Just Another Mama Blog

Straight Into the New Year--With a Wimper

2012-01-15T06:08:00.001-08:00

Well, there went six weeks--boom!--and not just any six weeks. Winter vacation. Christmas Eve. Christmas day. Craig's birthday. Silas's second birthday. New Year's Eve. New Year's day. The dreaded/beloved return to school. (Dreaded by children, beloved by parents.)

Winter break involved a lot of fighting between Luke and Henry. Between a few viruses, we didn't get out enough, and everyone was crabby. We tried to go to an open gym and it had been cancelled. We tried to go bounce at a trampoline place and it was sold out. We went to the art museum on New Year's Eve afternoon for our big celebratory outing, and it had closed early for a wedding. Silas was super sick on his birthday, and ended up insisting on sitting beside his turtle birthday cake on the couch while watching Barney, screaming at anyone who asked nicely for a slice of chocolate with buttercream.

I wanted to have a few pictures as a consolation prize at the very least, but our camera battery charger is nowhere to be found. The only pictures from the past six weeks are in my mind.

But you know what? It was enough. There were enough good moments during all of that. I remember how sweetly Luke and Henry thanked us for all of their gifts. I remember our sunny family walk on Christmas day. I remember that we drove back to the art museum right when they opened on New Year's day, stopping for breakfast first, and enjoyed ourselves at a nearly empty museum.

This is parenting for me. And come to think of it, life. There is a lot to slog through, I'm not gonna lie, but those good moments? They really do make it better. And those bad moments? They always seem a lot funnier when I write about them on the blog.

Christmas Card Photo Fail #3

2011-11-29T12:09:00.001-08:00

What's going on here? Why are you being so nice to me?

Christmas Card Photo Fail #2

2011-11-28T13:59:00.001-08:00

Is that comfortable, Silas?

Christmas Card Photo Fail #1

2011-11-23T16:13:00.000-08:00

I made him cry. Those are actual tears.

Mom Evans

2011-11-05T05:37:00.000-07:00

Henry loves breakfast. This makes me super happy, because I love breakfast, too. Craig, however, doesn't eat breakfast at all, and Luke eats it reluctantly. Neither like breakfast foods, and the thought of breakfast for dinner disgusts them. But Henry. Oh, Henry. I am revisiting my love affair with breakfast with Henry, making pancakes, dutch babies, omelettes, waffles, poached eggs. We had a six day long pumpkin pancake run. I needed to perfect my recipe, and Henry was game. One morning that we went all out and had pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs, he said, "It is like Bob Evans! Mom Evans! And you can eat in your underwear!" High praise, indeed.

The pumpkin pancake run was about as festive as I got this Halloween, though. We usually put up decorations, but instead I made about 30 different pumpkin dishes. I seem to only have figured out how to be the cooking version of Martha Stewart. We did carve jack-o-lanterns from pumpkins that Henry grew himself. It was very exciting. True to form, Luke wanted to buy his pumpkin at the store. "Store bought things are just better!" he proclaimed. So Luke's pumpkin (the roundest one in the picture above) was from the store. I couldn't spoil his Halloween, after all.

This Halloween was so much fun, and I realized that I finally hit that perfect phase where Silas is getting very excited about all the "big kid" activities--he loved trick-or-treating this year--and Luke is still young enough that he enjoys many "kid" activities. We don't have many of these years left, so I am trying to really take the time to enjoy them. Both Luke and Henry are at the same school and we walk nearly every morning, and they both still hang on me, one on either side, and chatter away--yes, it is often about video games or pro wrestling, but I'm taking what I can get.

Here at Mom Evans, we'll serve you in your underwear, so long as we get to eat breakfast together.

2011-09-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

They have spent hours—days even—building their tree fort. They have worked together, usually nicely. They’ve recruited neighbor kids to help them. And even though I cringe every time I look at it, I think of how much they love it and how many hours of joy it has given them, and I can’t help but like it despite itself.

“Can you believe that we made that all by ourselves?” they ask. Yes. Yes I can. But I reply, “No! It is amazing!”

I have a problem, which is that my fantasy of raising children doesn’t align with the reality. My phantom children really aren’t much like the flesh and blood and bones, the real little people that stand before me every day. The family trip to the cabin in the woods doesn’t involve the cartoon network in my head. Video games never figured prominently in my imagined family life. We didn’t eat so damned much plain pasta.

But here it is. I have these three little boys right in front of me, and they are three people with thoughts in their own heads. One loves video games. One loves meat. One hates meat. All three wrestle with one another every time I turn my back. There is a little blood most days. There is a lot of blood some days. They say bad words. But, too, they tell me they love me soooooo much. I couldn’t feel the spine tingling joy of that in my fantasies.

So maybe it's not a problem after all.

We have plans to cut the tree down. That is why we told them they could do whatever they wanted to it in the first place. But once the tree is gone, that is one more part of these little boys that is gone as they lurch toward adulthood. I think we’ll keep it around for a while longer.

A New School Year

2011-08-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

Luke and Henry started school last week. Luke now attends Henry's school, the school that we are zoned for. Luke had been open enrolling into the school where he started Kindergarten since we moved right before his second grade year. He loved his old school. Last year, Henry didn't get in to Luke's school through open enrollment, and so they attended different schools. That wasn't much fun for me, since I felt like I didn't know what was going on anywhere. In any case, Luke hasn't been happy about this change, but I was really proud of him last week. He had a good attitude, all things considered, and he seems to be giving it a fair chance. This morning--their first Monday morning since they started mid-week last week--was a different story. But I have to remind myself that Monday mornings are never easy, no matter which school Luke is at.

This is the first time that I can remember that I have had to make Luke do something major that he hasn't wanted to do. The first time that he has been grown up enough that I feel like his concerns and worries are 100 percent justified. And I have to say, it is hard. My heart hurt for him every time he told me that he wanted to go to his old school with his friends. Every time that he told me he didn't have anyone to talk to. It was hard to watch him line up at the beginning of the day and awkwardly try to make conversation with the boys in his class. Because the thing is, there isn't much I can do. It is up to Luke to make his way at this new school, up to him to find his place and make new friends. And I can only watch from a distance.

A few nights ago I had a dream where Craig and I decided to take a road trip while Luke was in school. He was our only child. We had to be home by 9 pm to pick him up, but we were still in Georgia at 8 pm and realized that we wouldn't make it. I tried to call a friend to pick him up, but my cell phone died. I didn't have any phone numbers that I needed because they were all in my cell phone. Craig was frantically googling phone numbers and I was trying to remember the numbers of my friends, all while desperately punching them into some antiquated phone that looked like a singing greeting card. It was crumbling in my hands with each wrong number that I tried.

It is this helpless vulnerability that is the hardest part of parenting, I think. The knowledge that you can't always make it all better, that you often can't dial a number and fix the problem. That you can't alway be there to pick your child up.

Little Vacation

2011-08-17T03:48:00.000-07:00

We had a really wonderful little vacation last week to a state park a couple of hours from our house. We did a lot of canoeing and hiking and it was the most perfect weather we could have wanted. We swam at the sandy beach every afternoon, and we cooked over a fire every night. We stayed in a cabin perched on the edge of a hill, and the bedrooms looked out into green foliage and felt like we were staying in a treehouse. It was lovely. Yes, there was the fact that Henry was a total spazz every night and screamed and cried and wouldn't go to sleep. Yes, we got a million bug bites because our bug spray wouldn't work. Yes, Luke and Henry went on a bike ride and decided it would be funny to hide and write "help" with sticks on the ground. But I'm choosing to remember everything else. The magic. And besides, all that other stuff seems kind of beautiful and silly now that it is in the past. Memory is funny like that.

Birthdays

2011-08-13T14:00:00.001-07:00

I'm slowly catching the blog up to my life. Clearly this space is more of a site to document my life for posterity/grandparents these days than a place to express myself artistically. But I feel it returning, that itch to think a little beyond the everyday survival. I've read more books this summer than I had in a long while, and books that have required a bit of brain power. For the first year after I have a baby it is all about magazines, Maeve Binchy, and TV shows. But I'm making progress. I've watched some movies. That is nearly two hours of my life. I've read a few books that required some thinking. I had a great conversation about books with a house guest during which I think I might have sounded sort of smart. (Courtney, ask Ryan if I sounded smart at 5:30 am over babies and toys and coffee.)

Henry turned six in June. Luke turned nine last week. Again with the time speeding by theme. I love those boys. They are both pretty much crazy and intense and lovely and themselves in every way.

P.S. Luke doesn't like shirts very much.

4th of July Trip

2011-08-08T03:55:00.000-07:00

This summer has flown by faster than any other. I wake up in the middle of the night breathless because I see this trend: each month goes by faster than the last. I wonder if the next time I wake up my children will be grown and gone.

We went to visit Craig's aunt and uncle for the 4th of July. They live near a pond, which was one of the highlights of the trip. The kids went swimming and fishing. We went for walks and looked for bugs. And here's a little parenting tip for you (since I know that is why you read this blog): If you have picky/finicky eaters and you want them to eat better, don't feed them snacks. Who knew? It only took me nine years to figure this one out. The kids ate most of the food set before them, some of which they refuse at home, mainly because they were so very hungry. Oh, and also because we told them we would take them to McDonalds on the drive home if they were polite at meals. A little well-played bribery never hurts. Bonus parenting tip of the day.

Dirt Biking

2011-07-19T17:16:00.001-07:00

Like Sand Through the Hourglass . . .

2011-07-12T06:17:00.000-07:00

Three months. Poof! Gone! I don't know where the time went. The boys had a busy spring soccer schedule, the end of the school year was as hectic as ever, we had a lovely two week visit from Grandma Jane. Now summer is half over, a summer where we don't have much planned and where some afternoons stretch on for hours and hours, but the days and weeks are speeding by.

Craig and Luke are heading to Alaska for two weeks on Saturday. Luke will stay with his two sets of grandparents for ten days while Craig is up on a glacier, and then they will have a few days together before they fly home. I've only ever been away from Luke for five days, and he's never stayed away from both parents for more than a night. I'm a little nervous but very excited for him. My baby really wants to spread his wings. Where exactly have the last nine years gone, anyway?

Pre-Easter Stuff

2011-04-20T04:01:00.001-07:00

After the spring break/kidney stone chaos, I was happy to have the boys going back to school last week. Except that after one happy day, everyone came down with the barfing flu. Everyone. It was not a nice, quick 24 hour thing, either. We were basically all languishing around, moaning and dashing for the bathroom for the the whole week. I'm still catching up on laundry.

The barfing flu also converged with the beginning of soccer. I've not had my kids play soccer before, and I don't know what I was thinking. Henry has one practice and one game per week. Luke has one practice and two games per week. They are all at different times and at different places. And you know that I now drive a mini van. So guess what that makes me?

It is also Holy Week, the week before Easter, or what we call Pascha in the eastern orthodox church. Usually this does not coincide with western Easter, but this year it does. We go to a blessedly small mission that only celebrates a few services, so that makes me feel less guilty about not attending church much, but even if we go to one or two extra church services, that is a huge deal for us. Last Sunday I attended the Palm Sunday service by myself with all three kids. Craig was still sick with the yucky stomach, and for some reason neither Luke nor Henry wanted to stay home and "take care of Daddy." I was really sad about that, but I pretended I was glad that they all wanted to come to church, since I'm a good mom like that. All I can say about taking my kids to church all by myself is that it is really good that we pray "for those we find it difficult to love" during the great entrance. Because you know who I'm praying for.

Speaking of church, I don't know if I've talked at all about how Luke now says that he doesn't believe in God. It makes me sad, but I try not to make big deal out of it. While he was sick, he said, "Mom, I don't believe in God, but if I did, why does he make sickness?" Clearly he thinks about these "big issues," which I guess is good. One thing Luke does that I don't like at all is say "Oh my God!" Again, I try not to make too big a deal of it, because honestly, anything that I make into "an issue" with him just takes even longer to resolve. Well, I guess some kid at school didn't like that Luke said this, because he followed Luke around for a few days saying, "You took the Lord's name in vain!" Luke just kept saying, "Be quiet! Leave me alone!" Luke reports--and take this with a grain of salt, because he is prone to exaggeration--that the kid finally came up and said, "You said God's name in vain!" and punched Luke. But Luke told me, "I knew you would get mad at me if I punched him back, so I just taunted him and dodged his punches." Not exactly turning the other cheek, but at least it's something.

P.S. This picture shows their latest fashion obsession. They are not allowed to wear these out of the house. I refer to these as undershirts but think of them as something that rhymes with life eater. Or strife heater.

Spring Break, Day 7

2011-04-07T15:07:00.001-07:00

Spring Break

2011-04-06T04:31:00.000-07:00

Spring break happened--is happening. Kids are home all day. This is actually not quite as challenging as I had imagined. Yes, there is a little more chaos and a few more messes, a lot of bedhead and not many clothes, but I must say, Luke's attitude has been much better. He needed a little peer detox, methinks. I have promised the boys that since we couldn't go on a trip for spring break--somehow Luke got it in his head that one is supposed to take a vacation during this time--we could instead do something fun each day. So we have gone to the zoo, to the movies, to McDonald's playland. We are planning a trip to the swimming pool and to Chuck E. Cheese. We are going to rent The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and buy a pizza on the day that it is released to DVD. We are having a lot of fun around here.

Except for a brief but intense kidney stone interlude. That was when the boys got to watch all three Lord of the Rings movies. Yes, they are rated PG-13 and probably too violent, but when mama is writhing on the floor, sweating and vomiting, even while all hopped up on morphine, it's desperate times. And that's nine hours of free babysitting right there, folks.

The Lord of the Rings and morphine. It's the new beach and pina colada.

Dinners

2011-03-30T09:02:00.000-07:00

*Please excuse the lack of paragraphing. I have tried to edit this six times, and every time I hit publish it reverts to this. Not sure what is going on.* It is the end of the month, and I'm really trying to keep myself to the cash budget. So pickin's are looking slim around here. Bean tostadas! Bean soup! Beans and rice! I did have about $6.50 left yesterday, so I went to the store and bought some coffee, four ears of corn, and one package of shredded cheese. The total wast $6.24. It is ridiculous how pleased I was with myself. Speaking of food, we are trying something new around here with dinnertime. We have generally approached dinner like this: I make something that all of us like eating, such as make your own burritos, or I serve enough healthy side dishes like brown rice and fruit and veggies that I don't feel bad if the kids won't eat the main dish (such as curry, which they won't touch.) A few times a week I will make them something different than what we are eating, like quick microwaved bean burritos or macaroni and cheese, if we are eating something they really can't stand. We don't force them to eat things, but we have forced them to try one bite of something, and we also make them eat all their veggies and whatever they are eating (brown rice) if they are to get dessert. And then we have some sort of dessert every night, which we have used for leverage to get them to eat the healthy stuff. It isn't a bad system, but I don't like a lot of things about it. I don't like that we set up the veggies vs. the dessert. I don't like that we force them to eat things to gain a reward, and I don't like that the reward is a sweet. I don't like that we have to serve dessert every night. So we have decided to have a treat in the afternoons instead (such as cookies and milk after school) and then follow this system for dinner. Basically, I will make whatever I want for the main dish. I will try to make something that the kids might like, but I might also make seafood stew or some other "disgusting" dish if that is what Craig and I want to eat. I will also make sure that there are enough healthy side dishes so that people can fill their bellies with whole grain bread, veggies, milk to drink, etc. I will serve it family style, and everyone will serve themselves as much or as little as they like. There will be no dessert, except for the rare surprise. They may not eat after dinner except for apple slices or carrot sticks at bedtime, which is the usual rule. We will try to model healthy eating and well balanced food choices, and that is it. We will talk a lot about "listening to our bellies." We have done this for one night so far. Luke ate a bunch of whole grain bread with butter and fruit. He is the pickiest and the one that is most likely to resist what he perceives as what his parents want. Henry ate bread, corn, fruit, and at the very end of dinner he decided to try a bite of bean soup. He liked it and then ate a small bowl. It was a very pleasant meal, and we just talked about the day, our plans for the evening and such. I'll report back on Luke again. I know he likes corn and bean soup, but he was obviously using his power of choice to the fullest.

A Spring Day in the Yard

2011-03-23T06:29:00.000-07:00

Henry With a Camera

2011-03-22T09:58:00.001-07:00

Food around Here

2011-03-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

I just made these chickpeas and they are really yummy. It is my first time using smoked paprika, and it is delicious. I thought I might have to go to Whole Foods, but I found the Kroger brand in a jar for around three dollars. I love Catherine Newman's recipes, and her writing about her kids and food, although I alternate between wanting to be her best friend and being insanely jealous of how wonderful her kids--and her life in general--seem to be. I make her bread recipe now, too, because I love how easy it is to keep the dough in the fridge and slice off a hunk whenever we want bread. It makes great pizza crust, too.

