Running Red Momma

You get what you get and maybe not throw a fit

2012-01-26T16:46:00.001-07:00

My nose is large and from my dad. I did not get his wonderful straight teeth, I got my mom's mess and an orthodontist's dream. As you grow up, you start sorting what comes from whom. After a while, you think you have it all divided. However, the aging process can reintroduce one to their gene pool. Years ago, my dad was giving a public speech (talk if you're LDS). He felt strongly about the subject and became teary. All I remember was watching his nose create the biggest line of mucus I had ever seen. He was so concentrated upon his message, that the use of a hanky did not occur. I was transfixed. Would the snot drop? If so, when and where? Eventually, it became as exciting as waiting for the New Year ball to drop. Yes, it did drop. And instead of saying the AMEN to the preacher, I let out a snorty giggle because it splashed down. I have a brother more than a decade older than myself. I used to giggle and point when his nose had clear mucus hanging on the end of it. Well, my daughter joins my earlier ranks. I have the gift of a clear leaky nose almost any day. I have become so desperate that I own a pair of gloves just for snot-nose when I run. Being concerned about having a nasty leaky nose, has only changed the location. Instead of a public splash, I have used jeans, paper towels or subtle shirt cuffs. Really who am I kidding? Maybe a leak would be better than what I am doing.

For balance, my mom has her own thing. She toots. If you are reading this mom--you do. My grandma did and so forth. I have giggled and rolled my eyes. That has stopped. I now know karma will pay you back by giving you the thing which made me drolly snort. I was doing yoga in a room of women. I was feeling strong, ready to claim my life of balance. Instead, as I leaned back in my warrior pose, stretching my arms, it slipped. Toot! The source of it was not what I expected. Indeed, after four vaginal births, I could not control it. I furtively looked around. Nothing seemed amiss, so I continued. IT continued. I am grateful for the composure of those other women, because I was dying. Nope, I did not stay around for post-yoga chatting. Karma seems to not only give back what gave me giggle-snorts, it made them the best genetic-laugh-right-in-my-face-gift ever. So, thanks for that. I can't wait to turn 50 and see what turns up next.

2012 looking for some good stuff!

2012-01-01T21:12:00.001-07:00

An entire month went by--whoosh, I know where it went....food, fun and frolicking. I really wanted the ah of an entry in December, I will have to settle for January 1st, which is almost as cool. So, how was your year? If I were to look back at this year, I would say some awesome parts and some not pretty parts. The notes are:

My hip injury became so difficult to manage, I was not even able to swim in February. I did not know how much change I would experience later in the year. This lack of outlet became more difficult as the year went on. Oh, how I would have liked to do some glorious trail runs this year. Sigh, not to be.
My second was diagnosed with autism. Not a total shocker. He is high functioning enough, that his peers will just think of him as the odd kid. He has a poor sense of reading emotions and people. So, he can be very fatiguing. He had been having problems at school and I just felt such huge relief at knowing I wasn't off. A week later, I quietly cried in my husband's arms. It is difficult to not imagine him being bullied in high school.
We made a sudden and surprising decision to move closer to my husband's parents. It was a number of reasons. I have LOVED walking the kids to school, running/walking the neighborhood and the cozy sense of community I feel. We bought an older house (1915). We made some ambitious repairs/changes. The scope became bigger and so did the cost. We have been living in two bedrooms for seven months now. Everything is smaller, older. You just can't clean out the old. Nor can you always need just one bathroom. We have been in a major construction zone for a long time. It has been hard to always be serene in my life/marriage with chaos, dirt and increased debt. Yet, I do look forward to the day when have completed the restoration and it all looks great. The design process has been fun.
Our trip to Europe was one of the highlights of the year. What a joy to share my earlier experiences with my children. I loved being lucky enough to bring my mom and make those dreams come true. Beautiful would be an understatement. We had so many wow moments. I loved being with JUST my kids for such a long time. I think of it often. I'm especially glad to have it as my mom just had her hip replaced.
I started fiddling with my running style in late summer. I started going barefoot in the park. This may finally be a starting point. I tried the five finger shoes. Ahh, the old troll toe would not make that work. But, I have a real dream to retrain my running and get back to trails by next summer. This means winter runs at 5am. Wheee:)

We may be done with our four---not sure how I feel about that. Sometimes it makes me deeply sad. Other times, I realize we have a lot to do and I want to increase my time with my children. By that, I mean fun time not just nag or homework time. I feel a new direction coming in my life. I have NO sense of what that is. But, I'm hoping it is a learning/growing opportunity coming my way!

Nuts and bolts

2011-11-25T15:47:00.001-07:00

Maybe you are just sitting there wondering what is that house doing? Well, here is your chance to say nope I would never do that or, hmmm that looks like a lot of fun.

A mess of years of wiring and junk

Old houses have old wiring? Yes they do! We were told it was pretty good. It wasn't. We (not me, but people I know) have pulled and reinstalled wire. That is part of the mess from the adventure. The utility box has been moved downstairs as well.

Basement framed and new plumbing!

oooh shiny new duct work--only exciting if you live in a 100 year-old house

Yes, the downstairs you wonder. That giant dirt mess, has allowed us access to do all sorts of great stuff. We do have four walls now. We also have a floor. That happened a month ago. It also gave us the ability to update plumbing and duct work. We had no vents under windows, which made all sorts of cold spots. Of course, we have old fashioned vents that don't go anywhere and allow us to "look" downstairs. All in good time. That has required more than one day of no water or power. Somehow my kids arranged with the sickness gods to be ill during that time. That is over too!

Grass for running and playing....brown fence not sure

This is not going to change: my alley for backing out. When we first checked-out the house, I refused to use the alley. If I did back out, I required assistance. Seven months later, I can back out both ways. I learned a lesson. You can adapt and learn things. You just keep trying.

Face your fear

2011-11-02T09:43:00.001-06:00

I finally faced my fears and got a mammogram. I believe in being proactive about health. However, I feared the pain of the test. I walked in and was shown my gown and locker for the exam. Minutes later, I was ready to show the girls. There is no uncomfortableness with the disrobing. Instead, I faced the steel and glass machine and thought, "I fear you more than a dentist's drill." My fears were actually truth based. The attendant efficiently grabbed my breast and began smashing/pressing my breast trying to get enough tissue to fit in the machine. I thought, this would be a good time to have a nice rack. Instead, she mashed and squeezed them with the machine (COLD, COLD!). Phewww, I thought I was done until required to do another angle. It was over quickly. I looked down to see red lines engraved from SHOULDER to MID-CHEST! I was an x-man for breast health. So, go face your fears and do something healthy.

How the facts of life can ruin your self-esteem

2011-10-10T13:33:00.001-06:00

I had been getting a sense it was time for the THE TALK with my daughter. I wanted it to be super natural and normal. So, we cozied up on the outside couch and I just went straight to it. I presented it as a simple science update. Yet, I tried to keep it basic. First question, "Ugg, does the man pee on you?" Me, "No, unless you think that is awesome!" Just kidding... I just explained a few more details. She was disheartened by the fact her body will change. She likes it the way it is. This launched me into my lecture of we are all changing ALL the time and we can't stop it. I wanted her to not feel alone. So, it trickled to the everyones' body changes constantly why didn't anyone warn me talk. The puberty, growing, adult, pregnant, after-pregnant and getting older changes were listed. Suddenly, my oldest became animated. You mean that is why your eye-balls are going into your sockets? That is why your cheeks look sharp and bony? And that is why my face is still soft and curvy, because I'm young and beautiful? Really? How did the train jump the track like that? Where did I go from umm, sweetie this is how you were made to umm mom you are the crypt keeper! It wasn't what I expected. But, I was glad to get the info in before someone on the playground did. I'm sure I will have to have rounds 2 and 3 regarding this same topic. Just wondering what wonderful segues my daughter will make.

Challenge and Change

2011-09-15T22:00:00.003-06:00

I was sitting with my kids at the swing set reflecting upon the day. Today, homework did not take two and half hours to do. My son got to it right away. Actually, after meeting quickly with a teacher, I came home to both kids bent over their homework. The house was semi-clean and I felt semi-on-top-of-it. I thought, "how would I feel if it were like this every day? Imagine the glory, peace and organization my life would be!" I closed my eyes and smiled at the image. Suddenly, my rational self knocked on the dream. You wouldn't know that it was wonderful if that is all you knew. How would I know how miserable homework, mud, yelling, begging to concentrate, get up, pack your lunch, get your uniform/leotard, clean your room, empty the dishwasher, stop yelling, start sharing, that is a warning, sit down could be? I was delighting in the day because of the very opposite nature of most of my daily pursuits. I love and enjoy my active children. Yet, in my perfect world I always imagined floor to ceiling matching containers (from Ikea of course) organizing everything I own. I would go about giving encouragement/teaching and enjoying their company. If this were my staple there would be no cognizance of how blessedly wonderful it is to see a child doing homework and doing what they are told. For example, at this moment at 10 pm. All of my children are awake and I've read them the riot act. My second child is sleeping on a blanket right at my feet. Clearly, I do enjoy the good moments they seem rare. As these a-has floated around, I was glorying in the delight of early fall. Here it can still hit 80 in midday. Yet it cools off in the mornings and evenings. As I thought about that, I'm sure I have written about the rapture about fall. The real beauty hit me. It is the beauty of change and challenge. Truly, after having all of my children blow me off tonight and letting a "what the hell?" fly from lips , I glory less in it. But, it is the truth of it all. Life is change with challenge. Can I celebrate that? Most simply can I provide myself five minutes to sit back to be more gracious and aware of the process? That is the next place for pondering.

Does it get better?

2011-09-08T21:32:00.001-06:00

I loved school when I was young. I would lay out my clothes the night before the first day and waited for the sun. Admittedly, it may have been excitement to wear new clothes. But, I really do love school. As I pursued my masters, I discovered such rich/innovative teaching for topics in math and reading. I couldn't wait for my daughter to come home with stories of joyful learning, growth and accomplishment. She is bright with a bubbly sense of humor. I imagined all the journeys she would take and I became thrilled for her. She is now in 5th grade. Together we have killed a forest with all of her worksheets. She rarely has learning centers or process driven experiences. She rarely discusses or learns about the joy of learning. Instead, she takes tests, fills out mind-numbing worksheets and gets percentage points stamped on her homework. She continues to try because she trusts me. I tell her school is awesome, but her favorite time is lunch. She cries over her math. We read books together and talk about them. I can only remember one topic where she conversed joyfully about her topic. She had learned about weather patterns. When clouds would cover the horizon, she would interpret them for us. What fun it was to hear her positive analysis. I have gone from sad/hopeful to sometimes enraged. She has just one more year in elementary school. We all know that middle school is a dearth of learning and a social torture chamber. We deserve better. Our children deserve better. I worry about my upcoming meeting with her fifth grade teacher. I'm afraid I have studied the core standards too much. I'm concerned that all of my dashed hopes will crash on this woman's head. I just want a year like I imagined. Is that too much to ask for the future?A funny last note on this story. I wrote in my daughter's planner to try and volunteer. The teacher WROTE OVER a messy word of mine (in red pencil no less) as if to correct it! Funny or just really bugged me. When I tried to volunteer and bring my youngest she said, " Do you really think that is a good idea ?" If you hear me quote it, I sound snottier than she intended.

Destruction and Camping

2011-08-28T09:58:00.006-06:00

We have been doing a much bigger remodel than even I thought. Our basement basically sits on steel poles as we re-do the foundation. I have really enjoyed the dirt pile/ramp for the whole summer. We even killed a rat. The kids have enjoyed king of the mountain.

Not only did we want to dig the back, I really wanted to tear the front lawn out, shut down the street, sidewalk and dig out the sewer. I wouldn't call it project creep. It is more like project run-away. Old houses have to LOVE them.

One morning I knew it was running away from me when we had at least four trucks in the FRONT of our house. Helpful to remember that ,originally, we were just doing the back.

We went backpacking just to say we could. The kids "hiked" in a mile. But, they did carry their belongings. It was amazing how heavy packs were even for just an overnight hike. It was beautiful and full of mosquitoes. You could drink them while walking!

My little girl did not connect to the great outdoor bathroom. It took one missed-squat with pee all over her and she was DONE. Thereafter, she refused to go to the bathroom. Hiking out she had cramps and I held her hand as she laid on rocks every foot and complained about the pain. Somehow that was better than using the bathroom. We made it--the outhouses wouldn't do and we waited to find a store on the drive out. A perfect introduction to the outdoors.

Hey what's your name?

2011-08-18T17:55:00.007-06:00

I love my husband....so, I accompanied him to his twenty year high school reunion. We attended the picnic and fancy hotel dinner. I smiled, I looked people in the eye and repeated their name, I said nice to meet you and I tried to "work the room". But, really who wants to work the room with someone you don't know? I tried to be mellow and have low expectations. The food was yummy and conversation was doable. Near the end some guy got up and started introducing everyone at the tables. Uhhh, the whole room. I went to the bathroom.
When I returned, the intros were done. We had moved to some quick speeches. Thereafter, it was to be a night of crazy dancing and talking. As all people know there are married people rules. When I touch your arm, SAVE ME for Pete's sake. Rescue me from funky strangers or boredom. This can be tricky. I had invented a variety of conversation points, but my energy was ebbing. I had run through all of my instant "I don't know you" topic points. Somehow, we got separated in the circle. I was now manning a single-person-chat. I had talked as much as I could with the spouse, I had nothing left!

I noticed his name tag said Theodore. As my brain chilled and slowed, I pounded my theoretical fists and queried, "So, your name is Theodore. We almost named our son Theodore." (pat, touch spousal arm) As if this wasn't engaging enough, I couldn't stop myself. "Do you go by Theo or Teddy? We almost named our last Theodore. It's a family name. We were going to go with Theo, but maybe it was too Cosby showish.." As I became aware of how "kill me now" I sounded, I became more nervous. (pat, touch, HELP ME) So, I began a spiel of Theodore commentary, I couldn't stop. I would like to tell more. However, because it was so abysmal I can't remember the bland details. I kept waiting for the guy to pull me off the stage. Because it was a reunion, it is not like I had a kid who could conveniently pull my hand. I couldn't think of a gracious way to excuse or pull myself away. The wheels kept coming off until I somehow got away. I hunkered down and stood by the cash bar. Instead, I started watching the other train wrecks happening there. As unkind as that seems, it was a relief not to kill someone else with my conversationally unsavvy skills.

Moving experiences and questions

2011-07-29T07:40:00.003-06:00

What about our new move? So, far I have been charmed by the changes. Each time I go running, I try a different route and enjoy the gardens and unique houses. The restaurants are yummy. We went here the other night and I have all sorts of ideas for my next outing. We have a charming local bookstore where we can browse and chat. There is a different flavor to this place than our previous neighborhood. I think it funny that you can move within the same larger geographic location and still feel changes. For example, our next door neighbor's dog is called Gustav. Another dog up the street is named after a composer. A girl my daughter's age is named from Greek mythology. Instead of driving, many take the bus or bike to work. I like the idea of community I feel on my street. We had a fourth of July block party--I hadn't seen block parties since I was a kid.

Along with the sense of community, one does pay a price for it. My usual wandering around in the buff looking for clean clothes can sometimes be an oops when I'm feet away from the next door. I can hear my neighbor make his breakfast or sneeze. Obviously, if I shut my windows it would be quieter. I do love sleeping with open windows in the summer. I haven't been able to do that for years. However, tight quarters could really get to a person. I don't love it always. Yet, I tell myself that it just requires me to be more sensitive to others.

