Never before in my life have I experienced a more visceral moment of what I feel is the quintessential spirit of Christmas than I did just moments ago. With snow dancing downward from a deep, dark sky, my 4-year-old and I plowed through inches of new-fallen snow to deliver homemade cookies to our neighbors. Giggling as our feet plunged into the unknown depths of each step, we hurried from house to house bearing more than ginger cookies but also a sincere feeling of love, kindness and gratitude. Love for our fellow humans, love for each other and our family; gratitude for the welcoming community in which we find ourselves now living; gratitude for being warm during such a cold, cold night.
My heart pulsed with love for my dear child* whose hand I held and, who later, I carried on my back while singing Christmas carols as we plunged through the pure white powder which was often illuminated with the festive, warm colors of Christmas lights.
Although I am so very fortunate to give my children gifts this year for Christmas, I feel that, by moving here, I am raising them in a place of beauty where neighbors actually know each other and where our hearts sing as we drink it all in, grateful for each other and for the peace in our hearts.
May all of you find such peace. Merry Christmas and happy holidays.
* It was too cold for my 2-year-olds but they were in my heart as well.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tirade
In the grand scheme of things, the moment was trivial. Compared to the horrors being experienced by those in Mumbai and even ordinary folk struggling to live their lives anywhere on the globe, it was not even close to being a truly stressful situation; however, since I can only experience my own life (although I do empathize with others), I found myself baffled at how completely my 4-year-old could make me feel paralyzed and inept in front of countless witnesses. What a joy to behold perhaps but definitely not one to experience.
Before describing this special moment with my child, I'll preface it with a little history. The reason it was just he and I and not the whole family was due to two factors: money and maintaining our sanity. It already cost us $1000 to fly just the 2 of us so it would have been ridiculous for 5. Plus, who is seriously insane enough to fly with 3 kids 4 and under?
My son hadn't flown since he was 6 months old. He might as well never have as far as his memory was concerned. I was entering the realm of new and unknown experiences with my child which, in the past, hadn't always produced the best results. Being the "smart" parent, I thought of ways to prepare him for the trip. I made one big mistake. Thinking that going through security might be frightening for him, I thought it might be helpful for him to watch a video I found on the TSA's website regarding flying with children. It shows children happily going through security. It shows how they might use the wand to check for metals but it's all happy go lucky. No problemo.
Yeah, well. You can guess where this is heading. We get to security and he starts to panic. I manage to get his shoes off and his coat and put them in the buckets. I get his luggage up and mine. I pick up the now screaming child and walk through the metal detector. No beeps. Whew. Ok, the worst is over. . . except he runs off and down toward the guard at the end of the security area who tries to stop him which makes him even more scared so he turns back and runs BEHIND the security area where about 10 guards are standing completely baffled as this frantic, panicking, insane little 4-year old literally weaves in and out of the guards desperately trying to escape this frighteningly scary place while yelling, "no metal!"
So proud. So very proud.
Obviously, we get him out of there and we move along. We gave the guards a little something to chuckle about. It took a few minutes for my blood pressure to go down and to remind myself that patience is actually a virtue and that it is sort of in my grasp if I would stop feeling the need to strangle the little rascal.
This same child, who wove in and out of trained security guards screaming like a banshee, then boarded the plane and entertained (in a good way) the passengers nearby with his cute ways such as asking a nearby 12-year-old what he was thankful for. It was probably good that he didn't ask me that shortly after his tirade but, in the true spirit of a parent who understands the depth of a parents love, I'm thankful for that little rascal even if he can embarrass me like no other.
Before describing this special moment with my child, I'll preface it with a little history. The reason it was just he and I and not the whole family was due to two factors: money and maintaining our sanity. It already cost us $1000 to fly just the 2 of us so it would have been ridiculous for 5. Plus, who is seriously insane enough to fly with 3 kids 4 and under?
My son hadn't flown since he was 6 months old. He might as well never have as far as his memory was concerned. I was entering the realm of new and unknown experiences with my child which, in the past, hadn't always produced the best results. Being the "smart" parent, I thought of ways to prepare him for the trip. I made one big mistake. Thinking that going through security might be frightening for him, I thought it might be helpful for him to watch a video I found on the TSA's website regarding flying with children. It shows children happily going through security. It shows how they might use the wand to check for metals but it's all happy go lucky. No problemo.
Yeah, well. You can guess where this is heading. We get to security and he starts to panic. I manage to get his shoes off and his coat and put them in the buckets. I get his luggage up and mine. I pick up the now screaming child and walk through the metal detector. No beeps. Whew. Ok, the worst is over. . . except he runs off and down toward the guard at the end of the security area who tries to stop him which makes him even more scared so he turns back and runs BEHIND the security area where about 10 guards are standing completely baffled as this frantic, panicking, insane little 4-year old literally weaves in and out of the guards desperately trying to escape this frighteningly scary place while yelling, "no metal!"
