GreenGrass

Sunny Saturday Thoughts

2009-05-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

I know nobody cares about the weather (or about what I had for lunch) but today was an excellent Wyoming spring day. And since those kind of days are few and far between, I think a passing comment is warranted.

Post 6 baseball is in full swing with a trip to Rapid this weekend. Backyard baseball is in full swing as well. Recent improvements to the field include foul lines (drawn in chalk by drunken chimpanzees by the looks of them) and a snack shack. The snack shack was operated by my niece, who is sometimes adrift in the sea of boys that our family has begotten. But she's found her niche in the food service industry--they're always hungry and if she keeps on making them pay for their concessions, I predict she'll have made her first million by the seventh grade.

***

Things I didn't do today that I wanted to : plant the garden (too soon) write a novel (too nice outside) make a cake (too time consuming) find a new book to read (to busy finishing my old one)

Things I did do today that I didn't plan on doing: mow the lawn (enjoyable) run the dishwasher three times (what? we didn't even eat lunch here) boil lettuce for tadpoles (kindergarten is depending on me) and thoroughly enjoy myself.

***

Tomorrow I will set up my new computer. Unless it's too nice outside or I get busy or I forget. Or I find that new book that I can't put down.

Library Ninja Skills

2009-05-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

Every Thursday, we go to story time at the library. Often, I stop for a cup of coffee on the way, inhaling both the scent of brewed espresso and the atmosphere of people dressed for Important Jobs (read, not in jeans, tevas, and slobbered on t-shirt).

After my standard maybe-I-should-go-back-to-work musings, we arrived at the library, where Son3 opened the automatic sliding doors using his best ninja moves. I think it was the flying high kick/jump and spin that finally caused the door to yield to his clearly superior powers.

***

So, if you're not selling enough cars, does it make any sense to make it harder for people to buy your cars? Maybe I should go back to work after all--these people need someone to get in there and figure something out (hint guys: buy low, sell high).

***

I have lots more on my mind, but not much of it post worthy. Unless the internet suddenly becomes interested in the status of my laundry (oh wait, that's what Twitter is for).

Back in the Blogging Saddle

2009-05-13T09:48:00.000-07:00

I got a new computer yesterday. I'm typing this post on my old Dell Inspiron 1200 that is three years old and is missing the F-G-V-&-B keys thanks to a curious kitten. I have decided that opening and setting up my new laptop is to be deferred until I clean up and organize my office.

I might get to use it around September.

I'm having a weird time with the time suck that is the Internet lately. My kids are needing me in very time consuming ways. My work around the house and as a lawyer is becoming more time consuming also. And I have a stack of new projects/hobbies that I want to try. Meanwhile, I'm also thinking that maybe, just maybe, I might, possibly, allegedly, have too much stuff.

Or, maybe it's just a function of sunny spring weather and a good spring cleaning of the coat closet and junk drawer will cure me. Either way, I'll soon find out.

A List of Reasons I Didn't Post Yesterday

2008-03-06T13:54:00.000-08:00

Brief due by close of business
Smallish existential crisis
Fell asleep reading to kids; when I woke up at 9:15 (p.m.) to stumble to my bed, too tired to care about posting daily
Too mesmerized by gummy baby smiles
Did I mention, brief due by close of business?

Obligatory The-Weather-Sucks Post

2008-03-04T19:24:00.000-08:00

March 1-- clear and sunny, high around 68. I sweat going for a walk with my neighbor.

March 2--snow, blowing snow. High around 20. The wind, oh god, the wind.

March 3--clear, cold, sunny. High around 40. I wear a long-sleeved shirt and a fleece vest to take the kids to the doctor.

March 4--clear and cold this morning. 1 inch of snow has fallen since 6:30 when I got home from the grocery store.

Tomorrow--snow shovel, sidewalk chalk, scooter--who knows? Whatever it brings, we're ready.

Things I Will Do Today

2008-03-03T07:47:00.000-08:00

that I didn't do on the days I turned five, fifteen, or twenty-five:

Between 8 and 10 loads of laundry in an effort to sanitize out whatever cold/cough/goopey-eye crud is hanging around.
Constantly wipe three noses and faces (none of them my own) as a result of the above mentioned cold/cough/goopey-eye crud.
Take three children to the doctor so that he can (most likely) tell me they have a cold and there's nothing to do but ride it out.
Write an appellate brief arguing for the court to overturn a state administrative agency action.
Blog.
Decide that thirty-five isn't so old after all.

Second List

2008-03-02T12:42:00.000-08:00

Reasons why my plan to take the boys to the library, bring my computer, and finish my brief while they occupy themselves in various ways is not working:

Bishopp is asleep on my chest, forcing me to type while leaning backwards enough that he doesn't fall.
The books.
Really, a lot of books that I should be reading to my kids.
I mean, have you seen the books in this place?

And also? I don't really want to be working on my brief.

Games that Should be at the Elementary School Carnival

2008-03-01T09:17:00.000-08:00

For the adults:

How to get three kids to agree which game to go to next?
Nachos, pizza, or sub sandwiches: which will be least likely to be smeared all over the children?
Estimate the chances of tears upon failing to bounce the ping pong ball into the little vases.

For the kids

Predict how long before you mother gets fed up with the valuable prizes you have won lying around the house.
Predict where your mother will put the valuable prizes you have won when she gets fed up with them lying around the house.
Predict whether your parents will let you eat the cake you won at the cakewalk for breakfast.

2008 Is Great

2008-01-09T09:10:00.000-08:00

Nine days in and I'm recovering from a self-induced irritable day yesterday. After spending all of my free time surfing the a mommy-internet full of "every day for a year" resolution type posts, inadequacy and what's-the-use snuggled in for a good old hen party on the comfortable chairs I keep on my shoulders, all the better for their whispers to reach my ears.

So today I'm reminding myself of the strength and valor I displayed in the waning moments of 2007 when I resisted the urge to make numerous resolutions that I will not keep.

Discarded goals/resolutions include:

writing every day
billing 730 hours this year (365 x 2)
taking pictures every day
reviving my wordpress website
learning how to work wordpress so I could revive my wordpress website
beginning to read through the Western Canon
learning Latin (so what that it's a dead language, if I learned it I could really make some superior comments on the law-related listservs I subscribe to about how nobody really understands the actual meaning of inter alia.)

Instead, here is the one statement that I did make:

I would like to enjoy the hell out of 2008.

***

By the way, have I shown you this?

I mean, what's not to enjoy?

Irresistable Is

2007-12-19T13:40:00.000-08:00

A three-year-old turning on the "Cars" cd and saying, "Mom, dance with me."

I do not think it means what you think it means

2007-12-18T13:57:00.000-08:00

When you come to "clean" my house, you might have a better chance of convincing me that the ninety-two dollars I'm paying you to "clean" is worth it if you vacuum up the cat hair from the seat of the recliner chair.

Playdate Hostess with the Mostest

2007-10-18T13:37:00.000-07:00

In about 45 minutes Biggest Brother will be walking home from school with two of his classmates for a Monopoly marathon playdate. He has tried a Monopoly playdate before, but with only one other boy and it didn't work out so well, because of a fact that Biggest Brother remains oblivious of: Monopoly with only two people is tedious and boring. So, today's planned activity may be edited as well; we will see how it goes.

I had one goal for today and it was to clean up the blocks, cars, baseballs, swords, and crushed pieces of popcorn in the upstairs living room so that the playdate could take place at the game table up there. (It's actually a card table stuck in the corner, but I sound so much more hip when I call it a game table, don't you think?) I would like to state for the record, that I have accomplished that goal. I am now setting another goal of removing the lunch dishes from the dining room table and running the dishwasher before the boys get here. Because I wouldn't want any second graders to think I'm entirely slovenly.

****

We are entertaining an uninvited guest here at Green Grass headquarters, commonly know as the sore throat and the fever. I woke up twice last night drenched in sweat and I think I have heat rash on my chest from it. Bigger Brother had it with me but now seems to be on the upswing, but Big Brother is going down. He is so heart-wrenchingly sad when he comes over to sit on my lap and say, "I don't fewl good, Mommy-O." The heart-wrenchedness probably doesn't have anything to do with him noticing all the extra lap time and cuddles Bigger got when he was feeling poorly. Probably not much anyway.

****

Baby Brother has awoken from his nap, ushering in that portion of the program known as the One-Handed Typing Hour. Also I've realized that I haven't yet combed my hair today. Perhaps I should add that to my goals.

Babies are Cute; Also I Return to the Gym

2007-10-17T14:16:00.001-07:00

Baby Brother has started smiling. More than gassy smiles; actual looking at someone and eyes wide, mouth open, smiling. Good gravy, babies are cool.

In other news, Jade and I have worked out a system that we think will be manageable so that I can work out more than just on the weekends. He is getting up very early and going to work out until about 5:45. At 5:30, my job is to wake myself up and feed the baby if he needs it, then get dressed and go when Jade gets home. I'm on a tight schedule because I only can be gonr for 30-40 minutes, but you can get a lot done at the gym in that amount of time if you don't spend 20 minutes gabbing on the treadmill.

I've noticed about my physical self that I am very reluctant to push myself. Since I started working out in 2003, I have been happy with just what I can do easily. I don't run, I don't sweat very much, I don't try to lift heavier and heavier weights. Now that I'm only scheduling one or two exercises per session, I think I'll try to increase what I'm doing. But still, I don't want to sweat very much.

****

Later:

I just got back from attending a CLE program to keep my law license current in Wyoming. I was the only one that went--it's a live video presentation--so that was actually convenient as my smallest associate went with me and he wasn't very happy about it. Running a law business is challenging. I dream about it at night and obsess about it during the day (usually in lieu of working on projects). But, it's working out very well up to this point and I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to do what I do.

More tomorrow on my exciting adventures. Right now I'm going to pick up the popcorn Big Brother scattered across the living room floor. Remember how adorable I thought he was yesterday, with the "yes, I'll try to take a nap"? I'm rethinking my position on that subject.

How to Shock Me

2007-10-16T13:11:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day Jade went back to work. I'm on my own now, baby.

So how did it go? Pretty well, actually. I worked a bit in the morning, took a bath, cleaned up the kitchen reasonably well from breakfast, and made lunch for us all at about 11:00--all of this in between holding, rocking, feeding, and trying to put down the baby. (He has decided that the best place in the world to be is near my chest. Have a little snack, take a little nap, nice cushy exercise mat when he decides to work his neck muscles--what's not to like?)

The one piece of a schedule I'm trying to establish is this: 11:30, eat lunch; 12:00 send the Big and Bigger downstairs to watch Curious George while I put the baby down for a nap; 12:30 (or so) get Big and Bigger and put them down for their nap. Today I really wanted this to work so I could have a call for work at 1:30.

Everyone cooperated except for Big. He couldn't fall asleep because he had to use the toilet. After helping him get his underwear and pants back on, I kissed him and said, "Auggie, will you please go and take a nap now?"

He said ... "yes." And then as if to prove to me that I'm not losing my hearing or my mind, he opened the door to his room, went in, and shut it behind him. I haven't heard a peep for 20 minutes.

He may be in there playing Biggest's game boy, but on this first day on my own--I'll take what I can get.

So Much Cuteness You Might Die of It

2007-10-15T07:54:00.000-07:00

Bishopp Gunner, born 9-22-07. This was taken about a week later. His fan club is a little overwhelming to him right now, but he'll get used to it.

Biggest Brother: Talks to Baby Brother all gooey schmooey. Loves him.
Bigger Brother: Squeaky voice lets me know when Baby Brother sighs in the bassinet. Totally loves him.
Big Brother: After a little adjustment period taking it kinda hard, has recovered for the most part. Mimics the others in loving, gooey, kissy-face to Baby Brother, but also needs some lap time of his own with mom. Loves being a big brother and loves the baby.

Mom & Dad: Four kids is ... well, it's a lot.

MyGreenGrass

2006-10-31T08:18:00.000-08:00

Well, I've taken the plunge into becoming a "real" blogger. Please visit the new site:

Green Grass

Who Needs Toys When We've Got Baseball Equipment

2006-09-25T09:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I see my kids playing with something at a friend's house and I think, "He is really enjoying that. Maybe I should buy one for him."

Today, Auggie was riding a stick horse at a friend's and I had that thought.

Just a minute ago I realized that we don't need stick horses.

Giddy-up.

Can I Remember How To Work?

2006-09-22T16:50:00.000-07:00

So, on Wednesday, I interviewed with one of the lawyers I contacted for contract work. She was interested, I was interested, I even went home and answered a quick question for her about minimum liability insurance coverage. Everything's great, right?

Later Wednesday evening, there was an email from the other firm I contacted. They're interested. They want to meet with me. I start to get a bit nervous. Things are going great, right? So, why do I feel sick to my stomach?

Friday morning I meet with the second firm. I really like the partners who were there and it sounds like they have interesting work that would be the kind of thing I could do from home. One of the hurdles I had to overcome in my own mind is the knowledge that a lot of legal work is very minute-by-minute oriented, taking client calls, responding to new information, or meeting with other people to figure out where to go next with a project. But, they have ideas about what they could outsource and they've done a contract kind of thing like this before. So, things are rosy with them, too. Right?

Only I feel like I didn't handle the meeting quite right. They asked me whether I'd need my time I outlined as work time (during naps, after kids go to bed) for sanity time since I'm home with the kids all day. I stammered something about how I've thought it through and my kids are independent and will play by themselves while I do things, but in the harsh light of retrospect, I think that answer was awkward in (a) the I-want-you-to-hire-me context (did I give too strong a mental image of writing a memo in between changing diapers) and (b) the here's-the-where-I-stand-on-this-balancing-work-and-family-issue context.

I wish I would have said that my experience being a mom hasn't been a constant taxing struggle, because to be honest, it hasn't. There are days when everything seems to be piled up above my head and on the verge of crashing down, but I don't believe that's unique to being a caregiver for young children.

I wish I could have composed a thoughtful answer as to how the schedule I propose isn't that much different from a schedule of any parent who works full time. When I worked for about a year after Rison was born, I spent the workday hours focused on work and then came home and spent the rest of the evening focused on my baby and my husband and the operating of our household. I certainly didn't read 50 books that year, nor did I sit down to write blog entries.
A work at home job isn't something I'm trying to get because I want time for myself. Primarily, it's to avoid putting my kids into full time daycare.