This move has caused me to reflect on how I "present' myself. When one moves, it gives one the opportunity for a reset--sort of. I choose how people get to know me. Once in a while, I have found myself fatigued by the early get to know you chat. I just want to get to this what it REALLY is. Sometimes my attitude on this has surprised me. Instead of wanting to be super open and friendly, I just want to be straight up ugly--the real person I am. I wonder if this is the first sign of a aging. It's not that I'm pretending but everyone knows you don't dump all the honest right away or do you? Other times, I feel like just hiding out and not trying to make new friends. I want to observe a bit. All of this has surprised me. I used to be very outgoing and I very much doubt myself now. I'm not sure if it is mothering, getting older/tireder, or my past experiences that make me hesitant. But, I do hope to figure it out so I can learn again.

Conclusion, construction, commotion and couch

2011-07-20T07:45:00.005-06:00

So much for finishing my round up of Europe. Maybe I should sum up like this: we saw Paris, we survived the subway, we saw art in famous places (the kids were kind enough to walk around for 45 minutes) and we made the whole flight. When the flight ended, I looked in shock at my husband. We made it, we made it. That trip hardly sucked at all. The trip was made possible by the following: frequent flyer miles, my good friend Julie from NE now in Switzerland, my brother and his wife in Munich, my Mom, Legos, Sherpa backpacks, pea pod baby beds, Keen shoes for kids, REI convertible pants, county library for research, games, my pretty pony and a variety of books found in local stores near you.

My daughter now describes Paris to friends: It isn't that great...besides the Arc d'Triumph or the Eiffel Tower. She does have a pair of real French panties, which I think counts for some kind of fun. What about the last month? We are so sophisticated we have been making our own cheese and painting......Actually, we just threw ourselves into adjustment. We hadn't done that before we left. We finally met some neighbors. We celebrated the fourth of July. We washed all of our laundry. We signed up for swimming, basketball and tennis. We demolished the basement. Played find the smell and we now have dug a big hole in our backyard. I'm not sure what the heck we are doing. Did we really sign up to excavate our basement? For now, we live on the top part of our house. Sometimes, I really doubt our decision. The are other times when I run in the park, go walking/biking or go to some local place to eat and i feel like things will eventually sort themselves. But, if you want to chat about all of that or whatever is going on in your life, come find me on our big tacky leather couch on the porch. I think it is awesome. Husband thinks it is an eyesore.

Quick Pic Tour

2011-06-25T08:46:00.012-06:00

I was so lucky to have Mom along, to show her my favorite places and have another hand.

We got to see places where I worked so hard as a missionary--pretty emotional for me.

If you wonder if it was all sunshine and love, nope, there were days where a kid "had enough!"

We could have a separate entry of how cute is this kid splashing by something famous.

We ate ice cream under here, most seemed charmed by the 18-month-old mess.

This was our roughest transfer point to Paris. Celebrating our save arrival with the TGV. Wheew!

We could have photo books, how IJ will not pose or how the GAB will not look into the camera upon demand. (Yet she posed often for Indian families....)

Can the air smell like chocolate? Can Roger Federer have a tennis racket from chocolate? Can it cost $100? Yes, in Switzerland.

Yeah, it was that amazing. Cue music.

In an 800 year old castle, one does need to use the latrine over a lake and ponder the poem Lord Byron wrote here: The Prisoner of Chillion.

Barefoot hike in Switzerland, we walked over different textures including wood, stones, streams and soft grass. Tra la la sing a happy song.

It was the stuff I hoped to show and it was a perfect dream. In fact, it seems quite fanciful we were even there.

If you do go to Switzerland, go easy, go simple. Stay on a farm and let your children play in water, chase cats and run in fields. They prefer it to museums and walking.

Where we stayed on a farm. I am stunned how gorgeous it is. The kids just loved the freedom and green.

Top Ten Europe Experiences

2011-06-19T20:39:00.003-06:00

1. I wiped my little boys face with my spit finger--yes it is gross and you all do it. A French man, on the train, kindly offered a baby wipe. (What kind of mother wipes a kid's face with her spit?!! Sacre Bleu! What an American Faux Pas.)

2. While in Italy, we wore our enormous REI sun hats. Yes, we looked ridiculous-but I like my skin the way it is. A Russian staying in our B&B smiled and replied, "love your sombreros."

3. Our youngest, chubby, blonde toddler became a sort of phenomenon. Indian tourists took pictures of him instead of the site. While on the train, a family moved closer and proceeded to pinch his cheeks (gently) and rub his hair and face. Good luck?

4. While in Italy, I did as the Romans do, I used a bidet...which they probably didn't do. After a hot day of wandering, a bidet is the thing to do.

5. My intense little four-year-old, who gets overwhelmed by change and new experiences blocked the entire escalator by spreading her arms/legs out while standing at the top. She wouldn't go a step farther. She had enough. I'm sure all the people waiting to get through customs didn't mind at all.

6. Other cultures do things differently. Or maybe I should say, tourists can get a little pushy. I normally like to keep my distance. But, more than once I realized we all didn't line up like proper Anglo-Saxons (ha). I finally had to push my bum out a bit and push forward.

7. After a while, it became de rigueur to yell "O-lee-ve-air (Oliver) or Gabrrrreeelll (Gabrielle), it was too hard not to while in Paris.

8. Paul lamented the fact we never said "Do as the Romans do while in Rome." I said we were more cultured than that. It did not soothe him.

9. Many things were push where I was used to pull or vice-a-versa. This happened in trains, bathrooms, stores etc. When we returned home, late at night, I couldn't open my own bedroom door for quite a while because I was now switched.

10. Oh and yes Americans still yell in English and Paul couldn't find sexy Italian shoes because his feet are too big.

Europe 2

2011-06-09T23:08:00.004-06:00

Our first big train ride. Our crap sits in a big pile.

The view from our vacation house!

Where have we been? First note to those who take kids on international trips: plan it, cut it in half and slim it again--you will be just right. We saw far less of Munich than I planned. However, our kids had a great time with their German cousins. The best time we had was playing rock band. Some of them looked ready to go on tour. Our first international train ride became a good test of our packing and grouping skills. I did insist on a direct train to Switzerland. Yet, it was still a challenge to get all together on a train. As we rounded the lake where I lived 20 years ago, I felt a little emotional. It was just plain pretty to the family.
We were picked up in a small town by a typical swiss-farm house frau. Of course, it required two cars. Her husband, Ernst, picked us up in a stinky cow car with no seat belts. It did have bungee cords....Jam kept looking at me as the rain came through the roof. I smiled and told her it would be short ride. We settled into a wonderful typical Appenzell Swiss home. It looked out upon green meadows and cows with bells. Unbelievable! To get to church, mom and I had to take a 20 minute hike through meadows over-looking a small village. Thereafter, we took a train. As we rounded the corner to church, we heard bells and watched the sun shine so bright. It was the Switzerland of my dreams. I had to swallow and do that sun squinty thing to not get weepy. I loved seeing how people had changed and grown. Some changes were good--others were sad.
That afternoon, we hiked around Ebenalp. We happened upon traditional alp horns and yodelers. We couldn't have experienced a more perfect intro to my favorite country. Later in the week, we have seen water falls and did a barefoot hike. The hike was high in the mountains with soft grass and a stream to cross. We wandered along with young school groups. Such delightful Family Von Trapp hiking. I can post more pictures of our adventures. But aren't those kind of pictures boring for others? I don't know.

Europe Journal One

2011-06-02T21:30:00.002-06:00

I am hesitant to write a journal entry for our trip. Doesn't it seem like ha, I'm in Europe! ? But, it is such great format to journal quick thoughts. The flight was much less painful than I expected. Of course I had scenes where someone asked my daughter to stop kicking her seat, yes my kids fought on the plane, yes we had some crying and yes my youngest screamed randomly for fun. But, really, it was much better than I imagined. However, we were heading into the night. The direct day flight home will be BAD. The kids handled the loss of sleep better than I thought. We arrived to my brother's family. Such a nice transition. All of the cousins were welcoming. Instead of funky place where they didn't feel comfortable, the kids had friends and toys.

We did wander Munich the next day. We kept it simple. Of course, we had lunch at a bier garten. I ordered some dishes, with the typical not super friendly german. He asked if I ordered 7 things, I said yes. However, I meant sides, he meant the extra 2 meat dishes I did not order. Yes, we were over-charged, yes I was frustrated and no I did not win that argument. The oopma band was what it should be: lederhosen, boompa sound and mustaches. We moved on to fun. We wandered enjoyed and played in a cool city fountain.

The next morning Paul and I flew to Rome. We left the kids for a small anniversary break. We have seen the most typical of places the colosseum, forum, Vatican, piazzas and so forth. Yet, every corner you turn the is something amazing and old. We would wander and discover some church in a corner with giant heroic statues all over it. We would come out of subway stops and see a ruin. We felt uninformed and amused by the prevalence of history about it. Our math/science educations did us no credit. After a while, we would laugh point and say there is a thing. We ate gelato by Trevi fountain and had a great time.

The gallery borghese was amazing. We couldn't take pictures. Google it if you want. The Vatican was so full of stunning art, sculptures that one can become overwhelmed. I did keep hoping we could have a tour of the "secret" rooms. It just seemed to be a place with lots of hidden things. What did I noticed about the people of Rome? Their kids run away from them in public, their kids act up too, kids don't need a kid menu--just order pizza. Men REALLY do carry European carry alls. We saw many of them. We couldn't stop taking pictures. Some younger men carried ones with designer logos! Women are wearing harem pants--just so you know. More women shave here than they used to in Europe. However, before I mourn that, there are still plenty of body fragrant people on the subway.

Well, Why Not?

2011-05-27T23:44:00.003-06:00

A year ago, we realized we had enough frequent flier miles to go to Germany to see my brother and visit Switzerland. Well, it is late, the kids are asleep and I am almost done packing. We take off in a few hours for Germany. Why did we do it?

We could.
We had the miles.
My mom is coming. I am so excited to show her my favorite places of Switzerland.
I want my children to get a sense of the mission I served.
We had the time and opportunity.
While we are gone, they are going to work on the foundation of our old/new house. It's like we almost planned the whole thing :)
An 18-month-old on a flight? Hmmm...wish me luck or drugs. All my kids in their great, messy, loud glory? Watch out Paris!

Basically, I am count-down-for-the-last-six-months excited. I have read endless books and thought about this way too much. It got me through long nights and mundane days. Here's too my dreams sort of matching to reality. If I get the time, I will post up-dates!

New digs, new challenges

2011-05-25T11:35:00.003-06:00

Our move update:

Our new kitchen looks like the above. I ran out of space, so cloths/towels are on the counter and some cooking tools sit on top. I'm still trying to make it look more organized and pleasant.

This is the bathroom we all share. My four-year-old stated it simply: it is old and rusty-- I don't like moving. However, there is only one toilet to clean and one place to put toothbrushes. I must say I would prefer to clean the bathtub without it flaking off on my cloth.

We do get the most perfect porch anyone could want. It makes me want to put on a long, gauzy dress and sip mint juleps.

The stained glass is just lovely. I'm trying to think of what color to paint the walls to set them off. I am a little daunted by the many coats of paint in a 100-year-old house......

Clearly we are "in the house!". As in, the belongings we have are in our new house. It took three twelve-hour days of unpacking stacks of boxes to find the most basic of items like hairbrushes and underwear. It has been over-whelming and I have been driving back and forth for school, ballet, classes and so forth. We put 120 miles on the car in one day! The kids are tired and I have become entirely mediocre. We do homework in the car and hope they brush their teeth each day.

Cha, cha, changes

2011-05-05T15:59:00.015-06:00

I have been stuck in a speed trap of life changes. The last few months have brought big and small alterations to our family. At the end, we decided to make a major life switch. I'm still not sure how it will all be for us. We have decided to leave suburbia, sell our house and move in a smaller more downtownish location.

These pictures mark some of the most significant changes in our house. If you are interested in the major changes we made to the kitchen, I can post those later. After we painted, remodeled and sewed, we finally made the house feel just like it was ours. I loved the act of creation. It has now sold and we won't live here next month. At times, I wonder how I would want to move right after we did so much work. On the other hand, I think we have lots of exciting challenges ahead of us.

The downside:we lose 1200 SF, three-car garage, gorgeous backyard and good neighbors, the new house is 100 years old and my husband cannot walk standing up in the house.

The upside: we are in WALKING distance to some of the best eating in the city,it has great running opportunities, we going to have to learn to live simply, we are living close enough to be a help to my in-laws, my kids can walk to school, the yard work will no longer kill us and we have a big porch.

Homesick times seven

2011-04-23T21:06:00.008-06:00

Do you remember that sick feeling when you really left home for the first time? For some of you, maybe leaving was wonderful, but for me, it made me so sad I got sick. My first few nights away at college, I could barely eat I missed my family so much. Today, during random moments, I have had vivid memories of my first months away from my family or horrible break-ups which are far in the past. It seemed strange to keep having those thoughts during an average day.When I started to do the dishes tonight, I looked over the backyards I share with my neighbor. I looked for the familiar blond heads playing on the swings/slide/basketball court we share. It was all quiet. Oh yeah, they moved today. We even helped them do it. Suddenly, it was all clear why my insides were as worked-up and twisted as when I was eighteen and missing my mom.

That knotted feeling represents seven years of open doors, shared children and borrowed cooking ingredients. On the outside, you might not pair us as good friends, we don't ATV or boat--they do. They cheer BYU--we don't. We are democrats--they are not. They love soccer, we don't get it. We are brown and hazel, they are blonde and blue. They are active/athletic, we are geeky. These connections were not formed in typical interests. My husband and I are not even sure how the attachment happened. We share the same values and respect with our other neighbors. Yet, this bond created a family beyond our own.

We always felt we had more daughters than the genetic ones we have. I knew my children were loved and valued as one of their own. For example, my very pregnant neighbor while leaping to protect my small toddler, injured herself. As I saw her fall to the ground while holding my son, it symbolized our entire friendship. This woman, who was a stranger seven years ago, would protect my children as instinctively as I would. Late last night, as we sat reminiscing and feeling lonely, we tried to untangle the beginnings of our next door family. Did we become family because we loved one another's children as our own? Or, did the love begin after the attachment was made by some other event/source? Now, I'm sitting here trying to see through foggy tears. I'm hoping I still get to see those blonde kids of mine.

When I was eighteen, I judged the merit of people based on their music preferences. Years later, I rejoice to find out that one can form beautiful connections with people based on more significant merits. Although I am weepy today, I am grateful to know friendship can be wonderful and exceed ones expectations.

Duh, losing

2011-03-25T08:56:00.005-06:00

I have never been a big fan of Two and a half men. I find the show tasteless. Much of reality tv has a sameness to it I do not find interesting. I despaired after reading this take on current (contains not nice words) culture. So, now we are in the post-Empire world. As bleak as I felt post-modernism was/is, I was downhearted to read what WE want. According to this article, we want raw, unapologetic "artists". It goes on to describe how Eminem has courage to talk about wanting to kill his wife, while Bruce Springsteen is so Empire.
I'm wondering what this says about how we process emotional struggles. Am I to understand that real people are beautifully open when they are violent, dishonest and dismissive of most others? Am I to accept that today's "culture" is really the TRUTH? Instead, I think we are in an age of artificially pumped up anger, violence and sexuality. Everyone seems to be searching for their ten seconds of fame...usually through shocking displays of misbehavior. Yet, we grow numb and more easily bored. The news blips quickly through international events and then dwells on the details of a movie star shoplifting. We have links on facebook, tv websites or magazines which tell us how to buy or find what a star has.
It makes me feel like a Sneetch. Other times, it crosses my mind that we are in Fahrenheit 451. We are the people who don't care about reality. Instead, we are hoping to have a bigger wall to watch the entertainment. It is probably a little hypocritical to write this in an open forum on the web. Doesn't this mean I am trying to be some sort of internet celebrity? (Well, more than 5 would have to read it.) I want to share thoughts, know of the events of other countries. I want to be left pondering by artistic endeavors. I want courage to be civil, to be humane or to be forgiving. I don't want to worry if I need to rip the star of someone's belly.