It is Lent now, and the orthodox rule is basically that we eat vegan. My husband and children are less than enthusiastic about this endeavor, so I just try to keep it vegetarian with some vegan meals. We eat a lot of beans, which is normal for us anyway.

I was craving soup for lunch today, so I whipped this up for myself and Silas. These measurements are approximate, since I didn't measure as I made it:

sautee one small onion and two cloves of garlic in coconut oil (any other oil would work, but coconut oil is slightly sweet and really delicious)

once these are soft, add one large, peeled and cubed sweet potato, and two sliced carrots

cover with water, add about a half teaspoon of salt, 1 teaspoon of fresh grated ginger, half teaspoon of cumin, and a pinch of coriander. simmer until veggies are very soft

let cool a bit and puree in blender. Add some coconut milk (half a cup of the Silk refrigerated kind or 1/4 cup of the canned kind). Adjust seasoning. Thin with more water or coconut milk if necessary.

Delicious.

Where am I? What day is it?

2011-03-13T03:58:00.000-07:00

Um, I don't really know how a week has gone by. I have no great explanation for how I blinked and the last time I posted was a week ago. Craig was home from work, as it was spring break at the university where he teaches. I went to a lot of zumba classes in celebration of the fact that I could leave Silas at home sleeping. Speaking of Silas, he has a cold and is getting molars. He is perhaps the screamiest baby I have had yet, especially with the added discomfort of illness and teething. He basically wants me to sit on the floor with him all day, or to hold him while letting him climb onto the counter, play with the phone, and sit on the microwave all at once. Or he wants to watch elmo videos on youtube. If he doesn't get these things, he holds onto my legs and screams. While pushing his head through my legs. And sometims biting the backs of my thighs. Oh, it's good times around here.

I'm a Stylish Blogger, and I'm an Alaskan

2011-03-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

I have done a really bad job of posting more often this week. Although I suppose that posting twice a week is still a lot more than I had been. In any case, one of my oldest friends in the world, Anna, gave me the stylish blogger award, which is very kind of her. I'm basically lazy and technologically inept, so the thought of trying to post the correct image and link to ten other blogs is daunting to me. So I'm not doing it. Sorry, Anna. I hope this isn't like breaking a chain letter.

A lot of readers might find Anna's blog a bit of a culture shock. She lives in Alaska, close to where we grew up, and she lives what I consider to be a fairly typical Alaskan life. Not that everyone raises chickens and goats and homeschools their six children, but she and her family kind of march to the beat of their own drummers, and they want the freedom to do that. I get that. While my viewpoints and politics have changed since I've left Alaska--and frankly, I was always more of the Alaskan hippie than the Alaskan libertarian (not that Anna is a libertarian)--I still understand that Alaskan mindset. It is where I come from.

One of my fondest memories of Anna is of watching Anne of Green Gables with her. We both loved the movie and watched it together many times. We had it all worked out--she was Diana and I was Anne. I tried my hardest to live up to my role as Anne, finding adventures for us wherever I could. One day we were running around on the 50 acres of forest that backed up to our church community. We called this area "cranberry cliffs," so named for the abundant cranberries that grow along the boggy lows and high cliffs in those woods. I suggested that we climb the face of one of those cliffs. Somehow, Anna got stuck, but with no adults anywhere nearby, I had to coach her down. I think of that day often when I'm trying to figure out ways to get my boys outdoors. I know they would be so much more willing to play outside if it involved a little more freedom and adventure. I think that day was, in some ways, the epitome of the Alaskan experience. And every time I read about Anna and her family figuring out how to milk goats or butcher chickens, I feel a little like I'm back in Alaska.

A New Month! New Money!

2011-03-01T17:05:00.000-08:00

Aah, I survived another month on the cash budget. Yes, I did cash some checks for a bit of extra money last week--thanks for the day of swimming and the book fair treats, Grandma Jane!--but I tell you, we are really saving money. I have become very aware of the fact that I was recreationally and impulsively spending. I realize this now because there are days when I'm bored and I want to go to Target. I crave it. And since I don't have the cash, I don't go. Or I go but I will only take a small bit of cash with me.

Remember how I said that I wasn't buying vanilla? Something about that must have hit the sympathy chord right on the head--holy mixed metaphor, former English major!--because within one week I received two lovely bottles of vanilla in the mail and a check with "vanilla and spoiling the boys" written in the memo line. Thank you for the vanilla, Yellow Fever. Luke and Silas's godmother asked specifically to be referred to by her roller derby name in any mention of this gift. And thank you, Grandma Jane. I don't need the vanilla now, but spoiling the boys has been fun. The swimming was great. The books are fabulous. And they will really enjoy the milk that I can buy them now.

Joking. Please don't send us milk.

Noodle Making

2011-02-24T17:07:00.000-08:00

Over the weekend I made homemade egg noodles with Henry. They were really good. I would say that it is worth it for a special meal, since they tasted so good, although I didn't save any money and they are a good bit of work. I used this recipe. We served them with vodka sauce that we adapted quite a lot from a recipe that we found online. Here's our recipe:

4 slices bacon

1 T butter

1 onion

1 clove garlic

1 t. dried basil or 1 T. fresh, minced

1 can petite diced tomatoes

1 can tomato puree

1/2 cup vodka

1/2 cup heavy cream

salt and pepper to taste

Cook the bacon. Crumble and set aside. Reserve 1 T. bacon grease. In olive oil and bacon grease, cook the onion and the garlic clove until soft. Crush the garlic. Add the basil, tomatoes, tomato puree, and vodka. Simmer for 20 minutes or so. Add the cream and salt and pepper to taste. Serve with pasta, and garnish with fresh parmesan and/or chopped fresh italian parsley.

We made half of the pasta recipe and it was enough for Craig, Henry and I for one meal. (Luke didn't want to eat homemade pasta since it "looked funny.") The sauce was enough for this meal and two more smallish servings as leftovers.

*Edited to add: This is NOT a very healthy recipe. I'm sure my readers know that. It is definitely going into our "special meals" file.

Henry's Catechism

2011-02-22T08:04:00.002-08:00

"Everything is a machine. Humans are machines that God made. They are made out of organs and meat."

"I know what is wrong with Luke," (Luke is in his room screaming.) "God made Luke good, but Luke is choosing to be bad right now."

"I love nature! God made nature! It smells so good."

"God is everywhere! I'm walking through God right now! Isn't that weird?"

Gratuitous Silas Cuteness

2011-02-20T16:35:00.000-08:00

The Amazing Henry

2011-02-17T13:02:00.000-08:00

He is amazingly cute, if not amazingly magical, but I can't get the darn video to upload.

Dinners and Such

2011-02-16T09:49:00.000-08:00

I won't bore you with a photograph of my grocery haul this week--although, I must admit, I'm totally fascinated with such photos on other blogs--but suffice it to say that I tried really hard to keep my groceries to the bare minimum and the total was $130 and some change. Really, I must admit to myself that it is impossible to spend less than an average of $125 per week. I only have about $80 left for my last week in February (although I suppose if I continue to shop on Wednesdays that will leave me only 5 days) so I will report how that goes. I know that I could spend less, but my goal is to eat well and somewhat ethically on $125 per week.

Speaking of that phrase, somewhat ethically, I'll tell you what that means and how that has changed for me. Grocery shopping used to torment me, because I would question myself and my choices over and over again. Where should I shop? Is is better to buy the local but not organic produce at Kroger, or the organic produce from California? Is it better to use more gas to drive to four stores, or to spend a little more on the fair trade sugar from the regular store, or to just buy conventional sugar? My head would spin in circles, and I would feel guilty, and I would always spend too much money. So here is where I'm at now. The most important thing right now is for us to live within our means. So I only shop once per week at my regular old grocery store, and I buy the local milk and some organic produce. I try to go to Whole Foods or the winter farmers market for eggs and a few other local things as often as I can. And that is that.

Without further ado, here is the meal plan for the week:
Monday: roast chicken, potato gnocchi, broccoli
Tuesday: lentil soup, crusty bread with brie
Wednesday: pasta with homemade marinara, leftover chicken
Thursday: chili, salad
Friday: pizza
Saturday: homemade pasta with vodka sauce
Sunday: leftovers and/or burritos (we often use up leftovers in burritos, too)

Stay tuned, because later today I'll try to post something exciting: Henry performing a magic trick!

Happy Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T17:19:00.000-08:00

I made roasted chicken, potato gnocchi with marinara, and broccolli for dinner. I bought a bottle of wine. I made a homemade card. And then, in a fit of anger, I crumpled the card and threw it away. I wonder why Luke has problems with his temper? I'm glad Craig is so patient. He might not remember to bring me a valentine every year, but he is always gracious and forgiving. I would say that is a pretty good gift any time of the year.

Groceries/Meals

2011-02-10T09:29:00.000-08:00

The budget/recipe posts seem to be popular--just be quiet Peter and Craig--so I'm going to keep these up a few times a week. I'm a bit late here, but I figured I would post my groceries and menus for the week. I won't bore you with listing all of what I bought, but here are a few things to note: I found a box of 56 diapers marked down to $4.99. I had to buy the kids their beloved gummi vitamins. I bought conventional chicken breasts, but I continue to stick with my local, wonderful milk from Snowville Creamery. I still buy breakfast cereal because it is quick and easy and Luke doesn't like any other breakfast foods except toast and blueberry muffins. I make most of our bread but buy tortillas and Arnold bagel thins, again because my picky Luke loves me to make pizza bagels for his lunchbox out of these. We eat a lot of produce. The total was $125.34, which is right what I aim for most weeks.

This week's meals:

Monday: make your own burritos again (we eat this a lot)

Tuesday: seared chicken breasts, homemade mac and cheese, and roasted brussel sprouts

Wednesday: baked potatoes with toppings (leftover mexican stuff plus curried greens and chickpeas)

Thursday: chicken pot pie (with leftover chicken)

Friday: homemade cheese pizza

Saturday: dal, rice, leftover curried greens or whatever else Craig wants to make

Sunday: fritatta, oven roasted potatoes

Probably

2011-02-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

It probably isn't a good idea to try to make homemade valentines with your two oldest children while your baby is awake. If you do, it probably isn't a good idea to give the baby one of the valentine lollipops so that he will quit crying and tugging on your leg. If you do, it probably isn't a good idea to let him run off to entertain himself doing who knows what (which, it turns out, will probably be drooling lollipop goo on your keyboard).

Because if you do all that, you will probably spend much, much more time cleaning the keyboard and bathing the baby than you did working on valentines.

Adventures in Pierogi Making

2011-02-08T10:19:00.001-08:00

I'm one quarter polish. My mother's maiden name was Kowalewski. As I was growing up, we never did much to celebrate that heritage, although there are tales of my great grandmother's duck blood soup. I remember eating saurkraut once at my grandparent's house. My grandfather went on a trip to Poland when I was growing up and I heard stories about that.

Luke is a notoriously picky eater, so imagine my surprise when, two years ago, he declared my friend Tracy's homemade pierogis one of his favorite foods ever. Perhaps it was his Polish genes claiming the most stereotypically Polish food. Finally, two years later, I decided to try making pierogi myself. I was scheduled to make potato gnocci for dinner to go along with Craig's scallops over the weekend, but I had a surplus of cauliflower sitting around, and figured I could get away with hiding it inside pierogi. The kids were up at 6 am on Saturday morning, so I needed something to fill the hours, and figured pierogi making would fit the bill. As I began mixing up the dough, I had visions of becoming a piergi maker extraordinaire, honoring my Polish heritage, making pierogi for holidays and, eventually, my grandchildren.

Two hours later I decided I was in over my head and woke Craig up to care for the kids. Let's just say that it was a bit of work, and it wasn't happening with Luke and Henry wrestling on the ground beside me while Silas tugged on my leg and cried. I used this recipe for the dough. I used the vegetable oil in the dough as opposed to melted butter since Silas is allergic to dairy. For the filling I sauteed one chopped onion and two cloves of garlic in a good bit of earth balance (I would use butter if it weren't for Silas) and threw in a couple of cups of cooked cauliflower at the end. I seasoned heavily with salt and pepper, and once it was good and soft I threw it all in the food processor. I microwaved three good sized russet potatoes and, once they were cool, I peeled and chunked them. I threw them into the food processor and pulsed just until it was all smooth. This can get gummy if you overprocess.

I thought they turned out really good, and my family liked them quite a bit. I don't think this will be a weekly recipe or anything, but I might try to make these three or four times a year.

Randomness

2011-02-04T09:34:00.002-08:00

An anonymous someone asked for the soft pretzel recipe in the comments. Here is a good one, although I have used several others, too. The key is boiling the pretzels in the baking soda water solution before baking at a high temperature. This time I left some unadorned and after baking I brushed them with melted butter and then rolled them in cinnamon sugar. Those were really good, too. They are all gone now. Some recipes call for only a hot soda water bath before baking. Don't succumb to the temptation to take this easier route. I've done it twice and they are never nearly as good.

The weather is beautiful today--30 degrees and sunny--but it is so darn icy out that I don't know if I can take the kids outdoors. Luke has been home all week with a fever--sick enough to miss school but not too sick to harass me endlessly for television and video games and cool beverages--and I'm really feeling cooped up right now. That might or might not be why all the cinnamon sugar pretzels that I baked two days ago are now gone. Ahem.

I've been thinking about the fact that some items are cheaper to make and some are cheaper to buy. That won't always be how I determine whether or not to make something from scratch, but sometimes I want to figure out the cheapest alternative. For example, I've been avoiding buying vanilla lately because it is so expensive. My friend Tracy told me that I could make it from vanilla beans and vodka, but I'm wondering how cost effective that will be. I know I can order cheap vanilla beans online, but does it turn out good if I use cheap vodka? I've been trying to figure it out with almond butter, too. I can buy almond butter for $5 per jar at Trader Joe's, but I have been thinking about making it, as I've done from time to time. After looking at almonds, I think that it is probably more cost effective (and less work) to buy it. Making bread might not be much cheaper, but it tastes really good so it is worth it. It is definitely the way to go with bagels and soft pretzels in terms of cost. What do you think? What are the things you make at home that you used to buy? Do you make them for taste, quality, savings?

He Does It Himself Now

2011-02-03T17:11:00.000-08:00

This Week's Menus

2011-02-02T13:12:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know there are a few of you who are interested in this, so I'm posting my menus for this week. Sorry for the boring posts and lack of pictures so far this week. I'll get on that as soon as SOMEONE around here goes to school--anyone!--because between Luke being sick and the midwestern weather event happening, I've got a lot of little boys around here. At least we still have power, which is more than a lot of people around here.

Monday: Cornbread (that Luke made) and tomato florentine soup
Tuesday: Roast chicken and winter vegetables
Wednesday: Bean soup and homemade soft pretzels
Thursday: Make your own burritos with beans, rice, leftover chicken, and the fixin's
Friday: Pizza night (every Friday, but we rotate homemade, frozen and takeout)
Saturday: Scallops with bacon, potato gnocchi (Craig's menu)
Sunday: Leftovers or nachos

Cash Budget Update

2011-02-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

So I spent about $100 extra beyond what we had budgeted with the cash last month, but overall, we saved--and I'm rather mortified to admit this--$1000. Yes, you read that right. Our average credit card bill has generally been $1000 more than what we spent in cash during the month of January. We'll see if we can continue this trend. I don't believe that we were living extravagantly at all, but we were going out to eat and buying "stuff" and doing a lot more activities that cost money than we are doing now. Here are some observations and anecdotes about my experience with a limited cash budget for one month:

We have done much better eating up leftovers. Although we have always been good about this, I have been more likely to use every last bit of everything.

I really think a lot more about my purchases. Do I really need ice cream? Does Luke really need to eat strawberries--his favorite--when they are out of season? (It was hard to lecture him about "eating locally and seasonally" but it is easy to say, "I don't have $5 extra dollars in my wallet.) I have been wanting skinny jeans that I can tuck into my winter boots easily, and I didn't buy them until I found some for $3 at a local thrift store.

I've always been a meal planner, but continuing this habit more strictly has been so helpful. I now plan six to seven meals a week (as opposed to five) and only go to the store once per week. No more little runs to the store, as these always add up.

On the second to last day of January I went to Target for diapers, vacuum bags, a couple of snacky-type items (some of these are cheaper at Target) and wine. I had just barely enough money, and I was adding things up in my head as I shopped. At the register, I was 99 cents short and had to ask Luke, in front of the cashier, if I could borrow the ten dimes I knew he had in his pocket. Now, I could have just charged it and saved myself the shame, but I didn't. I'm sure the woman was thinking, "Just put the wine back, lady!"

Onward into February! I'm glad it is a short month. Maybe I can afford more wine.