So proud. So very proud.
Obviously, we get him out of there and we move along. We gave the guards a little something to chuckle about. It took a few minutes for my blood pressure to go down and to remind myself that patience is actually a virtue and that it is sort of in my grasp if I would stop feeling the need to strangle the little rascal.
This same child, who wove in and out of trained security guards screaming like a banshee, then boarded the plane and entertained (in a good way) the passengers nearby with his cute ways such as asking a nearby 12-year-old what he was thankful for. It was probably good that he didn't ask me that shortly after his tirade but, in the true spirit of a parent who understands the depth of a parents love, I'm thankful for that little rascal even if he can embarrass me like no other.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Ill prepared
How many times had I insisted that we have the Epi-pen handy even for the twins who may not have severe allergies? Despite my diligence, I panicked today as I looked for one of the many I thought I had around the house. One was supposed to be in my purse, one in the diaper bag but where the hell was it? The extra diaper bag. Why the hell do I have an extra one?
Where the hell are my keys? I just had them. Toys at my feet and babies crying in the car, what the hell did I do with my keys? He was getting worse.
Epi-pen found. Keys found. Unhesitatingly, yet recoiling emotionally, I plunged the Epi-pen into my darling son's leg despite his protests.
Which hospital to go to? The one that I took Dylan when he fell or the new, fancy one near the house? I'm not from these parts - which one is good? Thank you, Lord, my mother-in-law answered the phone. Going to the close hospital and she's meeting me there.
Husband informed and trying to not panic him as I speed to the ER.
Peanuts. Peanut butter on a cracker at a school he'd only been to 4 times. "Severe peanut allergy" listed on his applications. Epi-pen provided but I'm confusion about how well I had informed them of that and wondering why they didn't take it more seriously. How mad should I be that someone handed out the crackers provided by some parent with a child who obviously doesn't have a severe peanut allergy. Obviously.
Swollen, red and angry hives all over his little body. Bloody scratches from his itching. Crying because he's scared. Juggling three babies at the ER until my sweet mother-in-law arrives and takes the little ones - one of whom is missing a shoe because it wasn't important. Nothing was important except getting Neil to the ER.
Doctors, nurses, medicines, shots. Cries, giggles eventually and redness abating. He's going to be ok. Daddy comes and helps with the giggles and snuggles. My darling boy charming the nurses and amusing the doctors.
Instructions, relief and disbelief that everything is going to be ok. My little darling survived it and I can only humbly fall to my knees in thanks for everyone who helped my son survive the life-threatening exposure to the most innocent-seeming, childhood food of peanut butter.
Where the hell are my keys? I just had them. Toys at my feet and babies crying in the car, what the hell did I do with my keys? He was getting worse.
Epi-pen found. Keys found. Unhesitatingly, yet recoiling emotionally, I plunged the Epi-pen into my darling son's leg despite his protests.
Which hospital to go to? The one that I took Dylan when he fell or the new, fancy one near the house? I'm not from these parts - which one is good? Thank you, Lord, my mother-in-law answered the phone. Going to the close hospital and she's meeting me there.
Husband informed and trying to not panic him as I speed to the ER.
Peanuts. Peanut butter on a cracker at a school he'd only been to 4 times. "Severe peanut allergy" listed on his applications. Epi-pen provided but I'm confusion about how well I had informed them of that and wondering why they didn't take it more seriously. How mad should I be that someone handed out the crackers provided by some parent with a child who obviously doesn't have a severe peanut allergy. Obviously.
Swollen, red and angry hives all over his little body. Bloody scratches from his itching. Crying because he's scared. Juggling three babies at the ER until my sweet mother-in-law arrives and takes the little ones - one of whom is missing a shoe because it wasn't important. Nothing was important except getting Neil to the ER.
Doctors, nurses, medicines, shots. Cries, giggles eventually and redness abating. He's going to be ok. Daddy comes and helps with the giggles and snuggles. My darling boy charming the nurses and amusing the doctors.
Instructions, relief and disbelief that everything is going to be ok. My little darling survived it and I can only humbly fall to my knees in thanks for everyone who helped my son survive the life-threatening exposure to the most innocent-seeming, childhood food of peanut butter.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Old and new
Apparently, we weren't the only ones to journey across Texas, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah. Hidden among our enormous truckload of belongings, a small gecko held on for dear life. Hot, bumpy and long, our journey took 3 days to drive from Plano, Texas, to Salt Lake City, Utah. Since we were exhausted, I can only imagine how tired the little gecko was considering, unlike us, he didn't have the luxury of food or water.