Tap, tap sneeze

2011-03-19T07:00:00.005-06:00

I have been volunteering in my son's room at school. Years ago, I was dismissive of elementary teachers. I did not think that type of work would be enjoyable or demanding. However, my work required me to supervise and observe elementary teachers. Thereafter, I quickly learned how much an elementary teacher needed to know. I realized that these teachers had to be aware of multiple topics and disciplines. It switched to a realization that it was an incredibly difficult job.

Once I had my own children in school, I started volunteering. There, I discovered the power of a young learner. Every child wants success and opportunity. I was accustomed to either blank, bitter stares of students taking pre-algebra for the fourth time or to kids thinking "what hoop is it this time?" Instead, I saw smiles, hope and interest. It was amazing. I wondered how I had never known of this world before. My son's teacher is kind enough I get to teach the class for 20 minutes sometimes or run small groups. I have felt so energized, I considered how long it would take to become certified for elementary school.

A few weeks later, I was working with a small group to practice new words. We huddled together and tried to make bigger sentences. That day, as we worked, the kids kept tapping me on the arm. Tap, tap teacher, Tap, tap, teacher.....I was not used to so much touching. It was like the same mom, mom, mom moments at home without the biological love to back me up. The room was a little warm and the smells were stronger than usual. Not everyone has the same concept of personal cleanliness. At the end of group, a girl sneezed. How did I know that? My face, neck and arm were all wet. She did not excuse herself or say much. For the moment, I paused my dreams and let them settle back to the hinterlands.

Ach du lieber do you speak French?

2011-03-14T07:04:00.004-06:00

I've been doing the same-old kind of thing which many moms do. Laundry, carpool, ballet, piano, homework, cooking and paying the bills. My hip has been so sore, I now I have not run for over six months. My usual outlets have been removed. It has been difficult to replace that relaxation I crave. Two months ago, I signed up for a local German class. It has been so much fun. I am relearning things I thought I had forgotten. While doing ordinary household jobs, an old phrase will just pop in my head. I come home from class and feel almost as relaxed as I did from running.

I have learned some things from this experience. First, one can relax even taking a class. I think I find this relaxing because I am exercising something. Clearly, I am not used to using my brain anymore because I found it to be so much fun. Secondly, I can only handle one additional thing in my life. It is not the time to get accredited in something. I am only able to do the homework for this class as well as my usual stuff. Thinking maybe I had some language skills or something, I don't know what I was smoking, I got a cd with simple French songs. I somehow thought I could do my errands in the car and pick up some basic words. Quickly, I learned that French words are swallowed and said in the back of the throat. Despite my repeat rehearing of these charming tunes I can only tell you that camel is chamelle. See how incredibly different and bizarre that word is? For a moment, I thought maybe I could study Japanese or Russian. I will now accept my fate and keep to my quasi foreign language I learned when my brain was still more plastic.

It's like this

2011-02-21T09:12:00.006-07:00

A set of bits and bobs in my head:

I feel like the last ten years of music has been abysmal. I know that one tends to think their era of music was the best. I do find eminem has powerful rage. I'm just not THERE anymore. However, I wondered if we couldn't find anything more creative than Nickelback. Really everything seems like a painful retread from the 90s. It was like a desert of creativity. I just found something that parched my thirst for more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KkUeRPjc-Y. Who are they? (Mumford and Sons!) It was fun, energetic and DIFFERENT. I'm sure this group is not new for many of you. It was just joyful for me. It makes me want to hop.

My hip has been injured and sore since September. I have not run since the start of fall. Some funny things: I weigh less and I am beginning to resent those who run. Instead of rejoicing for their ability and committment, I "grrr" in my heart. I have had a cortisone shot and physical therapy. It still aches quite a bit. Ahh boogers I say.

I found the uprising in Egypt to be exciting. It was fascinating to see the impact of social media upon political unrest. I wondered what would have earlier uprisings been like years ago. FB update: dude no tax on tea meet us on the water-front. I wondered how China could have been different. Then, other thoughts went through. This seemed sudden. However, it probably was brewing for a long time. I felt uninformed and clueless. After thirty years of a dictatorship, there can't be any stable power structures. What is going to fill that hole? It seems to be spreading. Is this the age of democracy or instability?

They call it puppy love

2011-02-14T10:31:00.004-07:00

My daughter is growing old before my eyes. I know that how I handle the next few years will determine how well she lets me in as she becomes older. So, I am really trying to be present for all of the day-to-day conversations we have. We journeyed from Zach to Justin. I watched all the High School Musicals. Now, I listen to the lyrics of Justin. As we cleaned out the havoc of her closet, my daughter explained her favorite scene in the new Justin Bieber movie. I guess he does some kind slow-mo hair move in it. She kept replaying how funny/cute it was. Fifteen minutes later, she acted it out for me. I sat there staring at her---keeping my eyes very open and focused. If I screwed up this moment of sharing now, I would not be let in for the deeper things as she gets older. Oh the pain to not mock or tease. I squeezed my lips very tight and nodded. I chanted in my head, "listen now, get to listen later." We got the fever here. Well, one of us does.

Politics of Beauty

2011-01-27T09:41:00.007-07:00

My daughter is beginning to listen to current events a bit. She asked me what I thought of Sarah Palin. "She is a woman," she explained. As much as I want to be about female empowerment, I had to say, "Well, she doesn't show good judgement." My daughter paused, then replied, "Yeah, but she's pretty." Despite the marching and fist waving, it stills seems to come to that. I shot back, "So, what? That doesn't matter!" The conversation ended and I wasn't sure if anything had been gained. As much as I preach to my children looks don't matter, the world surely tells them differently. Politics, popularity and dating still seem to be very much about the outside. Ask Hiliary Clinton about her private feelings regarding her campaign. Even if one excluded her policies, her physical attractiveness was a part of public perception problems.

I related the Palin discussion to my husband thinking he might shake his head. Laughing, he asked me if I "was still bitter from being a teenager?" No, he wasn't being a jerk. We know one another's soft spots. This is not one of them. Yes, I was the one at dances who fled to bathrooms during the slow songs. I clearly did not date much then. I just want more for my children. I thought on the braces, glasses, awkwardness and thought okay maybe I am bitter. Not for me....but for those who still have to encounter the truth. The truth is girls still worry about weight, clothing, appearance and acceptance. Yes, men do too. Yes, it eases with time. But, the salient fact is this: our sex, in current western culture, still seems to be held back by the unsubstantial facts of our physical features. The glass ceiling is lower, yet we still struggle with the preoccupations of color, size and shoe height. I guess I'll have a good laugh with my daughter when she experiences these awkward future times. Yet, I want to begin my own personal parade of demanding more.

I'm too sexy it ......

2011-01-18T07:41:00.007-07:00

We all have body issues. I say that last sentence with confidence because we are all are presented computerized images telling us otherwise. Your issue may be large thighs, short legs or a super curvy behind. My present problem has been a doughy stomach which likes to spill over the tops of things. Yes, I know I'm not that big or over-weight. However, I don't know who to blame here. It is either being over-40 or having that fourth-kid-while- older-so-my-skin-forgot-to-stretch-back that has caused my present state. My stomach just likes to hang a bit over and look like a mini-sausage. Really, the problem is solved with clever attention getting belts and cozy sweaters. Tighter t-shirts? Meh--not so much. Yes, I could wear a looser t-shirt, but that would obscure my other diminutive assets which reside above. It is always a choice of which hides and which shines. Yet, shine may be a over-statement for me. However, I don't want to be defined by what society might think. I say this, knowing my rant mocks that idea. I try to fight it by thinking "so what". There is much more out there than the small concerns of one person.

In addition, I don't want my daughters picking up on these issues. So, I try to not focus on these concerns. Sometimes, these goals reveal themselves in unexpected ways. As a reward for cleaning the house, we took the kids swimming. While in the locker room, I had one of those moments where I just wanted to be who I was. I didn't run for the changing area. I just got into my clothes. As I struggled with my wet top, my body was in clear view if you cared for a peek. My tween daughter was ~~impressed~~ horrified by what I did. "You were naked right in front of those girls. This is so embarrassing. Why did you do that?" And the tirade went on. At one level, I was thoroughly amused by her chagrin. Actually, I loved the fact she was so mortified. I know her mental development is just where it should be. Later on, I thought, did she observe my lack of body issues and applaud me for it? .....nah it probably remains a blight on her psyche. Yet, I do intend to do stuff like that again. If only to embarrass her and remind her we all are just right as we are.

December Love

2010-12-31T18:11:00.005-07:00

I'm sitting here in my mom's house thinking of the past month and year. I have learned some good stuff this month. Some stuff: I realized my husband loves high heels. I know they make me stick my small butt out and make me taller--sheesh they make my feet hurt. But, he pointed out some crazy shoes that I thought were for runway models. It must be all about the hot lady, heel walk. I thought that shoe thing was a stereo-type, or at least my guy is a stereotype.

In addition, I guess our marriage has been based on recurring Little House on the Prairie scenes. Our basement was flooding, I donned rubber boots and began to use a bucket for the window well. As the rain pounded on my head I couldn't lift the window grate to get to the water. After struggling to move it I began shouting in the wet dark. Finally, I stormed in where my husband was calmly setting up a pump system with his drill. "Why must you always resort to turn-of-the-century-prairie techniques?" It is true. I grew up reading wilderness, self-sufficent books. I am positive if we have had to live in a post-apocolyptic world like in the The Road, I'm sure I would die. I have absolutely no talents involving any use of tools. It worries me I would not be the survivor when I wander a road looking for food and shelter.
At the end of it all, Christmas reminds me of some constants, after endless fun and eating--you really can be sick of chocolate. I still love singing Christmas songs. Christmas morning is best with kids. Egg nog still is only good for a few sips. Sisters still provide the best giggles. Parents can still make me roll my eyes when I am middle-aged. Siblings can still poke me in ways that no other person knows how. Or maybe this all means I have a lot of growing-up to do. Finally, I love laughter, movies, marriage a-has, food, singing, presents, family and all the good stuff of the season! Really, at this moment I am being reminded of how pathetic I am while a game awaits my presence. That would be my last yearly constant. I couldn't let a blog sit until I did two entries for December. "Is she still blogging?" quotes, a sister with a tinge of hurry-up let's play a game. Why yes, I am and I still have a good time with it--but I am off to games and silliness.

Uncool Test

2010-12-08T16:21:00.007-07:00

Reader's Digest recently published a list of words which are passe. For each phrase you use--give yourself a point.
1. bling I was never a fan
2. talk to the hand
3. been there done that
4. cutting edge
5. hipness
6. not As in That is so cool! NOT!
7. totally awesome Been there done that ten years ago and haven't been back
8. like She was like sha and I'm like blah
9. sell-by date I'm not sure about this one. Doesn't everyone check their milk date?
10. neat-o Maybe in the 50s!
11. diss
12 dude I use this word all the time. I use it when I'm frustrated, to sound folksy with people at cash registers and plumber/repair type people and in every day conversation. Could I sound more pretentious? I'm thinking what a dead give away of an older-white lady thinking she is "with-it"
13. with-it ouch
14. my bad uggg
15. girlfriend guilty sometimes
16. don't go there
17. bummer
My score so far is 8 out of 17. So, sort of out of it. However, one should probably add the following:

18. bust a move
19. lame
20. chill
21. hot or is that still hot?
22. whatever
23. da bomb He is the da bomb. I used this for a nanosecond when I was teaching. I'm sure I sounded pathetic and a poser.
24. told you the updated version of face, as "in your face"
25. that is jacked

FORCED COMPASSION

2010-11-27T14:42:00.006-07:00

My mother is a product of the Depression. She has a difficult time throwing away plastic bags, envelopes or other useful items. When I was younger, she sewed my underwear (yes in junior high--which is another story.) She reused elastics from older undies to give old sheets a new life. I have noticed zig-zag stitching on a shower curtain to make it last another year. Today, I found contact lenses which expired in 2007. Before you might think I find her methods amusing, which they sometimes are, I find her awe-inspiring. As a young child it felt like the big sins were murder and WASTE. I clearly understood the concept of limited resources. I was grateful for what I got. When we rarely went out, all the shakes and fries were shared. It was a big deal for me.
Jeans were patched, haircuts were "bowl cuts" by mom and money was carefully spent. My mom could bargain like a swap meet hero. That woman doesn't pay full-price for much of anything. She could get more out of a ten-dollar bill than the grocery guru or any other expert. While I found her methods of bringing home "furniture or carpet" when she found them on a morning run, to be a bit questionable; she had a healthy respect for resources. My mom was eco-friendly before it was cool--she was the poor man version of it. Truthfully, we make fun of a lot of those years and we may treat food with too much of a funky respect. However, I also understood that others could have it worse than I did.
Many years later, I have struggled to teach my children these same concepts of mindfulness. Our extended family went to a big Thanksgiving buffet together. While at this nice hotel, my children observed an older man digging through the trash. I heard them laughing as he dug through there in the cold. I was concerned for him and angry with my children. The ingrates I thought! I scolded them, but it didn't seem to really put any shame in them. My children live a comfortable life where they are expected to help a bit and be kind to each other. Yet, I have clearly not taught them well. Despite donating toys and giving food to homeless shelters they lack compassion. So, as we were driving home today, I saw a poster for a charity. That's it, I thought! I will make them help me bake cookies and then make them march around the neighborhood until they are all sold. Thereafter, we will donate the money! My husband said it doesn't work that way. Well, exactly how does it work? Can't you force compassion? This is when I almost wish life were more difficult for my kids. I sometimes wonder if I could manufacture hardship. Any ideas are helpful.

The truth---as I see it

2010-11-06T19:47:00.002-06:00

Some thoughts:
I want to be super thankful and uplifting in blogs, but I sometimes rant and my life is not always uplifting.
I am LDS and I go to church regularly. However, that never seems to cross into my discussions here. I have some reasons. I want to swear sometimes and not be a hypocrite. I might want to mention sex (in a broad sense). Those ideas don't seem to connect. In addition, I find my faith journey to be up and down. I would worry about being a sincere person on this front. I want to be real and not be harmful in the world of LDS bloggers. (Who are we kidding? I swear almost all bloggers are LDS moms.)
I am pretty sure I complain too much. You women who go forth joyfully, I read you and I rejoice with you. Keep it up. Me? I am working on finding the funny.
I don't mention my blogging on facebook. I am afraid of people, who I truly respect (this would include older and much younger people), wondering about what they are reading. Then, I think stop, people have way too much to do to worry about a few power swears or whatnot. Yet, I am not sure I am ready for all I know from all walks of life to read this drivel. Crazy? Yup!
I can't seem to find my niche. I would love to be a super-intelligent cultural/political critic. Yet, I can't seem to stay up to speed to do that all the time. I toyed with never blogging about my kids, so I could push myself to have my own identity. But, those kids keep pulling me back. I even started another private blog that would ONLY contain deep thoughts on politics/religion/culture. So far, I have one post in five months. Well, I at least I have that going for me. In a nutshell, I clearly am a little too self-conscious and hyper-aware. At the end, I like the pleasure of empty space and a few minutes to think with it.

Arcade games and the SATs

2010-10-30T08:11:00.003-06:00

In one of my favorite tv shows of all time, News Radio, the very smart hyper prepared Lisa Miller can't do a word jumble. She wonders if she is losing her smarts:

Lisa Miller: Well, it's finally happened.
Dave: What?
Lisa Miller: I'm becoming stupid.
Dave: You don't say?
Lisa Miller: The brain starts to deteriorate after age thirty.
Dave: Where did you hear that?
Lisa Miller: I don't remember... See? See?