'Tween Report

2011-01-31T13:43:00.000-08:00

That's right, I'm just gonna call it: he's a 'tween. I don't care if some people think this is an invented phenomenon, I swear there is some sort of hormonal shift that has happened in Luke in the past four months, a shift that makes him care about what he wears, care about his image, try to be "cool" and not "babyish." He doesn't watch commercials, nor does he watch television geared at his age group, so I don't believe that this is some sort of media-invented thing.

But I got a bee in my bonnet recently about school, and about how at least half of this recent attitude is coming from a bad fit with his teacher and the influence of his peers. And so when he said that he didn't feel good this morning, I let him stay home, even though I thought he was faking it--he had a sub anyway and his project that was supposed to be due today was postponed until tomorrow, so I figured it might be a slow day in his class.

We had an awesome day. We made a schedule, and we mostly stuck to it. He did some sudoku puzzles, then he baked cornbread all on his own--his first solo baking job, which turned out a little strange but pretty tasty. Then he put the finishing touches on his poster project on Egypt, and then he read aloud to me. After we picked Henry up from school, they ate lunch and watched a documentary on ancient Egypt. Then I read him some chapters from the book we are reading together, and he did his chores. When we began to bundle up for some outdoor time, he asked if he could stay inside since he felt dizzy.

Guess what? He's running a fever.

I don't know if we had such a pleasant day because he needed a day off, or because he was subdued due to illness, or because Henry wasn't home. It was probably a combination of all of it. But I needed a good day with my first born. It was lovely.

My Babies

2011-01-27T12:44:00.000-08:00

Silas, Henry and Luke. Go read my friend M-L's beautiful post about her babies growing older, since I don't have the brain power to write anything nearly as lovely today.

Cash Budget Menus

2011-01-25T07:49:00.000-08:00

So with our new cash budget, I'm trying to push myself to spend less, but it is a fine balance with food, I'm finding. Since we are basically not going out to eat on the new budget--I suppose we could once per month, but we are using that to buy cheap pizza a few times per month rather than go out at this point--the meals at home can't be too austere. We eat a lot of beans anyway, but I find myself doing things like not buying vanilla. I don't use it that much, and do the kids really need vanilla in their oatmeal cookies? Craig is now cooking dinners on Sunday, so that is turning out to be our "special" dinner night. Here's this week's menu:

Monday: rice and bean tacos
Tuesday: chili and cornbread
Wednesday: homemade veggie burgers
Thursday: shepherd's pie (farmer's pie? I'm using local, grass-fed ground beef)
Friday: homemade cheese/veggie pizza
Saturday: bean and veggie soup and homemade bread
Sunday: risotto and brie stuffed chicken (brie was marked down to 99 cents!)

We usually eat dinner with steamed brocolli, cauliflower, or green beans, with carrot sticks or frozen corn now and then. I do salads for myself for lunch since the kids don't like them.

And a note on lunch: I made the best cheap lunch yesterday. I cooked up a batch of black eyed peas and a batch of quinoa to have in the fridge (I added them to Silas's muffins to ramp up the nutritional value since he's on a carb kick; I will use them for the veggie burgers) so I took a scoop of that and leftover brocolli and diced sweet potato and heated it in the microwave. Then I made a quick peanut sauce and drizzled it on top. So wonderful, and something I would have paid $9 for at Northstar.

Why I Like to Walk Henry to School

2011-01-24T06:57:00.000-08:00

I've found that walking with my children makes them particularly chatty. As they grow older and talk to me less, I plan on trying to walk more and more with them. Something about being bored and not looking directly at me makes them really open up. This morning on the way to school, Henry was full of questions.

"Mom, is getting married a once in a lifetime chance?" he asked.

"Well, no, you might have a lot of chances to get married, but you try to only choose one person to marry that you want to spend the rest of your life with," I answered.

"Oh, so you just want to spend lots of time with the man or woman you marry?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I think kids can learn about anything they are interested in, right?" he went on.

"You mean that kids can ask their parents about anything?" I clarified.

"Yes, like even inappropriate things," he said.

"Yes, you can ask me anything," I said, "but sometimes you shouldn't talk about things that we talk about at school or with other kids," I went on.

"Okay, like we can talk about sex, right?" he asked.

"Yes, you can ask me anything you want," I repeated.

"Well, I know everything about sex," he said, "Except I don't know how elephants have sex."

"Probably the way humans do," I said.

"But can elephants lay down?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know, but I bet they can have sex standing up," I answered.

We also talked about why you can't have sex with your brother or sister. It is a little difficult explaining social taboo and genetics to a five year old, especially before eight in the morning, but what are you going to do? Kids should be allowed to learn about anything they are interested in.

Here and Now: Henry

2011-01-21T13:43:00.000-08:00

Henry drank a bottle of flouride rinse this week. True, it was only a sample-sized bottle from the dentist, but it was enough to scare me. I called poison control. They told me that he might vomit and would surely have diarrhea, but he had no symptoms. The next morning he "only tasted" his hand sanitizer. It seems that my people pleaser, my rule follower, is expanding his horizons. As one friend suggested, it might be time to put the liquor cabinet under lock and key.

Henry is still my space cadet. He forgets words. He says things like, "Remember those little candies that were like jawbreakers but they were soft? They had a taste? I got them at that store? Remember?" He searches for words. Sometimes he goes into a room alone in order to try to remember something.

He has been having "inappropriate dreams" lately. I have utterly no idea what he means by this, but for several mornings in a row he woke up and told me, "I had ANOTHER inappropriate dream!" I ask him what they are, but he declines to expand.

Henry spends about a quarter of his day standing on his head. He is really, really good at it. His shoulder muscles are getting defined, although he is still a string bean.

He is growing his hair out, although he cut a chunk out of the center of his hair about two weeks ago. With his wavy hair, he has a huge rat's nest at the back of his head most of the time.

Henry still has a gentle soul, although he is getting rougher around the edges. He plays nicely with almost everyone. He has a whole flock of younger kids that adore him. A couple of days ago at the library, a one year old baby was obsessed with following him around because he had been so sweet and funny with her for a few minutes.

Sweet, funny, messy, wiry, athletic, spacey--this is my Henry at five and a half.

The Cash Budget

2011-01-19T13:11:00.000-08:00

Craig and I have never really had a budget. We were always extrememely frugal in our first years of marriage, and seemed to live well on very little money. It was only once the kids came along that we seemed to start spending too much money. Still, we never had much of a problem. As time has gone on, though, our money just hasn't seemed to go as far, and we have found ourselves living, for the most part, paycheck to paycheck. The problem is always our credit card bill. We have always used the credit card for everything in order to earn points; however, it has become problematic in that we can't seem to figure out why the bills are so high.

After trying to write out a compartmentalized budget and stick to it last year, we realized that we are disorganized and this is too difficult for us. So, starting at the beginning of January, we are using a cash budget for everything but the major bills/payments that we have on auto-pay with the bank. My budget covers the family groceries, gas for my van, household items for things I deal with (not home projects that Craig is in charge of, for example, but batteries, toilet paper, diapers, etc.) and fun. I put cash in four envelopes at the beginning of the month, and it seems that I will make it to the end of the month on what we designated as my budget--apart from the extra $50 that Craig gave me from his budget so that I could take the boys roller skating and buy some fancy grocery items that Craig wanted to make dinner with. So here is what I have realized, nearly three weeks out:

There is always going to be something "extra." This month it was paying for the boys classes for the next couple of months, break dancing and magic. That right there was $170. But I am sure it is always going to be something.

I have come to rely upon spending money as a way of entertaining the children. We go to Target to buy toilet paper, but we buy fun snacks and a toy from the dollar section, too. We go get ice cream. We walk to downtown and stop at the candy shop. We go out to eat. We go to the dollar store. We rent a movie and buy pizza. None of this is extravagant, but it adds up. I've felt a little trapped this month trying not to spend this kind of money.

I engage in recreational spending. I go to Target for diapers and buy myself some new yoga pants and earrings. I throw a new outfit for Silas into the cart. Even at the grocery store I will buy "fun" items or new beauty products to try out.

I've done really well this month looking for free or super cheap entertainment (family night at the community center, the dollar movie house) and avoiding extra expenses at the grocery store. It is hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. I'll report what our menus have been and how much we are saving at some point here. When I told my sister about this, she said, "You've always liked a challenge." And I guess she's right.

For My Mama's Birthday, Five Days Late

2011-01-17T14:51:00.000-08:00

Since I have become a mama myself, I am often confused, late, forgetful. And so I was last week for my own Mom's birthday. At the beginning of the week, I thought to myself, "I know my Mom's birthday is soon and I can't forget it AGAIN." You see, last year she was staying at our house on her birthday, and she (gently) informed us that it was her birthday on that day. I had just given birth to Silas a few weeks before, so I had an excuse of sorts, but it was still kind of humbling. So at the beginning of last week I went onto Facebook to try to figure out my own mother's birthday. Such is the life of the confused modern mom.

But my mom hadn't listed her birthday on Facebook--way to go being cautious on Facebook, Mom!--so I resolved to call her. But I forgot. And so I put in a panicked call on Friday, only to find out that her birthday had been the day before. Of course, she was most gracious, informing me that it was "perfect" that I call her on that day since she was celebrating with her friends later that afternoon, and that it didn't matter that I didn't send her anything since my call was the best gift in the world. So sweet.

This is all a long and rambling introduction to the real blog post for today: my letter to my mom, with which I intend to supplement the "perfect gift" of last week's phone call.

Dear Mom,

Happy Birthday! I know that you often mention your shortcomings as a mom, that you didn't stand up for us when Dad was overreacting, that you didn't give us music lessons, that you yelled too much. But honestly, I don't remember any of those things.

I remember that you laughed a lot with us. I remember lying in bed with you one night that Dad was out of town and laughing hysterically at some nonsense that I now don't understand: a "mole hut." I was laughing so much, and you just laughed along with me, even though you didn't understand and it was late. You didn't do what I would likely do with my boys now, and say "That is ENOUGH! Go to sleep or you will need to go to your own bed!"

Your humor is earthy and perfect for children--and immature adults like myself. I have always loved that you could laugh at a good poop joke. I remember going camping with you and singing the diarrhea song. That was when I was, ahem, in college. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Although you are probably blushing at that last paragraph, and although some people might describe you as quiet--you were named "most shy" in your yearbook, after all--you are very brave in many ways. This is perhaps superficial, but I will never forget the camping trip (the same one where we sang the song) when you jumped off the dam into the lake. It was so high, and the water was so cold. I refused to jump. But I will never forget you yelling some silly word and jumping.

This letter doesn't really even begin to describe everything that I love about you, but as a mom, you will understand that I am tired and forgetful. But know this: you have influenced me in so many wonderful ways, and you are the best friend I could ever want. You have done an amazing job as a mother and as a grandmother. If I could do it as well as you have done--and are doing--I could die proud of myself. Thank you for everything.

Love,
Ser

Final Christmas Thoughts

2011-01-14T06:02:00.001-08:00

I didn't post yesterday, so I guess I've already failed in my resolution. But I'll keep trying to post on weekdays. This is my last Christmas recap post, and it is really just for myself. This is what I want to remember from the holiday season this year.

Henry saying, "Christmas is the best time of the year because of all the presents and all the love."

Macaroni and cheese with blue cheese and bacon is really delicious with turkey.

Spiced nuts and nut brittle are good homemade gifts.

Luke and Henry hugging with great sincerity after exchanging presents (legos of course).

The antique store is a great place to find gifts.

Our drive to see Christmas lights the day after Christmas for Silas's birthday.

Luke's Essay: Our Christmas Traditions

2011-01-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

These are some of my favorite holiday traditions I do every year. My favorite is the Christmas party at Jacks. First me and my Dad drive up to Jack's to get things set up. Next the rest of the guests arrive. Then the kids play Wii and games. Then we have dinner and watch a movie. Then we have dessert and play downstairs. Afterwards we go caroling, play outside, look for Santa on the radar, and go home. It's so fun!

Every year we go the a tree farm. We go on a trolley up the hill to cut down our Christmas tree. After that we go back down and have something to eat at the indoor cafe. Then we go talk to Santa. It's really fun.

Every year we set up a nativity set. It comes with every guy in the story and a really big shed. Me and my brother take turns setting up guys. Baby Jesus appears on Christmas day because that is His birthday. I have fun. These are very fun Christmas traditions.

2011-01-11T08:08:00.000-08:00

Dear Silas,

You turned one the day after Christmas. I cannot believe that you have been around for a whole year. Life with you has gotten considerably more chaotic, but it feels like you were meant to join our family. The "Luke vs. Henry" dynamic is still present, but they both love you like crazy. And I'm sure you will take your place in their drama soon.

You bellow when you want something. It isn't charming. It is disturbing. But kind of funny. We try not to laugh because it is a bad, bad habit.

You get scared of things like your older brothers never did. You cry at scary movies. You wimper when Curious George loses the bunny in one of your favorite books. You scream in terror at Henry's flying monkey.

You run now. You climb on things. You love to play outside, even when it is super cold.

Your first birthday was wonderful. You stuffed cake in your mouth and got a lot of new books. We went out on a drive to see the Christmas lights and turned your carseat around to forward facing to celebrate what an old guy you are becoming.

Today at the gym my feet were sliding around and someone told me that I needed to replace my shoes. "But I just bought these!" I thought to myself. And then I remembered that I bought them right after you were born. I hope life with you slows down a little, because it is flying by, little baby who is becoming a little boy. Flying by way too fast.

Love,

Mama

Christmas

2011-01-10T04:37:00.000-08:00

This is not an auspicious beginning to my regular blogging resolution: the children are home from school today. It has been a complete and total barf-o-rama around here, with kids (and husbands) falling like dominos over the last five days. I think just about every blanket, sheet and towel that we own has been covered with something gross. The washing machine may never recover.

And my computer just totally froze up and I had to shut it down and re-start it.

But darn it, I'm going to blog!

I didn't post at all over Christmas, which is why I'm going to catch up in the next few days. We had a really nice holiday. The kids were very sweet and thankful for their gifts. I guess I've discovered the secret to well-behaved children: shower them lavishly with gifts! Indulge their desires! Actually, I think what I can take from it is that the children do well when they get a bit more attention. You know, like if I get off the computer (ahem) and focus on them for a bit. Which is what I should do right now.

A New Year

2011-01-09T04:12:00.000-08:00

Oh my. I'm not doing very well with the blogging these days, am I? That is one of my New Year's resolutions, actually: to blog more regularly. A lot more regularly. Like, Monday through Friday. This sounds crazy, since I've been posting about once a month for the last couple of years, but I have decided to cut myself a lot of slack. A short post is fine, a status update, if you will. Perhaps just a picture. So for starters, I'm going to post my New Year's resolutions.

First of all, I would like to blog five days per week. I'm saying it again to make it more official.

Secondly, I would like to read more books about emotional eating. I would like to work more on understanding why I overeat. I'm not going to try to lose weight (although I wouldn't mind if a little of that happened) but I'm tired of overeating and feeling bad about it later.

Third, I want to complete the Warrior Dash. I'm registered with some women from the neighborhood. I basically want to work on my strength training and sprinting until then. I usually favor long, steady-state cardio workouts, so this will be good for me. And the race sounds really fun and perhaps a bit insane. And the beer is an added bonus.

Additionally, I want to work on photo books for my boys. I have tons of digital photos, and for Henry's last birthday I made a photo book of the first five years of his life. I would like to make these for the boys regularly--ideally for every birthday--but first I have to catch up for Luke and Silas.

Finally, I want to do something each month to prepare for next Christmas. This year felt really overwhelming, both financially and time-wise, so I would like to either make or buy at least one thing each month until next Christmas. For my January contribution, I bought a few Christmas clearance items at Target.

So there you have it. Expect to hear a whole lot more from me in the near future.

Identity Crisis, Age 8

2010-11-14T02:32:00.000-08:00

Luke seems to be changing a lot these days. He is much more focused on his peers, on what "all the kids are doing." Another line we hear a lot these days is "That is what all the cool kids do." I'm telling you, it is all we can do not to roll our eyes at him when he comes out with this line.

For the first time in his life, Luke is really concerned about his appearance. Last week, when he got his hair cut at the local super cheap place, he requested--as he has been since this summer--a mohawk. I said--as I have been since this summer--no. However, I told him that we could get a "gentle fauxhawk," and what I was envisioning was something longer on the top that he could occasionally style in a pseudo mohawk. I don't believe that one must have particularly good communication skills (or skills in general) to work at the super cheap haircutting place, and so Luke wound up with much more mohawk than I had envisioned. We have been planning on shortening down the mohawk part here at home, but life has gotten the better of us, and a week has gone by with our little punk strutting around like he is all that. His attitude has clearly changed, and not for the better.