I wish I didn't feel like I'm stepping into a snake nest anytime I say that I don't want to put my kids in daycare. When I say it, especially to women who work, I always worry that they take as an implicit judgment of their choice. Not as often, I wonder whether women who are working are thinking about how irresponsible I'm being by getting an expensive education and then letting it languish on the shelf while I spend my time lounging in front of the t.v. (Thanks a lot, Linda R. Hirshman.)

Then, I get all optimistic and think that maybe, just maybe, there's a way out of this dilemma. Maybe people with Highly Educated Brains can come together and think about how to operate a life in the United States of America in the year 2006 with some sense of exploring new models of working and parenting and simply existing.

Maybe we can recognize and agree that every person should have some responsibility to the world outside their home as well as some responsibility to the people inside their home. Every person should have some time to themselves, to pursue an activity that brings them peace or joy or rest...whatever they need. Isn't this why we whine and cry and point fingers while we simultaneously set up expectations that we will be balanced, we will get organized, we will achieve meaningful and productive existences?

So either I blew that particular interview because they're thinking I'm not committed to providing high quality work due to my personal situation, or I'm going to end up with an income opportunity that gives me a little bit of the best of all three worlds. Work outside the home, caring for those inside my home, and a few hours a week to spend at the gym, at my blog, or lost in my own thoughts. I don't know what will happen. But maybe it will be great.

My Highly Educated Brain is Now

2006-09-21T08:13:00.000-07:00

gainfully employed!

At 3:00 I Will Be Very Nervous

2006-09-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Five hours until I go talk with one of the shops here in town about working for them. See how I've already adopted that young lawyer-trying-to-be-a-hipster attitude by referring to the firm as a "shop"? That's lawyer code for "we are so serious that we don't have to take ourselves seriously and can refer to law firms as a "nice little shops." Seriously, you can hear the quotation marks when we speak that way.

How will I spend the next five hours? Obsessing about what to wear, getting my hair fixed up (I probably should allow extra time for that since I'm completely out of practice doing anything but the mom scrunchie-updo™ or the let it dry in the mom-scrunchie-updo™ while at the gym and then take it down and curl a few strategic pieces until I get sick of messing with it. Also cleaning the house and taking a power nap and taking the boys to the library for story time. And did I mention cleaning the house? And worrying that I'm either (a) about to make a horrible mistake or (b) about to be told that my Highly Educated Brain isn't up to snuff after five years of fermenting along with the under five crowd.

Gulp.

Today's Green Grass Brought to You By the Philadelphia 76ers

2006-09-20T00:08:00.000-07:00

Tonight was Rison's school expectation night. This is a night for parents to meet with teachers and hear a little presentation about how the classroom works and what the kids and parents need to do to have a successful year.

A few things:

1. Rison's teacher really likes him. This makes me so happy I get a bit teary-eyed.

2. The kids write notes to each other (they are called "Nice Notes." I want to write some Nice Notes!) and Rison had one from a friend who is a girl saying, "Dear Rison, you can tell me a seekriet like a crash or something esle." Umm, crushes in first grade. Wow, am I not ready for this.

3. The staff showed this video of Maurice Cheeks helping a 13 year old girl as she struggled to sing the national anthem. After I got through the cringing on her behalf (my worst nightmare actually happening to someone) and googling Mo Cheeks to see who the heck he was (have I mentioned that this happened in April and I live under a rock?), I could focus on thinking about what the school staff got from the video and what it translates to for me as a parent. She was seconds from bolting from the arena when Cheeks came over to her. He didn't lecture her, c'mon you know the words, everybody knows the words, let's go. Instead, he steadied her with his hand on her back, started singing with her, and looked out at the crowd as if he's daring them to laugh again. And then gets the crowd singing with her.

So my son is at a school that has adopted this act of kindness and support as a model for their own behavior and influence. I am a lucky mother and I hope a Mo Cheeks style mother. Steadying, supporting, and fierce when necessary.

p.s. Note the green grass in the background of this picture. I grew that! The former dirt pile has been leveled, spread out, and re-vegetated. And the batting cage is up! Hence all the exclamation marks!!!

Monday

2006-09-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

I tend to clean my house late in the week, to get it ready for the weekend. Today, I'm being forced to rethink that tendency. It was a rough morning, due to dishes I need to use for breakfast not being clean, laundry needing to be moved out of the way before people could get dressed, and generally crap-strung-everywhere that I didn't get tidied up before our friends dropped their kids off for a before school playdate.

(It's actually a so they don't have to ride the bus for an hour playdate...they can get on the bus at 7:30 or get dropped off at our house at 7:50...my kids love having friends over in the morning, but I was a bit embarrassed to still be in my pajama pants and sweatshirt when they got here.)

So, boring housecleaning plan will be re-thought, boring stay-at-home mom life being re-thought, also, I might rearrange my sock drawer later, stay tuned.

This week is going to be an important week in my life. I have an appointment to talk about doing contract work for a lawyer here in town. I have spent the last three years moaning about the fact that nobody would want someone like me working for them, because I want part-time, work from home, help out behind the scenes type of work. About a week ago, still moaning, I sent out two resumes and got two "we're interested" responses. Huh. Now what am I going to moan about.

Of course it's still not settled or even begun. But I hope that in a few days I'll be a small business owner. I have a great product (my Highly Educated Brain!) but need to work on the marketing.

I thought I had great thoughts to write about but this is turning into an "oh it's so gray and windy outside and all I want to do is curl up in front of the t.v." kind of a post, so I'll leave it right here. Until next time...

Some Babies

2006-09-07T08:30:00.000-07:00

Auggie is in the stage of wanting to read the same book every night. Therefore, I try to only read library books at bedtime, ensuring that we will be limited to three weeks of the same book every night. Or one week if my powers of persuasion are working on Library Day.

Currently, we are reading Some Babies every night. The genius of Some Babies is that it's not really a story at all. It's a mom telling her baby about some babies in the park. Some babies go down the slide. Some babies ride blue bikes. Some babies ride red bikes. As the mom gets sleepy, she says, "Baby, I can't talk anymore." Then the reading (every night) starts to go like this:

Baby in the book: No talk babies bikes?

Mom in the book: No, I can't talk about babies' bikes.

Auggie: Not any-mohr.

Me: (heart melts and I resolve to read this book to him until he turns twelve)

We're off to the library in a few minutes and with any luck I'll be able to steer him past Digger Man and find something new to read. Every night. But if I can't, at least I can close my eyes during the story time because I've got Digger Man memorized.

Aplomb

2006-09-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

My dictionary (received in 1991 from the University of Nebraska at Lincoln for some reason I can't quite remember now) defines aplomb as: complete and confident composure or self-assurance.

I would like to think that I handle my life with aplomb. And grace and compassion and generousity, among a few other things. But at the current moment, I would welcome unreservedly some complete self-assurance and confident composure.

I'm looking for a job. And I'm mystified as to how to explain (with aplomb) on my resume the August 2001-present section. So I closed the document to mull it over. Mostly I was parenting. Partly I was doing business types of things that have no relationship to being a lawyer. Mostly I was trying to remember to take time to make my kids happy and relaxed and secure. Partly I was reading about estate planning and real estate law. Mostly I was using my time to think and imagine and investigate whatever caught my fancy. Partly I was working as an overflow clerk for a judge. How do I explain all of that in three lines? I can barely explain in person without using a timeline for a visual aid.

So, I'm out there, putting my Highly Educated Brain to the test. I hope it's a fruitful project. Could you send me good thoughts, prayers, and any aplomb you're not using?

Funk

2006-09-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

The beginning of the school year is typically a great time for me. As a (nerdy) kid, I had almost physical longings to go back to the routine of classes, notebooks, directed thinking, and walking home after school in the bright sunshine. But right now I'm in a bit of a funk so I thought I'd put down some things I'm happy about.

Rison's first days were great. Here's the point where I annoyingly brag about how smart my kid is, doing my best to earn my derisive mommy-blogger title, so if you're not into that kind of thing, kindly skip to the end. All first graders in our district are tested in reading the first week of school. The tester shows them paper with the alphabet and asks, "Rison, what are these?" Expected answer: letters. Rison's answer: CLIP Letter Identification Assessment. He read the title of the worksheet to the tester. Any other questions, lady?

Whoops, skip again if you're avoiding the kid stuff because I guess I'm not done talking about it yet. Rison is reading at about a fifth grade level, writing quite a bit lower though. He is in a combined first-second classroom and his teacher is divine. She is one of the people I've been lucky enough to know who have helped me become a better, more patient and accepting person and (especially) mother as I watch them interacting with people and children with so much joy. They inspire me to be more patient, more observant and delighted in the quirks and habits of my kids. I like that very much and I feel that Rison will be having a great school experience this year. So, there it is. Something I'm happy about.

My other children conspire to drive me batty for about 2.8 hours per day and amaze and astound me the rest of the day. With Rison out of the house most of the day, Nolan has turned to his "brother baby" for an arguing/sparring, wrestling, competing-for-mom's-attention opponent. They fight, and since Auggie's grasp of speech is still developing, his end of the fighting is made up mostly of shrieking. And screeching. And other shrill noises. These noises are contributing to my funk, I believe. But, Auggie can also draw a circle. Kind of a misshapen circle, but connecting the line in a round sort-of fashion. Nolan knows the letters "N, R, and A" and can count to eleven. And they tell me things every day that are adorable and charming. So, there's something else I'm happy about.

I hope this funk lifts soon and that I'll have something else to write about. Meanwhile, I'll leave you with a picture of the world's strangest dog. Eating an apple.

Reinforcing My Aspirations

2006-08-17T07:54:00.000-07:00

Study after study has found that social ties are critical for managing tension. When we choose to "connect," hormones are released in the system, which counter stress and produce a calming effect. But in today's busy world, finding time to connect can be very challenging.

William Doherty, Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota, states that "The natural drift of family life in contemporary America is toward slowly diminishing connection. Only an 'intentional family' has a fighting chance to maintain and increase its sense of connection over the years." That's why it is so important to deliberately begin the day by thinking of a way to connect with and calm your family. Fortunately, it can be as simple as the look on your face.

From Sleepless in America by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka (author of Raising Your Spirited Child).

"Intentional family" is now percolating around in my brain. I need to find out more about this William Doherty, Ph.D. guy.

Runner-Up

2006-08-15T07:48:00.000-07:00

Baseball is over. (That link might expire, our local paper is strictly amateur hour. Although the sports staff does a fantastic job.)

The boys and I went to Casper to watch what we hoped would be the last two games of the tournament. Post 6 lost their first round game way back on Thursday, so the would have had to beat the Nebraska team twice in order to win the tournament. The first (and what ended up being the only) game wasn't an error-filled spectacle of the kids falling all over themselves with nerves and over-playing. In fact, it was a fairly mundane game. They just couldn't get the bats going in situations when it would have really been good to do so.

We mourned for a minute, took bittersweet photos, collected ourselves, and headed back home. And today we're jumping into the next things...Jade starts a year-long class on supporting struggling readers through one-on-one intensive tutoring and I start mulling over How To Run Our Lives through this upcoming fall.

Before I get out the flow charts and multi-colored highlighters to schedule, plan, organize and prioritize, we're going to go to the park. And to story time. And to the backyard to run in circles. Because summer is still summer, whether eight weeks or eight days remain. We'll try to make the most of them.

Three Things

2006-08-13T22:45:00.000-07:00

1. I write about books. Half-heartedly because mostly I forget what I've even read in my hurry to go on to the next one. I'm jumping on the 50 books bandwagon and I think I'm up to maybe 18? 19? That I've recorded. Do I get to count Digger Man which I have read (out loud) 8,962 times? Also, I'm too embarassed to include some of the crap I read, so I guess I'm jumping on the 50 hoity-toity books bandwagon. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is check out which stories I've got rattling around in my head. If you want.

2. Sadly, I now know that this works. Even more sadly, I own the world's stupidest dog. Stay away from the skunk, dummy!

3. This summer refuses to end. I had thought that I would be devoting tomorrow to invigorating activities such as shampooing the skunk oil out of the carpets (stupid dog!) or calling the roto rooter people to investigate my suspiciously slow bathtub drain. But instead, I'm going to drive to Casper to watch the final two baseball games of the American Legion northwest regional tournament. Because this summer refuses to end.

p.s. I am a little bit in love with Digger Man. I have suffered through my boys' inexplicable love of some crappy children's books, but I could read this one 8,692 more times with no problem. In fact, all of the books by Zimmerman/Clemesha that we have read have been big, big, big hits with the little boys and Rison will read them out loud to his little brothers. So in case Andrea & David check who is linking to them, I will say: Well done. Very well done.

Reformed, Spreading the Message

2006-08-13T20:16:00.000-07:00

I just couldn't get through to him.

Laundry Day

2006-08-08T08:08:00.000-07:00

Last night my boys hosted two of their cousins for a non-sleepover. A non-sleepover is when all the kids swear, cross-my-heart, that they're going to stay, you can't make them leave, and then call their parents to come get them when faced with the prospect of snuggling into that unfamiliar bed with the hallway light shining down on them from a different direction than it shines at their house.

In our case, they called twice. Once about 9:15 for the youngest cousin and again at 11 for the oldest. I felt a little bad about making their dad come over the second time, but then I remembered that feeling as a kid, wishing I wasn't in a strange princess bed but instead home in my own plain white sheets, listening to my parents watching television as I fell asleep. And also, they're only 6 and 4.

What does this have to do with laundry? Everything of course. In the process of getting five children ready for bed (or to call their dad, as the case may be) I gave in to requests for chocolate milk. First bedwetting: approximately 1:15 a.m. Followed by two more (the baby wears a diaper still, but it couldn't stand up to this kind of abuse) in the early morning hours. It's 9:15 a.m. as I write this and I have the first load in the washer. If I figure a load an hour, I should be done at 4 p.m. If I do nothing but wait around for the laundry all day.

So what I'm trying to say is I'll be breaking out the sleeping bags this evening and arranging them on the unfinished beds. But there will be three boys and three boys only on those sleeping bags...and Mom's Chocolate Milk Bar will be closing at five.