Her solution is to eventually retake the SATs to prove to herself she is not stupid. The episode also involves arcade games and a sandwich machine...but I digress. Ever since I had the fourth kid or the "I turned forty, wow even", I have been noticing leakage. My brain is just weird. I'll be talking to the kids and lose my train of thought. I am not in the middle of a college lecture. Nope, it is more like "how did that sucker get on my butt. We really have to.....what was I saying?"

I recently read a story (fiction) about a famous professor who slowly slips into Alzheimers. She starts forgetting words, simple enough. Later, she gets lost running. I'll tell you when that happens next year. My husband thinks I am joking. I have told him I deeply love him and get a home when I start forgetting where the bathroom is. But to remedy it, I have thought about taking a Calculus class. I am SOOOO rational.

Spell this bee

2010-10-05T20:42:00.004-06:00

A few days ago, my son asked me if AIS was a swear word. Feeling I was in the moment of teaching and openness, I said, "No, son. A-S-S is a swear word." Guess what my son wrote in big caps with giant chalk and lots of glee? Drrrrr.

One skill

2010-09-30T21:57:00.005-06:00

It is late at night, but life is like a sitcom. My husband has a buddy at work. They get along great. So, we have a first date tomorrow night. He sent me a link of the wife's blog. I immediately found out she is crafty. Not like has some fun hanging and making stuff. NO! She designs pillows, quilts, repaints things and makes them cuter. Picture after picture of gorgeous designs like you see on design mom and itsy (or whatever that thing is that is sooo not me.) My husband then tells me she can program software. My response "great, not only is she crafty, she is smart." I've got nothin'! No hand. My fall back is usually claiming I am smart. Really, it is a back up to the fact I have no other talents. It is like a big smoke screen. But, if you ask my kids--well, husband is funny and I am good at having kids. Yes, stop,slow it down. I am good at having kids. I noticed they didn't even assign me gender typical talents of cooking, cleaning or nurturing or whatever my species does. Nope, I am good at being a baby factory. Therefore, I have been talented four times in my entire life. If I understand my children correctly, I have already achieved my Zenith. It is all a slide for the present unless I can find something which will help me rise again. Now....where is that quilting pattern?

Stroll down pain lane

2010-09-23T08:37:00.003-06:00

While strolling through my favorite blow-some-money-wonder-where-it-went-store (Target), I blankly smiled at some twins as I walked by them. Suddenly, their faces were clear to me in a flash. I recalled their names, personalities and the time of day I knew them. A long time ago, I taught in less than ideal circumstances. It was a trial of FIRE I tell you. Kids came in high after lunch, some were on parole. Many of them acted like they had never sat and learned. These twins exasperated me. I didn't have much control and was glad when the year with them ended. I picked myself up and tried to be a better teacher. No, they didn't apologize when they graduated and I never grew to love them. I would not describe them as my arch-enemy. Yet, my brain did say oh the "_______ twins" from 5th period! That was over 15 years ago!
Immediately, I checked myself in a full-length mirror. I wanted them to know I had moved-on. I was happy and not in some kind of therapy for "has been" pre-algebra teachers. Hair in headband not in a ponytail-check, collared shirt-check, shorts instead of sweats-check, baby looking clean-kind of. Whew! Clearly I am over my early failings and functioning like an adult. Much later, I realized, I'm sure they have changed a lot. They were there with babies too. But, as I saw them again, I did not rush over and chat. I turned my head and walked out of the store. It made me chuckle. Because what was huge to me, was probably not big to them. Most of us regret things we did when we were younger. The same is probably true of them. I probably would have walked over there hoping to somehow close things and they would have said, "What was your name? Man, that class was crazy!"

What are words for?

2010-09-15T20:32:00.003-06:00

It has been quite a while for me here in blogland. What have I been doing? Oh, getting all sorts of stressed and reading parenting books. I need a good laugh ya know. I was going to share a small vignette about my yearly lady exam. But, then hark...what if I were to run for political office? What if I were in some position in a spritual/church setting where this would be bad? (Well, let the laughter subside.) Instead, for now, let me share two lists of words.

Words I like or like to say:
brouhaha
luminescent--so descriptive
"swear words" yes that phrase. My children always ask me if I am actually swearing
hooha
sheesh
epistemology-makes me so smart. Wait, what did she say?
"mom time is over!"
algorithm

Words I can't say or don't like saying:
crotch--personal ugg word
omnipotent--who else says Omni--potent?
Penelope--Penny Lope
rad--as in "that is so rad"
I was wrong--I prefer well.......
Relax

I have put myself to the challenge of finding five funnies in the near future AND recording them. I could use it. Maybe you could too.

2010-08-23T16:09:00.003-06:00

Forgive me oh beings of financial fitness, I have sinned. I lost a $10 dollar rebate check this week. It makes my .30 coupon I used for yogurt fade. I still have two wedding gift cards I was supposed to give a YEAR ago. I have two birthday checks on my desk which should have been cashed over a month ago. It shows such a total lack of respect for the great need that surrounds me. I really don't want to know how much money and pain I have created for myself over the years. The blogosphere is full of self-revelation I know. This is more of a call to change or a plea for help. How did I read those five books last month?.....Well, that should be obvious. Life and motherhood are about choices.

End of summer and looking beyond

2010-08-17T09:04:00.003-06:00

The anal part of me wants to have some kind of entry for August. Playing in summer is hard work! We have been doing swimming lessons, basketball camp, letter-boxing, running and a family reunion to San Diego. School is less than two weeks away. We probably need to think about it. My three-year-old is NOT going to pre-school because she refuses to use a toilet. So, I have come up with a plan to celebrate school anyway. She is a great little hiker. So, I am going to load the wee-ones and we will see what trails we can explore during the fall. That should help take the sting away from not doing school--they would have loved her. I am pretty sure the sting is for me.

My half-marathon was fun. I did a little better than I thought I would. I did most of the race with my cousin. I rarely get the chance to talk with someone uninterrupted. That was one of the best parts of the race. My kids and man were great to cheer me on at the end. Surely, they are over watching mom run. I am looking forward to sharing this hobby with someone in my family. Right now, I am sitting in a pool of laundry, toys, dishes and stinky car. Yes, we pulled in from the trip last night. I, of course, am sitting here very focused hoping I will not see all the work around me.

I gotta fight for my right to NAAAAGGGGGG!

2010-07-25T18:19:00.003-06:00

We were driving along listening to the great song "(You gotta) fight for your right (to party)!" I found myself talking back to radio like some crazy old lady. For example: "Living at home is such a drag." Me: Don't let the door hit you on the way out! You wake up late for school and you don't wanna go....you gotta fight for your right to Paaaaaarty! Me: Yup. Good luck with that job you're going to get so you can party hard! I'm just waiting for the time I kick kids off my lawn and yell "lousy kids!" I remember sweaty days of dancing to loud music thinking I was so anti-establishment. I'd yell out lyrics while dancing thinking I was an edgy "waver"---cue safety pins, black t-shirts and over-sized trench coat. Suddenly you're an old fart talking back to the radio.

We did it!

2010-07-13T21:13:00.007-06:00

We have been enjoying our summer. Sort of. I must confess to really being stunned by how little I get done. I had visions of my summer being like this: house project day, yard work day, field trip day, library day, craft time and laundry day. Instead, I sort of find myself coping and driving kids in the car to some class. I unloaded laundry only to see my son chewing on my flip-flop. Did I stop him? Nope, he was happy and I was behind. My house kind of sits in a state like this:

I wish I could better show the stacks of crap which sit around my house.

We did go to Nebraska. My lovely sister joined me in Cheyenne for the adventure. As we came over the horizon, I clapped with glee when I saw the water towers, green fields and grain elevators. I had forgotten what this place had looked like.The kids saw my old house, high school, cross-country running roads, elementary school and some of my favorite places. My son sat crammed in between seats and luggage. The kids were patient and fought as much as their general age requires. The trip was more for me. How great it was to do it with a sister. We just became so excited by all the beauty that is Nebraska. I realized it is a magical place because it was where I felt loved and safe. After the trip, I felt even stronger one should take what is instead of waiting for life to happen. My husband will travel more and I will try to make it a party event for the rest of us.

Dance Baby Dance

2010-06-13T18:28:00.002-06:00

I was born with uncoordinated stamped on my butt. I couldn't jump rope until I was in sixth grade. Whenever we had relays of any kind, I would brace myself for the inevitable sighs when I was placed on a team. Volleyball made me sick to my stomach. My prayer was "please go over the net, please." Ms. Compton, the caustic gym teacher, would keep asking my brother to practice with me. Jumping jacks still sort of elude me. This all combined to give me a distrust of my body. I loathed relay games or anything involving a ball. Yet, I had this dream of being a ballet dancer. I would turn on music, close my eyes and dance to my own imagination. With my eyes closed, I could be as graceful as I hoped.
Although music is consider a universal medium, dance seems to be the real communicator. Clearly it uses music to guide the experience. As I watched my daughter's ballet recital. I was awed by the beauty of this powerful art form. Music is generally experienced by each individual listener. When one observes dancing, this lyrical movement creates a story from the music and transforms it within each dancer's body. We, as an audience, can connect what we feel/hear inside to a powerful manifestation of leaps, jumps, spins and grace. When the dancer fluidly leapt across the stage, I felt like shouting "That is what I'm feeling right now!" What a gift a dancer possesses to unite an audience with their performance. It still makes me want to close my eyes and dance. And yes, I still have to close my eyes to feel graceful. (Don't ask me about my adult clogging class.)

Independent Woman

2010-06-02T12:30:00.005-06:00

My husband is leaving for France on a business trip. He is going to be gone for two weeks. Not only do I expect a fancy French outfit, I expect I will be mopey and sad. I really don't want to be in THAT place. So, I am debating a great road trip. America is in love with a great trip. Isn't that where one finds their soul and purpose in life? However, I will be doing this alone with four kids ranging in age from 9 to 6-months. I'm not sure the nursing baby is going to make it. I thought we would visit where I grew up and go see some friends. It is a slow meandering course which almost goes two weeks. My thoughts so far:

Pros:
I can't wait for life to happen. It is now and can't wait for everything to be just right. If I keep waiting for all the kids to be a perfect age or for my husband to travel less, I might still be typing away thinking thoughts.
I want to focus on my kids and spend significant time with them. I'm too good at being a lazy mom.
It would be fun to make a memory with some painful and silly times.
My kids have never done a road trip of any serious length.
I'm curious if I could do it--if I can be independent.
I'll miss my husband less if I travel.

Cons:
Nursing baby, nursing baby, nursing baby. We will be stuck to his schedule which could really limit any fun we could have. It would almost make it all a moot point. (Not a moo point even if I do drive to Nebraska.)
The fast food gets me sick in about two days.
The fighting, the smells, the long hours.
Being all alone with the kids may be difficult to manage.
Gas is not cheap.
I'm still not really sleeping through the night all the time. It makes for a sleepy driver. How safe is that?

Boogers, bawling and brevity

2010-05-29T20:55:00.003-06:00

Although my children are getting older, I still like to sneak up and cuddle them while they sleep. I watched my five-year-old fall asleep as I cuddled him. I couldn't believe how big he is becoming. These were the same hands I held each night when he was in NICU. The dimpled, fat hands have been replaced with mud, cuts and nails that need clipping. If a genie lamp had been there at that very moment, I would wish to hold each child as a young baby for one more long time. As I sat there pondering the brevity of it all, I got weepy. I have tried to relish my time as a mom, yet it can be so fleeting. Tears were quietly falling on his blanket as I looked at him. Suddenly, he turned gave me his firecracker smile and started picking his nose. Did he know just what I needed to stop crying? Yup, I got up, removed my hands and got on with my life.

Looking for my 80-year- old advisor

2010-05-21T10:15:00.007-06:00

My brother sent this picture around to my family last night. He then explained it was how I (me) would look if I had been raised by red-necks. After a tired week of kids, I got a big horse laugh from it. Some family members were concerned I would be hurt by it. But, if you knew me in my glory of youth, I did have a mangy beast of crazy hair. One friend called it a brillo pad. The look was complete with glasses and braces. Yes, I did bring science fiction novels to dances. Bring on the jabs of my looks a long time ago! I earned it. Thank heavens you can have a good chuckle at your past. It makes me feel a little more mellow and self-confident. If only my 40 year-old-self could come talk to me as I stood against the wall at dances. Now, I just need the 80 year-old -me to laugh at my 40 year-old and to remind her to get over the small stuff and take each day easy.

Love hurts

2010-05-10T08:34:00.008-06:00

I have been cleaning while listening to a cd about babies. The author explains how his wife never looked as beautiful as she did while giving birth. As Mother's Day was here, I thought I would be obtuse and ask my husband if he held the same sentiment. Really, why do we do this? "Does this make me look fat? How do these pants make me look?" Or, the best, "Do you like this haircut?" So, I pushed and pulled wondering how my husband perceived this day. " Maybe husbands need to see their wives looking different to look beautiful. I always find you radiant," he said. And on it went, until in a nutshell, it really was more like "you looked like hell and totally relieved to have that baby out of there." I realize I was stupid for placing my husband in one of those dammed if you do and dammed if you don't scenarios. I just wanted the truth. I got it. We laughed at how ridiculous I was--yet I think I was definitely looking for the lie. I really hate how I thought I was low maintenance. But, I am the opposite. I am that emotional lie-to-me and coddle-me kind of lady! You ask enough ridiculous questions and you find out the truth about yourself.

How does crazy octo mom do it?!!!

2010-05-01T15:12:00.004-06:00

I only have four kids. But, little gets done and my standards are low. This is pretty much a typical day right now:

2:30-3:00 am Feed and care for baby
5:00 -5:30 am Feed baby
7:00-8:00 am Breakfast, spelling tests and the constant phrase "get dressed, get dressed!"
8:00-9:00 am Feed baby, walk around with screaming baby, finally feed him a bottle, wonder if he is done nursing
9:15 am call neighbor ask how her kids quit nursing, get really sad that youngest is already getting older
9:30 play blocks with 3-year-old
10:00 try to get dressed and hope teeth will get brushed and I will get a shower
10:15 school principal returns call--discuss needed improvement in math program
10:30 kindergarten pick-up & grocery errands
11:30 Feed baby, wonder if G's eyes look sick, should I go to doctor?
12:30 Research pink eye and make lunch for kids--keep calling doc office to get in to office, hold two sad kids on two knees try to not let pink eye touch the baby eye
1:40 Make doc appt, change two diapers, feed baby do a load of laundry, cancel piano lessons
2:10-2:30 drive like a madman late for appointment to doc, YELL at slower drivers
3:20 Doc is done, pick-up prescription, get ballet clothes, get back in traffic
4-6 pm watch daughter dance, feed baby in car, keep hiding G from other mothers so they don't wonder what crazy/cruel mom would take such nasty, mucus eyes in public
6-7 Dinner--reheated pizza. Feed the little one.
7-8 Bribe kids with oreos to clean kitchen & living room. We read a book for a few minutes.
8-9 Feed baby, nag children to bed. All but oldest in bed
9-9:30 Strip naked so daughter, husband out of town, can apply psoriasis anointment to entire back/legs/nether regions. As long as she uses a cotton swab, it doesn't gross her out. (oh the joy of standing butt naked so my daughter can apply goo to my sores!)
9:32 In bed, a miracle! Tomorrow will better. I will shower, exercise and brush my teeth!
9:38 Baby screaming

Burqas are the best

2010-04-25T17:35:00.003-06:00

My three-year-old excitedly showed me her hand-out from Sunday School. Usually it is a bird, bug or cute picture of Jesus. When she showed me her super-hero, lavender all-over covered action figure, I was startled with some amusement. What exactly are they teaching my daughter at church? We support burqas as long as they are feminine? We believe a woman can wear a sword as long as she covers her face? We would like to force women back a few centuries? I am not the type to make an impertinent phone call and say "my daughter....." But really what was the lesson?