So when Luke started trying on jeans at Sears the other day--a store that I purposely chose for what I wrongly assumed would be its conservative styles--I knew that his style definitely impacts his attitude. He had been telling me for several weeks that he wanted "baggy jeans," and so I tried to find him some looser styles. However, the pair that he loved was far, far too big, hanging down several inches onto the floor and sliding below his underwear (recently boxers).

"No way," I said.

"But Mom," he said, in a breathy, attitude-filled, not-his own voice. "I look gooooooooood."

"Luke, you are eight, you are not wearing jeans that show your underwear and hang on the floor."

"Please! I'll cut off my fauxhawk!" he pleaded. "I look goooooooooooooood."

"No, Luke." I said, trying to remain calm. "Thank you for showing me what kind of jeans you like," I said, adding in my head, "The gross, gangsta, boy-slut kind."

We headed off to the mall play area to meet Craig, Luke pouting all the way. Once we got there, I reminded Luke that he was too old to play at this area designed for little kids, and that we needed to sit and watch Henry and Silas and wait for Craig. When I spotted Luke picking his nose, I gently reminded him not to pick his nose.

"Aagh!" he said, with a huge attitude, "You are so STRICT!" At this point, he sounded like a cross between a valley girl and a little boy about to cry.

"You won't let me wear baggy jeans! You won't let me play in the play area! You won't let me drink coke! You make me go to bed earlier than all my friends! You won't let me have a DS!" He was really unleashing it on me.

"And," he added, the final point in his argument, "You won't let me pick my nose!"

Oh little boy, eight going on 13. Life is pretty rough. Especially when you have a mom who won't let you pick your nose. After all, that is what all the cool kids do, right?

Family Update, Bullet Point Style

2010-10-18T03:33:00.000-07:00

*Craig and I have decided that he is experiencing an early mid-life crisis. Oh, and because he is a rational mastermind who doesn’t experience normal human emotion (this is what I yell at him during fights when I’m trying to lure him into a yelling match) it has been a sort of long, low-level midlife crisis. He bought a motorcycle that he doesn’t ride. He has refused to go to church as often as I like. He has made a lot of jokes about Silas ruining our life. Oh, and last Thanksgiving Eve he yelled “Shut up!” at me (not something a rational mastermind does) which from here on out will be a part of our family lore.

*Third-time mom moment: Several weeks ago when we took the kids to King’s Island, I took Silas and Henry on a ride called “Boo Blasters.” You ride in a little cart through a dark course where two dimensional monsters pop up and you try to blast them with a gun. Silas was terrified and he sobbed the whole time. And later that day, I took him on the ride again, since it was one of the only rides that all three of us could go on together and I was really tired and wanted to sit down. For the record, he sobbed only three quarters of the time.

*I have been reading Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth, and in it she says that we need to remember only two things: when we are hungry, eat what we want, and when we are not hungry, feel what we are feeling. She posits that those of us who are compulsive eaters are avoiding feelings. She suggests that perhaps we would relate to feelings and food (and God, too) differently if, as children, our parents had said to us in moments of great emotion, “Tell me all about it, darling! How does your belly feel right now? Your chest? What color is your anger?” instead of “Be quiet! Stop that!” I generally do the latter, so I figured I would try the former. So a few days ago, when Luke was acting really upset because I wouldn’t let him play video games that very moment, I said, “How are you feeling right now?”

“Sad,” he said. “No, mad.”

“Where is your anger in your body?” I asked.

“Here!” he said, shaking his fist at me.

“What color is your anger?” I asked.

“Um, red. Will you stop talking to me like this?” he asked.

I don’t think Roth has little boys.

*We really like the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books around here. And the movie is great. And I just realized that all this time, Henry has thought that it was called Diarrhea, the Wimpy Kid. Dang, I would be wimpy if my name was Diarrhea, that is for sure.

Here and Now: Silas

2010-09-10T06:31:00.001-07:00

It is clear that I have lost most of my readers with my sporadic posting over the last year--but I don't feel bad since I've gained so many spammers!--so I figure I will just post some stuff that I want to remember and that my mom would like to read. And even though I'm on my third kid, I always forget what my kids do at what ages, so I'm putting this down so I can remember.

Silas is eight and a half months old. I'm loving this age so much. I forget with each child how much easier and fun it gets around now. Silas is pulling up on things and standing for a few seconds alone. He is a super fast crawler, bear-style, and loves to screech and howl while he crawls around like a madman. He loves pulling things out of containers, one by one, and dumping them on the floor. He eats with much gusto, and I think his favorite foods so far have been squash or sweet potato hunks, watermelon, and the ground beef/veggie layer of a shepherds pie that I made. I cannot feed him at all--he insists on doing it himself.

Silas is an outdoor guy. He is so, so happy crawling around outside, picking up sticks and leaves and dirt. He does pretty well with not putting things in his mouth. He especially loves it when his brothers get down on the ground with him and play and when they crawl through the tubes at the park with him.

He takes two naps a day, but seems to be moving towards one. Yesterday he slept in so I gave him one nap in the middle of the day. He was super tired by noon when he went down, and very tired also by 7 pm bedtime, but it worked out okay. He still goes to sleep laying with me and nursing/playing until he finally nods off. He sleeps on a futon on the floor. I don't know how many times a night he still wakes, since I usually sleep with him and don't much notice.

He is so joyful and fun to be around these days. He loves having someone sitting down on the floor playing with him. He screeches, "sings," and says "dada" and "uh-oh." He is into everything--he tries to get into the bathroom and climbed into the tub yesterday. He pulls all of the wipes out of the container with glee. He is a 21 pound whirlwind of joy and destruction.

Home

2010-09-08T06:15:00.000-07:00

I need my tech support team (Craig) to help me with my new header. For now, just envision that the description of my blog is "One boy, one arm, and a beautiful landscape." That beautiful landscape is Alaska. Our trip was wonderful, even though Craig was sick for half of the trip. We didn't do a whole lot while we were up there, but we had a great trip nonetheless. We went on several small hikes, ate at our favorite restaurants, saw some movies, and just relaxed.

I don't usually miss Alaska too much, but once I get up there, I feel peaceful in a a way that I never quite do anywhere else. The fresh smell, the mountains, the dense and wild forests with scraggly trees and lush moss. My body knows it is home.

Of course, we only visit in the summer anymore. When I get homesick I just remember the nine months of snow and the darkness. I just picture driving everywhere I need to go. I just think of the swarms of mosquitoes that make the forests nearly impenetrable at certain times of the year. I look out at my huge garden full of tomatoes and I appreciate Ohio a little bit more. I walk to our farmer's market and to the pub and feel home here, too.

Life Goes On and On

2010-09-06T12:24:00.000-07:00

Must. Post. We went on vacation to Alaska. But first, we all got really sick. We had a big family party for Henry's fifth and Luke's eighth birthdays. Then we came back home, and I got sick again. The boys started school. Silas is crawling and trying to talk. Life is whizzing by. And I plan on posting really, really soon.

Our Secret Garden

2010-06-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

When we first moved to this town three years ago, we began walking the neighborhood, exploring our new space. I was used to walking a lot, since we lived in Chicago before we moved here. I pushed Luke and Henry in our double jogging stroller, often running for exercise, which allowed us to cover more distance. It was fun to discover the different neighborhoods near us, even magical at times. In our little town, we have a street of amazing, mostly stone homes on huge lots, and when we first stumbled upon them, we called them the “castle houses.” We also have a neighborhood of Frank Lloyd-Wright inspired homes in a wooded, hilly area with a creek running in and out of the lots. We call these “the funny houses.” But it was this creek that excited my boys the most, and we quickly found several places where we could access this creek around our town. This was the creek where we tried to catch minnows one warm fall day nearly three years ago.

When we bought our new house last summer, I knew we were near the creek. But I couldn’t figure out a very good access point near our house, since steep, often cliff-like banks surround it in this area. But one day last summer, Henry and I found a little path on the edge of a parking lot that led us down to the creek. We were thrilled with the new section of the creek that we had discovered, the bottom covered in shale for easy walking and the beautiful, steep banks rising up dramatically on either side. We visited the creek many times last summer, and while we saw deer and raccoons and plenty of minnows, we never saw any other people. With the sun filtering down through the trees at the tops of the banks, it seemed like our own little mystical world.
We walked down the creek many times last summer, and I let the boys swim in a deeper, dammed up area one day. But we never pushed past that place on our walks.

A couple of weeks ago, Luke had a friend over for the day. It was rainy for most of the morning, but when the rain let up, I insisted that we head out for a walk. They asked to go to the creek, but I was afraid that the steep path on our side would be too slippery after the rain, especially since I was carrying Silas in the baby bjorn. I convinced them to walk along the streets to another, tamer access point. There, they began to walk up the creek, discovering “fossils” and other magical objects. Then they got the idea that they would like to walk all the way up the creek to the spot near our house. I had the stroller along with us for Henry, and I had Silas strapped to my front, so I said no. They begged and said they could handle it themselves and I could meet them on the other side, and honestly, I was really tempted to let them, but since I hadn’t walked it myself, I didn’t know what they might encounter. So I said no.

A couple of days ago, Luke and Henry asked to go the creek. I tied Silas on with my wrap, and we headed out the door. Once we went down our steep path, we started walking down the creek. And after they begged, again, to walk the creek to the next access point, I decided that we might as well try. And so we did. And it was magical. I can’t explain why, exactly, it was so amazing to start out one place and wind up another by following the creek. It was like we were somehow transported, like it might feel if we were to travel in underground tunnels. At one point I fell backwards into the creek. I soaked my backside and bruised both elbows, but Silas was fine, if a bit startled. Henry fell into the creek, too. By the time we were walking home along the streets, Luke commented that we looked like a band of homeless people. I’m not sure about that, but we did look sweaty and disheveled, and I did look like I had wet myself.

It was a lovely hour, a timeout from reality. No phones ringing, no toys for distraction. No chores to be done, no fighting over the swing. Just me and my boys, forging throught unknown territory, scrambling over a log jam, slipping on algae-green rocks. Working together to explore an unknown, beautiful place.

Summer Fun

2010-06-26T04:25:00.001-07:00

Life seems to be getting the better of me these days. Thus, the blogging silence. Silas is decidedly not an easy infant. He was fairly mellow as a newborn, but now he has strong opinions about what he wants to do and when he wants to do it. He will only be carried in the baby bjorn (he is nearly twenty pounds, and I have a lot of other more comfortable carriers and strollers). He doesn't go to sleep easily, and never for Craig. And yet he still needs three naps a day. Um, I'm tired.

Here is a great example of Silas's strong will: He was crawling over to me, the army crawl that he does, holding a plastic base for stacking bristle blocks. He was scrambling really quickly, but the plastic thing was causing him to slip around. I took it from him and placed it to the side, hoping to help him reach his goal more quickly. He stopped, turned around, scrambled over to the toy, grabbed it, and then started back toward me. Is it just me, or does that seem like a pretty distinct idea for a six month old? And you know, if Silas doesn't get what he wants, he screams. Loudly.

And I haven't even mentioned the eczema. I cry regularly about his eczema. He has it all. over. his. face. It looks HORRIBLE. He scratches at it constantly. It oozes and gets infected. When it started, I tried an elimination diet, which didn't help. We experimented with different lotions and bath regimens. We tried getting rid of all detergent in our house--not easy, let me tell you. And so finally, last week, I took him to the dermatologist, who put him on steroid cream, antibiotic ointment for the current infection, and an oral antihistimine to help with the itching. I can't get him to take the antihistimine (screaming! gagging! violent wrenching away from the doser!) and the other two medications don't seem to be working at all. It cleared a bit for a few days, but we are currently back to exactly where we started. Actually, scratch that (no pun intended). It is worse than when we started.

Add to all this the fact that it is summer break for the boys, and that Henry has gone from my people pleaser to a . . . challenging child (this is mommy code for something else that is not G-rated) and we've got ourselves in a rather exhausting place. I know this will pass. And I do try to enjoy the lovely times, because they do pop up. I'll write about one soon. But for now: I'm tired. I'm struggling. I'm feeling a bit on the verge, if you know what I mean.

Anniversary Song

2010-05-23T06:49:00.000-07:00

On our anniversary, Luke and Henry went into their bedroom and whispered and giggled a lot. They had the camera with them, and emerged a few minutes later with this recorded present for us.

Yard Work

2010-05-23T06:30:00.001-07:00

Okay, why don't I know how to put a line of text under a picture? I need to go look that up. Anyhow, I haven't been blogging as I've been busy trying to get a little yardwork done in between baby care and rain showers. So yes, I've been planting one seed at a time. A little discouraging, but as you can see from the first picture of our yard, there is a lot of work to be done. That is our jeep at the very back of our long, skinny property. Craig was hauling mulch back there. A half-acre yard sounded like a great idea when we bought the house, but I'm feeling just a little overwhelmed right now.

The second picture is the site of our garden before Craig built the raised beds; you can see what it looks like now in the last two pictures. That is our neighbor's house behind the garden. And really, don't you find a gardening man quite attractive? I do.

5 pm Buttercream

2010-04-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

Last night at 5 pm--known as "the witching hour" to those with children for good reason--I tried, for the first time, to make swiss buttercream. Do you know about swiss buttercream? I do. I know all about regular buttercream, swiss buttercream, italian buttercream, and french buttercream.

I would like to take a moment to insert a public service announcement: If you are so foolish as to become obsessed with buttercream while surrounded by the chaos of three little boys (well, four, see below) as a checking out/coping mechanism, do not accidentally get sidetracked and type "french butt" into a google search.

Swiss buttercream is made with a meringue that is first whisked over a pot of simmering water. Such a task is not something that one should attempt while bouncing a fussy baby and hosting yet another boy for a playdate. Just to be clear, this upped the boy total in my house to four, ages 4 months, nearly 5, 7.5 and 8. I was also making steak, roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes, steamed green beans, and (boxed--homemade would have pushed me into the range of certifiably insane) macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Thinking back on last night, I wonder why I attempt such things. (The buttercream, by the way, didn't turn out quite right. I think I didn't whip the meringue enough before adding the butter. But I added some powdered sugar and managed to turn it into a fine regular old buttercream.) Here's the thing: my life is chaotic. I think I try to find some calm in the madness, but it is filled with a lot of noise and activity. It isn't that we are over scheduled--in fact, I think I keep my boys' activities to a minimum--but my children are full of energy. They are opinionated. They speak loudly. They rise early. And when I put too much effort into calming the storm, so to speak, I just become depressed. What saves me is going about my own business within the chaos.

And so I bake. I cook. I research buttercream. I scrub the floor. Because it all makes me feel like I am accomplishing something. And I like eating good food and having a clean house.

And you know what? Sometimes within this chaos that is my life right now, I am able to step outside of it all for a moment, and see it for what it is: beautiful, messy, joyful life that is racing along faster than I know.

This morning, we were downstairs looking for Luke's scrapbook. He is apparently having a drawing smackdown with one of the older boys at his school. Luke says he is a better artist than this 10 year old. Luke has challenged him. An outside judge (the 10 year old's brother and Luke's classmate) will determine the winner.

So we were late for school, and we were running down to the basement to find the scrapbook, Henry helping, me carrying Silas. We found it and were running back up the stairs, Luke in front, Henry next, and me in the back, carrying Silas facing outward, as he now prefers. And I saw my little brood, lined up by size, running up the stairs. And I could see them next summer, all three of them with Silas following them himself. And I could see the next summer, with Luke nearly 10 and wanting his little brothers to leave him alone. I could see my life, lined up on the stairs.

And it is amazing. Even if I never master swiss buttercream.

Henry, Man of Mystery

2010-04-24T04:45:00.000-07:00

My Henry. He is a mystery to me in so many ways. Luke is predictable. I know when he is going to explode. His patterns are recognizable. I usually know what is going on in his head.

Henry? Not so much.

This morning I was kissing Silas in the folds of his neck while Henry ate his breakfast.

"Mmmmm," I said. "I'm just having a little neck for breakfast."

Henry wanted in on the fun, so he moved in for some kisses.

"You know we are only pretending to eat Silas's neck, right?" I checked. After all, Luke bit Henry's tummy when Henry was about Silas's age after Craig had been blowing raspberries on Henry's belly.

"Of course!" replied Henry.

My Henry, you see, doesn't get carried away like Luke does.

"I can only bite someone's neck when I'm an adult," said Henry. "And that would be a bad choice."

Ahh, the adult choices, adult consequences speech, coming back to haunt me. I hadn't thought Henry was listening as I lectured Luke.

* * *

I have been feeling sad lately because Henry has been such a little boy. His new haircut only confirmed the obvious to me: gone are the days of princess crowns and polka dot pants. Henry is all boy.

But again, the mysterious workings of Henry's brain have surprised me. We were in Target yesterday and Luke was drooling over superhero action figures. Henry glanced down at a display and said, "I have always wanted one of those."