Although we brought along many things from Texas and even Texans themselves, the discovery of our secret passenger made me ponder how far we were from Texas considering Utah probably isn't hospitable to a little lizard from Texas. Fortunately, the gecko was found by a groovy chica who doesn't flinch at the idea of caring for the little rascal. Armed with a background in science and a knack for caring for creatures, Nikki confidently assumed the role of caretaker. We should know in a few days whether the little creature adapts to his new home.
As for us, we are adapting quite well. It is absolutely gorgeous here and surprisingly comfortable. Oddly enough, I continue to find elements of my old home. For instance, as we crossed over the Utah border, we stopped at a groovy restaurant in Monticello, Utah, called the Peace Cafe or something hippy sounding like that. One minute I was feeling how far from home we were but then I walked into a room that sent me back. It's pretty remarkable how certain smells can trigger very distinct memories and something about one of the rooms of the restaurant smelled just like my grandmother's house. Perhaps it was the age of the house or a certain kind of soap but I had never found that scent anywhere but at her house. Now that she is no longer with us and I'm unable to visit her house, I was comforted that perhaps I'd still have opportunities to connect with memories of her despite how far away I am from Texas.
While I was touched by a sense of home then, I have experienced many things which are far from it, although most of them are quite pleasant. For instance, I have enjoyed being outside more often throughout the day due to the cooler temperatures. I have been able to be outside in the late afternoon and evening without being bitten by mosquitos. I took a 10 minute drive up into a beautiful canyon and saw mountain rivers rushing along the road.
Of course, not everything is so pleasant, although I can't say I have experienced anything truly negative either. The fact that my Texas accent stands out like a sore thumb does make me feel a bit conspicuous. I also feel that I have dried out due to the lack of humidity which causes me to drink gallons of water a day. I still don't know how to get around here, although I did successfully get out alone today and find my way around a bit. (I had to pat myself on the shoulder for that one but I have to hand it to the city planners though because the city is laid out in a pretty orderly fashion.)
So, as I sit and rock outside listening to beautiful mourning doves (who thankfully live here too), I feel a sense of tranquility that I haven't enjoyed for a very long time. I do miss home for sure and I especially miss my family but my heart is telling me that it really needed this and I'm thankful we did it and am grateful to those who helped us get here.
Although we brought along many things from Texas and even Texans themselves, the discovery of our secret passenger made me ponder how far we were from Texas considering Utah probably isn't hospitable to a little lizard from Texas. Fortunately, the gecko was found by a groovy chica who doesn't flinch at the idea of caring for the little rascal. Armed with a background in science and a knack for caring for creatures, Nikki confidently assumed the role of caretaker. We should know in a few days whether the little creature adapts to his new home.
As for us, we are adapting quite well. It is absolutely gorgeous here and surprisingly comfortable. Oddly enough, I continue to find elements of my old home. For instance, as we crossed over the Utah border, we stopped at a groovy restaurant in Monticello, Utah, called the Peace Cafe or something hippy sounding like that. One minute I was feeling how far from home we were but then I walked into a room that sent me back. It's pretty remarkable how certain smells can trigger very distinct memories and something about one of the rooms of the restaurant smelled just like my grandmother's house. Perhaps it was the age of the house or a certain kind of soap but I had never found that scent anywhere but at her house. Now that she is no longer with us and I'm unable to visit her house, I was comforted that perhaps I'd still have opportunities to connect with memories of her despite how far away I am from Texas.
While I was touched by a sense of home then, I have experienced many things which are far from it, although most of them are quite pleasant. For instance, I have enjoyed being outside more often throughout the day due to the cooler temperatures. I have been able to be outside in the late afternoon and evening without being bitten by mosquitos. I took a 10 minute drive up into a beautiful canyon and saw mountain rivers rushing along the road.
Of course, not everything is so pleasant, although I can't say I have experienced anything truly negative either. The fact that my Texas accent stands out like a sore thumb does make me feel a bit conspicuous. I also feel that I have dried out due to the lack of humidity which causes me to drink gallons of water a day. I still don't know how to get around here, although I did successfully get out alone today and find my way around a bit. (I had to pat myself on the shoulder for that one but I have to hand it to the city planners though because the city is laid out in a pretty orderly fashion.)