Sometimes you get what you want---oops

2010-04-23T11:52:00.006-06:00

Years ago, I used to love a local radio program called the Chunga Show. My husband and I listened to it as we drove to our early morning jobs. It made the dark 6 am drive bearable. We thought we would be friends with him if we were to meet him. Music was new, edgy or entertaining. As time went on, the show morphed until I found myself not enjoying his personality. He became a strange parody of himself. The conversation was self-indulgent with plenty of name dropping. The music became predictable. Commercially driven. Eventually, I thought it would be better if he left the show. He was fired yesterday. At first, to my embarrassment, I found myself grinning. "Now, we will have some change!".
However, the result was automated music. Tunes are picked by lists and corporations. Naturally the model will base itself on what is commercially safe. There will be no local flavor on politics or news. Instead, the dial, already lacking in diversity, grew more uniform. At first, globalization sounds positive. We will be the same--people joining hands all across the world being united. However, our "connected" world continues to shrink anything of interest on the local landscape. Whenever my husband travels he will tell what it is like where he is. "Guess what? I am by an Old Navy, Home Depot, Barnes & Noble or whatever national corporation." I want the days of local flavor and change. So, I learned. Be careful what you wish for--you just might get what you don't need.

Blame it on the mane

2010-04-13T14:15:00.006-06:00

I just got a new haircut. I looked awesome. It was blown-out and gorgeous. I then washed it. It had more grey than I ever remember. It didn't seem perky, curly or divine. It was frizzy and sad--just one more thing to poke me in the butt and scream "You are 40, HA!". Not only is the baby weight lingering. I have that soft middle, lady-with-a-brood-but-not-pregnant-look. I would like to say that this does not get to me. I would like to think of the women who have had greater struggles. Yet, I just felt crumpled inside. During this pathetic melancholy, I was cleaning and found some old photo albums. Guess what? I had frizzy, not so curly not so awesome hair. In addition, I had that great bag look of the 80s. Who knew what kind of body lurked in there? I guess I realized the outcome is the same as it was over fifteen years ago. So what if inside my head, I see myself like I am the mermaid Ariel? (bright red curly hair with a charming personality!) Most of my pictures are generally unchanged over more than a decade. I guess I get a dye job, get off my butt and do something to help someone else.

I want my five bucks!

2010-04-01T17:10:00.003-06:00

My daughter didn't want to put away her clothes. I told her I would do it for her if she paid me five bucks. She immediately got her birthday money and the deal was sealed. The thoughts/questions go through my head:

Oops, that wasn't what I expected. I have those oops moments more than I would like to admit.

Am I cheap labor?

Does my daughter not get the value of money?

Did she learn anything?!!!

What a bum. Come on girl, what are you going to be like when you are a teenager?

Oh well.... that money will go towards my more expensive hair products that make me feel guilty.

Loving lessons

2010-03-29T09:27:00.004-06:00

I was surfing a website and thought what do cheerleaders have to do with faith or charity? I had the usual stereotypical thoughts go through my head. Well, I guess it was time for me to think again. After watching this:

I learned there are far greater people than I in this world. There are souls in this world that have the kind of love which will make powerful change. What a wonderful happy thing for me to learn.

What you need

2010-03-26T14:34:00.002-06:00

Whenever I heard of people doing yoga, I always thought, "mehhhh, Yoga, how hard is that?" Well, land sakes, it is KILLING me! What I know right now is that I have no balance, flexibility or strength. I guess I was smug being a somewhat flexible marathon runner. I shake, breathe and tremble each time I do it. I have been so excited by what I am learning it has been fun. At the end, I feel a sense of calm that can completely energize me. I was so excited to share this sense of power and peace with my husband. Afterward, he observed, " You know what yoga is good for? Sex." Maybe yoga just gives you want/lack? Anyhow, go try it. I am a believer.

Books at the Breast

2010-03-20T07:54:00.004-06:00

Well, I've been nursing and reading. I'll mention some of more interesting books I have read.

Things they carried with them by Tim O'Brien. This books tells several points-of-view accounts in a platoon in Vietnam. It travels around in time and perspective. It examines the power of story telling in our experiences. It gave a real sense of what it was like to be there. It is a gritty account full of swearing. Wonderful writing with complex layers.

On the Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta (YA). A girl is left on a small road by her mother. She encounters others who have experienced tragedy and loss. It also seems to be a mystery. It has a sense of mysticism to it. It has a lot of characters and it is difficult to follow. I wasn't sure if I even liked anyone. Suddenly, I was connected to the two main characters and left sobbing. How did she do that? The characters stayed with me and I wonder how they are.

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine (YA). I love fairy tale retellings. This one is a retelling of Snow White. I didn't catch that at first. I'm sure most would. It looks at the story from a completely different angle. It examines the pursuit of beauty and how that impacts us. Yet, it is complex enough to show different points of view within that story. Because I am frustrated with the impact this fourth child has had, I found the book to be quite thought provoking.

The Host by Stephenie Meyer. I have always enjoyed Science Fiction. I thought Stephenie could not write a different type of book. Once again, she takes a topic and turns it. Aliens are taking over bodies, but how do the different characters handle it? I liked how she explored relationships within this well-known concept. She still needs to be edited. Sometimes, I feel like saying, "got it Stephenie, move on!"

Special topics in calamity physics by Marisha Pessl. This book has a brillant, sarcastic senior high student as its narrator. At first, I thought it might just be a coming-of-age book, but with sharper observations than others. Instead, it morphed into a mystery with an ending that was unpredictable. I love being surprised. At first, I thought the narrator was too witty/literary for me to like her as a person. At the end, I felt greater empathy for her. The book is full of book/movie/pop culture references. It is kind of like Gilmore Girls meets Say Anything. What fun to read.

Sweethearts by Sara Zarr (YA). New author from SLC. She has issues from being non-LDS in SLC. This comes through in her writing. She explores a girl who hides from pain through food. The experience feels real as you get to know her. The main characters are compelling and messed-up.

Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. Typical dramatic reading. I love the drama of Dan. (Yes-I know this is not good writing. He cracks me up.)

Some girls are better than others

2010-03-05T08:55:00.005-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was tired of the pinching crap nursing bras I owned. I decided to march on over to a speciality store. I figured I would receive helpful assistance in finding the perfect bra. I had started running again. Although I am not huge, I am still not used to the actually bouncing of my breasts while running. So, I was looking for an excellent running bra as well. I went in; the host of the store seemed pleasant enough. Yes, she insisted on marching in and checking the fit. I will explain she was of the larger variety. Hence, a few inches probably weren't even observable by her. When she measured me, she squeezed the tape tightly and gave me the same number as my pre-pregnancy self. "No", I assured her. "If I had that kind of measurement, I would just need a thin shelf of lycra and I could be on my way."

"Well, you are a small one."

"Measure again!", I requested. She then went up one cup. I decided to humor her and tried on the bra. My right breast fell out the bottom. She insisted that it was just a matter of adjusting the back strap. Please, I requested a bigger size. "Well, we only have one in THAT size!" I enjoyed how she let the whole small boutique know I was small. The other woman who was measured got a pleasant shout-out of "j" or maybe "f". Either way, she did not come up lacking in the goods.

After that was settled, I looked for a jogging bra. "Oh, that's not good for your milk! And we would have them if you were BIGGER. You are so small we just don't have anything for you!" I assured her, I have run with every child and it was okay. She peered closely, "Do you have enough milk?", she queried. I'm sure she wanted assurance that watermelons were much more successful at feeding the young than my small limes. That some how, I would suffer for even contemplating jogging and nursing. I leaned in and let her know my two-month-old had gained over five pounds since birth.

As I explained my unsatisfactory experience with my husband, I described it like this: "How would you like to go buy some boxers and have your length come up short? As the clerk measured, the clerk would be loud enough to assure other shoppers you were below average. And then, at the end, this well-endowed clerk would question your ability to father children?"

Okay, so maybe I was being sensitive. But, I felt like I was 12 again trying to hide in my poser bra while getting ready for gym.

Creative

2010-02-26T09:49:00.012-07:00

Years ago, my husband and I tentatively dipped our feet into parenting. At the time, we expressed our enjoyment of older kids and teens. We thought we would endure those "painful" newborn years. Four babies later, I was chatting with my husband on the phone while I folded newborn clothes to be shipped off to a younger sister. Without forethought or warning, I was surprised by my tears. It seemed as if my body were telling me not to skip lightly over the joy I have had with my newborns.

Despite what I may vocally express or feel, my inner spirit has celebrated the creative event of having children. Yet, my human self has a hard time always being patient with the nature of living. Less than a year ago, I called my husband as I tried to wash dishes with my very pregnant belly. I was tired, frustrated and feeling useless. So, I did what any irrational pregnant woman would do. I yelled at my him. I demanded an "end-date". I wanted to know when this life of chores and repetitive tasks would end. I wanted to know when my PhD started--when the jobs would not be split along gender lines.

A few months later, I find myself weeping over tiny clothes. What is it about this delicate work-state that makes one feel tender inside? My soon-to-be-mother sister asked me this question. I've sat back and thought about it. Being a parent to a newborn is an event full of expectation. I get to meet a new personality. It is an event of love. I get to hold a small body oh so close and solve all of their fears. It is an event of the senses. I get to touch a baby with soft eyes, hair and skin. I can sit back in the quiet of night, breathe in their sweet smell and listen to their quiet cat purring. I can cradle their small heads. I can look at my baby's big eyes and big cheeks as he quietly explores his new world.

Most importantly, I am part of a creative event. My body is strong enough to nourish and build this baby. I carry life within me for nine months. Thereafter, I feed and carry this child as he grows. It is a unique time where this life-giving power awes me. Dieter Uchtdorf, of the LDS church explains:

Isn’t it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and eternally compassionate God? Think about it—your spirit body is a masterpiece, created with a beauty, function, and capacity beyond imagination. But to what end were we created? We were created with the express purpose and potential of experiencing a fulness of joy. Our birthright—and the purpose of our great voyage on this earth—is to seek and experience eternal happiness. One of the ways we find this is by creating things.

This is what I will miss about being a parent to young children. For me, this is what I will miss--this partnership of creation between myself, husband and God. It IS a miracle. A miracle that I cannot always comprehend or appreciate.

Does Heaven Have a Sound Track?

2010-02-11T17:07:00.005-07:00

My little love bug was up all hours last night and my butt was dragging today. I had NO desire to do anything responsible. But, I had to get my house/life/act together. I really was only able to start working when the music was loud. More than once, I have heard an older person say loud music is offensive or wrong. That is a complaint for this mortal plane. Well, what happens in heaven? I'm pretty sure those mansions don't clean themselves. I was wondering if they let the late night cleaning crew listen to their own music. I don't think I can mop to Bach's Sonata in G. I am figuring that if I am going to get anything done in the next life, there must be tunes! If I am going to really dwell on this, I don't want to eat fish and honeycomb in the next life either. Is there a place for folks like us? Maybe I will be the gardner for the other folks. If your butt is dragging and you aren't worried about the next life consequences, my list of energy making music is here:

All the single ladies/Crazy in Love --Beyonce
Groove is in the heart--Dee-Lite
Stayin' Alive--Bee Gees
Get up offa that thing--James Brown
Escape--Enrique Iglesias
Whenever, Wherever--Shakira
Are you going my way? --Lenny Kravitz
I wanna be your lover--Prince
I gotta feeling--Black Eyed Peas
Gold Digger/Don't Stop Believing--Glee Cast
Party in the USA--Miley Cyrus (the kids & I danced & cleaned so I had to name it.....)
Down--Nota
Don't stop till you get enough--Michael Jackson

I dare you not to dance to the list. You may have your own list, but I bet you have one!

Push and Pull!

2010-02-09T13:46:00.005-07:00

I am sitting on hold trying to sort out the typical health insurance problems. As I look at the dishes and my paper strewn desk, it seems my life is a continuous push/pull state. Sometimes, I don't yell at my kids and the house is messy. My house is clean, but I haven't exercised. I find time for a cardio workout, but I'm too tired to floss my teeth. Is that gross? I finally get around to putting on my cremes to stop those little wrinkles from appearing and then I realize I haven't had any decent conversation with my husband that night. I play with my kids and forget to make dinner. My mind is enlarged by reading a great book and I ignore my children that day.

The list continues until I question the pattern of it all. Is this the purpose of life to achieve and fall in seamless motion? If everything did happen perfectly in one day, would I walk around like some Stepford standout? Would I feel happy if it all did happen "just so"? Sadly, I have the misplaced notion that life would be better, wouldn't it? But, as I sit back and reflect, some of these "items" do not fill the soul. I imagine perfection with things that are temporary and unimportant. Just sometimes, I understand the difference between good and best. My human state needs the slow days which lack any sort of perfection. If the push becomes a shove, I want days where I fall down and sit back. The sitting back can be anything from sheer lazy to falling down gosh awful mistakes. It makes me wonder if this is the rhythm of life. (For some must push and some must pull!)

Things that make me go hmmmm

2010-01-29T17:43:00.006-07:00

Thoughts in the middle of the night:

Are mean blogs more fun to read? I've noticed my "mean" ones get more comments. It would be wrong to record all of my mean thoughts, right?

Sometimes my kids bore me. Does that kick me out of motherhood?

Aren't blogs really quite strange in that they blend private, indulgent musings in a public medium? Although, I have one, it is this concept that makes me feel uncomfortable.

Is organic food a big lie?

Should the blog name be changed? "Red momma" still has the whispers of porn star or something akin to it. Maybe it should be: Red's Rambles? Forty, Four kids and Forgetful? Chitchat with Kat? Random Red? Crazy and Trying to Love it? .....uggg

Was a supermajority ever a good idea? I thought it was great it ended. Yet, I still am a democrat.

Does anyone read Peter Sagal? He makes me want to be a better writer.

Does anything smell as good as a newborn? Maybe fresh bread.

Is it so bad to sell your wedding dress? My mom thinks so. I love it. But come on folks I don't wear it anywhere or even look at it.

Does anyone read this who I don't know? There are a lot of blogs out there. Just curious.

Resolute Revisit

2010-01-15T17:34:00.007-07:00

I have kept a journal since I was nine-years-old. This allows me to quickly see how that my spastic nature has been with me always. I like to make resolutions, so I checked on my "post" from 1981....don't worry if you haven't been born yet. I am sure this peek in the past is full of wisdom for all generations. Hmmmm, let's see:

1981 Goals:

Wash hair 3-4 times a week

Keep money records

Keep room clean

Stop hitting brothers

When I like a guy don't tell anyone

Eat right

Brush teeth

Yeah, I was surprised by how little I need to change for this year's list. Having a newborn brings one down to the basics. Except for hitting my brothers, I think the goals still stand for now. I would add a few thoughts I have for the present.

2010 hopes:

I will be present in my relationships--this includes not surfing the computer or emailing while on the phone.

I want to do one push-up by the end of the year.

I would like to be a listener instead of a talker.

Play with my kids and not just tell them what to do.

Dear BYU

2010-01-08T13:07:00.002-07:00

I got a letter today from BYU looking for donations. It asked me a set of questions which should evoke memories of my college days.

Dear Mrs B. (Don't they know I have never gone by Mrs and that I hyphenate?)

Do I remember?