"What?" I asked. I couldn't see anything on the end display that seemed like it would appeal to either of my older boys.

"One of those dogs," said Henry, pointing at what can only be described as a Paris Hilton dog.

"A Tini Puppini?" I asked, reading the label.

"Yes!" said Henry. "They come with so much stuff!"

Stuff like a tiara, a curling iron, a carrying purse.

I have since looked on the website, which I invite you to do for yourself. There is a lot of talk of fashion, doggy divas, and the like.

I just can't wait to see what Henry will be up to next.

I'm Doing Something Right

2010-04-20T02:19:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry if you are seeing strange html code in my last blog post. It is showing up when I view my blog from one of our computers but not the other. I don't have the energy to try and fix it right now. I'm thinking of switching to some other blogging format, as I'm having trouble with blogger these days. Any suggestions? It needs to be easy and FREE.

I guess I'm doing something right in feeding my boys. Yesterday, we were on a tight schedule in between school pickups with swim lessons to directly follow. We had just returned home from Henry's school, and I needed to nurse Silas, so Henry offered to pack the snacks for the afternoon.

"Just wait a bit and let me help," I said.

"Mom," said Henry, "Will you just let me do it all by myself?"

"Sure," I said, figuring I could always re-do it if necessary.

Here is what he packed for two little boys: three yogurts, three apples, two oranges, grapes, six foil-wrapped carrots, and two baggies of homemade caramel corn.

I immediately realized two things.

Henry has a good understanding of healthy eating.

And I am clearly starving him.

I'm Back (More or Less)

2010-04-19T08:35:00.001-07:00

Wow, it has been three months. I just decided that I was too busy and preoccupied to blog there for a while, but I find that I’m beginning to feel the longing to think again. Just a little bit, though. My writing for the next few months won’t be profound or anything, but I just need to get back to it, you know?

The last few months have been filled with a whole lot and a whole lot of nothing. We’ve gotten back into a routine of sorts, although Silas still isn’t on any kind of predictable schedule. My days involve a lot of baby bouncing with some dishes and laundry thrown in for variety. I think that if it was just Silas around, I could get him more settled into a routine, but with two older kids, it is hard to follow his rhythms in between the big boys’ commitments. Welcome to life as a third child, kid!

Silas is so big now compared to last time I wrote here. He smiles. He laughs. He coos and babbles. He rolls over. Silas adores his older brothers, and watches the world with wide eyes. He is nearly four months old.

I am much more mellow this third time around, but every now and then, a little bit of the crazy creeps in. With Silas, I have fixated on his skin. He has fairly bad eczema on his face, and I get really freaked out about it sometimes. I am constantly second guessing myself, trying to figure out what I’m eating or doing that is causing the rash. The other day I actually spread peanut butter on his leg to see if he broke out in a rash. Yah, I guess I’m not completely the cool, relaxed third time mom that I would like to be.

I’ve been thinking about food lately. I’ve been hearing a lot about the show Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, so I watched an episode on Hulu. I liked it, but it made me so upset that I’m not sure if I can watch any more. Some days I think I’m doing really well with feeding my family as healthfully and as ethically as possible on our budget. And other days I think that I let my kids eat way too much processed junk.

Here’s how I’ve taken a small stand lately: Recently, I have decided to never buy a lunchable again. My kids beg for them—I don’t know why—and I used to let them buy one per week. But I’m putting my foot down. Secondly, I will only let Luke buy school lunch once per month. He thinks I’m soooo mean (since there are two school lunches per month that he would like to buy) but until our school district starts providing lunches that don’t include disturbing offerings like the “chicken hipdipper” and a foot-long hotdog, he’s only getting one per month. I know, I know—I need to work on changing our district’s lunches in some way, but I’m giving myself until Silas turns one. These things I’m doing are tiny little steps, but they are my recent attempts at improving our family’s health and our impact on this earth. And we are still doing all the other stuff we’ve always done. Trying to buy mostly whole foods. Trying to buy as locally as possible. Trying to garden (we aren’t great at it, but I figure that we will improve each year, right?) Oh, the garden. I need to work on that. Right now it is a pile of compost. I’m feeling the crazy lurking over my shoulder, the I-have-a-baby-and-won’t-ever-accomplish-anything-again crazy. Like make a new banner for my blog.

Okay, now I’m really rambling. So much for thinking again.

Babymoon

2010-01-12T05:44:00.001-08:00

Life is sweet these days. I have always found the newborn phase to be quite challenging, but this time it is wonderful. Silas is a sweet baby, and—aside from a very little fussing when he has gas—he is content to hang out with us when he is not sleeping. But he does an awful lot of sleeping, something neither of my other boys did. And—get this!—he even stays asleep when we put him down. And really, instead of looking at the clock and wondering why time is passing so slowly and when he will get a little bigger, I am gazing down at him today and wondering where the past two and a half weeks have gone.

Silas is our last baby. Of course, this is probably not something one should publicly declare, since public declarations of this sort almost beg for the fates to smite one’s hubris (or something like that). But we are planning on him being our last, so with each little phase that passes I mourn a little. Also, he is our third child, so we are quite relaxed this time around. And then there is the fact that he is so easy. Add to this that my boys are quite enamored of him—I found Henry lying on the bed with him saying, “Hellooo Gorgeous!” over and over the other day—and the fact that Craig was off work when he was born, and that my mother came to stay for ten days. Oh, and my sister comes to help when my mom leaves. And my lovely little community has been so wonderful, with showers before and dinners now, a friend taking our older boys overnight and another giving Luke rides home from school. Do I sound like I’m gushing? I am. I feel like I am living a charmed life at the moment.

And I know that at some point Silas will get sick or Luke will scream that he hates the baby or everyone will have a meltdown the day my mom leaves. But now? Right now is perfect.

Our Baby is Here

2009-12-28T10:34:00.000-08:00

Silas David Jens arrived on Saturday! I began having some stronger contractions on Christmas Eve and had some other signs of labor and stronger contractions on Christmas morning. I tried to lay low and things died down by mid-day on Christmas. The next morning, I began having irregular, mostly mild contractions at 8 am. This continued throughout the morning. I was confused, since I have always gone straight into full-on labor in the past. Finally, at 1 pm, the contractions began to get a little stronger. Within the hour I wanted the kids to be gone, so Craig took them over to my friend S's house. (Thank you, thank you, thank you again, S!) When he got home, I was shaking, sweating, and feeling worried about when to go to the hospital, but within a few more contractions I decided it was time. Once I got up and tried to get ready to go, the activity put my labor into major high gear--the contractions were nearly constant and very painful. We called our midwife, who could hear me moaning in the background, and we set off for the hospital.

Once we got there, I walked myself in as quickly as I could between contractions, leaning against whatever I could find when one would strike. At the front desk, we found they had lost my preregistration, and the woman tried to get us to register, but I began leaning on her desk, cussing and dripping sweat, so she sent us back to a room. There, they told me I was totally dilated, and the doctor who was there (since my midwife had not yet arrived) told me that whenever I wanted to push I could flip over from my hands and knees and put my feet in the stirrups. I said something like, "Why? I'm not doing that." His response? "Well, I've never delivered a baby like that. I'm not sure what to do if the shoulders get stuck." I said, "It will be fine," and started to push. My midwife arrived a few minutes later, much to the doctor's relief, and I began to push in earnest. I eventually did have to flip to my back since Silas's big head was turned a bit funny and his shoulder got a little stuck, but he came out just fine after some big pushes. He weighed 9 lb. 6 oz. and his head measured 14.5 inches. It was a little chaotic, but it all turned out fine in the end. We are at home resting and recovering.

Update

2009-12-21T13:43:00.000-08:00

No baby yet. My due date is tomorrow, but I don't really expect to meet this guy for at least a week. Henry was over a week late, and I don't have a lot of signs of labor yet. Early in this pregnancy, I thought having a due date near Christmas would be a bad thing, but it is actually great. I got everything done for Christmas about a week ago, and now I'm just enjoying the time with my family (well, except for when the boys are fighting--approximately six hours per day--and Craig is welding in my laundry room). I wonder why I leave everything until the last minute most years? Also, with Christmas to look forward to, plus some fun events coming up that I can attend if I haven't recently had the baby, I'm not feeling impatient. Whenever he gets here will be fine.

House Photos

2009-12-13T03:17:00.000-08:00

Because I'm not blogging until further notice--late pregnancy plus Christmas equals general brain fog and exhaustion--I figured I would at least post a few pictures. Here are some shots of our house, which friends and relatives far and wide had been requesting during the summer and fall but have probably given up on by this point. In order from top to bottom: living, dining, kitchen, office. I think the rest of the house was too messy for photos, but there also two bedrooms, a semi-finished basement playroom and T.V. room, and two bathrooms. And a huge backyard. I'm pretty happy with our house.

And if you were wondering about the sheep head, that is an Alaskan dall sheep, which Craig killed and we ate. My husband is so very manly.

Pub Baby Shower

2009-11-13T08:42:00.001-08:00

So last night I met up with my pub ladies for our usual once-per-month hang out time. Although I can't drink beer right now, it is still a really good time. And last night they surprised me with a pub baby shower. It was awesome. They gave me some totally cool hand-me-down baby shoes, a hat knit by Patti, a baby book made by Allison, and some wooden toys that Amy and her husband made. And there were, of course, some baby shower activities. It was pretty much the perfect baby shower for a woman about to birth and parent her third little boy.

Good Buddy, Bad Buddy

2009-10-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

I mentioned a few days ago that Luke is on the “Buddy Team” at school. He is “on duty” on Mondays, and from what I can piece together, he is supposed to introduce himself to new kids and make them feel welcome, but his main responsibility is to try to solve minor problems on the playground. He had never yet felt the call of duty until yesterday.

Last night as we were cleaning up from dinner, he said, “Oh yeah! I had to help solve a problem at recess today!”

“Really? That is exciting!” I responded. “What happened?”

“Well, Olivia cut Andrew, and he got mad,” said Luke, “So then I told Andrew to cut Olivia so that it would be fair.”

I didn’t know what to say. As I stammered, trying to think of a response that was both encouraging and also expressive of the fact that there might be a better solution than the proverbial eye for an eye in this particular situation, Luke went on: “Yeah, so then Andrew was back in his place in line and I said ‘No more cutting!’”

Whew.

Belly Shots

2009-10-24T13:49:00.001-07:00

Craig refuses to take any belly shots for me. He thinks they are "dumb." So here are two pictures courtesy of my children, the first taken by Henry and the second by Luke. Not the best pictures, but they will have to do. I was trying to work the black to my advantage in the first picture, but Henry's height wasn't conducive to a flattering angle. Oh well. Both were taken a couple of weeks ago, when I was 6.5 months along.

October Update

2009-10-21T14:25:00.000-07:00

I started this blog when Henry was a baby. I have never blogged through a pregnancy. I am finding it very, very hard. My brain is the cliché of a pregnant woman’s brain. Every bit of creative power that I possess—and this is not a whole lot, mind you—seems to be flowing through the umbilical cord and into growing my new little guy. Oh, and what tiny bit is left is being maniacally directed into filling my freezer with pre-made meals. I am obsessed. So far, I have pesto, meat sauce, black bean/quinoa patties, bean and pasta bake, turkey potpie, spinach lasagna, beef bourguignon, and several different soups. Nesting for foodies!

Luke, while testing us at every turn with bad words and bad attitude, is doing really well overall. He has become a little bookworm lately, reading for long stretches on his own for fun. He loves his second grade teacher and was chosen to be on the “buddy team” at school, a group of kids assigned to help problem-solve on the playground should conflict arise. He even wears a little badge on Mondays when he is “on duty.”

Henry, though, is going through a rough patch. Yesterday he threw several tantrums. He had nearly lost his voice by the evening from so much screaming. And yet, still, he is my little softie. At the end of each tantrum, he would scream, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” And lest you think he has lost all his charm, I should note that his love of sparkly, colorful clothing has morphed into a love of products. He has lotions and potions of his very own. Just today he was trying to convince me to give him some of my nail polish. Preferably the hot pink.

This morning Henry and I put on our warm coats and went outside into the darkness to see if we could spot anything of the Orionid meteor shower. We didn’t see any meteors, but it was a pleasant way to start the day, sitting in the crisp darkness together gazing up at the sky.

October is going to be over soon. This baby is going to arrive before long. I have a feeling Henry's rough patch is going to be a long one. I'm going to try to make as many moments with him as I can for star gazing, for polishing his little boy nails in whatever color his heart desires.

Liar, Liar

2009-09-24T05:48:00.000-07:00

Henry has figured out how to lie. And he thinks it is great fun. The other day, he came up to me and said, “Mom! I thought I saw a jellybean on the floor, so I ate it. But then I found out it was a tick!”

“A tick? Like the bug?” I asked.

“No, a tick!” said Henry.

Hmm. Henry doesn’t have the same razor-sharp memory for vocabulary that Luke has, and he often has a hard time remembering the precise term he is looking for.

“Do you mean a tic tac candy?” I asked.

“No, a tick. You know, those sharp things,” said Henry.

“A thumb tack?” I asked, growing alarmed.

“Yes, and now it is poking me in the throat,” he said. I started to get concerned, but then considered the fact that, earlier in the day, he had told me that someone cut his little puppy in half. Henry doesn’t have a puppy. Oh, and the person that cut the puppy in half, reported Henry, was his (nonexistent) stepfather.

So I assume he didn’t really eat a thumb tack.

Since he has started preschool, the lying has escalated to a somewhat frantic pace. After the first day, he told me that his teachers performed a rap song during lunch. Naked.

They found a dead bird at recess. Henry got a time out for not paying attention when his line walked outside for recess (harsh!). They ate candy in class. They watched a movie with shooting in it, but only once, for a “special treat.” The first three might or might not be true. I am assuming the last is not, otherwise I would be putting in a phone call to the preschool director.

I really don’t know what to believe. And I know at Henry’s age, the fantasy vs. reality line is a thin one. I know that. But it gets a little tedious talking to him sometimes. And the thing is, he gets really mad at me if I don’t believe him. I can’t even say, “Oh, wow!” without him feeling as though I doubt his word. Which, of course, I do.

I suppose I should go outside and check on Henry now. After all, his is out there shooting porcupines. Really! He’s serious! He’s not lying!!!

Some Summer Pictures, Finally

2009-09-09T13:16:00.000-07:00

In August, we went on a little family vacation to Southern Indiana. We camped in Santa Claus, Indiana and visited Holiday World and toured Squire Boone Caverns. We swam in a lake. I got a tick. The kids ate hotdogs and marshmallows and nary a vegetable. It was the stuff that family road trips are made of.

In Lieu of a Real Post

2009-09-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

My friend Amy lives just down the street. I met her about a year ago at a local pub, where a handful of mama bloggers from our neighborhood got together to hang out and drink beer. Amy is a force of nature, the kind of person who sweeps into a room and immediately changes the energy. She’s got a beautiful, quirky personal blog, runs a natural wooden toy business out of her home with her husband (hint, hint, mom—another present for the new babe!) and has her hand in all kinds of other great things on the internet. She just published one of my earlier blog posts at the online magazine Blog Nosh. Check it out!

Summer's End

2009-08-24T17:15:00.000-07:00

Summer is almost over. School starts for Luke in three days. We have been doing our school clothes shopping, following our usual pattern of dropping big bucks for Stride Rite shoes and thrifting the rest. I don’t know what happened to Luke, because in the past he couldn’t care less about what he wore, and now all of a sudden he has opinions on his wardrobe. Imagine that! I’m all for letting kids find their own style, but I’m a little worried about Luke’s particular vision for himself. As he was trying on the plain jeans and khakis that I bought him at Ohio Thrift, he looked down at himself and said, “I look like a dork.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You are just wearing plain old jeans. Everyone wears jeans!”

“I want to wear ripped pants and a sleeveless jersey,” he said.

Later, when trying on the plain green cotton shorts I had chosen for him, he groaned, “Mommmmm, I look like a jerk! I want shorts with flames and cougars on them!”

Craig needed to buy a few things for work at a department store over the weekend, so I let Luke pick a few things to spice up the boring wardrobe that I had chosen for him. He wound up with some sporty cotton pants, a GI Joe t-shirt, a “jersey” that I told him he can only wear over another shirt, and a typical boys sports-themed shirt. Not bad. We didn’t wind up with the “I love death” shirt that Luke also said he wanted to look for. I’m not sure that they carry this particular shirt in the boy’s department. (FYI, in case you are worried about Luke’s mental health, which I was upon hearing this request, Luke saw this logo on a skateboard and thought it looked cool.)

As fall nears, I’m gestating along nicely. I feel good, am sleeping well, and finally, finally, that nesting thing where I actually want to clean and organize has kicked in. I also am starting to feel like a stuffed sausage. I think my insides are straining against my skin. I have gained twenty pounds, which, for me, is right on track with my usual weight gain, but I don’t remember feeling this full before.