Public Service Announcement

2006-08-05T07:35:00.000-07:00

This is what happens to just-turned-two-year-olds who won't take a nap when their mother puts them down. They end up snoring on the carpet, clutching their notes, with their foot in a box.

Don't let this happen to you.

This Makes Me Happy

2006-08-04T11:49:00.000-07:00

For only $395 US, I can procure a reproduction to hang on my very own wall. And part of me would very much like to do that and consider it $395 US well spent.

But then there's the other part of me that wonders why I need to have this picture hanging on my wall in order to be happy. After all, I can look at it on the Internet every day for just the cost of my monthly internet access. And I could use the $395 US for something else. Something that fills a need in our lives instead of projecting to people who come into our house What Kind Of Person I Want You To Think I Am.

I had a similar thought about my kitchen this morning and many other mornings. Our house was built in the 70s and although it doesn't harbor any avacado green or harvest gold, it does have linoleum in the kitchen and formica countertops. And a sort of chopped up lay out between for the kitchen/dining room/breakfast area. As I was pulling hot dogs out of the refrigerator, I thought, "It will be nice when we remodel this kitchen and everything is shiny and granite-y and hardwood floor-y. Then things will really be nice."

What things? Well, things like the enjoyment my family members take in each other. Things like my ability to make a healthy meal for my family. Things like the courage and determination and resources for the people I love to do the very best they can at what they choose to pursue. Things that don't have anything to do with the composition of flooring materials.

Here's the thing (the real thing this time). I know all of this intellectually and I can spout off about your house not making you happy and needing to create your own life based on relationships with other people and with yourself. But I still secretly believe that I can have it all. That I can spend my time and effort and money designing a dream surroundings which, when we finally finish it, will make everything so nice for me, for our family.

Maybe the truth is in that word--nice. We use it to express our wishes...A new coat would be "nice." A raise at work would be "nice." A climbing wall in the backyard would be so "nice" for the kids to play on. But we maybe forget the other use of the word. She is a nice person. We got together and had a nice time. Can the second useage exist outside of surroundings that are "nice?"

So there it is, my struggle within myself to want it both ways. And now you know why I added "obsess about what we "need" to do to make this house better for our family to my list of Just Don'ts.

Where Did July Go?

2006-08-03T17:03:00.000-07:00

There's thirty-one days I'll never get back.

I have had many inspired ideas of what to write about during the past month, but I wasn't able to round up idea, computer, and internet connection in any one place or at any one time. So I won't be able to tell you about the way Frontier Days descends upon our little town that wants to be a city and I won't be sharing the details of our doctor office visits the third week of July and I won't be posting pictures of the first tomato harvested from our garden. Or for that matter pictures of our garden that is taking over the rosebushes at an alarming rate.

Instead, I want to talk about what a fine un-blogger wrote here. Because I need to read this every so often.

Added to my shiny-new Just Don't list:

Checking the twenty or so blogs I've bookmarked once a day. Frankly, it's much more satisfiying to read a week's worth of most of them. Or in some cases read the one entry they've managed to come up with that week (yes, I know, my name is "Pot." Remind me to introduce you to "Kettle.")
Obsess about what we "need" to do to make this house better for our family. This is closely related to Mrs. M-mv's "don't" indulge in house/garden magazines. It also dovetails with some other thoughts I've been having about being a consumer, being in the moment, and being content.
Water the lawn obsessively in order to create a shade of green that resembles my neighbor's grass (Or really, any shade of green). Yes, I live on a street with several of "those" neighbors: retired men who have well (i.e. free) water. Restricted by my city-instituted watering schedule and my lack of underground sprinklers, I have raised quite a nice crop of thistle in the front yard accuentated by the crispy, yellow patches along the corners.
Mow the lawn weekly. Now this is a "don't" I can really get behind.
Go to various activities "for the kids" that I've half-heartedly committed to because I've yet to master the "No, but good luck with your [insert time sucking activity here]"
Fantasize, or some might say, obsess, about what kind of gainful employment I should be pursuing with all of my free time as a stay-at-home mother. Because, you know what? Our family can make it without any gainful employment on my part. But our family suffers when I'm in a place in my head where I've talked myself into needing more validation and more prestige in order to be happy.

That's all I can think of now, but I reserve the right to continue this list in the near future. See you in the next few days.

The (Netflix) Envelopes, Please

2006-07-06T18:29:00.000-07:00

After keeping In Her Shoes inexplicably for over one month, I finally sent back the movies we had and got three new ones. Obviously, I added the following to our queue with a kid movie marathon in mind:

1. Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope

2. Star Wars: Episode V: Empire Strikes Back

3. Basic Yoga Workout for Dummies

Obviously, I am disorganized. The yoga dvd had a slight wait, so even though I had all three of the old Star Wars in line together, we are devoid of the exciting conclusion. When will the Jedi Return? We are waiting with total anticipation here at chez Greengrass.

Today Rison and Nolan were sword fighting with some weird plastic sticks.

RISON

Nolan, say, "Luke, it's the truth. I am your father."

NOLAN

Luke, it's tooth. I'm your fader.

RISON

Nooooooooooooh! It can't be truuuuuuue!

ME
(Stifling laughter as I fold the laundry of the Death Star. Frankly, I wasn't aware the Death Star had a laundry room; I would have thought DV's cape and the Stormtrooper's outfits would be dry clean only.)

Don't Leave Without Saying Goodbye

2006-06-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

During the school year we have a pretty solid routine for when Jade walks out the door. He delivers hugs and kisses all around and then little voices chorus: Bye, Dad! Love you, Dad! Have a great day at work, Dad.

I know, so sweet you can hardly choke it down.

This morning, Jade (at my request) went to the grocery store to get us some cinnamon rolls for breakfast. I was changing Auggie's diaper, but heard the front door shut and then Nolan: Bye, Dad! Love you, Dad! Have a great day at Albertsons, Dad!

That's gotta make a man feel good.

17,000

2006-06-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

Is about the number of acres of our friends' ranch where we visited this week.

Something about that country appeals to me so much, reminds me of where I was born in South Dakota, where the sky seems closer for some reason. They call Montana the Big Sky Country, and it feels the same to me there. The horizon is shortened or something, not like in the middle of a city where the sky is completely above you, hopelessly far away. Out here, the sky is in front of you, beside you, all around you with nothing to break the clean line of blue meeting green except the occasional profile of an antelope.

The boys had a wonderful time and did not bathe the entire time we were there. Hence the wonderful time. They ran and played and fooled around with the other kids that were there. And the moms (three mothers, seven kids, in all) ran and played and talked and made meals and inspired kids to run and play and fool around with the other kids. It was very fun.

Getting away with friends is something I haven't done in a long time. I like being able to give my kids this experience. I like riding along the road, looking at the green(ish) grass, thinking of the vastness of the land, the world, the universe. It balances something inside of me that is often lopsided, a pendulum swinging a bit short on one side. As I look around at the far-reaching sagebrush, I feel comforted that there is a place for me and that there is a place for everything. I like that feeling.

Why You Shouldn't Go to McDonalds at 7:30 on Tuesday Night

2006-06-21T06:41:00.000-07:00

Because you will order three happy meals with Lightning McQueen toys and be told they don't have any left.

Because your three year old will then begin shouting "bad McDonalds" into the speaker as you are finishing ordering.

Because your Chicken Selects won't be cooked when you get to the window, so you'll have to pull over to the dreaded Drive 1 parking area.

Because your four minute wait for your Chicken Selects will turn into fifteen minutes.

Because your children are starving, so you will let them start eating their nuggets and sauce in the car. Why? Because you are demented.

Because the sauce of the children will become lodged in every nook and cranny of their faces, laps, and carseat buckles.

Because the demand for the Cars toys in Denver was so much that Cheyenne McDonalds won't have received any toys at all this week, resulting in three different toys in the three meals you order for siblings of the same family. Seriously, can these people not give me a break here?

Because sixteen dollars later, you'll get home and put the remains of the food onto the picnic table where the children will eat a few more bites and then become distracted by the sprinkler, much to the delight of the family dog.

Because if you go to McDonalds at 7:30 on a Tuesday night, you will discover your youngest son's inner yearning to become a hairdresser to the ... trolls.

Going Digital

2006-06-19T15:00:00.000-07:00

My husband doesn't understand me. One day I'll say, "Hey, don't use the debit card for a while," and then a week later I'll say, "I bought a digital camera while you were on your baseball trip." He claims this is confusing.

I bought a Canon Powershot SD30, partly because of how much Secret Agent Josephine likes her SD20. So far, I feel like it's a nice little camera (after two days). I do like seeing the picture right away and I also like feeling like I can take a couple of shots of different things...not worrying about the waste like with film where I typically get 23 shots that are "ehh" and one that I like all right. I'm also looking forward to playing with the settings and software to fix photos up, especially things I can do in black and white. I love, love, love b&w pictures of my children. It takes the distractions of what they're wearing and any obnoxious colors from the background out of the picture (ha! picture!) and I think they end up looking gorgeous.

So, as a first bona fide digital post, here are some pictures from the garden.

Giant Pumpkins (grow to 100 pounds according to the seed packet)

Corn.

We planted three sisters hills with corn in the middle, beans around the corn and squash or pumpkins around the outside. We must have been tired when we did it or else the sisters hate each other because none of the hills have all three sisters sprouting.

Batting cage site. Sigh.

Kids = Money Down the Drain

2006-06-14T16:25:00.000-07:00

Everybody says that kids are so expensive. But, what they don't tell you is that the expense sneaks up on you at first and then hits you between the eyes with a two-by-four.

The first year, it's not much. Diapers, but if you're nursing, that doesn't cost a thing. People shower you with cute clothes and you don't often need a sitter because you're so enraptured with the little person you just stay home and look at him.

Then along comes the second baby. Well, you actually do want to go out once and a while and babysitters make a lot more these days than the $2/hour I got when I was thirteen. You don't get as many adorable little things and those you had for the first baby are stained or are the wrong size at during the wrong season. You don't get any clothes, adorable or otherwise for the older kid and he goes to preschool a couple of days a week, despite your suggestion that his time might be better spent mowing lawns or shoveling walks for a little spending money.

Add a third baby and things get interesting. You narrowly escape mini-van territory by some creative configuring in the backseat, but need a double stroller and another carseat since the second child isn't ready to move into the booster just yet. All in all though things are still rolling along pretty well. They still don't eat one happy meal between the three of them, but you sense trouble when the baby is upset that he didn't get a toy with his bites of nugget. The plot is thickening.

The oldest signs up for baseball. You go to buy him a bat and the middle one demands a bat also. Cleats are the same story. No I did not buy cleats for a three year old...they don't make them that small. The baby is beginning to talk and chants, "Ah-dee, shooos, Ah-dee, shoos." You can still pretend that you don't understand what he's saying and distract him by letting him push the double stroller around the mall.

Then you take the oldest to the dentist (cleaning: $80). The hygienist mentions that his bottom teeth are pretty crowed and that once he loses the four bottom and at least two of the top teeth, you'll probably be referred to the orthodontist (braces: OMG I can't even think about it). And also, he should get sealant put on his 6 year molars to protect them (sealant: $30/tooth = $120). And it's about time for the middle one to start getting his teeth cleaned. You make appointments for next December and wonder if you should look into dental insurance.

After all of this, you're thinking about money quite a bit. You see dollars and cents everywhere: left on their plate when they've finished dinner, strewn throughout the backyard after their friends came over to play, literally down the drain as you flush three times to clear the wad of toilet paper the baby deposited into the toilet. And then you talk with another parent whose 16 year old son just had elbow surgery. And another parent whose 21 year old son is spending the summer playing baseball in a collegiate league in North Carolina. Thankfully, you don't run into a parent with the 28 year old son living at home while he puts his record label together, you'd probably hyperventilate on the spot.

What do you do? The only sensible thing--head over the Colorado border and buy a Powerball ticket. Then come back home and open up a can of baked beans for supper.

Why I Don't Post Pictures on My Blog

2006-06-12T15:44:00.000-07:00

Because of my children, of course.

Not because I'm afraid of them being abducted by some weirdo who lives on my block and reads the site. No, it's because they broke my camera. My super nice SLR that I bought when Rison was just a few weeks old; Rison set it on the stairs, it fell over, and the thingies that hold the lens onto the body snapped off. So, technically, the camera isn't broken (at least not to my knowledge), I need to have the lens repaired or buy a new one.

In other news, I'm thinking of moving this site to my very own domain name. But I'm a little bit afraid because of the Google possibilities. Does having my very own first and last name out there on the Internet make any sense in this world? I can't decide. In terms of old friends who I've lost touch with, some of them I might like to reconnect with. In terms of people who hated me in high school and would like to see me fall apart, well, I don't think anyone really hated me in high school. Or if they did, they've either gotten over it or they haven't. Either way.

The part that makes me the most nervous is the fact that I might want or need to be a lawyer again one of these days. To be honest, I do censor myself on this little blog quite a bit. I don't talk about people I'm frustrated with (other than my kids and myself) and I don't talk about my reasons for not practicing right now. They're not that mysterious, I didn't enjoy my work and when I had kids, it suddenly became very. not. worth it. to work anymore. I still struggle with thinking that I should practice again someday

So I'll decide pretty soon. Complete transparency, with my name and address out there for everyone to see or continued sort-of-secret hiding, where I use my real name but don't put my site into Google. Where I give out the URL to a couple of other bloggers so that strangers can read (thanks for reading!) but don't mention to my extended family that I've started this thing called a blog on the Internet that they might check out from time to time. In other words, I'm indecisive, my worst (in my opinion) characteristic.

Maybe I'll receive a sign in the next couple of days. Or maybe I'll be too busy napping to worry about it. Right now I've got to go make something resembling dinner for three little boys who are dancing around the living room whacking rubber balls with badminton racquets.

Garage Sale Diva

2006-06-11T10:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I forced one of my friends to go to garage sales with me. She is a bona fide garage sale diva, always showing me awesome stuff she picked up for a dollar. I, on the other hand, never seem to have such luck. I always feel that if it's at a garage sale, it should be more like fifty cents instead of five dollars, ten dollars instead of fifty. You know, cheap.