Eating in the Wilk? No, I usually gulped down sandwiches from the machine in the math building. (tuna fish no less!)

Studying in the Lee? Yes, for hours. (My favorite was the loud music they played at midnight.)

Praying in the Testing Center? No, maybe muttering/mumbling to myself about a super-hard test a professor created or quietly laughing because it was hopeless.

Dancing in the ballroom? Nope, being that I am most uncoordinated---I feared I would always dance with just other women or continue my amazing abilities at guarding the wall during dances.

Jogging around the track? Yes, in winter.

Brick Oven? I think five buck pizza or Taco Bell at 1 am was more on my wallet.

"Come, Come, Ye Saints" on the carillon bells? Yes, always made me laugh because I would think, "yep, we must be at BYU".

They did not include my favorite campus memory, trying to be still during the anthem. I can remember how everyone stopped to put their hands on their heart. If I were running late for something; booger now I have to stand still. Sometimes, when I had a deadline with a professor, I would try to move in a patriotic fashion--I always felt guilty.

Seven weeks

2010-01-07T09:18:00.010-07:00

I have been out of the game for a while. I confess that having a lot of small children just keeps me out of the loop. Yet, others seem to blog, twitter and do what not with their young. Eventually, I played with the idea of shutting down my blog because I wanted to be more present with my children. My blog is not a job. However, for the moment, it still provides an outlet for me.

Seven weeks ago, I had a new baby, some may want to hear the short story. It is good for me to record it. I have had a lot of drama at birth with NICU. This time, I wanted a peaceful event. I read all sorts of birthing books including several that were Hypno-birthing. I wanted to sit in blessed silence and "breathe" my baby down the canal. However, I knew I would not sit in the midst of singing/guitar playing women or keep my placenta for the freezer. I do draw the line between natural and funky.

Late, the night I was due, I had my daughter paint my toenails, packed my bag and took a shower. Because I was in denial about early labor, I went to read a book. Trying to balance denial and reality, I covered my head in pillows and tried to sleep. Later, my husband questioned if I were in labor, I told him, "50-50." I had known for two hours I was in labor. I just hate midnight deliveries. Twenty minutes later, he exclaimed "I can hear you breathing!" (My relaxation technique.) I mumbled I was heading to the couch to relax. In my head, I thought "No midnight babies! I will just force my body to relax until morning." Five minutes later, my water broke just like the movies. I had always been curious how that felt. "Dude, I think we need to get to the hospital."

We calmly drove to the hospital, met the midwife and started the work. I paced the room like a wild animal, not sure how I wanted to do it this time. As usual, my delivery was active and loud. I kept apologizing to the midwife for being so ear-piercingly vocal. She told me my method seemed more natural. I would love to say it was beautiful and we wept for the miracle of it all. Instead, I screamed, sweated and whimpered a bit. However, we did it! Our fourth was born healthy and strong!

The next morning, I wondered why my throat was sore, but I had a cute, hairy baby there to remind me. If I give birth again, it will be to a monkey. I did not know babies could have hair on the front of their thighs. Clearly, he is mine. More revealing to me, was how calm I felt. This was the miracle birth I wanted. Weeks later, it made cry to reflect upon our blessings.

Shut er down!

2009-12-07T08:45:00.005-07:00

We decided to get out of the house this weekend--finally! We went to a local Christmas lighting ceremony. There was free hot chocolate and ice skating. What fun. As I had a very young baby, we set ourselves down to watch the older kids skate. Since I had recently lost some weight, it sure seemed cold that night. Although I was outfitted in my thickest coat, hat and snowboarding gloves, I could not stop shivering. I tried doing a small dance to stay warm. I drank hot chocolate. Alas, it was useless. I needed to get some warmth. After loading myself and the wee ones in the car, I thought to myself, "Sheesh that was cold! With the wind and cold, what must it be? 15 degrees? Maybe 20?" I excitedly looked over to check the temperature to gauge how much of a hardship I had endured. I scratched my head, 38 degrees? Not even at the freezing mark? For years, I have read books about ascending Everest. Someday, I imagined myself there. Yup, I canceled my mythical journey to Everest right that night. It's over! I will settle for closing my eyes and pretending I am ascending the top of the great peak.

A prayerful journey

2009-11-30T21:05:00.003-07:00

Oliver's journey began a long time ago. I couldn't shake the sense we needed another child. Despite many valid concerns, I carefully prayed for a long time. Some of the story is personal, but the end note was a decision to move forward. The pregnancy was full of the usual complaints any pregnant woman would share with you. However, I was stunned by the ultra-sound revealing it to be a boy. I somehow had not made that part of my planning. None of our other health concerns became fact. However, a boy did bring up our fear of autism. (Boys have four times a greater chance of having it.) In our decision to have a baby, we had already discussed concerns of NICU, downs or autism. We felt that even if those events did happen that we should still have this child. In fact, our prayers would still be "answered."

Yet when I realized we were having a boy, I was nervous. As the months continued, I observed I had become quite ambivalent about having a boy. It is a terrible truth. It concerned me. In my last month, I pondered the nature of these feelings. I realized that I was very unsure of how well I was parenting my present boy. He has been a challenge and I feel my failures deeply. As this settled into my thoughts, I found myself sobbing loudly in the bathroom. I worried about my lack of parenting skills. Would they be up to the challenge? Would I screw-up or crack? This actually was a breakthrough for me. It helped me realize where those feelings were coming from. More prayer was part of the pregnancy. I prayed to trust my decisions and to trust myself.

He is now two weeks old. He seems like a gentle old soul. I really don't know what the future will bring. I find myself watching for signs of autism. Yet, I spend more of my time holding him and snuggling his sweetness. Although I felt like I was holding a sweet teddy bear, my husband was not so hot on naming him Teddy. We named him a gentle name of Oliver. It seems to fit what he feels like to us. I am trying to focus on now. His birth story seems too funny to add to this--so it will come soon.

A week of trivial pursuit

2009-11-27T17:55:00.003-07:00

Yes, I did give birth recently. I'll comment more on that another day. My brain is working on the trivial today. While working on being the sole food source for a youngun, I have watched more tv than is usual. Hence, I will share all of the tremendous wisdom I have gathered in the past week.

Green Day needs a new look. The hot, rebellious look of punkness looks ridiculous on older dudes. The drummer looks like a middle-aged guy on Halloween. I would include a picture, but I am worried about copyright laws. It is more like eeewwww than oooooooo!
There are some FREAKY fans of the Twilight series. Wow! There are fans and then there are women who bedazzle their t-shirts/pillows/whatnot in favor of team Jacob or Edward.
You would think a 34-D is hot....yet it is not. For some of you, this is not a big number. For me, wo stop the conversation people I am past a B!
Since I have gone there, let's talk more letters. Some nursing bras go up to K. Really? How do you walk?
College football is more interesting than pro.
I have become a Donny Osmond fan again. He is a real classy guy. Maybe I will write an entire entry of why I believe this to be true.
Do you think Oprah will really quit? I think she will still do something public.
I'm pretty sure soap operas have the same story lines I watched when I was in high school. But, I think some people have had some GOOD plastic surgery.
I think my brain is more comfortable with trivial than serious thoughts.
It always requires difficult days for me to remember what a gift my body/health is.
Good and kind people have enriched and blessed my life on a daily basis.
It can be glorious to slowly walk in bright sunshine.

Doth evil lurk?

2009-11-09T15:14:00.005-07:00

My son hid himself in the blankets of our bed yesterday. He shouted out, "Mom, Dad come I'm lost, come find me!" I whispered, "If I were a sibling I would pop him on the head and say, 'looks like I found you.' "

My husband looked at me with puzzlement, " I wouldn't have done that. I don't think my siblings would have done that. What kind of family did you come from?" I gave him a deer in head lights stare-- hmmmm, I thought: a pack of hyenas, blame the brothers, lack of supervision in the home, is he serious, am I just cruel, what for the love is the right answer here? I never did answer the question. He could have been dead on fooling me. Or, he could be right, what kind of family did I come from? Or, worse, do I just have spontaneous evil that springs from the dark recesses of my heart?...........still waiting, guess I just don't have an answer.

Love shack, er, love sac

2009-10-19T17:04:00.004-06:00

We have seen the strange phenomena of trucks, yes only trucks, with low hanging double-sided sacs. Is this compensation? Is this local culture? Could someone please explain this to me. I don't think I get it. I just know I'm guilty of judgement--which I find hard to stop. I want to sing out "really, is there such a thing as stereotypes?" My children encountered their first "love sac" this week. My oldest daughter wondered what it was. My son, who knows his own equipment, smiled with recognition. My youngest turned to me and said it is a bum. Well, sheesh, thank-you mister, for providing necessary anatomy discussion. See, I was giving in to stereotypes. It could have been a middle-aged, career woman getting a kick from baffling people. Yeah, right.

George where are you when I need you?

2009-10-10T19:25:00.003-06:00

I would love to say I have been so busy! Really, I contemplated topics on health care, modesty and middle-age. Alas, nothing felt sharp. Instead, I am going to share a shame, a blight on the level of detail worthy of Seinfeld. I was not much of a facebook person. My brother encouraged me to do so and it looked fun. I have enjoyed connecting with lost roommates, old friends and such. But, I am not always into the facebook "whoring" of some or the odd people who ask me to be friends. Really you want to be my friend? A while back a friend of mine, from my early days in church Sunday School became my friend. Later, his sister and mother became "my friends". Whatever, I thought, they are from my hometown. So, I let them be my friend. This is why FB can feel just wrong.

Somehow, in this world of electric connections and small worlds, I figured out my original friend was no longer my friend. Already, I am a bit hesitant to share this, it really got to me. My husband assured me that it was an electronic glitch. I kept checking back every few days to make sure I was no longer his friend. For pete's sake I thought, he has invited me to a few causes, I didn't respond. I checked some of his friends lists. There were clearly bigger rollers (ie people with over 500, yes 500 friends). I am sure those big rollers don't respond to him. Did he get offended by my comment that my mailman was hot for me? The more I analyzed , the more George Kostanza and I had a partnership. My husband suggested I email him. Sheesh, just be pathetic now I thought. I really would like to know. But, I have my pride people! My pride! Honestly, I always worry I am a crappy, lame, no fun-to-get-to-know-person. So that went well. I have moved on--as you can clearly read.

It's the fall, the fall, this lovely time of year

2009-09-23T13:44:00.004-06:00

As much as I love the summer--which I do. I have forgotten the spectacular joy of fall. It has a sense of abundance and reflection that makes me grateful. The light is less piercing, the heat calms down and the nights are cool. The southwest still maintains temperatures in the mid 80's. So, I get the best of all worlds. One bonus from fall is the delightful colors. The sky is bright blue instead of a faded too hot. The grass is recovering from the summer and looks good again. My favorite set of colors is the produce. Right now you can eat corn, peaches, tomatoes, black berries, blue berries and green beans. We have had corn chowder, blue berry muffins, peach cobbler, tomato salad and so on. I have a challenge to anyone who reads this to try a little organic this fall. There are 12 foods that are of most benefit to buy organic. They are:

peaches
apples
bell peppers
celery
nectarines
strawberries
cherries
kale
lettuce
imported grapes
carrots
pears

I know organic is more expensive. However, this is the perfect time of year to eat vegetarian and celebrate what is in season. If you live by a sunflower market, organic is affordable. Just shop on Wednesdays when you have double flyer specials. When I mention affordable, I do have to underline I don't buy bulk or pantry items there. I just buy the produce. It is a small step I am trying to work on.

Overheard at the park

2009-09-19T08:35:00.002-06:00

Older gentleman at swings, "I'm getting my colonoscopy next week."

Daughter, "Is medicare paying for it?"

"I don't know, I'm just trying to get everyone off my ass," he sincerely said. I waited for the wink, the guffaw.

Finally, I wanted to shout over the din of playground noise, "so to speak, har har."

Really, if you swear all the time you miss opportunities for great fun.

I love being gleefully ugly

2009-09-15T20:25:00.002-06:00

Couples have personalities like people. I think our "couple personality" would be sarcastic with a touch of mean. I try to be nice, but I am always fighting the snarky inside. My favorite tv shows offer a blend of everything that is important in my life: broadway, pop-culture and mean people. I confess to loving a good snide comment. Ugly Betty and Glee contain all of these snaps of fun. Glee leans more to broadway whereas Ugly gets more into pop culture. Both of them channel the stingers. I left some previews that sort of capture a sense of the fluffy candy I like. Fall held/holds the promise of gleeful fun.

My husband and I were so excited for the celebration to begin. We felt let down. Glee wasn't fun. Instead, it was more sex/relationships than I wanted. It is only a first episode I hope they can rebalance. The gold-digger song was perfect--look for it on you- tube. It could be such a place for musical joy and over-the-top characters. My ideal order is a show with mean people plotting and a touch of smug on the side. If I wanted relationships, I would watch Greys whatever or Desperate Housewives. My desires must reveal my truest self.

The new fall for Betty is still open. I hope Betty finds the balance of pop and nasty.

Arrrggg, the curse, the curse

2009-09-07T09:48:00.005-06:00

There are tales out there of spacey pregnant women. Science even backs the notion a pregnant woman's brain loses some power. Oy! I have been losing stuff to the point of crazy. I'm ready to throw until I find everything. Step back-- it could get ugly. I really want that home where it is like an Ikea closet. You open the doors and it has labels, links and matching containers. Each time I go the Ikea or Pottery Barn site, I believe brother! My husband reminds me that baskets will not solve the world's problems. I'm not sure. For now my missing in action list is pathetic and long. It includes:

book bag for the library--I love the library this is serious
beautiful, green leather scriptures my husband just bought me
wedding ring (this sounds bad, left low by the lotion bottle). Sadly, we really can't find it.
silver pendant which was a gift from my MIL--it slipped off my neck, I'm sensing a theme
a DVD I rented and never saw
numerous small things like sandals or such

Honestly, it was comical when I discovered the necklace was missing. I was ready to laugh or weep. I'm pretty sure I have a black hole or gremlin in the house. I thought I was sort of together...clearly not. You would think I should be on some intervention for clutter on the Oprah show. I swear it doesn't look that bad. However, I feel that bad. My perception of myself "keeping it together" is low. I'm ready to throw everything but the most necessary of items. So, my husband is off for two business trips in the next while. This leads me to a fantasy of sorts. I can get it back baby. I'm sure I am fooling myself. But, I'm excited for the challenge. It is either that or eating bon-bons and checking out the new fall season of shows. Hmmmmmm.

I'd rather watch the movie

2009-09-02T20:38:00.004-06:00

Today was bike day at my children's school. The route to the school requires crossing one of the most accident ridden intersections in the city. Despite my concerns, I thought if I biked behind my five-year-old, we would be safe. That afternoon, when it was our turn, I told my son to start crossing. Instead of going across he started riding his bike diagonally through the six lanes of traffic. Immediately, thinking (or blindly reacting) to 45 mph traffic mindlessly driving to the interstate, I dropped my bike, with the two-year-old in the trailer. She was left on the edge of the street while I madly raced behind him.

Despite my loud, hysterical screams and frantic running I couldn't seem to stop or reach him. My pregnant body could not get there fast enough. It was just like you would imagine in a movie. I had no power to change things. Time slowed, I didn't see anything except the fact my son's little body would be crushed as he came past the left turn lane. I couldn't hear anything except my own futile shrieks to stop. My mind braced for the disaster that was coming. Some how, he was suddenly on the other side. I stood there, with one small child trapped in the street where I left her and another far away from me. Someone had got out of a car and asked if they could get my boy or walk with me. I was almost speechless, I just kept staring at that intersection. How did that happen?

