want. Like cable. No, I don't want cable. I understand it's cheap, but no, I don't want it. Yes, I understand that a security system discourages crime, but no, I don't want it. No, I do not want to be transferred to a security company to talk about a security system. No, I'm not interested. No, thank you. Okay, yes, they can call me at a later date. No, I need to go. Thank you. Bye.

And then I forgot about it. Until the calls started coming from this security company. I took a couple of the calls, in which I assured them that I was not interested, but I guess they didn't believe me. Then, because we now have caller ID (shh, don't tell!), I just stopped answering the phone. And it was so annoying. They would call a couple times a day for a long time, like maybe a month or so? Good grief.

Ok. Moving on. So, people sometimes speed on our street. (Not me!) And we live between two curves, so policemen can be kind of sneaky and catch people in our stretch of the street. Lately, I've noticed that probably 3-4 days a week, there's a police car that spends a lot of time parked in front of my house. He sits there, then zooms off (I assume, to catch a speeding car), then comes back. I like having him out there, and when I've been baking, I contemplate, should I run out there and offer him a muffin, or some homemade bread, or a cookie? I haven't done it yet, and finally ran the idea by Bob. He voted against it, reasoning that some psychos would probably try to poison a cop by doing something like that, so the guy might think it was fishy. I confess, I'd thought of that, and didn't want to weird him out. Bummer.

But Mr. Policeman, if you're reading this, please know that I appreciate your presence. And I like to think that you counterbalance my choice to not install a security system in my home.

Well, that and my dog. I think she helps, too.

Keepin' it Real

2010-01-28T21:31:00.005-05:00

The kids and I made a Home Depot run this morning. I may or may not have gone, unshowered, wearing a Matanzas 5k shirt from 1998.

I spend a good bit of my time feeding children. Specifically, my baby. So when I saw this drawing (by Caroline), I thought it was of me. In other words, I thought the head was a bit above the torso. Bob thinks that the big circle is a head, and the smaller ones, eyes. Oops.

I still think I should ask Caroline.

In other news, it's 9:41pm, I've fed him a million times already today, so go to sleep already, Will. I mean, come on. You could not possibly be hungry. Please don't be hungry.

Please!

Update: (10:23pm) He was hungry. Of course.

How to Make Your Child Poop.

2010-01-28T13:16:00.003-05:00

Tell her it's time for bed.

I guarantee that she will immediately announce that she needs to go to the bathroom.

Luxury

2010-01-27T15:53:00.003-05:00

You know you are a parent of young children when your idea of luxury includes:

a hot bath or shower every day
a trip to the grocery store by yourself
being awakened by an alarm clock, rather than a child
eating dinner late at night, so as to have a quiet meal with just your spouse
doing laundry and putting it away with no interruptions

I could go on, but the more I think of, the more pathetic it all sounds.

Let's just say that today, I'm suffering from the memory from my life as it used to be:

I used to run errands when I wanted to!
I used to go to work everyday.
When I wanted to go out with my husband, I didn't have to find a babysitter first.
Etc.

To clarify, I'm very satisfied (happy, even!) with my life. But there are days when being a "homemaker" or "stay-at-home mom" seems like a thankless, endless job.

Kitchen Progress

2010-01-26T17:27:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure it's fair to call this "progress." It seems misleading.

Bob was out of town today, at a meeting in Chicago. He left early, and he'll get home late. So I took the opportunity to start destroying (I mean improving!) our kitchen.

Here's my arsenal.

We have this horrible (HORRIBLE) fake tile that is glued & nailed to the wall, and it goes up six feet from the floor. Have I mentioned that it's horrible?

Well, it's gone. And now I have to repair the damage.

This is mid-way through. You can see 1) the glue I still needed to scrape off. 2) The fake tile on the right. 3) The real tile backsplash and countertop that I despise. I hate the stuff. Hate it. 4) The peach-painted fake-stucco that was applied to mask the poorly installed drywall that doesn't quite sit flush with the drywall it's next to. They applied this stucco to much of the room. It scrapes easily off of drywall, but not so easily off plaster.

Here's how it looks now. I've scraped all the fake stucco that I can get off, and the next step, Bob tells me (when I confessed over the phone what I've been up to today) is to use a drywall screen on the rest of it.

Now, the challenge will be to follow through and finish the project. I like the big-results tasks, like pulling something down. The scraping, patching, priming, etc., are not so fun for me.