But yesterday, I was initiated into full-scale garage sale divahood. When we moved into our house, we went from having one small living room to having three living rooms. We moved our one (hand-me-down, thrown-up-on, written-with-marker-on) couch into the basement with the television and left the other two rooms empty. Becoming a garage sale diva changed all that.

For a hundred bucks, I became the owner of a recliner chair and a loveseat/chair set. The recliner is not completely ridiculous; it's covered with a whitish fabric, has wooden arms and is very comfortable to sit in. The loveseat and chair set, however... Well, let's just say that I could really bring out the pattern of the fabric with some burnt orange shag carpeting. Or possibly powder blue polyester curtains, not so much a crisp, fresh, Pottery Barn powder blue, but more of a circa 1970 powder blue. Yeah.

But, they're comfortable, and now when I look downstairs I see furniture in the living room with the fireplace. So, theoretically we could start a fire and actually sit beside it. And I could sit down there and read, although I've been noticing that most of my furnishing, decorating, and remodeling ideas center around having a comfortable place to sit and read. So maybe I don't need that living room as a reading spot, but at least I'm keeping my options open in case I get tired of reading in the bathtub, kitchen nook, master bedroom, and deck. A change of scene can be very refreshing.

Also scored at the garage sale: lego set of a dino-attack machine, several pieces missing ($1), a set of snap-together building blocks ($1), a pair of baseball cleats, size 13 ($3), a Thomas the Train Engine floor puzzle ($2), and a plastic picnic table ($10). My only regret is that I went to get cash instead of asking if I could write a check on the kids Trek mountain bike at the first sale we went to. They were asking $75 for it and when I went back about an hour later, it was gone. Oh well, now that I'm an official diva, there will always be another Saturday.

Everything's Better

2006-06-08T22:27:00.000-07:00

I've recovered.

We met friends at the park for lunch where the mothers compared notes about how insane we are and the children waded in the swimming lake until they weren't exactly wading anymore. Of course, none of them were wearing swimsuits. There's nothing like a little, sand-encrusted foot to make you melt with love for these creatures that came from your body.

As we were picnicking, my three sons stayed close to me. One of the moms brought a little craft, gluing nature-y things onto construction paper, and both of my older boys worked on that long after the other children scattered to the playground. Nolan was particularly diligent, insisting on a live leaf plucked from a nearby tree that turned out to be swarming with little green bugs that I would guess are aphids. Did you know that baby aphids will get stuck on a glue stick? Not only am I a rotten mother, now I'm an aphid murderer.

My sons aren't ashamed to fraternize with an aphid murderer. In fact, they prefer an aphid murderer to anyone else, even kids their own age. Bringing me back to my breathing lessons and the realization that all they really want is for me to like them. To be kind to them. To tell them over and over that I will never, no way, not-in-a-million-bazillion-years, stop loving them.

They don't particularly care whether the kitchen floor is scrubbed (although they like to help me do it as long as it involves slopping water all around) or the laundry is caught up every morning, or we go on the Perfect Outing That Will Cement My Perfect Mother Status. They just want to be important to me. Helpful to me. Loving to me.

And they are.

Grumpy

2006-06-08T08:01:00.000-07:00

I can tell everyone I know (and everyone on the Internet) how much I love my kids, how happy I am to stay home, and how much fun we have together until I'm blue in the face, but I still have not found a way to keep my temper throughout each and every day.

The baby cries, Nolan runs circles around the baby, encouraging more crying, Rison whines that he wants to set out on an impossible expedition involving fishing rods, ice cream bars, and super-jet packs. Meanwhile the project that I'm behind on intrudes into my dreams during the night and my every martyred thought as I pick up socks, towels, dog food pieces scattered on the kitchen floor, Pokemon cards, candy wrappers, and crayons. Diversions for the boys so that I can escape to the computer give me only a few minutes at best and at worst create messes that take three times those few minutes to deal with.

And yet. I'm here. I'm not in an office doing work I hate. I'm not working the drive-through window. I can sit down in the rocking chair and pick up the tractor book and they will come running at the sound of my voice. I can write about my frustrations and my disappointments with myself, take a deep breath, look out my window at our backyard and recall what a blessed life we are living. We have room to spread out in our house. We are healthy. We are curious, loving, secure, and together. We are okay.

Deep breath. We are okay. Deep breath.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

You Know It's Summer When...

2006-06-07T07:13:00.000-07:00

you’ve gotta clean the boy residue (dirt, sweat, sunscreen, popsicle drippings, ketchup remains) from the tub before you can take a bath.

Ready or not, summer vacation, here we come.

Giving

2006-05-28T06:53:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago a woman who attends our church encouraged our congregation to go to the city's One Great Day of Giving where a bunch of community organizations got together to have a food drive, a blood drive, and a bone marrow registry drive. I went over with my canned goods and got my cheek swabbed for the blood marrow drive. Somewhere, my cheek cells are being examined and typed so that cancer patients can check the registry to see if my bone marrow could help them survive cancer.

Yesterday, I found out that another woman I know from church has cancer. She has three kids, works at the church as the director of Sunday School and has a sunny smile and a warm and generous personality. I hope my cells match hers.

***

Finding no real way to segue from that, I'll simply continue. About how cute my kids are. What did you expect, really?

The baby decided as we were leaving the baseball game last night that he needed to ride Nolan's scooter from the stands to the car. This was quite adorable as his "riding" consists of pushing with the foot that's on the ground, but not lifting that foot up off the ground. The scooter moves forward until he's doing the chubby-legged splits, then shifts his weight to the foot on the scooter, brings the back foot up and starts the whole process over again. If you try to push him along a little with your foot, he cries, "Aug-dee! Do!" He then gets off the scooter, drags it back to where you so wrongly began to help him, climbs back on and proceed with his splits practice. Adorable. Slightly irritating, but adorable.

Yesterday morning we held hitting camp in the back yard. I was working the corners with Rison, high and fast, low and outside, brush him back from the plate. He hit pretty well considering that I can't throw worth beans. And I was tossing it underhand. Heaven help us when he gets good enough that I have to actually throw it. Nolan batted also, whacking the bejeezus out of the ball off the tee and hitting a couple that I threw to him also. The baby got in the way mostly.

Also, yesterday! The kids locked the doors of our car! While the keys were in it! And we only have the one key! Did you know you can make a living unlocking cars? The gal that I called from the yellow pages charged me forty bucks and she'd been out three times already that day. Not exactly living like a king, but 120 bucks a day is comparable to what, oh say, teachers make. Hmmmm. Perhaps a little business to consider in the future.

Baseball, key crises, cutness...what surprises does today hold in store for us? Probably about the same.

Waitress v. Lawyer: Before the Court of Meta-Mothering

2006-05-27T07:13:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking about my working style over the past few weeks. Particularly why I have such a hard time with things that are ongoing, like much lawyer-type work is. Once I got started on the projects I was working on, I could crank through and get them done, but sitting down to get started was so difficult. Websites to check, laundry to move around, floors to be vacuumed, gardens to be watered... The list could be endless. I’d like to be the kind of person who does work at a reasonable pace, a half an hour here and there, making progress to a final goal. Instead, I excel when I pull an all nighter. The problem is that my body can’t take many al nighters anymore.

Also in this context, I was thinking about waitressing. I truly liked that job when I did it in college. I liked the small satisfactions I got every few minutes when I delivered what the tables needed. I liked the instant gratification when they left: cash on the table. I liked the busy atmosphere where I felt like everyone else was bustling around, part of a team, but making independent decisions.

And then, I got to thinking about how these work habits transfer into my parenting. Into how I’m raising these boys to be the men they need to be. I have a pretty good handle on the waitressing side of parenting. A diaper is poopy, I change it. Someone is hitting his brother, I intervene. I make meals, do laundry, get people dressed, drive them to activities, make sure school stuff is taken care of. Seriously, I’m rockin’ and rollin’ over here. The only complaint I have is that they are rotten tippers.

But what about the lawyer side of parenting you might ask. I’m asking that myself. Am I nurturing their independence, their curiosity, their empathy for others? Am I showing them all the love they need and more so that they will go out into the world knowing that they are good enough? These are harder tasks to evaluate and I probably won’t know until they are much, much older. In fact, I may die wondering.

I guess to carry the lawyer/waitress analogy to a (tortuous) further length, each part of parenting has its own satisfactions. I think that as the boys grow older, the “lawyer” work will only increase as they begin to do a lot of the “waitress” work for themselves. That scares me a little. But, it motivates me to learn how to be a better lawyer. And being a better lawyer will be a good thing.

How Does My Garden Grow

2006-05-26T15:38:00.000-07:00

The garden is working! Radishes sprouted today.

In other garden news, the ant colony is very happy to have had us do all the dirt work to allow for their rapid expansion. They've conquered the corn/bean/squash hills, are all done but the punch list in the cabbages and are drafting site evaluations in the lettuces.

Tonight's planned activity: Operation Ant Removal

In other news, I'm relishing the idea of a three day weekend. Even though we have much baseball related activity planned, there should be some time for analysis and implementation of my honey-do list. You know, the thinks I'm just a little too girly to tackle. ("Math is hard," says Barbie.) I hope to fuss with the garden a little bit, get the batting cage arranged so that Tractor Guy can come drill the holes where the support posts need to go, replace the light fixture in the dining room and move the piano over about three feet so that I can assemble my "launching pad" next to the garage door. Doesn't my life sound exciting.

And speaking of exciting, it's time to go move laundry. When three children pee in three different beds over the course of two days: Laundry Emergency!

Fairy GardenMother

2006-05-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

How to get a garden planted in your yard with very little effort on your part:

1 Agree to put up a batting cage (scroll down to "some things I would like to buy") in your back yard. Call Tractor Man to come and till up the east side of the backyard and move the tilled dirt out so there is a level place for the cage.

1. Inquire whether Tractor Man could till up a little plot on the west side of the yard for you to fool around with gardening some vegetables. When Tractor Man finishes, look at the area he's magically turned into a garden bed and realize that you are about to fool around with gardening a lot of vegetables. Like a 12 x 20 plot of vegetables. Panic just a little bit.

2. When your friend and backyard neighbor calls, tell her about your new garden. When she asks if she and her kids can come over and sprinkle some seeds, encourage her. Remember, there's plenty of room.

3. On Saturday morning as you're just finishing up the grocery shopping, get a call from your friend. Come home and unload flat after flat of tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, strawberries and broccoli. Then examine the seeds. Lettuce, cucumbers, sweet corn, squash and pumpkins. Get ready to plant.

4. Plant seeds. Then plant seedlings. Then more seeds. Do lots of digging and directing the five assorted children where to put the seeds and where not to spray the hose (umm, at you). Become exhausted, take a nap and watch the freaky hailstorm pellet your tiny plants.

5. The next day, meet for more planting. Assess the damage from the hail and proclaim that everything will probably make it. Notice that the plot is really filling up. Dig holes where you are going to plant Three Sisters a little more shallowly. Digging is hard.

6. Finish the Three Sisters. Water everything. Yell at the dog to get the heck off of the potato row. Thank your lucky stars for your friend/Fairy GardenMother and invite her over for a margarita on the deck to watch the garden grow.

Thanks Steph!

2006-05-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

It hasn't been a perfect Mother's Day.

Jade left for a double-header in Casper at 8:30. Rison spent last night with his cousin and wasn't home for breakfast. I rushed The Littles over to church so Grandma could take them while I taught Sunday School. (I am not cut out to teach Sunday School. It is not my calling in the church. I must remember this the next time anyone asks.)

I drove to Grandma & Grandpa's to pick up all three and we all went to the park for a picnic. Oh, getting to perfect Mother's Day material here, but ... the picnic was from McDonald's.

The baby cried because he wanted to wear his brother's outgrown Crocs, they kept falling off his feet, walking barefoot on the grass hurt his feet, he wants to push the stroller, he wants to "do eiiiiit," he wants picked up, no, put down, for Pete's sake PICK ME UP, and on and on.

Nolan had to go to the bathroom. We spent fifteen minutes in the restroom of the Botanic Garden while he quizzed me on whether or not we would be going to the playground. We did not get to go to the playground (see fussy baby, above) and Nolan proceeded to pitch a lying-on-the-ground-fit about it. Until he was distracted by scraping up dried bird poop from the sidewalk.

Rison, child of my heart, got put off by his mother for "just a minute" over and over. He wandered around the park by himself with his hands in his pockets. He listened politely when Grandpa told him to come over to the pond and see the goldfish, even though he had already been looking at them for several minutes. He picked up sticks and described in intricate detail the weapons his imagination transformed them into. He continued to grow and grow up, despite my wishes to have those first Mother's Days back, just for a moment.

In other words, they were my kids. They were tired from our busy day yesterday. They were happy to be in the sunshine. They were loving to their grandparents and their mother. They allowed me to comfort them when they got upset, to feed them, to talk to them and point out the amazing bursts of spring that surrounded us at the park. The got back into the car with me so I could take them home and put them down for naps. As far as they know, I will always be putting them back in the car so I can take them home and put them down for naps.

I sort of hate Mother's Day and the hokey once-a-year marketing blitz that surrounds it. Being a mother is the most natural thing I have ever done. Being a mother is the most complex thing I have ever done. At the end of the day, I would feel a tad uncomfortable accepting any gifts or cards or brunches at fancy restaurants in my honor. Instead, I feel grateful that I've been given this chance to love and be loved by these amazing boys and I'm plagued with hope that my efforts don't fall too short of the mark.

I guess I'm a little touchy about packaging a messy, cranky, sticky, not-going-as-planned, not-ever-on-time-for-anything experience into a greeting card and a bouquet of flowers. I guess I'd rather take my messy, cranky, sticky, not-going-as-planned, not-ever-on-time, fun-loving, energetic, curious, kissable, glorious family on a not perfect outing to the park, then put them back in the car so I can take them home and put them down for naps.