After a few minutes of breathing, I thanked my help with my children and we biked on to home. I thought of the scene: his small body being hit, me running straight after him and my abandoned daughter. Overwhelmed with shock, gratitude, self-doubt/anger and recovery, I made pathetic gasping sobs all the way home. At home, I called my husband to tell the story. It became a full-out break down of hiccuping cries with an inability to speak.

I cried for an hour as I processed the miracle. What a brief gift life and love is. Even though I tell my children I love them, I play with them and spend all day with them, I still have the human fear of regret. Have I loved enough or done the right things? Why was I sobbing when I should be celebrating a miracle? Instead of praying gratitude, my mind was so shaken by the "could ofs" I was unable to normally function. I felt so fragile today. And finally my mind thought, well I guess I like my kid. Even if he is messy, loud, forgetful, destructive and sometimes stinky--I love him in a terribly, powerful way.

Delirious Dreams of a Fat Chick

2009-08-19T11:38:00.004-06:00

I always have crazy dreams when I am pregnant. Usually, they are paranoid twists of my normal reality. Sometimes they are a venture in paranoia. I had a dream that I had hairy man nipples. What, for the love, is Freud trying to tell me?

Hoop skirts and hopeful thoughts

2009-08-10T20:30:00.003-06:00

It seems I don't grow much wiser with age. I used to hope for it. Now, I am amused at the slowness of my human learning. I just enjoyed the delights of a lovely BBC miniseries--North & South. It has all of the charm we ladies love: complicated love, men loving woman who refuse them, passionate declarations, costumes, compelling musical scores and of course... kissing while holding the woman's face. Yes, I rewatched some scenes on you tube. I found it very romantic. I don't know what it is about wide skirts and accents that gets me every time. But, I also paused to think on my own relationship.

I am swooning over these scenes and maybe neglecting my own personal ones. I have a sweet, dedicated husband who I can kiss all the time. He has a deep, romantic baritone voice, plays the guitar, has a deep laugh, is kind, thoughtful, intelligent and hard working. Yet, I have probably seen the kissing scene from this BBC actor a few extra-times. What is it about women (me) that we seek outside of what we (I) have and forget what is present? I may be exaggerating my thoughts here. But, I think I am unappreciative of the goodness in my life. Is it the old human foil of lacking satisfaction? Cue the Stones here. I definitely could do a better job of making romance in my life. It makes me think about all of those seemingly small decisions/actions we make in our relationships. In fact, I could work on my family/siblings/spouse connections. Am I building or just walking? What is my part in creating something lasting and beautiful? Really, that first orgasmic kiss (yes it seems like that sometimes) is just the start of building and learning. I have found romance in the journey so far. I just think I need to do a much better job of being here/now and doing MY part.

Hairy, Scary & Weighty Concerns

2009-07-17T09:31:00.011-06:00

I fought blogging for a long time because it seemed so strange to stick personal details out in public. But then I found how fun it has been to record stuff that just doesn't belong in more serious memoirs. My weighty concern is a personal grooming curse. I have always been a hairy sort of woman. When I taught Asian students in my outreach programs, they would pet my arms and ask me what was wrong. "Genetic misfortune" or having one's family history be ape, I would explain. The malady has always given me the thought laser would be better than the oodles of supplies I purchase in a vain hope it will stop the undergrowth. Laser treatments seemed so extravagant I would stop myself.

Until now...I have the most unfortunate of pregnancy complications. I cannot stop getting ingrown hairs in my rather large (think ape) bikini area. I speak of grotesque monsters with their own names. (If you want further descriptors, I could email--don't think I will provide photos.) I now have a celebratory combination of pain and disfigurement. I have tried vaseline with a positive attitude. I am considering body glide. In addition, it is summer, so I must swim. Yet, those board shorts will not slip over the offenders much longer. I am concerned about the young children I will scar at the swimming pool. Yet, the thought of a very swollen me sitting in a paper bikini with a laser tech doesn't seem to work either. I think I have learned my lessons of vanity.

My husband helped me with this suggestion: "Well, even though you look small, maybe you have gained weight in your thighs and they are rubbing together." Yeah, sweetie here's all my love right back at you! The answer is really to just sit on the couch read US weekly and eat ice cream. What else should a girl do?

Personality Parades

2009-07-08T16:12:00.005-06:00

Recently, we watched my BIL finish a triathlon. He finished strong and got a medal which was fun. As we watched the buff male and female bodies stride by us, the muscles were far more interesting than a typical running race. Running usually involves lanky, spare frames that run forever. Mastery of three separate sports requires time, devotion and some decent equipment. We found ourselves looking at their bodies and trying to guess their ages. A triathlon will have the age written in marker on one calf and the gender on the other one. This kind of racing creates muscular bodies which seem to defy age expectations. We were stunned by how well kept some of the racers were. It was so easy to guess how old someone was and then just glance down at the person's calf.

Just think how fun life could be if two simple stats could be printed on one's calf. This information could be of immense help to interested parties. The rules only allow two facts. So you need to get to basics. You could have: funny & bad with money, gossip & easy to talk to, great date & commitment problems, good on the outside & jerk on the inside, shy & messed-up like you, good friend & doesn't seem a bit like you.....You may have your own list of information needed. I would have liked one when I had been single. Sometimes, when I am trying to make friends as an adult, I still would like the info. But, yet I know labels suck. I still love the idea of information being stuck on a body part. I would probably be petty & insecure--with some normal dashed in. (No this is not a shout-out for telling I'm wrong.) I am petty. It's cool--I have came to love the ugly. What labels would you like to see? Oh, I know we shouldn't want them.

Bonfire of Vanity

2009-06-22T13:26:00.005-06:00

Last year, as 39 crept into the door, I purchased an internet deal on facials. No big deal. I was feeling the quiet tickle of old-age on my face. Chemical peels seemed to be the answer. One year later and I had finally got around to redeeming the specials. I hate wasting money more than age spots. Having done this before, I was looking forward to a dark room and pleasant smelling stuff on my face. At the time, it did not concern me that I had a different esthetician. Sure, it burned a little more. It was probably working. During the weekend my face went from red like a sunburn to "who drug your face behind a skateboard?" I hunkered at home like a pimply thirteen-year-old.

That Sunday, I was in charge of getting the children to sing loudly for Father's Day. No sweat, they always sing so cheerfully for me. In addition, I knew my local gathering of church goers was going to realize I was pregnant. (Yeah, did I mention I was pregnant?) This perfect storm of self-pity erupted in pathetic sobs of loathing in my bedroom. I was NOT, repeat NOT going to church. I knew it would be cowardly to not go. But, oh how angry I was at myself. I sat here crying because I was dreading leading a choir with my scab face and fertility bump. All over the world women deal with infertility, violence and poverty. Me? Funeral sobs over looking like an idiot.

Finally, I put on enough foundation to make a drag queen proud--it was difficult to not furiously scrub it off. I held my head low, ducking between my big hair. I avoided conversations all day long. It was ended by my immediate exit to the car. Yeah, who says teens are the only emotional goof balls out there?

Baby got....front?

2009-06-18T08:54:00.005-06:00

Driving along the road, an older American car pulled up along side of our car. There sat a younger man delighting in his cigar. Smoke tendrils curled around his contented face while he sat waiting for the light to change. Looking through the haze, I noticed a long twirly-ish mustache which seemed to match his cigar but not his decade. As he stretched back in his solitary delight, one could observe the decorations of his castle. There on the rearview mirror were two peach fuzzy balls. What on odd color and shape for an ornament one at first thinks. However, as one kept looking, the deeper pink centers and general atmosphere of the car give the obvious a-ha! He's got ta-tas! Nothing says personal style like boobie balls. This folks is why I love cars, people and America.

Serenity Sometimes is Now

2009-05-31T20:29:00.004-06:00

I actually had a few perfect moments last week. It would be a slap to the universe if I didn't acknowledge them. I took my children and one extra neighbor to the park which can sometimes be a lot of walking, running and watching. However, I found myself sitting against a tree holding my youngest while the older ones played. My littlest curled into me as we watched the others. The sky was bright blue, the sun was just right and I sat there for an entire five minutes. It really was perfect.

Later that week, I went to see my parents for the weekend. I finally have hit that point where I have rebalanced the mind set between my parents are perfect and my parents are so "wrong". Now, they are loving people who do they best they can. I enjoy their company in a way I couldn't when I was younger. I am more okay with their quirks and individual ways. There are many simple changes that come with aging. Hooray I say.

When I visit my parents for the weekend, it usually involves an early morning long run with my father. The night before our run, we negotiated a time of 6:40 am for our start. I awoke to sunshine and birds singing. Yes--birds singing! As I looked upon my sleeping husband's face, I felt contentment. We are in a good flow of marriage where communication is generally good and humor is generous. I felt gratitude before I got out of bed.

Thereafter, I laced my shoes in the early sunlight to meet my dad downstairs. My dad happily trotted along the trail as we chatted about life and the scenery. How many people can do a challenging course with a 73 year old man? Near the end, we reached a crest which looked out upon a green valley. Spectacular! What an amazing start of the day. I loved watching my father lead the way as he jumped rocks and talked to the animals. Surely, he was in his true element. I was happy to be there and share in it.

I don't want to just dwell on worries or complaints. One really can have few moments of joy and perfection.

Midnight Worries

2009-05-21T16:13:00.003-06:00

Lots of things swirl in my head. They are all of various sizes. I worry if I buy products that aren't organic, but I am a budget freak. I worry about too much plastic packaging. I worry about offending people. I worry which economist is correct. I worry I don't read enough international news. I worry I may have to start totally dying my hair. I worry my daughter is becoming a tween soon. But really, I worry about the state of pop culture. Mock me if you want. However, let me give you something to think about. Star Trek pushed the "reset" button with its new venture. Wolverine was an attempt to reset. Batman has been reset. Terminator is attempting this as well. Battle Star Galactica was reset. The geek in me is worried, very worried. Is this where we are? FREAKING RESET?

Yes, why am I so emotional? First of all, it is safer to get worked up over movies than to examine the stock market. Secondly, I love creativity. I am worried we are in a morass of re-made tv shows and movies. I am concerned that pop music is not going to evolve. I worry we are going to keep borrowing from the Brits (see The Office, American Idol or Dancing with the Stars). I want a future of the unexpected for my children. I do most truly hope they will find music to annoy me. They will find their own books and movies to inspire. I hope they don't just come home with tales of triple resets movies or tv shows.

See, this is much better than worrying about the swirl of reality. But, just to buck the trend I'll go read the current news section.

Small Girls' Solace

2009-05-16T20:57:00.004-06:00

We took a family vacation to Zion National Park. I learned lots of things. My children can play well together when they have to do so. They don't need lots of toys/electronics. Eating junk food for a week will not kill you. Teaching kids the joy of hiking requires patience and love. Road trips can still be full of singing, laughing, I-spy-with-my-little-eye,"kids did you see that?" and just a little fighting to make you feel normal. As I walked along the hikes with a cross-section of America, I observed something. (If you are large breasted, you may want to skip this. This is the title portion of the piece.) The enormous typical middle-aged/older woman has got a lot of "girls" to carry around. As I looked at the pull of gravity and the need for super bras, I thought to myself, maybe it is just right to be small. For years, I have lamented my dresses that sagged and my swimsuits that gaped. However, I did not want to be those women trucking those things along. What a pain! It would take an act of God to make me droop. And no, don't wish that on me. If puberty and my flat twenties were painful, don't I deserve gravity defying middle-age?

I hear the bell!

2009-05-06T14:41:00.005-06:00

For a number of years, my husband and I have settled into an agreed upon set of radio tunes. We have our obligatory NPR, his classic rock and my beloved brainless 80s music. A station we have listened to our entire marriage has lost most of its charm. But, I was still shocked when he took it out of the line-up. Instead, I could only describe the new station as B-hits of classic rock. I complained when I got home. "We ALREADY have a classic rock station honey!" I reminded him. "Yeah, but they call this smooth classic rock," he defended himself. Anyone hear the bell of middle age? It's coming around the corner as we speak!

I think I can't, I think I can't

2009-04-27T16:25:00.003-06:00

I experienced a frustrating day with my toddler a few days ago. Time outs, choices and feeble attempts at humor did not convince her to dress. Instead, fear and brute force won the day. As I agonized and guilted over my decision as I gave the play-by-play to my sister, she asked me if I tried being fun. I have been a mom for a while. This is one area I cannot do. I am careful to be educational, act firm, be loving and hard-working, not call names or yell, but dammit do I have to be fun?!!! This is a too painful reminder of my many years of teaching high school. I could use every strategy I knew, reward systems, group learning, investigations, projects and so forth but gosh darn-it I wasn't fun. The former yahooo basketball coach could do the same crap day- in -day- out with a dose of insulting humor/fun; he was still considered a cool teacher.

The sad thing is, I didn't know I would be an unfun grown-up. I thought I would be fun and silly. But I don't think I am. I seem to be fonder of rules and lectures. Instead, I sometimes take delight in giving consequences to kids. When they make crap choices, I get to chant my mantra, "It sucks to be you." Well, that IS kind of fun. Just not the fun I imagined at 15.

I almost switched

2009-04-16T15:57:00.005-06:00

Driving along the road today I saw: Free Pie and Dessert 6 pm. See I'm not a cake girl, I love pie--coconut, chocolate, apple, banana cream or cherry. As I looked for more info, I realized it was a church function. And not mine. Sheesh! Why don't we do pie? That has got to be better than knocking doors. Still, I really wasn't ready for a life change or ready to pretend I wanted some good ol' time religion. I passed. As I drove, I soothed myself with the assurance it was apple from a can, fake banana and runny coconut. But really, I think they are onto something.

A simple definition

2009-04-06T09:31:00.004-06:00

My son has been learning to count. He gets the teens but not the weird twelve. Today, as we watched kids line up for the bus, he wondered who was a teenager. I explained what a teenager was by the number of their age. He looked at me and said it was the tight pants. Teenagers wear tight pants. Yeah, I guess that works. Much better than my definition of snarly and disaffected.

Past, Present and Future Collide

2009-03-28T20:05:00.006-06:00

Many years ago, I couldn't dance to save my life or really impress anyone. My older brother tried his hardest to help me find a beat at dances. I still struggle to find that cool down beat. If you have seen Eddie Murphy dance like "white people" that would be me. Years later, I was trying to help my daughter get ready for a Christmas duet. As I helped her find her pitch, I noticed my husband chuckling in the corner. Finally, I whipped around to ask him what his problem was. He observed I always knew my daughter was off pitch. However, I was consistently a half-step too low. He is not being cruel-- this is not the first time I have heard about this problem. It was like I was calibrated wrongly at birth. That Sunday I thought to myself think higher, think higher. I confidently plopped myself by him and sang "high". I smiled and said, "well?" "Still flat." Uggggg.

You see, I have a secret dark list of things I never want to do because they put me in such a state of discomfort. This is where the past and present collide the with future. I have been asked to be music conductor/director for all the children at church. I have only had 3 midnight panic attacks; that should be a good omen for the future. I'd rather give a series of public speeches or perform a skit than be a music/choir person. Are you kidding me? Sometimes I think God thinks "you know you have skated long enough, let's give you something that will make you know who is in charge." Ahhh, good times.

2009-03-21T17:47:00.004-06:00

I always find myself rushing about each day. Each second seems to count as I rush off to the next thing. One of my typical "mom mornings" found me in my usual spot. "Hurry, Hurry, get those shoes on, get that jacket...." I got one on the bus, one to preschool, dropped one off to a rec day care and hurried to my forty minute exercise break. I jumped in the pool to quickly get my stress reducing routine done. An older woman I know from church saw me and swam over to say hi. She told me she liked going to the pool because it got it her out of the house and gave her something to do. Wow. Same location, same time and same activity. Yet, we were here for such different reasons. I kept thinking about it as I swam.