Henry continues to be particularly excited for the baby’s arrival. The other day he was telling me what he wanted for Christmas—being the ever-prepared child that he is—and after listing a few toys he added, “Our baby is going to be the best Christmas present ever!”

“You are right, Henry!” I said, feeling my heart melt a little.

“I mean,” he clarified, “The best present that comes out of your vagina.”

Surprise!

2009-08-11T06:42:00.001-07:00

I’m feeling overwhelmed by all that I haven’t posted in the last month. July began with Craig going out of town. As soon as he returned, we moved, had out of town guests (just for one night, but I’m pregnant, so it counts as busy-making), went on vacation, and returned to much unpacking. We welcomed August with a pool party out at my friend’s parents’ lake house, complete with hours of swimming, boat rides and jet skiing. Since then we’ve attended three other parties and hosted Luke’s birthday swimming bash. The summer is nearly gone and here we are sitting in a pile of unpacked boxes. I know the house will be in order eventually, but it is feeling like it is taking so, so long. I plan to post pictures of the new house at some point, but right now it would be rather mortifying.

Through all of the chaos and activity of this summer, there was one date that I focused on: August 6. That was the day of our big ultrasound and the day we would find out if our baby is of the boy or girl variety. We didn’t find out with Henry, and it was a fun surprise. But Craig prefers to know, and I felt like I wanted some time to adjust to the idea of either three boys or an only girl.

While I knew that I would like to have a girl, I thought that I didn’t care too much one way or another. But the thing is, I thought that it was a girl. I really believed that it was a girl, due to some combination of my severe nausea, the timing of conception, and my intuition, which was correct with both of the boys. And Craig KNEW, he told me, he KNEW that it was a girl.

But . . . we have a Scratch. Or a Ryujin, which is what the boys want to name him now, after a Japanese dragon god. Luke tells me that if we won’t agree to Ryujin, he could possibly accept Norwegian Ridgeback as an alternative. And last night, Henry asked me if we could nickname him Hell Assassin. Ahh, life with boys.

And here’s the kind of embarrassing part: I cried when we found out that we are having another boy. I’m telling you, I really believed that I didn’t care one way or another. But I was in shock. And, while I love this baby that is growing inside of me and wouldn’t change him, healthy and wonderful and unique, I have been mourning that fact that I will not be the parent of a girl. But I think I’m mostly over it now. I looked at some pictures of some really cute baby boys in a magazine at the gym yesterday, and that got my baby boy hormones flowing. And I bought him some fleece lined brown leather booties that are so, so cute. Those booties alone are helping a lot.

Scratch Ryujin Norwegian Ridgeback, aka Hell Assassin, I love you. You have been simply full of surprises.

Moving Day

2009-07-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

I’m trying to write a quick post since it has been so long since I have written and tomorrow I’ll lose internet service through the weekend. Today is moving day, except that the moving company didn’t show up. “Things happen,” they told me. Meanwhile, before we realized that they weren’t coming, I ran around the house gathering our bedding, clothes and toiletries to take to the new house. Luke followed me around all the while, deciding that this would be a good time for a mother/son heart-to-heart.

“Do the vagina and penis really mesh together during the special hug?” he asked. “Really?”

“Yes, Luke,” I answered, distractedly.

“The penis goes in that little hole?” he asked, incredulous.

“The vagina is stretchy. Remember, babies come out of there.”

Then Luke pretended to faint on the floor, and then he ran to ask Craig the same series of questions. I have to say, I do recommend talking about sex while highly distracted. It relieves some of the pressure, I think.

While the moving company has been a real pain, my friends and neighbors have been lovely during the move. The boys and I escaped the chaos of our house at a friend’s house yesterday. We invited ourselves over, lounged around her yard and ate her food. This morning I called another friend and asked if she could take Luke for a few hours. She swung by literally 10 minutes later and picked him up, where he played happily for hours. One neighbor made us dinner last night and another is having pizza delivered to our new home tonight.

And thank goodness, this all has been much easier because I’m pretty much feeling great these days.

The moving company is coming in the morning. Or so they say.

The Livin' is Gettin' Easier

2009-06-20T09:48:00.000-07:00

Despite having eaten and then vomited up a lovely Japanese birthday dinner on Monday, I am beginning to feel better. The nausea is really much better, and what is more, I’m actually cooking again. Today I went to the farmer’s market and bought fresh eggs, sausages, feta, and a huge variety of vegetables and berries. Since I got home I have made steamed chard with poached eggs, zucchini chocolate cake with chocolate ganache, and roasted beet and feta salad. Tonight will be grilled sausages and zucchini.

We close on our house on the 29th and move on July 10th. I’ll post pictures at some point, but since we haven’t actually closed yet, I think I will wait. I had a dream that my brother Peter visited and said, “Well, it isn’t very nice. It is too small and the light just isn’t very good.” I just kept saying, “But the yard! The yard!” Honestly, this is the least strange of my nightly adventures in dreamland. This pregnancy has been all about the vomiting and the strange and abundant dreams. I’m hoping now we are shifting into the all about exercising and eating well phase.

The boys are home from school and we have successfully transitioned into a summertime routine. I have made a new chore chart involving more housework and reading/writing/math practice for Luke and Henry. It takes about one hour each morning for them to complete their jobs, and they seem to finally be adjusting to the horror of having to work for a whole hour each day. A whole hour of work before they can play for the next 11 hours! I am a mean, mean mom. Besides treating them like my personal servants, I have been taking them swimming and to parks and to make candles at the local candle shop. This is a hard life we lead.

Summer Morning

2009-06-15T06:35:00.000-07:00

It is 7 in the morning and my boys are out on the dewy grass, playing happily by themselves. Not screaming or hitting one another or wrestling. They started out with foot races at 6:30, and have moved on to some game show type game, where Luke quizzes Henry about animals out of his Monster Animals book. This is the book that made him cry at age three (when my mom gave it to him without reading it first—thanks Mom!) but that is now his favorite, favorite book of all time. Who wouldn’t love a book about dung beetles, black widows, and lampreys? You don’t know about lampreys? I didn’t either, until we got the book.

What a sweet morning, lampreys and all. You know, I have found that as my boys fight more these days, they also become better friends. Henry used to do whatever Luke told him to do, and that isn’t really a friendship. But now, Henry has most definitely come into his own, and while the resulting fighting is never fun, Luke and Henry are becoming true companions and friends.

I don’t know if it is the pregnancy hormones—okay, let’s be honest, they are running rampant around here, just ask Craig who had to incredulously witness my sobbing at a country song (yuck!) about how children grow up so fast—but I have been loving Luke and Henry so much these days. On Saturday I was feeling pretty nauseous and had just woken up from a nap and was heading off to the grocery when Luke gave me a big hug and Henry blew me a kiss and said, “I love you mom!” I don’t think Craig coached them. It is moments like this that make me feel really peaceful about having another child.

And it is only one, by the way. We had an ultrasound a couple of weeks ago, and there is one little bean in there (well, I think more like a plum or lime by now) and he or she was kicking away. Now if the little plum would stop making mama feel sick all the time, all would be well.

Just Another Mama Update

2009-05-31T15:48:00.000-07:00

I’m actually going to write a good blog post one of these days. Until then, here’s my life in a nutshell:

The nausea is getting much better thanks to Zofran, bi bim bop, and dairy queen soft serve. Not coincidentally, I’m beginning to gain weight.

I don’t want to jinx anything, but it looks like we are buying a house that is four blocks from where we live now and that is on half an acre. I’m so excited!

We love the hospital midwife that we met with this week. She is super relaxed and it sounds like we can pretty much do what we want in the hospital. The only thing I NEED to do is let them do twenty minutes of continual fetal monitoring when I first arrive at the hospital, but after that, I can labor as I like, skip the IV or hep lock, birth in the water if I choose to do so. I’m pretty excited that we have found an affordable and seemingly good birthing situation.

I may or may not have said this to Luke today: “When YOU start vomiting every day and face pushing a baby out of YOUR vagina, then you can eat fruit loops for lunch like me!”

Update

2009-05-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

It has been over two weeks since I have posted. I’ve been busy eating, sleeping, and wallowing around. The Zofran has helped a lot, in that I am not vomiting much and I am not so ill that I feel depressed. Instead, I just have a lot of nausea and I have to eat all the time.

Really, this is good training for when I have to care for a newborn again. I’ve gotten used to a kind of freedom that I didn’t have for a long time when Luke and Henry were wee little ones. I have been able to go out at night with my friends. I have had plenty of time to exercise. I have made complex, gourmet meals. I’ve enjoyed leisurely evenings of television with Craig. And you know, that first year with an infant? From what I can remember, I will be catching sleep whenever I can, eating a lot of convenience foods, and putting up with a cluttered house. Pretty much like right now.

We are actually moving towards buying a house. We applied for pre-approval for a mortgage. We are going to start looking at houses. It is exciting, but also kind of scary.

Oh, and we are trying to figure out what to do about the birth. Luke was born in a hospital with midwives, Henry at home with a midwife. Henry’s birth was vastly better than Luke’s, partially because it was just a lot easier, but also because it was at home. But now our insurance won’t cover homebirth at all, so we are trying to figure out what to do. We’ve had a lot of free consultations with a lot of people. I’m trying to relax about it and realize that, whatever we decide, it will likely be just fine. I mean, we are going to get a baby out of it, after all.

Another Post About Barfing

2009-05-06T07:26:00.000-07:00

So the barfing got bad. Really bad. I think I threw up five times on Monday. This is far worse than when I was pregnant with either Luke or Henry. This could mean any number of things: I’m having a girl, for instance, or I’m having twins. The first is my favorite option of the two, but both are preferable to any number of awful, awful things that serious morning sickness can indicate and that Dr. Google so cheerfully describes in detail. Or maybe I’m just getting old and I don’t do pregnancy as well as I used to—not that this was ever very well, mind you.

So yesterday I went to a local midwife/OB clinic for a first visit and got a prescription for Zofran. This is extremely expensive and my insurance will only cover 21 pills for 30 days when really, that is only enough for seven days—ten if I try to stretch out the dosing. Oh, and it causes immediate and extreme constipation. But so far, it seems to be working pretty well. I’m still nauseous now and then, but it is far more manageable. And I’m not throwing up, so that's something.

The Birds and the Bees, Part Two

2009-05-01T06:25:00.000-07:00

I’m pregnant.

Oh boy, this is a little cosmic joke if ever there was one. You see, Craig and I are planners. We are level-headed, generally calm, and we plan our major life decisions.

In fact, just a few weeks ago I was telling my mom, among others, that while I was still slightly ambivalent about having another child, we were done. Really, I like having two boys. It is so tidy and convenient. One for each hand. Room in our car. I have been planning to get a job in a year and a half, when Henry goes off to Kindergarten, and I’ve been starting preliminary planning on that front.

About three weeks ago, I had a dream that I was pregnant. I told Craig and we laughed.

Two weeks ago, when I borrowed the sex/baby book from my friend, her daughter asked, “Do you have a baby growing in you?” I answered in the negative, and I laughed.

A week ago, at school pickup, one of the moms was talking about her third, surprise pregnancy, a girl after two boys. I told her that I had experienced so much morning sickness with my boys, it was good that I hadn’t ever been pregnant with a girl, since the old wives’ tale says that morning sickness is worse with girls. “Who knows?” she said. “We thought we were done after our two boys.” I laughed.

Now I imagine God laughing. Not in a mean way, but laughing nonetheless.

I’m thrilled with this turn of events, when I’m not vomiting. And Craig is warming to the idea. We are both a little stunned.

And yes, I know how these things work. I read the book with the boys two weeks ago, remember?

We thought we might try to keep it quiet for a while. At first, I only told a few friends, ones that I would tell if anything were to go wrong. Then I told my mom. Craig told his parents. And then, this morning, I found a Facebook message from one of my mom’s friends congratulating me on my little surprise.

After I threw up and Luke was looking very worried—have I mentioned that he is a hypochondriac and thinks he is catching anything that anyone else has?—I decided to forget the whole keeping it quiet thing and tell the kids. They are mostly excited. Luke has a few reservations.

“You will be the extra big brother, Luke!” I said, trying to get him a little more excited. “And you can help us name the baby!”

Without any hesitation, as if he had been planning it his whole life, Luke said, “If it is a girl, Rosie, and if it is a boy, Scratch.”

Rosie or Scratch, I couldn’t be happier with this unexpected miracle.

The Birds and the Bees

2009-04-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

It is springtime, and love is in the air here at Just Another Mama House. As with any obsession of Luke’s and Henry’s, it seems to be feeding on itself, careening faster and faster down this bird and bee covered hill. Frankly, I’m having a hard time keeping calm about it all, despite being the approachable, cool mom that I am.

It started in earnest last week with Luke telling me that a girl in his class was talking about lying in bed kissing boys. Luke and Henry and I discussed it at the park, and we came to the conclusion that this sort of kissing is for much, much older people. I thought we were all in agreement. But a few days later, I found Henry and his little friend, a boy nearly his age from next door, practicing “married kissing” under the table. Apparently, kissing becomes married kissing when heads are tilted.

Then, a few days after that, while I was reading bedtime stories to the boys, Luke asked, “Why do people have to be married to have kids?”

“Well, they don’t,” I said, “but usually people get married and then have babies.”

“Well, how do women have babies?” asked Luke.

“They grow them in their bellies!” yelled Henry.

“No, HOW do they start growing?” asked Luke.

Well, clearly Luke was asking me for information, and I guess that my policy has always been to answer these sorts of questions as clearly and as simply as possible. I have just never been tested on this policy quite so much.

“Well, sperm from a man and an egg from a woman join together and grow in the woman’s uterus and that becomes a baby,” I answered.

“Oh, okay. Goodnight,” said Luke.

I knew I was off the hook for the moment, but I anticipated more questions in the days to come. My friend offered to lend me a book on the subject, written for children from ages four and up, and so I accepted. I decided that I would bring the book home, review it, and then read it to Luke when and if I thought it was a good idea.

“What is that?” Luke asked as I tried to discreetly slip the book into the bottom of Henry’s stroller.

“Oh, just a book about how babies are made, like we were talking about the other day,” I said casually.

“Eww!” he said, perhaps for the benefit of my friend’s six-year-old daughter, on whom Luke seems to have a crush.

But the next morning, Luke asked me to read him the book, which I did. Henry listened, too. I figured that Henry is almost four, and that Luke would tell him about it anyway.

They whooped and laughed when I read the pages about male and female anatomy. Luckily, the book has a sense of humor, and the cartoon character hosts/narrators joke about how these words are funny.

Then, as we moved into how male and female bodies produce eggs and sperm, Luke said, “Oh! Now I see. You have to be grown up before your body will make the stuff that you need for a baby, right?”

BINGO! I thought.

“So wait,” said Luke, a look of horror crossing his face, “Do you have to cut open the penis to get some sperm out so you can put it in the woman?”

Aha. See, this is why I needed to go further in this explanation. The other night, when I gave him the mechanical, sex-free version of how babies are made, I knew it was too easy. I knew that it must be problematic. And this is the problem. His imagination will run wild, or rumors on the playground will fill in the gaps in his knowledge.

So we turned the page, and read about how adult men and women do something called “making love,” “sex,” or “having sex.”

“Really?” asked Luke, in shock. “Is everything in this book real?”

“Yes,” I answered, and read on.

Soon, they grew bored—somewhere during the page on how twins are formed—and we switched to a different book.

Later that day, Henry demanded that Craig read the book. Henry seemed to think that Craig needed the information. Also, both Luke and Henry are extra interested in boyfriends and girlfriends and getting married. Otherwise, though, they seem to be carrying on as usual. Frankly, I’m a little worried that one of them will say something about it while checking out at the grocery or during coffee hour at church. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time that one of them said something embarrassing or inappropriate. I guess it seems like it might be worse if it is about sex. I guess that is the price that one must pay for being an approachable, cool mom.

A New Post, Finally

2009-04-13T13:18:00.000-07:00

I don’t know why I haven’t had anything to say lately. We came back from our trip about ten days ago—without further vomiting fun thanks to Dramamine—and it was straight into the boys on spring break. I always find it hard to transition back into hanging out with my kids all day long when I have been away from them for a while. I mean, I missed them, and the first hour or so with them was wonderful—all hugs and cuddles and Luke telling me, “You are the best mom in the world. And you look good!”—but after that it was straight back into their usual fighting and running around and whooping like maniacs. After moping around the house for a couple of days I finally got my act together and did some fun stuff with them for spring break, which helped. We had a cookie-making contest, which was a big hit. We also hung out at the park one day and talked about “lying in bed and kissing girls.” Apparently, someone at Luke’s school was talking about this, and now Luke and Henry are fascinated by the concept. In fact, after I felt that we had exhausted the subject and suggested that we leave, Luke said, “No, let’s just sit in the sunshine and talk about this more.”