It's been a perfect Mother's Day

Good Things

2006-05-12T15:53:00.000-07:00

I only have to take three hours of ethics CLE to fix up my status in Colorado. I was expecting them to make me take many, many hours (five years times fifteen hours per year = death by CLE). I have online seminars already picked out.
Today, slight breezes at times. Full scale gusts seem to have dissipated.
The state of Wyoming is in a boom cycle right now. The legislature has decided to allocate some of that boom money to education. Specifically teachers' salaries. Hey, my husband is a teacher!
I ordered new glasses today. My old glasses are in the junk drawer, neatly folded into thirds by my youngest son. I asked the optician if they could be modified with an alarm that would ring shrilly at the touch of pudgy, sticky hands. She replied that they could not. I guess I'm on my own.
My total out of pocket cost for the new glasses was 40 dollars less than the sticker price of the frames. Thank you vision insurance. Thank you school district (see no. 3, supra.)
The last couple of days I've been looking at the spectacular blooms of white crab-apple trees in other peoples' yards and thinking how much I'd like some of those in my yard. Today I walked around to the west side of our house to get the dog to stop barking and those two trees that I've been watering intermittently this early spring have bloomed. Guess what kind of trees they are?! If you aren't sure, refer to the title of this post and the exclamation mark after the last sentence and see if you can modify your conclusion.
In conclusion, things are good.

Turbulence

2006-05-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

Outside my window I see bright sunshine, trees thrashing wildly in the wind, and a line of high puffy clouds approaching from the west. We woke up to snow on the grass this morning (after I'd been wondering all night why the furnace kept kicking on again and again) , this morning was chilly but sunny and clear, and now this. This past few weeks the weather has been unsettling, as if it's gotten itself all worked up for no particular reason. Either I'm reacting to the weather or there truly is something muddled up, but I've felt out of sorts with just about everything.

Nothing is really the matter and I'm having days that I enjoy almost every day. No dramatic freak-outs or life-changing proclamations, but everything just seems to be a little bit harder than it should be. Like making dinner for instance. Why bother when pizza is only a phone call away? I'd rather read books to Auggie in the rocking chair or chase Nolan around the living room than do any of my work, including laundry, yardwork, writing, blogging, or maintaining any sort of routine in our day to day. I feel like I'm waiting or watching for something elusive that will point me in the right direction, on a path to something meaningful. Preferably the path will be lighted and well-marked.

Jade once told me about a film about a woman living out on the prairie, a homesteader. The film was entirely silent except for the sound of the wind blowing and at the end of it the woman went insane. As I'm sitting here listening to the wind rumble the house or as I'm asleep dreaming those Down the Rabbit Hole kinds of dream, I'm not sure that the wind is entirely blameless.

Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace

2006-04-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

So, Tuesday. I had two conversations today at the gym with other stay-at-home moms and after those encounters, I was a much better mother for the rest of the day. Here's the thing about my Highly Educated Brain: it thinks a lot and sometimes when it thinks too much, I get a sort of running around in circles thing going on and then I can get into a bit of a funk and to fill anyone in on all the circles is so boring and witless that I can't bear to do it. I mean, the circles themselves are annoying enough while my brain is running them and to describe the circles to someone else would be a little bit like telling somebody else the plot of Napoleon Dynamite. Gosh!

But when I can hear some of the same thoughts from someone else or tell someone else what I've been thinking about without going into a lot of backstory (circles!) so that it doesn't sound completely insane, I feel better. And then I can let it go for a few days and actually listen to the kids when they're talking to me instead of concentrating on the circles (turn coming up, watch out here!). So thanks friends, you helped me today. I hope I did the same for you.

Fresh Start

2006-04-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

I guess I'm a little bit over my pity party of the last ~~few days~~ couple of weeks. I did get some allergy medicine and I guess it helps your concentration if you aren't constantly thinking of ways to turn your sinuses inside out so you can get to that itching right on the bridge of your nose where your glasses sit. It helps me anyway.

And then there's this: I've decided that I will not become involved in our school's PTO, no matter what kind of crazy messages my brain sends me while I'm over there in that building. I think PTO is great and the people at our school doing it are clearly doing a fan-tab-u-lous job (they raised over 30K to put in a computer lab beyond what the district had allocated for the school) and there's just no need for me to become involved. It would just be one more thing that I couldn't give the attention my Highly Educated Brain feels it deserves, causing my Highly Educated Brain to go into shut-down and me to have crappy weeks like the one I'm just coming off of. So there, Highly Educated Brain, my Puny Common Sense has just made life a lot easier for you over the next eleven years.

Also, I'm once again fed up with spring. Yesterday we decided to start sanding the deck because it's all peeling off and giving the kids splinters. So, we sanded about 10 square feet and then the temperature dropped 10 degrees and today there is 10 inches of snow on the ground (okay, it's really only 1 to 2 inches but the 10 thing was really working for me). The only upside I can see to this snow is that Rison's baseball practice is cancelled for this afternoon; I can be slothful for the remainder of the day instead of scooping The Littles up from their naps and forcing them to sit out in the "spring" weather while Rison and his buddies "practice".

And that's all for now. Further updates as events warrant.

The Road to Hell is Paved With ... Links?

2006-04-13T13:47:00.000-07:00

So I'm tooling around the Internet hoping to find some magical solution to my procrastinating, marbles rolling around in my brain, generally-crappy-attitude state of mind and came across this:

Five Modifiers

There's literally nothing else to say.

The Blahs

2006-04-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

I guess I have a little bit of the blahs* despite my post yesterday about waiting around for spring. I just can't seem to get anything done and then I get to feeling upset about that fact and then I get even less done. The fact that my to-do list for this week has 31 things on it couldn't be making me a bit depressed, could it? Because honestly, having the 31 things written down on my list is much less unsettling than having all 31 things rolling around in my head, bumping into the 28 other things that I haven't written down yet.

So, I've decided just to let the rolling and bumping in my Highly Educated Brain work itself out for a little bit. To cheer myself up (and to try and quash the rolling and bumping) I went to the library yesterday and got two really interesting looking books. Then, I cheered myself up even more when we came out of the library, I looked at the clock in the car and realized that Rison's church choir started in one minute! And that we were just two blocks away! See, the rolling and bumping method is paying off!

So we went over to church and I played in the nursery with the Littles while Rison practiced. Then we got tacos because my planned supper still needed an hour in the oven and 7:15 is just a little too late for a 6, 3 and 1 & 1/2 year old to be eating. So rolling and bumping gets the credit for tonight's dinner! Maybe rolling and bumping is more efficient than I give it credit for. After we ate, I read to the kids for about an hour, Jade came home from practice, I gave baths and then wrote about the book I'd just finished, and we called it a night.

So today, I'm sitting here contemplating my to-do list, trying to decide whether I should pick the thing that's the easiest or the thing that is the most important in a oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-that's-not-done-yet sort of way. It's a tough choice, let me tell you. My Highly Educated Brain is quite rebellious sometimes and telling it oh-my-god, get to work, rarely works. So it looks like easiest it is. With any luck, I'll get into the swing of things and accomplish more than just moving the cat box (I know, my to-do list is lame!). But if not, I'll see you back here in a few minutes...

*Spring
From Frog and Toad Are Friends by Arnold Lobel

Frog ran up the path
to Toad's house.
He knocked on the front door.
There was no answer.
"Toad, Toad," shouted Frog,
"wake up. It is spring."
"Blah," said a voice
from inside the house.

What One Hand Giveth...

2006-04-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

"Spring" is a term I've learned to use loosely since moving to Wyoming. Last Friday (April 7th) (Let me repeat, APRIL 7th), I woke up about 5:00 a.m. and thought, "wow, the wind's really blowing." Then I promptly fell back to sleep until 5:55 when the phone rang and it was Jade's school calling tree letting us know that school had been cancelled. Snow Day.

The Monday that there was 14 inches of snow on the ground and it was still falling, there was school, but last Friday...blizzard like conditions prompted school officials to call the whole thing off. By noon, the snow had stopped and the sun was out, by three it was 50 degrees. You can see why I'm hesitant to make grand proclamations about the effect of spring, the arrival of spring, my plans for or feelings about spring, or really any reference at all to the fact that there might be an entirely different season between winter and road construction.

Yesterday was beautiful, no jackets needed, light wind, sunny and blue skies. I raked and watered the lawn and planted some seeds in the bed next to the house. Today I had plans to continue raking and watering, but it's just a tad too chilly for my delicate self. Spring got me again and my only comfort is that I'm not alone.

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

---T.S. Eliot
The Waste Land

Lists

2006-04-10T08:40:00.000-07:00

Some jobs I would like to have:

Certified Nurse Midwife
Literary Agent or Book Reviewer
mathematician
Coffeeshop Owner (I have it all planned out. The name of the shop will be Mommy Needs Coffee and it will have tables with internet access in the front, yummy coffee and fruit juice smoothies and in the back, a big play room where staff will offer fun but messy kid activities such as finger painting or play-dough (Have you ever tried to get play-dough out of carpet? Probably you have and you agree that a kid-centered coffee shop is the perfect place for all future play-dough activity). Mothers can come in, let the kids play or participate in an activity while they work, surf the net or chat with other moms. We'll publish a zine and organize letter-writing campaigns to improve city facilities for families with children. We'll start a babysitting co-op so that moms can have some free time to pursue their interests. The play room could be rented for playdates or birthday parties. It could work. Right? Right???)
Salon and Spa Evaluator

Some things I would like to buy

Furniture for either of the two (currently empty) living rooms in our new house, plus a couch to replace the Couch I Hate in the t.v. room
Yarn. My friend Deanna is going to teach me how to knit! I'm going to be one of the cool kids, freed from my able-to-dorky crochet-only status.
A grand piano
Ingredients for Tuna Baton Rouge from the fish place in Fort Collins
The recipe for Tuna Baton Rouge from the fish place in Fort Collins
A Jenn-Air dual-fuel range/oven to cook Tuna Baton Rouge from the fish place in Fort Collins
Land to build an indoor batting cage and baseball practice facility (I threw that one in for Jade. I can't say that I really want to buy this, but I want him to have it. Also, I would prefer it not to be in my backyard.)

Some things I should do every day, but don't

Eat vegetables
Brush my teeth (I know, gross)
Count my blessings
Live in the moment

Some things I'm going to do when I'm done writing this

Go outside and rake up the dead grass in the back yard
Kiss and hug my kids
Play baseball, basketball, football, pretty much any kind of ball I'm asked to play with the kids in the back yard after the kissin' and a-huggin'
Count my blessings
Live in the moment

No More Grandpas

2006-04-06T13:17:00.001-07:00

I just returned from my Grandpa's funeral. He was 94 years old. I plan to live until I'm 99, but when I really stop to think about it, 94 amazes me.

When I was a girl, I had an imbalance of Grandmas to Grandpas. Two of my great-grandmothers and all four of my grandparents lived in the same small town in South Dakota where I was born and were a big part of my life when I was young. Although my family moved away when I was three, we traveled back a lot and my parents still talked about going "home" for the weekend until we'd been gone almost 10 years.

So now I live even farther from that small town and I have an imbalance again. Both my great-grandmothers passed away, one when I was ten or so and the other when I was in college. My mother's dad died of emphysema in 2000 and now my dad's dad is gone also. Now my children are in the same situation I was as a little girl: two great-grandmas and all four grandparents as a part of their lives.

I didn't cry for Grandpa R.A. at his funeral this weekend; I didn't even choke up until I saw my dad having a hard time keeping it together. But now that I've survived the trip out there and gotten back into my routine, I feel the sadness.

Grandpa R.A. taught me to drive when I was eleven. I couldn't reach the clutch on his old Ford unless I perched with my bottom barely on the seat, and when I shifted, I had to sort of stand up to get it engaged all the way. I killed it about seventeen thousand times and knocked the pick-up into a fence post, but Grandpa didn't get upset or holler at me. He didn't offer much in the way of tips or suggestions either, but eventually, I figured out a way to balance as I let the clutch out and we jerked along back to the house, went inside and had lunch before he and Grandma turned on All My Children. That a crusty old prairie farmer and horse trader who smoked roll-your-owns and was missing parts of at least two fingers from roping incidents was hooked on a daytime story always gives me a chuckle.

Grandpa R.A. wasn't perfect, but he was part of my life and part of the raw materials I've used over the years to figure out how I want to live and learn and love. When I think of him, I think about how love between a parent and a child can get all tangled up in the mess of making a living and coming to grips with the hand life has dealt to you. Grandpa R.A. may not have shown his love for his own kids in the way that they deserved, but he one of the people who built up my sense of being loved enough. I hope that my children and grandchildren will be able to say the same when they think about me.

Check out Billy K

2006-03-26T18:29:00.000-08:00

Krush Baseball Co.

Here is part of the reason I'll be a baseball widow this summer. And spring and fall. If you're a competitive baseball coach reading a mommy-blog, you might give Billy and his associates a call. If you're a mom married to a competitive baseball coach, you might want to bury this link in some sort of "restricted access" folder. Just a thought.

From the Mouths of Babes

2006-03-23T22:22:00.000-08:00

SCENE

Our kitchen after lunch, where I was clearing the lunch dishes and mentally occupied with assessing what items Rison might need for school (snack, backpack, gloves) and where said items might be.

NOLAN

Mom, do you want to play bowling game with me? Mom, do you? Mom, can you play bowling game with me now?

("Bowling game" consists of me standing in the living room while one or more "bowlers" rolls the exercise ball at me, whereupon I'm required to fall to the floor while imitating the crash of bowling pins falling at the end of the lane. Strangely, I'm always a pin, never a bowler.)

No, honey, I want to clean up the table and help Rison get ready for school.

NOLAN

Hmmp. (pause) That's not a good choice.

Buddy, you got that right. Get ready to bowl.

My Ears Will Be Falling Off Shortly

2006-03-19T14:11:00.000-08:00

I have my own version of The Repeater in the house.

"Where's the baby?"

"Bayh-beee!"

"I hear Daddy"

"Dah-dee!"

And my very favorite,

"What are you doing?"

"Doo-eeeng!" He agrees with me, flashing a cheerful grin.

Yes, it's that time again. The baby is on the edge of the verbal explosion. Today I asked him, "What's your name?" He replied, "Ah-dee." I thought he was a genius until probing questions revealed that my name is Ah-dee, his dad's name is Ah-dee, both brothers' names are Ah-dee and the dog's name is, you guessed it, Ah-dee.