Do you think Bob will just swoop in and finish it for me? Probably not.

Random Friday

2010-01-22T14:33:00.001-05:00

I'm tired today (Bob had to go in to work at 3-something this morning, and then came back at 4-something; plus, Will had me up twice, and Lucy once). So I'm not really capable of a cohesive post today.

Here's my reading list right now. Two knitting books, a couple by Frank Schaeffer, a cookbook, and two books on home decorating.

Here are the icicles hanging off my neighbor's house (taken a few days ago) -- making me feel satisfied that the money we spent on new gutters last year was worth it. No icicles here.

Can you tell he's the third child? As Bob put it, you would never have put Caroline, or even Lucy, down on the floor, without a blanket or something! Hey, I've loosened up. I think.

Fail.

2010-01-21T14:21:00.003-05:00

Let's say you have a three-and-a-half-year-old. Let's say she is sweet-natured, brimming with compassion, and pretty darn smart. And you love her dearly.

And then, let's say, you say something flippantly that causes her anguish ... and you to kick yourself repeatedly, apologize, ask for forgiveness, etc., and still feel awful about.

Caroline is toilet-trained. (Sorry, I hate the word potty.) She does not have accidents. She wears a diaper to bed at night, but we've stopped with the naptime diapers. She usually is awake long enough before she falls asleep that she asks me if she can go to the bathroom, and I always say yes.

Until today.

Today, I was feeling irritable because of the MESS these kids make. Why can't they ever put anything away? And why won't they keep their clothes on? I'm tired of saying, "Where are your clothes??" Anyway, I put the girls down for their naps, and then I was tackling a couple tasks (disassembling a piece of furniture in the kitchen, updating our tax return online with the tax statement I received today, checking Facebook, etc.) downstairs. Caroline asked to go to the bathroom. Twice. She went. Twice. The third (or maybe fourth? I don't remember--) time, she called down from upstairs, "May I go to the bathroom?" I yelled back, "No, you may not go to the bathroom again!" This is all in the space of about ten or fifteen minutes.

Five minutes later, I heard her upstairs wailing, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I raced up there and found her, peeing, in my bedroom. The white noise machine was near her on the floor, and I wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Was she hurt? Had she gotten shocked? I raced her into the bathroom, sat her on the toilet, and calmed her down. She concocted a story about where she was hurt, but when I pressed her, she admitted she was crying because she'd peed in her underwear.

Oh my goodness. Dagger to my heart.

I almost lost it.

I apologized profusely and told her it was my fault. That I was not angry with her. That I should not have told her no. Etc., etc. Then I cleaned up the bedroom and got her some clean clothes.

I thought I'd better talk with her again about what had happened, so I reiterated that this was MY fault and I was not angry. And would she please forgive me? She said yes. And then she said, "Momma, what's 'forgive'?"

I thought hard. How do you define it? So, I told her, it's like this:

I say, Caroline, I am so sorry. I should not have told you you couldn't go to the bathroom.
And then you say, Momma, it's okay. I love you.

That's what it means to forgive.

To which she replied, "Momma, it's okay. I love you."

Life with a Baby

2010-01-18T22:31:00.003-05:00

Will is at a fun age: very smiley, very interactive, just generally happy ...

except for tonight. Tonight, he's needy, fussy, cry-y, and it isn't much fun.

Our First House

2010-01-14T07:14:00.010-05:00

You know the term "starter house"? Well, this was ours.

We had hoped to find a house in that neighborhood, and one day, I casually mentioned to Bob that I'd seen a house for sale there. But it was too small. But maybe we should look at it? We scheduled an appointment, went through it, liked it, but quickly pronounced it too small.

A month or two later, we resumed the house hunt and looked at a bunch of houses. Bigger houses, cheaper houses, different neighborhoods, the other side of the river, etc. We discovered that the little tiny house was the one we liked best. We thought it was crazy but decided to go through it one more time. And fell in love.

Here's what I'm learning about myself: when it comes to houses, I look for a couple of things. First, it has to be old enough, but not too old. The range I like is about 1910-1935. Second, I have to like the windows. Preferably, they're the original windows. And, of course, they have to let in lots of light.

Third, I see a pattern in my need for at least one old, established tree somewhere. Gotta have a tree. And yes, there's a section of the fence missing. What of it? [It was the neighbor's fence. And behind their garage. So they didn't really care.]