A lot of my mental energy these days is also going towards thinking about buying a house. I guess I haven’t made this announcement officially, although I have told just about everyone I know (thus, just about everyone who reads this blog) the news: Craig has a tenure track job starting this fall as a math professor at a small university in the town north of us. So now we are freaking out a little bit about buying a house. First of all, we don’t have a lot of money. But there’s the tax credit, and the amazing house prices. And then, if we do buy a house, we are considering three options: staying here, moving to the town where Craig will work, or moving to the country. There are advantages and disadvantages to each option, and I have been feeling a little paralyzed by this huge decision. I think we have almost decided to stay here, but the disparity between the type of house we can afford here versus the type of house we can afford there is a little galling.

I don’t have any kind of good ending for this rambling post, but here’s something scary that happened this morning. Mara and I went to the gym and to Target, leaving Henry home with Craig. I had woken Craig and he was going to get up, and I left with Henry playing in the living room. Apparently, Craig fell back asleep and when he woke up, he couldn’t find Henry. He went outside and Henry was trying to get the garage opened so he could get his bike and “Find Mom and Aunt Mara.” Craig asked where he was planning to look, and he said at the gym, which is over a mile away and across many busy streets. I think I need to deadbolt the door when I leave next time.

Vacation

2009-04-02T04:13:00.000-07:00

Have I ever mentioned on this blog a wonderful trait that I have developed over the last ten years while on airplanes? I haven’t? I can’t imagine why! You see, I have become an expert barfer while traveling by air.

I have always suffered from motion sickness in cars, on boats, in airplanes, on fair rides, but it wasn’t until one flight about ten years ago that I actually vomited. Let me tell you, there are good times to be had while barfing in a plastic bag in a confined space with lots of strangers. Big fun.

I seem to be getting better at vomiting on planes as the years progress. Until recently, it has only been on maybe one flight out of five that I have actually gotten sick, but I have recently stepped up my game.

You see, Craig and I are on a lovely getaway to Florida—the first real vacation we have taken together, ever, save visiting family and the odd night away here or there. And to start it off right, I vomited on both of our flights here. It was one big barf-o-rama.

The funny thing with vomiting on an airplane, for me, is that I will feel horrible and be barfing my guts out, and then the plane will level off and the turbulence will end, and I be just fine—elated, even. It is a little schizophrenic feeling, to tell you the truth.

In my better moments, I was thinking about all of the wonderful things about vomiting on the airplane. Yes, I’m an optimist like that. I could eat another breakfast when we landed! Another whole bonus meal! And I could write a funny blog post about it!

Of course, in my bad moments I was hunched over a plastic bag in the corner of an airplane, trying to vomit quietly and swearing that I would never, ever, ever fly again.

But here I am writing my blog post.

Foodie . . . Saturday

2009-03-28T15:36:00.000-07:00

Foodie Friday must not be meant to be.

When I was a kid, my mom was pretty thrifty with the food that she purchased. When I was very young, we drank a lot of Milk Man powdered milk. I guess it was cheaper than fresh milk. We also had limits on the cold cereal we were allowed. I don’t think my mom ever really cracked down on me since I was never excessive in my cereal consumption, but my brothers were allowed only one bowl of cold cereal and after that they had to fill their bellies with eggs or oatmeal or toast.

I decided to really try to spend less on groceries for this week, and I think I managed to get enough for the week for $72. I will obviously be drawing on our pantry items a lot, but here’s what I bought (from memory):

1 gallon local milk
1 dozen local eggs
1 large head broccoli
1 red pepper
fresh green beans
1 head romaine lettuce
2 mangos
4 apples
1 bunch bananas
3 pears
2 packages strawberries
1 jar minced garlic (I use this in bi bim bop since fresh is too strong)
1 package tofu
1 bag tortilla chips
1 box 44 count fish sticks (on a super sale)
1 large hunk of cheese
organic oatmeal chocolate chip cookies (marked down to $1 for quick sale)
1 lb. fair trade coffee
1 bottle red wine
chopped pecans (marked down for quick sale)

So far we have been eating just fine. Luke has complained about the free bread from church that I have been making his sandwiches with since it has “crunchies” in it—it is oat nut rather than the usual 100% whole wheat—but he’ll survive. The nice thing about packing school lunches is that he is hungry and I’m not around for him to harass. I have also had to make homemade ketchup, which is quite tasty, and we didn’t get fresh cilantro in our tofu tortilla soup, which I missed a little. Also, the bi bim bop was made with whatever veggies needed to be used up rather than our usual spinach, zucchini, mushroom combo, but it tasted just fine. So far, it has been quite a thrifty week.

The only problem is that when I spend significantly less for a week, I always find that I’m out of so many things by the end of the week that I have to spend a lot the next. We’ll see how it goes.

Update For So Yung

2009-03-27T02:21:00.000-07:00

Luke said he had a fine day yesterday. No time in the corner. He didn't get in any trouble because he was on extra good behavior. Mrs. Fair even forgot to keep him from recess.

"But someone did have to go stand out in the hall between a bookcase and the wall for talking," said Luke.

Hmm. Luke might be misunderstanding something, but I do think I should shoot his teacher an email.

"So you adapted?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, obviously proud of himself.

"Do you remember what adapt means?" I asked.

"It means, umm, getting to know what people are like," he replied.

Something like that.

Little Miss Fair

2009-03-26T09:48:00.000-07:00

Luke came home in a mood yesterday. It is not an unusual occurrence, but it was a particularly bad mood.

“Shut up!” he yelled at Henry when Henry tried to speak to him.

“Get over here!” he yelled at me.

It was not pleasant, and after giving him several warnings, it became clear that a time out or a meltdown—probably both—were imminent.

I was just trying to get through the afternoon, get the chores done and dinner made and homework accomplished, but Craig was home, and he decided to ask Luke what was going on. What a novel concept! Sometimes I forget that there might be a reason behind the mercurial moods of my eldest son.

“I can’t tell you!” he moaned. “You guys will kill me!” he added dramatically.

Finally, Craig got Luke to tell him what had happened. Luke had a substitute teacher yesterday and, according to Luke, he had his name written on the board, had to sit in the corner four times, and was going to have to miss recess today.

We were a little shocked, since Luke hasn’t gotten into any trouble this year at school, save having his name written on the board—the formal warning in his classroom—once or twice.

We spent some time comforting him, since he was clearly upset by it all, and then we tried to get all the facts so we could decide if we needed to follow up with this teacher or the school.

“What was her name?” we asked while trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

“Mrs. Fair,” said Luke, not understanding why we started laughing. It seems that Mrs. Fair has different standards than Luke’s regular teacher, standards that don’t seem particularly fair to Luke.

We talked a bit about how different people have different expectations, and that in life, we have to learn to act differently in different situations. We talked about the word adapt.

“Oh well,” I said, wanting to get back to my dinner preparations. “You probably won’t have her tomorrow.”

Ten minutes later, when I checked my email, I discovered that Luke’s teacher, the one that he loves and is appropriately named Mrs. Romeo, is going to be out for at least three more days. She said that she understands that routine is important for our children, and that she has requested Mrs. Fair for the duration of her absence.

Luke went to school today with serious reservations. I had to walk him in for the first time in months. We’ll see how it goes.

My Brilliant Sons

2009-03-25T10:27:00.001-07:00

Luke and Henry were talking about school this morning and Luke asked me about college.

“College is the highest school you can go to, right?”

“Well, first you go to high school, then you can get your bachelors degree in college, then you can go some more and get your Master’s degree, and finally, you can go some more and get your PhD if you want,” I said.

“What?” asked Henry, confused.

“Mommy and Daddy both went to college,” I said, trying to clarify. “In college, you get to take a lot of classes about a lot of things, but you take extra classes in the area you love the most. Mommy studied English, like reading and writing, and Daddy studied math,” I said.

“Then, you can go for two more years and just study your very favorite subject and get your Master’s degree,” I went on. “That is what Mommy did. Finally, you can go to college for four or five more years and study your favorite subject some more and get your PhD like Daddy did. Daddy is a Math Professor now since he did that.”

“I want my PhD!” said Luke. “I want my PhD in gym!”

“Oh, that sounds cool,” I said.

“I want my PhD in crafts!” said Henry.

“Wait, I think I want my PhD in crafts, too,” said Luke.

My two sons, following in their father’s footsteps in academia. Perhaps Luke could write his dissertation on the cultural impact of macramé in the 1970’s. Henry could specialize in the history of playdough.

We are a bookish family, I tell you.

Foodie Friday (oops, it is Saturday)

2009-03-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make: I read food blogs. The ones where people take photos of everything that they eat during the day like this one. It is a total waste of time, and something that only a true foodie could understand. Craig thinks I’m nuts. He walks by me while I’m online and asks, “What is Kath eating today?” with a smirk on his face.

But you know, he isn’t a foodie. And I am. You know you are a foodie when one of your main childhood fantasies was this: Everyone has disappeared suddenly (because of The Rapture—hey, we were a hippie Protestant family back then before converting to Eastern Orthodoxy) and so . . . I go and live in the grocery store. I still have the fantasy, to tell you the truth, but it is a bit more specific. I go and live in Whole Foods.

Anyway, this is all by way of introducing my Foodie Friday feature. I don’t have it in me to start a food blog, but perhaps I will try writing about food once per week. And for the sake of alliteration, I will try to make it on Fridays. Because I have to use those two English degrees, you know.

I have been thinking more about food lately for a few reasons. First of all, we are trying to cut back our spending, and so I’m trying to figure out how to spend less while still feeding three adults and two children as healthfully and ethically as possible. Secondly, it is Lent, and so we are trying to eat less and limit our animal foods. Finally, my neighbor and friend American Family is doing a really cool challenge for herself and her family right now that has gotten me thinking more about how I could involve my family in becoming more aware about poverty and our food choices.

So here’s my inaugural post--my groceries for one week, which cost me $130. I use coupons and a store shopper’s card, and the choices I make are not always logical, I suppose—local but not organic eggs and milk, a few organic veggies. I try to buy local and/or organic as much as I can afford—but that isn’t a whole lot—and I usually try to buy fair trade sugar and coffee. I also shop the local farmers’ market whenever I can. I am aware of the concept of eating seasonally, but with my picky family, this is often hard for me.

Now, as a foodie, I always love reading these sorts of posts on other people’s blogs, the ones where they share photos of grocery shopping trips or document everything in their pantries. If you are a foodie, enjoy! If not, bear with me. I will only write about food once per week. Oh, and if you have any money saving or better ethical use of your dollar tips, send them my way.

Here’s what is in the photo above:

Powdered milk (for baking)
2 cans refried beans
unbleached bread flour (standard sized bag—5 pounds?)
large can pumpkin
carton of egg whites
2 lunchables (the kids requested food item)
2 boxes Cascade Farms granola
fish sticks (16 count)
2 bags shredded cheese
1 package square 2% cheeses
frozen spinach
1 gallon local milk
1 big tub plain organic yogurt
frozen peas
2 bags tortilla chips
baking powder
1 single serving organic vanilla milk
dried pinto beans
dried white beans
whole wheat tortillas
smart balance margarine
2 bags goldfish
2 loaves whole wheat bread
2 packets taco seasoning
3 packages strawberries
plain soy milk
1 can crushed pineapple
sliced almonds
fresh salsa
1 package tofu
dish soap
2 bunches bananas
1 dozen local eggs
international delight creamer (Craig requires this)
sour cream
big bag organic carrots
organic baby spinach
2 large sweet potatoes
store brand rice chex
6 pack of magic hat roxy rolles beer
1 cucumber
4 red pears
1 personal watermelon
green beans
1 head romaine lettuce
soy ham
1 head cauliflower
2 bunches broccoli
cilantro
grape tomatoes
1 bunch celery
4 apples
2 avocados

Word Play

2009-03-12T16:01:00.000-07:00

Henry has always used language in a really unique way. He has a hard time remembering words, and so he does the best he can. Luke talks a lot and has a large vocabulary, so I think Henry might just be trying to keep up, and perhaps he doesn’t have the same natural aptitude for complex speech that Luke does. Or maybe Henry is just a poet at heart.

The other day Henry opened his Lunchable—Luke and Henry always get to choose one thing from the grocery store and this, to my great horror, is always what they choose—and he saw two Oreos. “Cheerio cookies!” he exclaimed excitedly. All day he talked about his “delicious Cheerio cookies,” even though I corrected him over and over. He also cannot remember the word paintbrush, preferring “painting stick.” And to my dismay, he can’t remember the word mole, and so he refers to my little brown bumps as nipples. This is particularly disturbing because Luke has a mole fondling habit that Henry is picking up on, and so Henry calls out to me, “My turn to rub your nipple!”

While Henry cannot remember a lot of words, he also has a strange sense of humor. The other day Aunt Mara said, “Okey Dokey Shmoky,” when she was agreeing with Henry.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “No! You mean Okay Dokey Fireplace.”

“Did ‘shmoky’ make you think of smoky, which made you think of fireplace?” Mara asked.

“No, I just made it up!” said Henry. And then he proceeded to use his newfound phrase throughout the day.

Luke doesn’t have the memory problem with words. In fact, Luke has a startlingly accurate memory. However, he has been experimenting with the word ain’t lately, but doesn’t quite understand how to use it.

When I asked him if he would like a snack a few days ago, he said, “I ain’t want one.” He has been using ain’t in this context for several weeks. When I asked him where he heard the word, he told me that some kids at school say it.

Finally, a few days ago when I asked him about the snack, I started laughing at him. “Luke, you are misusing your incorrect grammar!” I said.

And then I found myself giving a lesson on the common usage of the word ain’t. I wouldn’t want Luke to sound extra ignorant, after all. I wouldn’t want the ain’t-usin’ crowd to mock him.

Living In Community

2009-03-06T17:21:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a very unique community. We knew everyone in our rural neighborhood and we all went to the same church that was within walking distance. I heard rumors throughout the years that some people thought we were a commune or a cult. I moved away from there ten years ago, and now that I have a little perspective, I can say that it is a bit of a strange place, certainly a little homogenous, perhaps a little bit narrow-minded, but also magical. I grew up in a place where the kids ran wild and free on fifty acres of forest. There were rope swings over ravines and wild berries for eating and moose lurking around corners. We got up to all kinds of adventuring. I remember once climbing the cliff face of a large hill with my friend Anna, and she got stuck. We were out in the middle of the woods with no one but our ten-year-old selves for help, and so eventually, I managed to coach her down.

It wasn’t just a place of running around in the forest. Besides all emerging from our houses to go to church together on a regular basis, our community members spent a lot of time together both in organized activities and informally. One year, someone decided to organize a New Year’s Eve celebration in the church basement, complete with the ubiquitous potluck and talent show-like entertainment. I don’t remember much from that evening, but I do remember that one man composed and performed a hippy-dippy song with this refrain:

Living in community
People are so happy and free
As long as we rely on each other.

Craig and I still remember this song and sing it to one another when we are joking around about my unusual background.

And even though living in my little neighborhood in Chicago was in many ways the opposite of living in my community in Chugiak, Alaska, it was in some ways the same. It was a place where, when the weather turned warm, everyone emerged from their apartments to convene at the park. It was a place where we walked everywhere and where we knew almost everyone. It was a place where I could ask for hand-me-down maternity clothes when my first set were lost and I was newly pregnant with Henry, and clothes poured in, more than I could use. It was also a place where a lot of people had a lot of the same ideas—in this case, about parenting—which was an experience to which I was accustomed.

So when we moved to this little town in central Ohio, I didn’t know how to make friends. There didn’t seem to be many people at the park. A lot of people drove a lot of places. I didn’t see the same people everywhere I went. And—shockingly!—different people parented differently. Our first year here was lonely for me.

But then, right around the time of our one-year anniversary here, something happened. S, whose son was in Luke’s kindergarten class, joined the book club I was in with some old grad school friends. Tracy invited S and I to go to the wine tasting at a local wine shop, and we have begun regularly getting together. One of the grad school friends became real-life friends with some bloggers in my neighborhood, and invited me to hang out with them. Some of those blogger friends invited me to hang out at the park after school. Threads of friends began to overlap and intertwine, and now, nearing our two-year anniversary here, I feel like—oh my, I sense some hippy-dippy song lyrics coming on—a blanket of friends is protecting me and keeping me warm.

Yesterday the weather took a turn toward spring with sun and temperatures nearing 70. We spent an hour after school at the park both yesterday and today, eating snacks, chatting with friends. The boys both found people to play with, things to do. And I felt happy and free.