I have mixed feelings about babies learning to talk. On the one hand, around 16 to 20 months is a frustrating time because they can't tell you what they want. I often think, oh, it'll be so much easier to parent this little person when he has more words to express what he needs. But, more words means more talking. And more talking means More Talking.

Rison talked early and talked often. Nolan talked later, but in complete sentences and with express purpose. Together they currently speak about 8,749,256,311 words per day. Of which, 8,749,256,000 are directed at me. Mostly while I'm driving. (Rison: talk, talk, talk, talking and still with the talking? Me: I don't know. Rison: Are you saying I don't know because you don't know or because you weren't listening?)

So far, Auggie is talking for the sheer joy of it--he can put syllables together and say "dog" and I say, "that's right, dog!" It's adorable and funny and I'm glad that we are starting to communicate in a new way. But then there are moments like this:

We are picking up film at Wal-Mart and the Bigs are walking behind me. "Look, Mom! Ice Age 2 cereal!" "Look, Mom! Mom, look at this! Fruit snacks!" I keep them moving with a few "um-hmmm"s and "wow, that is neat"s, mostly listening just so I know they're still keeping up. We turn the corner, and Auggie, who is riding in the cart, points his fat little finger and hollers, "soooohs!" That's right, shoes. And my eardrums cramp up as I realize what this means.

14, 563, 980, 245. Give or take.

Good Days

2006-03-17T16:58:00.000-08:00

I think I hired a babysitter. Please do not share this information with the universe because I'm afraid that the universe will take my babysitter away from me, and I'm very, very excited about the babysitter.

Here's what happened. I was fiddling around reading blogs Wednesday morning, as is my custom, and read Very Mom's post about being prohibited from advertising for a nanny in the BYU-Idaho campus newspaper. I added my thoughts to her comments (I'm getting so very brave about the commenting) and went to the gym. While I was there, I mentioned to the girl who does the gym daycare that I was half-heartedly looking for a mother's helper so that I could work at home, and she said she would do it. She came over Thursday and played with Nolan while I worked and the baby slept. The baby sleeping for so long (11:45 to 4:00) is really unusual, but Nolan and the baby sitter had a great time. They played basketball outside, Nolan told her the way the world is, they watched some cartoons and they picked up the "toy room" where I had been dumping any and all items that belong to the children with no rhyme or reason. You can see why I will be crushed if the universe takes away my babysitter.

Also, having someone here means that I can put together a coherent thought for more than 20 minutes before I have to get someone juice or referee possession of the curtain rod that's being used as a hockey stick. And if I work this way, I can get paid. And since we didn't end up selling our old house, getting paid is very important.

So Thursday rocked and on Friday I did errands in the morning and had a friend and her little boy over for lunch. I like this friend, she's a new-ish friend and I like how down to earth she is about living this SAHM life. Her husband works long hours in the evenings and I like having someone who is open to getting together at 4:30 when the kids are going nuts and their father won't be home from baseball for another three hours. So Friday rocked also.

I named this blog Green Grass because I want to remind myself to live in the now instead of always looking around for the "If only this or this or this would happen, I would be happy." I have been happier since I've started writing about my life on the Internet, and I've been more present with my family when we are together. Good Days like these happen more than I realize, and by writing them down, I hope I'm conveying my gratitude for this life that I'm being allowed to lead. I have three happy, healthy boys, a husband who loves me and them, and a little time each day to spend pursuing whatever interests me at the moment. I'm blessed, and I'm grateful for every Good Day.

So. Yesterday.

2006-03-15T07:47:00.000-08:00

Again with the urge to wait until I have knock 'em dead material. Sometimes my Highly Educated Brain is a menace to accomplishing anything.

Yesterday was more of the same here. Nolan has decided that multiple layers of basketball uniforms is the way to go so he had me put on shorts, a t-shirt, and pants of "yellow basketball" (not to be confused with yellow baseball) and then put on the shorts and tank-top of "orange basketball" over the top of that. Strange but endearing. Actually, endearing until all of his clothes are in the laundry and he's throwing a fit on the floor because the only thing left in his closet is "yellow team." Yes, we do name all of his outfits, if you were his mother, you would either murder him or go along with the naming of the clothes.

In other news, the baby napped early (9:30!) and I got our tax stuff put together which sort of hurt my Highly Educated Brain and also caused me to waste forty minutes trying to design the perfect filing system so that next year this would be so much easier! Easier than the 45 minutes I just spent on it! Do you think I could be a bit of a whiner?! I mean, I've been putting this off as a big, horrible job and it took me 45 minutes to go through the organizer the accountant sends out and update the information for 2005. My Highly Educated Brain is a bit of a baby.

(I keep using that phrase, which is a ripoff from Sid in Ice Age, making fire with a stick and his highly evolved brain (ouch!). Referring to my Highly Educated Brain is funny (to me) and since I'm in the process of repaying over 50K for getting my Brain to be Highly Educated, I think I'm entitled to this little shred of humor.)

After tax time, we had lunch, took Rison to school, dropped the taxes at the accountant's, dropped books off at the library and Yes! Nolan's asleep. I drove home and put him to bed and then played with the baby for the rest of the afternoon. We played blocks and vacuum the living room and do the laundry and where's the baby and pick me up, no, put me down, give me juice, not that cup, the other cup, pick up these blueberries I scattered over the kitchen floor and hugs and kisses. Pretty fun times. Auggie is getting big, on the verge of his language explosion mimicking everything I say, and was thrilled to be alone with his mother for a couple of hours yesterday.

The afternoon proceeded in an orderly fashion, we ate an early supper and took Rison to church choir. Afterwards, we went over to baseball practice where Jade was. Baseball practice is currently being held in a warehouse in a sketchy part of town. Inside the warehouse they've hunt up a batting cage and have an open area to play catch and a frightening propane heater that they light with matches. None of this seems entirely safe for a 6, 3 or 1 year old, so we hightailed it out of there, came home and played around until it was time for bed. Another day, another dollar racked up in interest on my student loans.

So, in summary(1) Come on Tax Man, Big Money, No Whammies; (2) children are cute and grow up fast; and (3) baseball season is underway. God help us all.

Minutiae

2006-03-13T22:01:00.000-08:00

I've gotten myself all worked up about this stupid blog that hardly anybody reads and I'm always thinking of funny things to post, certain that I'll knock 'em dead with this one and then my fingers can't make the words sound right so I give up and oh my stars, the pressure.

So instead of a knock 'em dead endeavor, here's the story of our day. We woke up late, Jade hustled off to work, but not before saying, "I want to stay here with you guys." Given the fact that we were all still in our pajamas, I can see his point.

I dressed the four of us and we went to Wal-Mart. Yes, today I was a Wal-Mart mom, and it completely sucks, let me tell you. We ate at McDonald's, got groceries using a list I composed at said McDonald's, picked up a couple of other things and headed home. I calculated that I spent about $1/minute during the time I was there...I wonder whether Wal-Mart is studying this phenomenon? Moral of the story, get in, get your stuff, get out before sensory overload hits and you find yourself comparing the merits of liquid foundations. Which you haven't worn since 1985.

We came home, I hauled in the loot and put most of it away, neatly stuffing the plastic bags into my junk drawer so I'd have them when the snow melts and it's time to pick up the dog poop. Also, where they will continually un-stuff themselves and spring out at me whenever I open the drawer for chapstick, my wallet, a pen or the phone book, which are also stored there. Later in the day, I thought about cleaning out the junk drawer, but quickly lost interest.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself with the exciting events here. We had some lunch, grilled cheese and ham sandwiches (or "sandwiches with hot cheese" as Nolan calls them), and apples. I cleaned up and started making a mammoth batch of chili with my newly purchased groceries and the mega-pack of hamburger I bought "Reduced for Quick Sale" at Sam's club a few days earlier. I put together the chili-soup, put the kids in the car, dropped Rison at school, dropped the Littles at Grandpa's and went back to Rison's school to help in his room.

Helping in kindergarten is no day at the beach, let me tell you. Many moms have staked out "their day" and come in with no qualms about micro-managing their child's every action or pinching their lips up at the teacher to signal their displeasure at her tendency to "speak to my child in a way that I certainly would never speak to him." (I know this because of scheduling snafus that resulted in me helping on days other moms were already there.) (And from playground gossip.)

So first of all, you've got to schedule, then when you get to the room, there are All These Children! So many! And so talkative! Today I helped them measure kite strings with linking cubes. Best moment: two boys got a different answer for the same kite because the string is made of yarn and you can get a pretty large variation depending on how tight you stretch it and, frankly, linking cubes are not the most accurate measuring tool. They fussed a little about it ("It's 23." "No, it's 24") and one boy kept insisting, "My answer is correct." I mentally added "you poo-poo-head" every time he said it and that made it even funnier. To me.

After kindergarten, I considered a mocha to nurse along the alarming caffeine habit I'm developing, decided against it and picked up the Littles. Nolan refrained from screaming, "No, I don't wanna go home. You go 'way and I stay with Grandpa," and the baby was just waking up as I got there and so he didn't even know he'd been abandoned by his mother for over one hour, so overall it was a pleasant experience. The Littles and I came home, Rison came home and we built some towers with blocks, we ate some chili, and I cleaned up the kitchen (note the conspicuous absence of the word "we" in front of that last one).

Oh, here's something out of the ordinary: I gave them haircuts! Then a bath and then we read books and snuggled and wrestled on the bed while we waited for Jade to come home. Once he did, I went to the gym and Albertsons (two grocery trips in one day, another alarming habit I'm working on), came home, read stories and everyone else fell asleep. I snuck out of bed, made a cup of tea, and bored the Internet to death with the tale of my little day. Maybe tomorrow I can use my Highly Educated Brain to describe how the grass is growing. Stay tuned.

Strategies

2006-03-09T17:41:00.000-08:00

1. Mocha for Mom

Suggested Use: Trick unsuspecting children into napping.

Equipment: Automobile, car seats for children, tolerance for running the heater on high on a sunny winter afternoon.

Estimated Time: 35 minutes

Procedure: After dropping the oldest child of at afternoon kindergarten, announce that we are going to get coffee for Mom. Drive across town to Starbucks, taking the road north of town with fewer stoplights and keeping the car toasty warm. Upon approaching the vicinity of Starbucks, evaluate the status of the participants. If they are still awake, drive on by (they don't know that you're driving around in circles). Repeat until both participants are asleep. If desired, (and you live in a fairly small community) call Starbucks on your cell phone and ask them to pre-make the mocha, dash inside with correct change to collect the mocha and pay. Dash back to car, drive home, transport participants to beds, drink mocha and read blogs.

2. I Don't Know What Happened to ...

Suggested Use: Trick three year old into wearing one of seventeen newer pairs of pants he has shunned in favor of "yellow baseball pants".

Equipment Needed: Outside garbage can, ability to repeatedly deny any knowledge under pressure.

Estimated Time: Varies

Procedure: After washing yellow baseball pants until the knees dissolve, put them directly into the garbage and immediately remove the garbage bag containing the pants from the house. This step is crucial as leaving the pants in the kitchen or laundry garbage can will blow the entire mission since humans under four feet tall are inexplicably compelled to examine the contents of any and all garbage cans they encounter. When asked "Where my lellow baseball bants?" give no answer other than, "Gosh, I don't know where yellow baseball pants are. We'll have to look for them." Repeat until the owner of yellow baseball pants forgets about them, currently projected to be never and resign yourself to the fact that you will be reassuring him that you'll look for his stupid pants as he packs for college.

Seriously, When Is Your Dad Coming Home?

Suggested Use: Provide time to read consecutively two sentences (or more!) of a novel

Equipment Needed: Bathtub, bubbles, assorted cups and washcloths, novel, toilet with lid

Estimated Time: 20 minutes, if you're lucky

Procedure: Announce that it's bathtime. Ignore claims of cleanliness and/or objections to water temperature and removal of clothing. Turn on space heater, deposit children in bathtub, close toilet lid, sit down and read. Occasionally remind participants that there is no throwing water on brothers or out of the tub. Read until the water is tepid, rinse and scrub children (optional), towel, pajama, teeth, yadah, yadah, yadah, search for flashlight to finish chapter once children and husband are sleeping. Note: Do not attempt every night as effectiveness may weaken with repeated use. If children are asking you to read picture books to them while they splash, discontinue use immediately.

One-Third

2006-03-03T14:18:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday. I'm one-third of the way through the number of years I plan to live. I've got a lot to do in the next two-thirds.

This morning, Rison got into bed with me and the two little boys. They all woke up and smiled and snuggled with me and I thought, "This is a great birthday."

Before Jade left for work, he kissed me and told me how much he loves me and I thought, "This is a great birthday."

Later this morning, eight women I know and like came to my house with their little people for a birthday playdate. They brought laughs and presents and I was so happy to see them and know that I have fun and interesting friends going through this same stage of life with me. And I looked around me and I thought, "This is a great birthday."

Later Jade will come home, we will wash faces and gather up socks and shoes and go to a high school basketball game. We may have Chinese food and we may watch a movie. Or we may play chase around the house with our three little boys until it's time to go to sleep. Either way, this is a great birthday.

Recovery

2006-02-03T11:53:00.000-08:00

Things are looking up here at the Green Grass household. The baby slept for two four-hour stretches last night and ate a banana and a hot dog today for lunch. He's not looking so much like the Fat Baby anymore; amazing how being sick takes the baby fat off of those little guys.

Sometimes I look at my children when we are out public and wonder if I should have wiped that jelly off of their faces before we left the house. Other times I look a them hiding in the moving boxes we are accumulating in our living room and wonder how long I will continue to be utterly charmed by these little creatures.

Rison is off to kindergarten and those of us remaining at home are off for a nap. A well-deserved nap on my part. After four nights tossing and turning with Sir Squeaky Breathing, I've hit a wall here. Next week will be better. I'm sure of it.

Sick Day

2006-01-31T07:56:00.000-08:00

The baby is officially sick. He has the pink stuff for his ear and tylenol for his fever and strawberry pop for his hydration. Last night was another crying instead of sleeping night--he wanted to be sleeping, but his dumb nose just wouldn't let him do it. I got up with him about 4 a.m. and we watched Bewitched. I think he enjoyed it. I thought it was pretty unremarkable, but I did like the clothes Nicole Kidman wore. And the idea of snapping your fingers to take care of the mundane tasks of the day.