I want to slow down and give things/people their space. I want to stop walking ahead of my children. I know you do it. Or, am I really that mean? I want to listen to their stories. I want to not regret staying home/miss my former career girl life. I want to find what is good about right now. I want to enjoy the hectic nature of my life and thrive. I want to stop surfing the internet while talking to people I love on the phone. (once again do I need help?) I would like to stop fretting about small and think themes. I want to look people in the eyes instead of thinking ahead to the next thing. I want to give the person and place I am right NOW its proper appreciation. I don't want to be a melancholic soul. But, before I realize, I could be a quiet widow swimming in a pool.

Talk to the hand

2009-03-12T07:14:00.004-06:00

My daughter and I went to the ballet to see Romeo and Juliet. As I watched the ballerina, I was reminded of how much I had wanted to be a dancer when I was younger. Sadly, I couldn't jump rope without killing myself. Jumping Jacks were undoable. I wondered which way was it? Did the clear lack of coordination stop me from ballet? Or, could have ballet been the teacher to create more grace on my part? Yes, I was the kid in gym no one wanted on their team. Don't act surprised now.
As I watched her hands/fingers help her dance, they told a beautiful story. They expressed: gratitude, delight, sorrow, regret, joy, beauty, longing and pain. Do you know what my hands can say? They can say stop that, shut-up, you are bugging me, or I'll give you something to cry about. Compare those two lists. Hmmmm. Do you think I could increase my vocabulary? Maybe if I knew how to dance, I would have nicer things to say.

Gotta reset the clock

2009-03-04T07:28:00.004-07:00

As my sister and I have headed toward middle age, we have wondered how it is all going to work as we get older. When do we wear elasticized pants? When do we wear comfortable tennis shoes? When can we eat ice cream for lunch because it doesn't matter? Frankly, I'm looking forward to some of that stuff right now. We arrived at 70. We thought that would be the next era for us. Along with that, as I thought about relationships, when does one put away the (close your eyes if you don't like frank talk)...well when does one stop wearing the thong? When does your marriage embrace tasteful nightgowns? I really couldn't see myself prancing out into the bedroom when I was much older. My sister and I thought you must just hit this time where you put it all away. I thought, it has to be around 50. That sounds reasonable.

Yesterday, I found a woman way past that mark who still embraces all of life. Guess, I gotta reset my clock.

Screaming in my face

2009-02-23T07:28:00.005-07:00

Years ago, my husband took me cross-country skiing. No big deal unless you understand I have no tolerance for myself in learning things. I am a perfectionist with no patience. Can you think of a more toxic combination? That day as I attempted to climb a hill in my slippery skis, I had it. I sat myself down, ripped off my skis and hurled them over the hill. I was proud to keep the swear words in my head. My husband hid behind a tree watching the whole scene. We had been married long enough for him to know the monster. To this day, I have only played chess twice with him. (Yes, I was learning how to play.)

Yesterday, my two-year-old daughter decided it was time to learn to dress-- it was time to walk away from the toddler years. During her first attempt, her two legs got stuck in the same hole. As I walked in, she sat on the floor refusing help from anyone. Her screams were enough to scare anyone away. My husband chuckled, "Yup she is yours." Besides the wonderful assurance, of yes she really is mine, I must ask. Why? Oh why, must we give our worst qualities to children? I would never pass on that defunct gene if I had my choice. The combination of perfection expectation and screams at first-failure are a lethal dose. I still do it. Well, I swear or pout now. I can promise you it is a quality that is not hot in an old married lady with kids.

Still Working

2009-02-19T06:54:00.003-07:00

It is sad to say that I seem to get more done when I am not on the internet. I just get sucked in to facebook and blogging. What am I working on? Yes, I am still trying to get organized. I can't seem to get the stuff I don't want out of my house. It just stays in bags. Sigh. I am thinking of a possibly cultural no-no. I thinking of selling my wedding dress. I have great pictures of it. It is not the right color, ivory, for my daughters. It will not fit them as they get bigger. They both seem to headed for a height much more than mine. I don't wear it anymore. How taboo is that? And do I care? It just sits there.

I'm getting rid of my menus feature. Originally, I put it there for my sisters. However, I don't think it is helping anyone. I thought I might change a menu to a list of acts of kindness I see in strangers. That might be a positive note.

Step away

2009-02-09T09:02:00.003-07:00

The introduction to Stevie Wonder's greatest hits album describes a scene in the desert where a man riding a camel listens to "Superstition" on his boom box. Fast forward to the present at the Grammys. Stevie Wonder sang with the Jonas Brothers last night. At first, I thought what crap is that? I'm sure "Burnin' Up" is hot with the twelve-year-olds. But, through the muck of the vocals and sad guitar, I wanted the boys to back-off and stop putting their heads right next to Stevie. Step away from the legend dude. Were they really worthy to jam so close to him? When they shouted "Come on Stevie!" No, you come on, I thought. Yes, I know the Grammy's celebrate the transcendence of music. I sat there squishing my eyebrows, suddenly, the noise stilled and music entered. Superstition's universal dance chords were being hit and I bopped my head in happiness. (I know this seems like lazy blogging--but you can check out what I mean.)

I have tried to get another, albeit bad video of this performance.

How to organize ridiculous

2009-02-06T11:42:00.006-07:00

Each person you meet has a struggle. There are those that struggle with exercise, overspending, or temper. I struggle with clutter. Just as some may have a public goal which declares exercise, I would benefit with an open goal of "getting it together". Sadly, I am the person who loses keys, school forms and yes--sometimes important mail. I don't like living this way. I declared defeat and went to my favorite place, the library, to research my problem. I checked out four books on organization. One was from the cute guy with the accent: Peter Walsh. I got excited to read "How to organize just about everything." It begins with obvious concepts of making a to-do list or dealing with mail. All of it was helpful.

As I continued to peruse, I came upon some titles of this form: Become a brain surgeon, get into an elite law school or become a talk show host. The broad sweep of topic spurred me on and I continued to read. Nestled between family calendars and cleaning the closet was the following: Plan an Invasion, Outsmart pirates, make a jail break, prepare for an act of God. Yeah it turns out an act of God means tornados or fires. It did not mean movie level, finger-of-god stuff. Trust me, I wanted to KNOW how one would survive an F5 tornado or giant-sized Stay Puff Marshmallow man. But, I can also give you directions for writing the great American novel or stopping world hunger. If you want to break out of jail, you must:

Be patient
Keep you mouth shut
Know prison routines
Have an accomplice get a job in the U.S. Post Office

If you currently have great need of the remaining steps, email me. I'll reply as quickly as possible.

Yup, that works

2009-02-02T10:12:00.014-07:00

We (my husband) just purchased a blue-ray player. Not a big deal for me. I'm not a techie. However, to demonstrate its amazing sound, we had a concert from Queen playing loudly in our basement. Yup, you may think that is not my kind of music. While I did have a brief love affair with weak hair bands for a while, I was snooty and didn't think I was a Queen fan. After singing along to a number of their songs, I gave in and accepted it. Go ahead. Go to i-tunes or youtube and look up Queen. You'll sing a-long and have a good time. This band plays shake it, sing at the top of your lungs, nod your head real hard and sometimes dance music. I was ready for Wayne's World right then. Ohhh and that Freddie Mercury, what a talent. He can sing, play piano, play guitar and dance. BUT, watching him dance, I was struck by how different he was. He just didn't come across as the typical arrrg/roar heavy metal singer. Heaven knows we need to celebrate the different in each person. Freddie Mercury is his own kind of guy. Think about it, instead of Quiet Riot, Scorpions, Megadeath, White Zombie and a zillion other names involving death and destruction...you get Queen.

I don't need no stinking Oil of Olay

2009-01-28T19:14:00.005-07:00

A while ago, we went to the Twilight movie. Yeah, sure this is old news. But the honest truth is, I was so relieved to NOT be attracted to the Edward character. I worried that these vampire romance books would cause me to fall in love with a teenager on screen. I'm not ready for a creepy "The Graduate" kind of vibe. So, during the opening days of the movie, I would see all of these women in the sequined, yes-I-am-still-hot-shirts and I thought to myself, sheesh who are they trying to attract? I am not really ready for the cougar stage of my life. Yup, I know I'm getting there. But, instead, I finally saw a movie with Patrick Dempsey. Nope, I don't see his weekly show. But, I'm happy to say he is hot and my age. No, I am not jonesing to BE with him. I'm just relieved to be in my current decade and have a crush on a movie star my age--see how grounded I am?

What I am celebrating

2009-01-26T16:43:00.002-07:00

I had many posts done in my head regarding the past week. I went through so many emotions; they now are jumbled. Today, it seems like tired news to discuss the inauguration. So, I will approach it from another perspective. I wanted to celebrate the peaceful transfer of power. As I watched the Bush family shake hands with the Obamas, I was struck by how easy it was. They kissed, shook hands and then, one of the most powerful nations on earth continued its daily workings. However strongly some may feel the two parties divide, when one gazes upon the many political unities which are on this earth, our two parties have many similarities. Both believe in one elected president and elected congress. We have term limits--not lifetime rulers. We all believe in separation of powers and in the constitution. We all believe in a democracy for heaven's sakes! Our country does not careen between a variety of concepts in government every few years. We all know what to expect. We do not live in a country where several factions glom together to form some weak agreement as to how things should be done.

As I watched the sober face of President Obama ponder the responsibility which lies before him, I was glad for peaceful power, the constant opportunity for change and a charge to give my best efforts to strengthen my country. Surely, these musings are a freshman analysis of politics. I would never boast to know these things on an academic level. However, I did want to share some of my personal celebrations regarding recent events.

Why men don't like ballet

2009-01-13T06:43:00.008-07:00

The usual rush and pull of the holidays has gone. I am still looking back at some of the lessons we learned. The combination of daughter in ballet and a new PBS premier of Nutcracker created the perfect date. We waited for a lull in the holidays to view the recording. Much later, as we sat there watching the Nutcracker prince defend himself against the mouse king, my daughter whispered to me: "It's kind of weird,that guy, I can't watch it." I have always tried to demonstrate my comfortability with the human body. I don't want my kids to have any hang-ups. So, I tried to explain about the typical costume of a male dancer. His outfit was compared to a football players uniform, of course. However, that Nutcracker seemed enhanced. He was beyond the normal of ballet.

Sheesh, as the big screen lit up the room, I had a hard time looking at it as well. Those tights just display everything for gosh sakes. Why does each part need to be so clearly exposed? Why can't they wear cute breeches? Must I have such a clear concept of what he looks like straight out of the shower? When a male dancer would leap, those tights exposed his well-muscled tush; yeah right down to the post-jump quivering recovery. I found myself taking uncomfortable side glances. Instead of celebrating the beauty of the human body, I suddenly got it. Men feel exposed when watching ballet. One of their brothers is out there and loving it. Yet, it is just too much for the average male, or child and mom trying to watch it on the big screen. (Well, the women were as beautiful as ever and we danced with the snowflakes.)

Have I gone soft???

2009-01-06T14:51:00.006-07:00

Well, okay, my arms have always been soft. But, today while driving my two littlest ones, I was forced to examine my inner mojo. Knowing I had to make a turn, I began signaling three blocks ahead of the turn. For the life of me, I couldn't get in. So, I wondered if the driver hadn't realized I actually needed to switch lanes. I moved closer to the lane. Nope. I kept looking and trying, noticing the car carefully keeping pace to leave not quite enough room. Who does that, I thought? The car had no cars behind it. I gave the driver a "what-the-hey-look" in one last attempt to get in the lane. Yup, you guessed it, I got "the bird"; the long, skinny, finger of a bitter middle-aged man showing me who was boss. Ho-ho-ho. I felt so bad. It felt so mean. I started questioning my driving. Maybe, it would have been better if I had braked and blocked my WHOLE lane to get in after. Was I an idiot?

However, I have lived right by this intersection for five years. My driving hasn't altered. I had never had a problem like this before. Yet, I felt crummy. As I thought back on my teaching years, it struck me that when a 17-year-old screamed "You F-ing Ho!" to me, I was plain old mad. It happened more than once to me and I just got in their face. What has happened? Oy, is this a sign that suburbia has finally gotten to me? Am I middle-aged? Am I soft now? Have I become that spastic SUV with kids in tow? Have I lost my street cred or what? Or, did I just really deserve that tall white bird?

It's okay. Just tell me. Dude, you need driving lessons.

A new world order

2009-01-03T19:10:00.010-07:00

Don't be silly. I am not talking religion here. I'm talking football....the other religion. I was raised in Nebraska. So, I guess those are the same. I was raised in a cultish fashion where football was taught young and we DID believe. However, Nebraska has had a rough ride for the last ten years. I still try to watch and support them. My husband's following of Utah football has also been supported by me. In my good natured fashion, I thought it would never be a problem. They wore red and "hey, I do like football." Yet, in my smug, private world I did believe in the superiority of southern/midwestern football.

Okay, here is where you need to come closer. I will whisper it to you. In my twisted mind of better football days, I wanted Alabama to kick Utah's butt. It would somehow reaffirm the strength of BCS conferences. And somehow, this would show me Nebraska would rise again. I waited for the moans of defeat from the basement. They never came. Utah was not paralyzed by the pressure. Instead, it seems this smaller conference may have some claim to a new football order.

Rationally, I realize a playoff system would be better. But, somehow I only imagined this with the power conferences of elite football. Yes, you see I am a football elitist. Most of you reading this will probably not care. I just feel a little bad. I completely expect my husband to cheer for Nebraska. But, today, I am a little stunned. There may be a whole new world of football out there for me. They are undefeated. They soundly beat an old-school football team. So, ummm...Go Utes?

Oh no I didn't

2008-12-26T12:49:00.005-07:00

We had a jolly Christmas Eve party. (Just in case you might be wondering.) P's sister couldn't be there, so she visited us via skype. We carried her through the house to join in the party; think Pam in New York on The Office. I was so happy for the wonders of technology. Despite my earlier rant, it can help us be more connected. The internet connection was so strong she joined us in the car as we loaded up. That night had been full of meatballs, stuffing, creamed corn, wings, cake, cheese cake, cheese balls, cream cheese, cheese roll, did I mention the cheese? Erlack! Sometimes cheese, as much as I love it, does a number on me. As I climbed my very full body through the car, I could hold no more and I let out a much needed post-party toot. "Ew, gross!" I heard. Oh, the shame of being caught in the dark privacy of one's own car. Is no place sacred? Isn't the car man/woman's last place of solace? I think I will have to blame the excellence of the internet connection. Or, maybe I should curse the bat ears of my sister-in-law.

Joys and Sorrows of Mail

2008-12-24T07:55:00.004-07:00

With the advent of email, the joyous walk to the mailbox has been replaced by a shuffle for bills. As much as I appreciate the ability to easily connect within anyone in the world, the personal touch of mail has been lost. No longer do I get to see handwriting or mistakes or an individual choice of stamps. Instead, I get flyers and coupons. Hence, Christmas is a particularly festive time of notes from loved ones. I do a small skip to the box each afternoon.

My husband and I know a family who sends sarcastic, witty Christmas letters. They actually cause us to read it more than once. This year, I saw the address and shouted to my husband "We have THE letter!" We gleefully sat down to read it together. I ripped it open and we settled down for laughter. It was a poem. It told us of how they were doing. The other spouse wrote it. Sigh. I don't think we finished it. Normally, I do read these kind of letters. We just felt so let down. I confess I don't write clever letters like that. So, the reaction seems a bit strong. Honestly, I hope there is a return to good form next year. Despite that, if you are feeling a need to have a Christmas letter, I can send you one. The picture is silly but the letter is normal. Enjoy your mail!