Fourth, it needs to have some fun/beautiful original details. In our first house, this was the butler's pantry. It wasn't a full room, just a sweet little pass-through. It looks like it could use a good clean-up. Pretty smudgy. Oops.

If the house has these things, I'm willing to overlook others ... like a "master bedroom" that's 9x11, with no closet. And a kitchen that was nicely (very nicely) remodeled, but not in my taste-- and too dark. There was only one window in the kitchen, and it didn't let in much natural light. And the fact that the house was 968 square feet (plus an unheated back porch and a basement). This house, the house we're in now, is bigger than that on each floor. I think each floor here is 1100-something, and we have a full basement, first floor, second floor, and full attic. This place feels like a palace sometimes.

We loved our little house so much! But... we had a Great Dane, two cats, a baby, then another baby on the way. It was time.

I drive by from time to time. The people who bought it are taking good care of it, and that makes me happy.

Bob put so much work into the garden out front, and that's gone, so he's pretty sad about it. But I see it as a chance to create something wonderful here. Our front yard is a blank slate. It could be beautiful! He could probably recreate what we had...

Nesting

2010-01-10T21:07:00.010-05:00

I confess, given the name of my blog, this post title makes me laugh. Not LOL, mind you, but an in-my-head chuckle.

Lately, I've been nesting. Pretty hard-core, get the house in shape, nesting. And I'm not pregnant. I think it's just that we've been living in "transition" since the fall of 2007, when we bought the first of two big old houses in need of work. The first one had been seriously neglected, and we undertook to fix or replace (mostly replace) the systems of the house (heating, cooling, electrical, etc.). We realized, though, that the scope of it was beyond us ... and by that, I mean WAY beyond us. So we sold it and bought another big house that needed work. This one hadn't been "let go" like the last one, but I would say it had been "lived hard in", if that makes sense. Some of the woodwork is beat up, there were broken windows, no hot water knob in the bathtub, a tile missing in the bath/shower, a hole in the kitchen floor that had been awkwardly (and not permanently) patched, a patchwork kitchen, etc. However, it was a lot cheaper (a LOT), and, despite all the work it needed, more move-in-ready than the last one.

And we like it so much better. Seriously. We love this place.

For just over two years, we've been working on our houses, thinking we'd wait to "decorate" until things were a little more settled. It seems clear, now, that we're not going to have all projects done, or feel settled, for a long time. So now I'm trying to make it as cozy and homey as I can, with what we have, or with what I can acquire cheaply. Or both.

My first goal in Project Coziness is the foyer (or "reception hall" as it's called on the blueprints). Right now, there's an Oriental runner in there that's totally wrong for the space. (It's 30"x81" in a 12'x12' room.) There are two tables, one awkwardly displaced by Christmas tree #2, which really should come down tomorrow, and the other awkwardly displaced by Christmas tree #1, which should, well, really come down tomorrow. And there's a weird light fixture that we don't like and don't think is original to the house and think should be replaced. (And I'm the queen of run-ons tonight.)

Project Coziness: Foyer
I'd like to include-

a soft rug (not sisal, preferably wool) that is more appropriately sized for the space

Maybe a traditional Arts & Crafts-y one like the one at left, maybe not.

a chandelier, either appropriate for a 1910-ish Arts and Crafts style four-square, or something funky/modern
a pulpit. Weird, I know, but I'm married to a former pastor, and the daughter of an Anglican priest. Some friends of ours have a beautiful old oak pulpit that they no longer have room for, and they offered it to us. I have visions of standing in it and preaching to my husband.
A chair, or maybe just a place to sit while taking off shoes?

I'd like to do this for under $300. I'm thinking that should be pretty hard to do. A rug alone would cost more than that, so I'll have to be creative/hit up Goodwill/surf Craigslist/check garage sales. I'm open to suggestions.

Coziness on a Wintry Night

2010-01-07T21:45:00.004-05:00

Who am I kidding?

2010-01-05T16:54:00.003-05:00

I've decided that I should stop pretending to be what I'm not. Or, conversely, pretending not to be what I am.

And what am I? I'm a blanket hog. I'm coming to terms with this; I have stopped denying it when Bob tells me I'm hogging the blankets. And, in an effort to embrace who I really am, I've started making the bed lopsided. I let the sheets and blankets hang down further on my side than on his. They'll end up that way anyway, right?

New Year's Resolution

2010-01-04T15:55:00.001-05:00

I hereby resolve to post on my blog more frequently than every three months. Happy 2010!