Now that the other boys are awake also, we're taking it easy, with lots more strawberry pop and cough drops. I wasn't able to get my finger snapping to work, so I cleaned up the kitchen and next I plan to take a shower and change out of my pajamas.

In other news, I'm getting nervous about moving. First of all, I still have a sickening fear that the guy buying our house won't get his act together and we'll be left high and dry. Second, I'm worried that I won't get everything ready and it will be a move where we are doing things like picking up books and putting them in the front seat of the car and then carrying them into the new house and putting them on the floor. I have moved like that before, and it's no fun. And my mom and sister are coming out here that weekend, which is good in the sense that they are helpful and could take the kids to the hotel and play while Jade and I move heavy things. But also stressful in the sense that I wouldn't want to completely freak out while they're here, touching my stuff. Stop touching my stuff already!

So, that's where it stands. I have tons of little projects to work on as well, so I guess I'll go ahead and shower now. Or maybe work on my finger-snapping for a little while.

How to Break My Heart

2006-01-30T05:38:00.000-08:00

Catch a little cold. Nothing serious enough to slow you down, just a little runny nose and red cheeks. Until we go to bed. Then, fall asleep immediately because you didn't have a good nap and proceed to snore. Loudly. During the night, wake up often because you have so much gunk in your nasal passages that you can't breathe. But, don't wake up completely, just enough to cry for a minute, then fall back to sleep with your nose making squeaking and whistling sounds as you try to suck in enough air. Stop breathing for a second to see if that helps. Start breathing again, wake up and cry. Repeat.

Through it all, be so tired that you just want to put your head on my shoulder and sleep. Sleep for four or five seconds at a time, until the chocking wakes you up again. Poor, poor baby, feel better soon.

Adrift

2006-01-25T08:53:00.000-08:00

Some days I have a lot to do and I crank through my list with enough adrenaline to lift a car off of a toddler. Work out, check. Grocery store, check. Telephone calls returned, check. House picked up, kids dressed, dinner thought about and possibly even in the crock pot, check, check, check.

Then there are days like today when I meander aimlessly from one thing to another, never getting anything truly completed. The kids painted earlier, and the kitchen is still a disaster, paint and breakfast dishes everywhere. I have a few errands to run but I don't want to face the hassle of getting the kids in the car and making them sit there, unload, load back up, don't touch anything, don't run down the aisles of the grocery store, get your buckle on. Sometimes I think that I've made this choice to stay home with the kids so that their lives will be good, but I spend all my time doing things that don't involve them very much, like writing, cleaning, dragging them to playdates with my friends. Errands sort of fall into that category; if I worked they would have to do errands with me all weekend and in the evenings, but still. . .

So, we're off to story time at the library, then probably out to lunch (remember, my kitchen is covered in paint and dishes). Then, after I get Rison off to school, it's naptime for the little boys and I'll try to get myself together. Food and a change of scenery should help.

Carelton Sheets Can Kiss It

2006-01-21T15:43:00.000-08:00

Our buyer got qualified, so our house situation is concluded. At least on paper. We kicked around the idea of renting our current house and had two people who actually said they wanted it--not the same as writing us a check, but still--and then the original buyer got his financing and as we signed the contract to sell it to him, I could feel the tension drain from my husband , seeping away like beer from a bottle that's gotten knocked over in the grass.

See, I've never lived in a family with a rental business, except as an in-law with absolutely no responsibility or financial stake in the enterprise. I think to myself, "What can be so hard about it?" Especially with renters practically falling into our laps like they were. But Jade was never on board except to let me have my way. And that's not a partnership I want to be a part of.

And another thing: having two houses would have stretched us financially so that we would have needed some income from me every month. And not just to go to the movies or use for latte money either; we would have needed it to eat. As I cut away at our budget to accommodate the larger and larger payment on the new house, I cut away at our quality of life. Not just by denying ourselves, although there would have been plenty of that, but by making every single action significant in terms of dollars and cents. One load of laundry a day or two? Heat set at 65 degrees or 68? Give the kids a snack now, or wait until they're really hungry and I know they will finish it all? These kinds of decisions could have made us or broken us as we built our real estate empire.

Becoming a landlord was tempting to me because I see people with real estate investments who are living a quality of life that I envy. The envy is an ugly emotion, and I thought maybe I could placate it with the ol' If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em. I thought we could scrimp for a couple of years, "gut it out" so to speak and then reap the rewards. But the bottom line is, I don't want to pay what it would cost, financially or otherwise.

What made it o.k. for me to walk away was thinking about not only scrimping by each month, but also the not-so glamorous tasks of landlording, like cleaning out houses after a renter leaves--even good renters leave their own grime behind--finding new renters, reminding people to pay on time, or fixing little things that a homeowner would most likely just live with. What made it more than o.k. was remembering that if I want to clean up a bunch of problems caused by other people, I can always go back to corporate practice. Spending the physical and emotional energy that a rental would entail defeats the purpose of staying home to give my kids a good life. Or to give Jade and me a good life.

So, we are but lowly homeowners once again. And probably forever. We will have some breathing room each month as we transition into a larger space and I will have time and energy to focus on other pursuits. Whatever those pursuits may be, they won't involve carpet steamers or eviction proceedings. And that's fine by me.

Changes, Changes

2006-01-18T13:10:00.000-08:00

Have you ever read this book? The little wooden people build a house, it catches on fire, they turn the house into a fire engine, a boat, and various other necessary items until they rebuild their house again. That's a little like what's happening in our lives right now.

We have a house. We like our house. It's a cozy, little house. It has one bathroom. This is getting to be a problem.

We are buying a new house. It is a larger house, two blocks away from our current house. It has three bathrooms. This will be an improvement. It also has two more bedrooms, a laundry room the size of our current kitchen, a basement room that I have declared the Authorized Toy Area, a sunny nook area for my office, a two-car garage and a fire place. And a basketball court in the backyard. These will all be improvements.

Buying and selling houses isn't easy, I guess. There are offers, counter offers, more counter offers, contingencies, getting approved to borrow ridiculous amounts of money, having other people not getting qualified to borrow (less) ridiculous amounts of money--it's complicated. We reached a contract on the new house that was contingent on selling our current house and then a few days later, other people tried to buy the new house away from us. So we were all like, we saw it first, suckers, and removed the contingencies, and now we might not even sell our current house. Take that, you house stealers.

So, we may become landlords if the dude who wanted to buy our house doesn't get his act together to get qualified for his loan before 5 p.m. today. Or, we might sell our current house to somebody else, or we might forget the whole thing and run away to Mexico to work in the resorts down there. We could eat at the buffet, live in one of the guest rooms and the kids could learn Spanish and play baseball down there. Just don't try to stick us in a room with only one bathroom.

I Never Know What Time it Is

2006-01-06T05:09:00.000-08:00

I have a watch that I don't wear any more because it's broken. I've had it fixed three or four times; when I put it on again and give the kids a bath, it dies. The problem is with the metal bits that mark the numerals--they come unglued from the face and then jam themselves under the hands, stopping all time-keeping until the battery wears down.

Jade bought me this watch when I graduated from law school. I wore it every day when I was working at Big Law and at Psuedo-In-House. I liked the weight of it on my wrist and its shiny , silver band. It was the first piece of what I thought would be my career wardrobe, the equivalent of a black suit, the basic thing around which I would build my shiny, silver future. The future with two SUVs, a house in the suburbs and a cleaning lady once a week.

That future hasn't come to pass. A couple of months ago, I looked up some people who graduated from law school the same year I did and saw the word partner next to their names on the firm web-site. My name could have been there, if only... If only...

I am a partner now, but in an entirely different enterprise. I don't regret not continuing down that career path, but I do wish it hadn't been such an expensive beginning. I love my life right now--I do a little of this, a little of that and most of all I fill my arms with squirming little boys and give them hugs and kisses and tickles. I don't wear my shiny, silver watch, but I am acutely aware of the time passing as I live my shiny, silver life. I'll get that watch fixed someday. But probably not until this time is up.

It's Only Thursday and the Garbage Bin is Full

2006-01-03T07:11:00.000-08:00

I've been throwing Things away for the past two days. Big Things, small Things, Things that climb on rocks. Pieces of puzzles that we no longer own, pens, stickers and marbles found behind the couch, half-empty bottles of cleaning products that didn't work or I can't use because the aroma make the room spin around me. You know, Things.

The problem is, our garbage is picked up on Tuesday. I must stop throwing Things away immediately or our can that we roll to the street will be surrounded in black garbage bags, full of Things that our utility board will charge me to throw in to the back of the truck that doesn't come until next Tuesday. Yes, that is correct, five days until the next pick up and I estimate that I can get one more kitchen sack full of Things into the can, but I won't be able to close the lid. This could get ugly.

I'm often astounded by the amount of garbage we produce in a week anyway, even during weeks then all Things lurk safely in closets and under beds and behind the couch. On Monday nights, I try to go through the house and empty all the little trash cans, and that final bag has to be balanced ever-so-carefully on the top of what we've already tossed. And I have to pray that the wind doesn't blow until after about 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday so that the whole mess doesn't topple over into the street. I don't think that would be proper garbage day etiquette. (Some people on our street take the garbage day responsibility very seriously. They get their cans out to the curb before we wake up on Tuesdays. I've seen cans out on Monday nights around five-o'clock! These neighbors! They will not miss the garbage man should he decide not to call it day on Monday afternoon and instead start his Tuesday route immediately. They will have their garbage collected!)

(I make fun, but then again, I never have seen them rolling the can to the curb in their pajama pants as the truck rolls around the corner.)

Anyway, that's an update on my little life here. Raging against the Things and calculating the square footage of anything I'm thinking of tossing. Hmm, maybe some of the neighbors have room in their cans. I must investigate.

Roaring Start, in a Nervous, Insomniac Sort of Way

2006-01-02T05:04:00.000-08:00

Is the first day of January ever the shiny new start I dream it to be? This one wasn't. After sleeping for approximately thirty-five seconds, I woke up yesterday morning with a sick boy and then scrubbed diarrhea off of the bathroom floor while the clock mocked me by blinking numbers such as 5:27 and 5:39. There should be an automatic exemption from further domestic chores in such cases.

The children slept and ate and watched movies and played at random moments all day long while Jade and I worked on various projects including laundry and figuring where in the heck to put the Christmas loot still scattered hither and yon around the house. Note to self: Figure out where all the missiles the Batman toys shoot are going; many other riches you will find there.

The second day of January, so far, has been about napping and thinking about napping. Between naps, we looked at a house exactly one block north of our house that would give us some elbow room. In our house now, I can look out the kitchen window at the comings and goings of the three or four houses across the street--in the house we looked at, I could spy on the same neighbors, only through their back yards instead. Except for the man across the street who currently has his couch and three computers sitting in his driveway as he (best we can figure) moves into the Recreational Vehicle that's parked on the street. His backyard has a privacy fence, the brute.

The house isn't the house, in fact there are several serious problems, such as there is NO OVEN in the kitchen. Seriously, no oven!?! Just a two-burner range and a "microwave/convection oven" mounted above the range. After some immediate work in the kitchen, the house could work for us. The improvement would lie in the basement and the second bathroom--instead of toys strewn throughout the house for me to stumble over, the strewing could be contained to the basement and the stumbling limited to when I went down there to do laundry or access the second toilet.

But right now, it doesn't seem like the right move. Although if we did move, no need to pack! Just grab the clothes out of the closet and carry them on the hangers across the street and around the corner! But ease of transition aside, the second toilet remains a dream for today. It's a pleasant dream, a shiny dream, a dream almost early January worthy, but still just a way to pass the time as I chase marbles and matchbox cars out from under the couch.

HAP--PEE New Year!

2006-01-01T06:48:00.000-08:00

New Year's Eve 1999, we gathered at my in-law's house to celebrate and see if all the technology in the world would explode when the clock struck midnight. My husband's 82- year-old grandfather was there and he excused himself to go to bed at about eleven p.m., but instead of sleeping, he waited upstairs until just before midnight and then tripped the fuse to the basement where we were all watching television. As we took a moment to drunkenly process whether there might be something to all this Y2K talk, he opened the floor grate from the kitchen above us and shouted, "HAP--PEE New Year!!" We then went upstairs and proceeded to wake up everyone who had gone to bed earlier and make crazy toasts with champagne and sparkling cider. We shouted and shared resolutions and laughed so hard we cried and concluded every toast with a resounding chorus of "HAP--PEE New Year" to celebrate what would be Grandpa Bishopp's last new year's eve. In the years between then and now, toasting and shouting and cheering became a way to remember Grandpa Bishopp and a tradition that took on a life of its own.

Last night, we didn't shout HAP--PEE New Year. In fact, I don't think anyone even bought champagne. That tradition, like many other things, was a great part of the extended family we find ourselves tangled up with, but like so much else, it's fallen aside as the family has evolved.

So it is fitting that we didn't welcome 2006 with shouting and cheering. Much has changed over the past five years and a great deal of that change has been painful and unpleasant for me. But so much more has been so satisfying that it's kept me hoping and kept me going.

"Satisfying" might be a strange word to use, but words like "wonderful" or "amazing" don't really convey what I feel about it all. The things that have happened in the past five years that I'm the most pleased with were not bestowed from above, leaving me "amazed" by it all. The things that I'm the most pleased with have happened because we have made them happen, applying our great big brains to problems that were bugging us and implementing solutions that met our objectives. I'm not grateful for the happiness I have; rather I'm grateful to have the ability to create that happiness, a few moments at a time, every day.

Since I didn't share any resolutions with the crowd of family last night, I'll share one here. In 2006, I resolve to keep on figuring things out. Whether it's my emotional reactions or how the kitchen counter should be configured, I'm going to take the gift of analytical thought and the gift of a partner who will talk with me through any and all kinds of problems and solutions, and I'm going to run with it. At the end of this year, I hope we gather together again so that I can shout "HAP-PEE New Year" with gusto.