Handiwork

2009-03-03T11:29:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I get really depressed when I look at crafty, creative, design-oriented blogs because I don't have much of an eye for home design and I'm not exactly what I would call crafty. Also, I have a horrible camera and no photography skills whatsoever, so anything I take a picture of looks kind of awful anyway. Nevertheless, I do not think I am devoid of artistic skill, as the above examples prove.

I might be the proudest of the first: Craig in a spiffy outfit. I shopped for this ensemble and helped him get dressed for a job interview a few weeks ago. This is the second time that Craig has worn a tie since I have known him. The other was at our wedding.

The second picture is of a dragon that Luke and I made from something called "model magic." It is a foamy, air-drying substance that is easy to work with.

Then there is Henry's cardboard house. He made it with a little help from me, but he painted it all by himself. Together we made the little creatures inside out of model magic and homemade salt dough. The creatures are a little hard to see, but there are a couple of penguins, some snowmen, a ladybug, and a "rainbow eggsnake."

Finally, we have the snowman that I helped the boys build a few weeks ago. I think he was pretty cute. Also, we woke up one morning to find that someone had added some penny buttons down the front, which was a little bit magical.

So there you have it! Proof that I am crafty. Now if I could just take gorgeous photos.

Listen To Your Belly

2009-02-28T10:56:00.000-08:00

Recently, two neighbor bloggers, Dawn and Amy, have posted beautiful musings on body image issues. This is a topic that I have thought about a lot off and on throughout the years. I was a gymnast beginning at a young age—I even said, for several years, that I wanted to be an Olympic gymnast when I grew up—but my ability to defy gravity was seriously hindered by a twenty pound weight gain the summer that I turned 14.

There were many things that contributed to my own unhealthy body image and eventual (thankfully short) struggle with bulimia, and the actual weight didn’t have a whole lot to do with it. A great deal of it was just my personality. I’m a recovering perfectionist and people pleaser. And so when my gymnastics coach told me to try the cabbage soup diet so I could lose a few pounds, I did it. When my uncle told me to “watch it” when I scooped up seconds on ice cream at age 13, I began to watch it with microscopic concern.

Last week, as Luke was recovering from his virus, he had a couple of days of stomach cramps. He didn’t want to eat at all. And not eating made his stomach even worse. I told him that he needed to eat, and it became a huge power struggle.

“I won’t eat! You can’t make me!” he yelled.

And I couldn’t make him. And that was scary. For a few minutes, I thought about what it must be like to have a child with an eating disorder. And in so many ways, it must be worse than having a child who screams and storms around and sneaks out of the house. Because it seems to be the disorder of the people pleaser, and that is harder to combat. That is in the mind.

Once, when I was a freshman in high school, my gym class was doing a weight-training unit. What a wonderful opportunity my teacher had to encourage young teenagers to value their bodies and the amazing things they can do. My gym teacher that year was Mrs. S., the former gymnastics coach and current dance team coach. You can probably see where this story is going.

One day, we were being evaluated, and our grade was partially based on how much we could lift/press etc. in relation to our own body weight. So we lined up to weigh in.

“Good girl!” I heard Mrs. S. say to more than one young woman ahead of me.

When I weighed in, she was silent.

And that silence--not really just silence but the opposite of "good girl"--has been in my mind for over twenty years since.

I have boys, and so the chances of them developing eating disorders are quite slim. But I can try to teach them not to assign moral value to body features. I can teach them that exercise is great for stress relief and health. I can speak positively of my body in front of them.

Also—and this is one of the biggest struggles for me—I can try not to be controlling about their eating. My goal is to keep fairly healthy food in the house and my eating mantra with the boys (and a place I am getting to eventually with myself) is this: “What is your belly telling you?”

I hope I am raising boys that will never tell the women in their lives to “watch it.”

Growing Pains

2009-02-21T16:28:00.000-08:00

We’ve had a couple of rough nights around here. Two nights ago, Luke was tossing and turning and moaning with a high fever for much of the night. He came up to our bed and I didn’t sleep much. And last night, Henry came upstairs crying around midnight because of a leg ache. I ignored him for a while due to my exhaustion from the night before, but finally, I had to attend to his pain.

Two nights ago, when I was awake with Luke, my nighttime despair began to creep up on me. For a period of time when I was a child, I used to hate nighttime. I had an overactive sense of guilt and at night, I worried a lot. I dreaded nights. And more than anything, I hated spending nights away from my parents. I usually avoided these situations, but if that was impossible, I often spent the night nauseated and restless. While I eventually grew to love sleepovers by my teenage years, I still often struggled with waking in the night in a panic. Now, sleepless nights sometimes bring on a bit of this fear.

As I was feeling a little panic two nights ago with Luke, an airplane flew overhead, and at that moment, my worries abated. My maternal grandparents lived near an airport, and when I spent the night with them, the sound of the airplanes flying over me all night long helped to soothe my worries. Something about being tucked away in their little guest room under the rhythm of the jets overhead made me feel that the world was an orderly place.

And last night, as I fixed a heat pack for Henry’s leg, I was transported back to the days when my own mom fixed a hot water bottle for my own growing pains. In my memory, I am lying on the couch in the dim midnight light, knowing that relief will come, listening to the sound of the water running and running as it gets hot enough to fill the bottle. My mother’s calm, measured actions, performed so many times, took on that same soothing nighttime quality as the jets.

Part of growing up for me was learning to fear the night less, learning to let go of my strange and overactive senses of worry and guilt. It has taken me a long time to learn to be peaceful in the night. I have suffered many growing pains over the years, in my legs and in my heart, and always at night.

I wonder, in the dead of the night, what growing pains my children will face. Just as I have overcome some of mine, theirs are beginning. Just as certain aches of mine fade away, I help to soothe theirs. And I can’t know which of these things they will carry with them into the future, as memories, as part of the rhythm of their beings. I hope the moonlit shadows, the warmth of the heat pad, the murmers of comfort in our bed, are enough.

Boy Quote of the Day

2009-02-18T09:57:00.000-08:00

Luke, while in the car: My testicle hurts.

Mom: Maybe you are just sitting funny. Try shifting in your seat.

Luke: I think one of my testicles just popped!

(To ponder: Is this even possible?)

Love Is In the Air

2009-02-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Henry had two little girls from his preschool, E and C, over for a play date on Wednesday. About a month ago, Henry began talking about E a lot. Then, a week ago, he started begging to invite her and her best friend over “for a sleepover.” He was quite emphatic.

“I want to have E and C over for a sleepover!” he moaned while rolling around on the floor. This went on for a long, long time, with my position being that he is far too young for a sleepover, especially with two girls that he has never even had over to our house.

“If E and C come over,” added Luke, ever so helpfully, “They can sleep in bed with us.” Luke and Henry share a double bed.

Oh my. I can’t help but think that this has something to do with the fact that E and C are darling and blond.

Finally, we compromised. We arranged an after school play date, which Henry anticipated all weekend. Every morning, he woke up asking, “Is today the day that E and C are coming over?” While whining about not wanting to go to bed, he stopped for a moment to ask, “Do you think E and C don’t want to go to bed right now?” And while constipated, he added, “Maybe E and C’s poop also won’t come out.”

My Henry. Always thinking of others.

Both boys seem to be entering a new era: The Era of Love. While E and C were over, Henry stood up at the table to make an announcement:

“E and C? You are my gowlfriends,” he said, with his funny mispronunciation.

And Luke? He has a new girlfriend every day, according to his accounts. Right now it is O. But she doesn’t know it.

They come by all of this naturally. Craig, in grade school, stole a deer figurine from his parents and gave it to his sweetheart, along with a note that read, “A deer for my dear.” No wonder he went on to score so highly on the verbal section of his SAT. Voluntary homonym usage at such a young age!

After Luke tired of playing with the little kids, I took him upstairs to settle him into another activity. When I came down, I heard Henry saying, “Let’s play lovebug. Chase me and if you catch me, you have to give me a kissy kiss.”

And this morning, I overheard Henry saying to Luke, “I have bad news, Luke. We didn’t get to play lovebug in school yesterday.”

“Too bad,” said Luke.

Oh my. I don’t think I’ll be inviting the girls over for a sleepover any time soon.

Boy Quote of the Day

2009-02-10T08:04:00.000-08:00

Henry: Mom, you need to trim my nails! It hurts when I scratch my butt.

Another Post That Isn't Funny

2009-02-09T03:08:00.000-08:00

I have been meaning to write a follow-up to the posts about Luke’s visits to the psychologists, but, frankly, I’ve been a little embarrassed. But it is only fair to Luke that I say this, for the record. The short version: Luke is nothing more than an intense little guy, and we haven’t been parenting him very well.

And here’s the long version:

While the first psychologist believed that Luke might have a mood disorder, the second believes that Luke is just very intense and somewhat oppositional. In other words, he is a challenging kid. And while Dr. B. didn’t say this in so many words, we haven’t been rising to the challenge.

Dr. B. gave us a very specific discipline plan to follow with Luke, and we have been doing it for almost three weeks now, and things are going much, much better. Luke has a set of rules at home, and if he isn’t following a rule or we want him to do something, we tell him that. Then, if he ignores us, we say, in a calm but stern voice, “Luke, please do xyz. If you don’t, you’ll go to time out.” If he doesn’t stop, he goes to time out. We say, “You are in time out because you didn’t xyz.” We have a plan for what to do if he doesn’t go to time out, too, and what to do if we are on our way out the door. Basically, we have a very simple, clear plan that has been completely scripted for us. And it is working.

I could go on and on about why I think we weren’t very effective before. Part of it is that I read too many parenting books and everything was always muddled in my head. Part of it is that I don’t much like conflict and so I avoid it. But really, it is hard for me to be objective enough to analyze the dynamics in my family very clearly.

I’m not saying that we don’t have any challenging situations with Luke (or Henry, for that matter) any more. And I’m not saying that Luke’s intensity has gone away. But we are managing it much better, I think, and when things do get a little out of control, we have a plan. We have something to cling to.

And also, just because I’m always talking about Luke’s difficult behavior, I want to throw this out there: He just got his report card, and he is doing GREAT in school. I couldn’t ask for better. He has had his name written on the board once all year, and his reading and writing and math are all going very well. And he loves art and music and gym class.

This parenting gig? Sometimes it’s a little bit of a roller coaster ride. Actually, scratch the little bit. And the sometimes.

Adjustments

2009-02-07T06:43:00.000-08:00

We have survived another snow day and a sick day and a lot of bitterly cold, icy weather since my last post. It has been a long week and a half. Making it longer has been the fact that we have now instituted a screen time only on weekends rule.

We have gradually, over the last two years, become more and more lenient with our screen time allowance for the kids. Until Luke was five years old he was only allowed about a half hour of screen time a day, computer or videos or PBS. Then, on the weekends, he could watch a longer movie if he liked. Once we moved away from Hyde Park I started getting a lot more lenient. Part of it was that we had just moved and neither the kids nor I had any friends. Part of it was that we had moved into a more conventional community—and I wasn’t sending Luke to a media-shunning Waldorf school any more—and so I didn’t feel so conspicuous allowing more screen time into our lives.

But a half hour on weekdays has become an hour, and a movie on the weekends has become several. The kids have been whining for more and more screen time. Sometimes they ask to get on the computer or watch a video first thing in the morning. And you know what? Even though it is nice to have the kids occupied while they watch, they are always out of sorts when we turn it off. They are surly and demanding of my attention.

So we sat them down on Sunday and told them no more screen time on weekdays. And, surprisingly, they didn’t whine much. And now we have completed one media-free four-day stretch, and it has been wonderful. We have been doing things that we haven’t done in a long time. We’ve pulled out puzzles that haven’t seen the light of day in at least a year. We’ve made a lot of very fashionable shrinky-dink jewelry. We have played every board game on the shelf. We biked through the snow.

And yes, I have had to work a little more to keep them occupied, but once they are in the groove, they are playing by themselves pretty well. And last night at the beginning of the weekend, we borrowed Home Alone from the library (which was marginally inappropriate, I thought, with the swearing and the fake shooting and all, but oh well) and we made nachos and popcorn and enjoyed ourselves immensely. There is nothing like laughing at slapstick comedy with little boys.

Snow Day

2009-01-28T14:22:00.000-08:00

We are all snowed in here. Of course, snowed in is relative. My sister and I made short work of shoveling the driveway while mocking the poor shoveling skills of our neighbors. It turns out that there are some advantages to getting tied onto a roof and ordered to shovel on a regular basis while growing up—it makes regular shoveling seem easy. That last sentence makes it sound like we were maltreated as children, which we were not. We just had a really awful roof that needed shoveling regularly while we were growing up in Alaska, and our dad didn’t want us to fall off. So he tied us on up there. It turns out there are advantages to having five kids, too. I don’t live in Alaska, or on a farm, so I think two kids are probably enough.

My kids weren’t much help with the shoveling. They did shovel the lawn off so they could make a big mound of snow in the middle of the yard. Then we played a little king of the mountain. I tell you, I don’t know what to do about these kinds of games. I think the best thing is to look away.

We made a list this morning of all the things we wanted to do today, this day where even Craig didn’t have to go teach. We all got to contribute to the list, and here’s what we wrote down:
Play outside (mommy and boys)
Shovel (mommy and Mara)
Play star wars with our bodies (boys and daddy)
Naptime and quiet play time (everyone)
Make peanut butter play dough (boys and mom)
Read Books (daddy and boys, mommy and boys, Mara and boys)
Play Lego Star Wars (daddy and boys)
Write (mommy)
Yoga (mommy and Mara)
Clean Room (boys and dad)
Clean T.V. room (boys and mom)
Finish homework (boys)
Bake a cake (Luke and mom)

I’m writing at the moment—I will try to work on something else after blogging—and Craig is playing Star Wars with the boys. Our list is complete! The cake is in the fridge and there is Indian food simmering on the stove.

It was a lovely snow day. But I hope school is back in session tomorrow.

Christmas Form Letter

2009-01-22T11:25:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends and Family,

I skipped the Christmas form letter this year, but I’ve been getting calls and emails every day begging me to write one. Craig is the most vocal, as he tells me that my blog was much better last year when it was funny and “not so touching and poignant.” I decided to comply with his wishes, since I know it is one of the highlights of everyone’s year, hearing the accomplishments of our family. I feel a bit as though I’m bragging when I write these letters, but just know that I’m simply thankful for our abundant gifts. Of course, my careful planning and coordination—not to mention my regimented day planner and perfectly organized home—help us to maintain the highly accomplished lifestyle to which we are accustomed.

This is the first year that I can report that Henry has been weaned! At three and a half, he still begs for “nursies” every day of course, but that is to be expected since he has only been weaned for six months. He seems to be gifted in languages, as he talks regularly in “baby talk.” He also takes French once a week at his preschool, and he knows the words adieu and magique after five months of study. We are so proud. He also, amazingly, can read the Bible already. It is simply magique!

Speaking of the Bible, each Sunday morning Luke first tries begging, then crying, then telling me his throat hurts in order that he might stay home from church. Despite his resistance to church services, Luke asked, just last Sunday, when he could become an alter boy. This was, strangely, right after he saw a cute little girl wave to one of the alter boys. Luke is also developing great spiritual insights about the saints. In other Luke news, he is working hard this year on his hypochondria. Last month, he asked me 953 times—once waking me in the middle of the night to do so—if his eyes were pink after several of his classmates developed pinkeye. Other ailments that have concerned Luke on several occasions recently have been chicken pox, vomiting, strep throat, measles, and dry drowning.

Craig continues to organize his woodworking workshop. He also has begun collecting antique woodworking postcards. As he works hard to complete his collection, I wait patiently for my bed frame while sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Big projects like this take time! Craig continues to serve as faculty advisor for the Argentine Tango Club at Ohio State. I’m glad he has hobbies, since this quarter is very stressful at work: he has to teach two classes, which means he has to be to campus by 10:30 every morning, and he often doesn’t get to leave work until 5 pm. And if you can believe it, he has to do this five days per week!

I, too, am hard at work. I write for at least one hour each week, and I have one publication to my name. As you can see, I recently learned how to create links in my blog, which is one of the big accomplishments of my year. My little sister Mara, ten years younger than I am, has been staying with us for a while, so I’ve been busy regressing. It is so nice to have her here, and we try to show our appreciation by allowing her to stay in our cold basement. It is a bit moldy, too, but we don’t think it has reached the “toxic mold” level yet. I have made a lot more friends here in our little town this year. I have made friends with a group of local blogging mamas, and we get together regularly to ~~discuss writing~~ drink beer. I also have made friends with a couple of women who have boys in first grade at Luke’s school, and we get together to ~~talk about how to be good soccer moms~~ go to wine tastings at the local wine shop.

We have so much to be thankful for this year. We are truly blessed. We hope you all can be as blessed, fortunate, and talented as we are.

Love,
The Jacksons