In other news, we celebrated our first Christmas in our current house (we had moved in by Christmas 2008, but we spent the actual day in TN with my parents), and it was great fun. I got up at the crack of dawn ... well, actually, before the crack of dawn, to make cinnamon rolls, and Bob got up when they were almost done baking so that he could build a fire in the fireplace.

We had two Christmas trees this year, about ten feet away from each other. A little silly, maybe, but tree #2 was on clearance, and I really wanted one of the trees to be visible from the street. I love white Christmas lights, and I enjoyed making the house look festive: icicle lights on the front porch, wreaths with red bows & white lights on the dormer windows of the attic, and two Christmas trees. (Note to self: try to take a good picture of the house in the evening when it's all lit up.) (Yes, the house is still fully decorated for Christmas. As fun as decorating is, un-decorating is not so much.)

House progress? Well, when we moved in, just over a year ago, three of the four windows on the landing of the stairs were broken. And now ... they have new glass, and Bob installed them this past weekend. Hallelujah! Who lives with broken windows for a year? Well, apparently we do.

We also, apparently, are the sort of people who live with holes in the wall, and gaping holes in the ceilings. And a bedroom door that's missing the panel right at eye level. It's funny -- these defects are glaringly obvious, yet when you live with them for a while (like, a year), you start to forget they're there. Until people come over, and then you start hitting yourself in the head and thinking, good grief, why haven't we dealt with these things yet? Oh yes ... because these things cost money. While there seems to be no limit to my imagination of things we could do to our home, there are distinct limits to what we can pay to do to our home, at least for now.

I feel obligated to post these embarrassing pictures of my home, since I received some really nice comments about how the house looks on Facebook. Here's the way it really looks.

Progress

2009-10-15T15:52:00.001-04:00

So, when we bought this house last December, this is what it looked like:

And, finally, the siding is all one color! (Or mostly; there's one small area that needs to be patched and repainted. But still, it's so much better!) (Oops, I just realized that the dormer window on the attic is only primed. It still needs to be painted, too.) Next up: painting trim, soffits, windows, etc. That will be a big job -- and it probably won't happen anytime soon.

Please note: new shingles on roof, new gutters and downspouts, new chimney. And, of course, new siding, where there once was only plywood.

Future project: the kitchen. I love this kitchen. I really do. But the canary yellow? It's not really my style. And tile countertops -- do-it-yourself tile countertops -- are not so good for my style of cooking and baking. As in, I like to roll out pie crusts, cookie dough, biscuit dough, etc., right on the counter. That doesn't work with a tile-and-grout countertop. Plus, it's hard to clean. And we have a fake-tile backsplash that goes halfway up the walls. Gag. Puke. I really don't like it.

And... they didn't finish the edges! Yuck. Nothing like a tile countertop with raw cut edges of tile, and the visible plywood underneath.

What I love about the kitchen is the space, and the potential for my dream kitchen. Other than that, there's almost no detail I like. The cabinets are low-quality, and we're pretty sure they were salvaged from some other kitchen. (Not that I'm opposed to that ... if it works. These are jury-rigged.) The vinyl flooring is scratched, stained, ugly, and unfinished. And it's pretty irritating that the floor doesn't look good, even minutes after sweeping and mopping. I do like the windows. This kitchen gets good light, and that's really important to me, as a SAD-sufferer.

What I have in mind is something more like this:

The good news is, the kitchen is totally functional, so I can make my grandmother's bread recipe and make the house smell fantastic. I'm satisfied.

Weird.

2009-09-21T15:55:00.002-04:00

What does it mean when your three-year-old is carrying around a bucket full of toys, announcing that it's "dog poop and vomit"??

So I had a baby...

2009-09-04T11:56:00.001-04:00

Last Thursday, August 27th, Will joined the family.

My observations so far: he's very happy. He pretty much needs to eat, and then he's happy. He doesn't get mad when his diaper's dirty, he's not fussy. He doesn't so much like bath time, but then, I'm betting he'll like it better when he can actually be in the water. It's just sponge baths until his umbilical cord falls off.

I haven't blogged since his birth because, well, my life has been revolving around my breasts. Nursing, pumping, etc. And, though I could talk/write about breastfeeding (and my struggles with it) for hours, I won't. I've subjected Bob to probably more than he can stand. But in a nutshell, breastfeeding was not going well, and now it is. I'm glad.