Maybe We're Doing Something Right

2005-12-01T13:54:00.000-08:00

In the car this morning as I'm pulling into our driveway, after picking up Nolan from pre-school and getting some drive-thru McDonalds:

Nolan: Mom, can I have the baahgsh bor (garage door) opener and push it to close the baahgsh?

Me: Sure. (handing him the opener)

Rison: Aww, I wanted to push it one time.

Me: Oh, I already opened it. You can do it next time, okay?

Nolan: Here, Ida. (handing Rison the opener) You can do it.

Rison: (Delighted, but in a what-the-heck-is-this sort of way). Thanks, Nolan!

My Jaw: Hey! How about a little warning next time! A drop like that could knock a tooth loose.

Inside at the table as I'm handing out happy meal items:

Rison: I wish we got a Ronald McDonald cup (alas, the happy meal drinks came in Grimace and the Hamburgler cups today) so I could give it to you, Nolan.

6 Years Down, 60 Years To Go

2005-11-30T08:55:00.000-08:00

Six years ago yesterday, I was in a hospital bed in Denver, holding a 7 pound 2 ounce Rison in my arms, wondering if I'd ever sleep again or if the adrenaline coursing through my body would be a permanent feature of motherhood. And six years later, I'm still wondering if I'll ever sleep again, but quietly and secretly because that's one of the comments on parenting that I hate the most--"not much sleeping going on at your house, is there?" delivered by someone behind me in line at the supermarket. Actually, there is quite a bit of sleeping going on at our house (with the exception of the Super Baby episodes), and in fact, I wish there could be a little less because if I could function on less than 9 hours, I could get a hell of a lot done in a day.

I went into labor with Rison on his due date and he was born at about 3:45 in the morning on November 29, 1999. That's a fitting experience to tell when talking about Rison. Mothering him is fulfilling in so many ways that coincide with my expectations of mothering. When Rison was a baby, there wasn't much that I couldn't fix for him--today, there still isn't much that can't be fixed for him by sitting a while in my lap or his dad's and getting oriented again as our son, the person who loves and is loved by us.

My dad's dad is ninety-two years old. My dad is the youngest in his family, only in his early fifties. If my dad lives to be ninety-two, I will be seventy-one. If I live to be ninety-two, I will have been Rison's mother for sixty-six years. It doesn't seem like long enough. I love you, Rison. Happy Birthday.

Auggie Laughs

2005-11-28T13:43:00.000-08:00

Auggie Laughs
Originally uploaded by dallaslain.

Hey! I think I'm figuring out this Internet thingy. Side question: How much more convoluted moving of photos from a CD to my hard drive to flickr to here will I stand beore I break down adn buy a digital? Answer: probably quite a bit since I have my eye on a Nikon D70 (+/- $900.00)

Jack-Jack Doesn't Have Any Powers

2005-11-18T14:04:00.000-08:00

Reasons why my youngest son may be a super:

He is stealthy. Twice today he snuck up behind me without a sound and grinned his gummy grin at me when I jumped.
He loves water. Sometimes he climbs into the tub fully dressed, just to see what's happening in there. When I say, "Time to wash your hair," he actually lies down in the bathtub! In a bathtub containing water! And two days ago, he let me blow his hair dry! Based on his brothers' hatred of all things liquid, warm, cold or comby on their heads, I'm suspicious.
The most telling thing is: he does not nap! Does not nap!!!! (I had to type that again with a few exclamation marks for blog-style emphasis). Today, I got him to sleep after giving him lunch, a sippy of milk, a bath (with soothing nighttime Baby Wash), pajamas, and nursing in bed with him. I felt very smug for thirty-five minutes and then he woke up! More exclamation marks!!!! The preparation to nap ratio is seriously out of whack on that process.

I'm accepting of the idea that each baby has his own personality that he came into the world with, but guy has me puzzled. As I type this, he's lying on the floor playing with a Star Wars light saber and chanting "mam-mam, mam-mam, mam-mam." If I hear the "zzshoom" of an intergalactic weapon, well, may the Force be with me.

Morning

2005-11-17T04:54:00.000-08:00

I am not what you would call a morning person by nature. My mother will verify this once she stops laughing. But lately, I have been doing something amazing for me--waking up at 5:30 or so to go to the gym. In fact, that's where I'm going in about 10 minutes, as soon as Jade gets back. He gets up at 4:30 to go to the gym, making me look relatively normal.

Why do we do this? Well, the new gym is just up the street from our house and it is nice. No ripped seats, all the treadmills are working great and have a place to put your water bottle and magazine. The only problem is that it doesn't have childcare--yet. So I either have to trade kids with a friend or go at this crazy early hour. The thing is though, I'm kind of starting to like it. In fact, I've been waking up before my alarm some days and thinking to myself, "I'm not really that tired; I'll just get up now."

The worst days are when I sleep until the alarm rings. On those days, my inner seventeen-year old resurrects itself, defying the man by hitting the snooze from 6:30 until 7:54, then dashing through the house and out the door to make it to school by 8:15. True story. But today when the country music started playing from the alarm clock, I stealthily got out of bed, waking no one, got dressed and even fed the animals before sitting down to write this. The thing is that I like the gym. I like my life when I'm going to the gym. And I'm really starting to like mornings.

Abandoned Blog Found on Doorstep

2005-11-07T12:27:00.000-08:00

My little baby blog is already neglected enough to warrant investigation by DFCS. I lost my taste for it during the last month and also, some people decided that afternoons are no longer for napping. And also, I decided that some afternoons should be for napping. So, what's been happening over the past month? Well…

I worked on a project for a little cash money (and thanks to Sheryl for the chance to do it).
I did laundry, including a record 11 loads in one day after our visit from the stomach-flu bug. At one point during the worst night, the baby and I were sleeping on a bare mattress, covered with the featherbed. We still had the featherbed only because I made sure to scoot it out of the way as soon as I heard any gurgling. Rough night.
We played outside, enjoying really, really nice weather. Again today it was unbelievably warm with no wind, so we did what any sensible person would do and went to the park without jackets. We joined a flock of other mothers and children soaking up the last bits of sunshine into our skins before the real winter of Wyoming sets in. The winter that lasts until April and bites your eyelashes off if you try to go outside.

So, there you have it, a mundane life interrupted only by revolting episodes of illness. Stay tuned for riveting descriptions of what I ate for lunch, coming next week.

It's Fun to Play at the Y.M.C.A.

2005-10-21T06:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I realize that my life lacks a sense of excitement and adventure. To give you an example, a few months ago when a new gym advertised it would be opening soon in the strip mall just up the hill from my house. Did you get that--Just up the hill from my house!! Christmas, my birthday and "A NEW CAR" pale in comparison. Let me explain.

Before The New Gym, we were members of the YMCA. Now, I like the YMCA. I spent a lot of time each week at the YMCA. I liked working out when the gym is full of elderly people and other stay-at-home moms. What I didn't like was getting to the YMCA. Getting to the Y is an arduous process, to wit:

Get kids dressed; fight with at least one about what is acceptable attire for Funtime at the YMCA; load kids into the car; go back into the house for a moment's peace and to check that I have my Y-card and water bottle and my gym shoes actually on my feet (don't ask); drive across town to the YMCA listening to little voices recite "I doan wanna go funtime"; unload kids (one needs to be carried and one could walk but insists on being "tarried"); stagger into the lobby with kids, diaper bag and water bottle hanging from my arms, swipe my card and report my intended destination; stagger through the security doors and down the hallway to the nursery. . . I'm not even in the weight room yet and I'm sick of writing about it.

So back when Gym-Guy opened up his pre-sale trailer, we bought in. I bit the bullet and paid for the child care because the plan was that we would quit the Y and exercise here, spending $20 more a month, but worth it because of the convenience factor. The new gym opened two months ago and it's incredible. All new equipment, nothing torn or held together with electrical tape, every treadmill has a place to put a water bottle and a magazine ledge . . . but no child care yet. Gym-Guy thought he could just hire someone to supervise as the little ones watched; alas the state of Wyoming nixed that idea. Gym-Guy must get licensed and bonded and insured and inspected before our babes are deposited with the hired help. I tried to go early in the morning for a while, but it's just not working out.

So I'm back to the YMCA. I haven't broken the news to the kids yet as I prefer to limit the whining to times when they are confined to their car seats. I went in this week and got another card (my old one has actually been lost for about a year) and I signed the kids up for basketball and swimming lessons. We're Y people once again. I haven't given up on The New Gym entirely. In fact, I'm already fantasizing about next school year when Rison will be in first grade and Nolan in morning pre-school three days a week. Three! Days! Either that, or work on perfecting my robotronic replica who can stay at the house while the kids sleep each morning and dial 911 in the event of an emergency.

Curse You, Major League Baseball

2005-10-09T16:29:00.000-07:00

Starting the Cardinals/Padres playoff game at 9:00 MST (8:00 PST) might seem reasonable to you executive types as you look over a Saturday television schedule packed with college football and figure out how to ~~wring every possible dollar out of your advertisers~~ attract decent ratings for the game, but let me tell you why the GreenGrass household disapproves:

1. We have children.
2. 2/3 of our children will fall asleep only when in bed with a grown up. The other 1/3 will fall asleep alone, but only after complaining about his aloneness.
3. We are tired (see Item 1, supra).
4. When, at 8:40 MST, we put the children to bed, we will leave the television and lights on in the living room, intending to sneak out of bed, return to the living room and watch the game with the sound turned off.
5. This plan is brilliant because it means we can actually watch the game.
6. But, we will fall asleep, in bed, with the children (See Item 3, supra). The reason we got the t.v. was to watch the Cardinals and now we're sleeping through the game! Isn't this a fine kettle of fish.

There is, however, one saving grace. When we are awakened at 12:30 a.m. by one of our children, we will get up to turn off the t.v. and let the dog inside. SportsCenter will be showing the highlights of the game and we will return to bed knowing that the Redbirds won and next week we will have the chance to sleep through the Cardinals/Astros series. Sweet Dreams.

TV Guide

2005-10-03T13:46:00.000-07:00

I have a complicated relationship with television. I love it, hate it, am disgusted by it, am manipulated by it and finally banished it from our house at the beginning of 2004. My official reason for not bringing our television when we moved into this house was that the living room was so small and it would be better to have that space for the kids to play. My truer reason is that I know myself. Since we couldn't afford cable (seriously, forty-five bucks for expanded basic?), a television in our home only would have led to chronic neck and back pain as I contorted my body every afternoon, peering over my shoulder at the screen while holding aluminum foil rabbit ears close enough to the window to get the broadcast signal of Oprah.

But, times, they are a-changin' and last week, we retrieved our television from my in-law's house. Why, you might ask? Because baseball playoffs start this week and I believe in being prepared. Prepared for us to want to watch the Cardinals play and if they lose, to want to watch the American League pennant race and after that's wrapped up, to want to watch the World Series. I mean, who doesn't watch the World Series? Besides people whose established bedtime is eight-thirty, anyway?

So, the cable guy came, he installed and he left us sitting on the couch, our mouths hanging open as we took in the wondrous array of entertainment options available for just $1.67 per day. (When the screen flashes black between commercials and we catch a glimpse of ourselves reflected on the screen, we try to close our mouths and wipe the drool from our chins.) After the cable guy left, the kids immediately wrestled the remote control from my hands and began punching 4-0 4-0 4-0 until they arrived at the animated mecca that is Cartoon Network. I'm not worried that television is making them dumber either, because besides the number 40, they also know 3-5 and 3-6 (Nickelodeon and Disney). I really think tv is helping them develop their number sense, wouldn’t you agree?

At the end of the first weekend, I would say that I'm enjoying the television, but I still have a sense of perspective about it. Today we made it through the morning with no one watching, a remarkable feat if you consider that Dora and Blue and whoever-else would love to ~~brainwash~~ entertain my boys for the morning and I would, many days, love to have them entertained so that I can get some work done. I'm sure Dora and company will have their opportunity, but for now, tv is back in our lives for a probationary period only. To misquote Roz from Monsters, Inc.: I'm watching you, television. Always watching.

Until There Was You

2005-09-29T14:11:00.000-07:00

Every year on your birthday I think of many, many gifts you might enjoy or that I might enjoy giving you; gifts that will show you how much I love you and think of you and how special and appreciated you are. Yet every year, nothing I think of is quite right. Some ideas I've rejected this year include a book (when would you read it?), new pants to wear to work (you really, really need some), a weekend getaway (there are three reasons, five, two and one, that this won't work). But after thinking about it some more, I've decided that what I should do for your birthday is pray. Not your pew-sitting, head-bowed, demure Presbyterian prayer either. More of a teary-faced, jubilant, hands-raised-in-the-air prayer of thanks and celebration that once there was this day and on it, you were born.

When I lose my perspective, you widen my gaze. When I lose respect for myself because of my failures, you find the successful, competent girl who you married and show her to me for days or even weeks at a time until I can see her again. When I lose my faith in people because of ugly and selfish acts, you give me a steadfast example of caring as you wake up every day and give all that you have to your students, your family and to me. If you are driving home from work this afternoon and a ray of sunlight falls unswervingly through the clouds onto your truck and you hear a voice saying, "You are doing your best and I am proud of you," don't be scared and please don't wreck and die on the interstate. It just means that I prayed with gratefulness equal to what you deserve. I love you.

Denial Cookies

2005-09-28T14:35:00.000-07:00

1 c. butter

1 ¼ c. brown sugar

¼ c. white sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp. vanilla

1 c. white flour

1 c. wheat flour

1 c. oats

1 tsp. baking soda

½ tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

1 ½ c. dark chocolate chips.

Make these the way you would TollHouse® cookies and bake at 375 for ten minutes.

Eat as many as you wish. They contain dark chocolate, important for your antioxidant intake. They substitute wheat flour for part of the white flour—whole grains are healthier. The oats lower your cholesterol. Eggs give you necessary protein. Are you starting to see the pattern yet? If not, pour yourself a glass of milk (more protein! and calcium! for strong bones!)

In addition, if you bake these cookies while your small children are napping in the afternoon, you will feel better when they wake up. Watching a baby smear chocolaty goodness all over his face and listening to older boys chatter about their grand plans while milk moustaches spread across their upper lips—well, it's quite the salve for a prickly-heat heart.