So, as I sit and rock outside listening to beautiful mourning doves (who thankfully live here too), I feel a sense of tranquility that I haven't enjoyed for a very long time. I do miss home for sure and I especially miss my family but my heart is telling me that it really needed this and I'm thankful we did it and am grateful to those who helped us get here.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tired giggles
Apparently, I'm the best at using the fancy box tape mechanism. If you need a box taped up, I'm the chic. Confident in my abilities, I expertly began taping the bubble wrap surrounding a huge mirror from our dresser which was being supported by my husband and my mother-in-law. As my father-in-law rolled out the wrap and I taped, we were in the flow and were feeling very proficient until I got the tape all tangled and half stuff to the wrap and myself and anything in its way. So much for being the tape diva. Tired to the bone, we all found ourselves giggling relentlessly at the ridiculous situation and the laughter felt great.
Today, within hours, I found out that I don't have breast cancer, the house sale went through and Chris had a good interview for a job. Not bad considering how much of a beating the last few days have been. So, as we hustled and bustled to pack up the remaining items, it was great to have a moment of silly, tired laughter as we shared in a moment of fun after a very long day which followed a very long trial of various hardships to get to this moment and we're here and it's nice.
Since we're moving I won't be posting for a few days. Until then, may everyone be happy and well. My next post will be from Salt Lake City, Utah.
Today, within hours, I found out that I don't have breast cancer, the house sale went through and Chris had a good interview for a job. Not bad considering how much of a beating the last few days have been. So, as we hustled and bustled to pack up the remaining items, it was great to have a moment of silly, tired laughter as we shared in a moment of fun after a very long day which followed a very long trial of various hardships to get to this moment and we're here and it's nice.
Since we're moving I won't be posting for a few days. Until then, may everyone be happy and well. My next post will be from Salt Lake City, Utah.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Drowning
When I was little, I had an aquarium. I spent countless hours sitting in front of it watching my fish live out their lives. Most of the time, it was peaceful to sit there and watch them swim from one glass wall to the next, chasing each other or idling in one spot staring vacantly at something I couldn't see. At other times, I learned important life lessons such as the cruelty of nature and the inevitability of death.
I remember being panicked when I would discover a fish who was ailing. If they had a disease called ick, I put some kind of medicine in the water but I don't recall whether it ever worked. Most of the time, I'd find myself witnessing the fish's struggle to live despite his or her body's efforts to die. As its body became more limp and its attempt to swim grew weaker and more infrequent, I would become enraged and horrified as its fellow fish took advantage of the ailing fish's weakness and would begin to peck at it in a cannibalistic fashion. As the fish flailed around, struggling with every move, the healthy fish swam by and pecked at it impassively, not seeming to recognize what it was they were eating.
Thankfully, I'm not the fish and I'm in good health as far as I know but I am struggling. I'll be completely honest: my life is incredibly hard right now and there are times when I feel I'm not up to the task despite my best efforts. Unfortunately, while dealing with the often overwhelming task of raising 3 boys 3 and under (not to mention moving, being concerned about breast cancer, and all the aggravations one typically experiences in life), I find that there are some who take jabs at me when I'm at my weakest but, thankfully, there are also those who lift me up to the surface.
So, as I flail around over the next weeks, I sincerely hope that I can keep the nibblers at bay and that I can rely on the sturdiness of those who selflessly can help me stay afloat.
I remember being panicked when I would discover a fish who was ailing. If they had a disease called ick, I put some kind of medicine in the water but I don't recall whether it ever worked. Most of the time, I'd find myself witnessing the fish's struggle to live despite his or her body's efforts to die. As its body became more limp and its attempt to swim grew weaker and more infrequent, I would become enraged and horrified as its fellow fish took advantage of the ailing fish's weakness and would begin to peck at it in a cannibalistic fashion. As the fish flailed around, struggling with every move, the healthy fish swam by and pecked at it impassively, not seeming to recognize what it was they were eating.
Thankfully, I'm not the fish and I'm in good health as far as I know but I am struggling. I'll be completely honest: my life is incredibly hard right now and there are times when I feel I'm not up to the task despite my best efforts. Unfortunately, while dealing with the often overwhelming task of raising 3 boys 3 and under (not to mention moving, being concerned about breast cancer, and all the aggravations one typically experiences in life), I find that there are some who take jabs at me when I'm at my weakest but, thankfully, there are also those who lift me up to the surface.
So, as I flail around over the next weeks, I sincerely hope that I can keep the nibblers at bay and that I can rely on the sturdiness of those who selflessly can help me stay afloat.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Choices
If you think about it, the act of making a choice is such a fundamental part of being a free spirit. Choices send us in a variety of directions, influencing our futures in ways we often can't grasp when making them. For some, choices are frightening. For others they're exciting. For many, choices are made without realization by a sleeping mind.
For those who chose to view the world in terms of good or bad, choices can be a frightening dilemma since there is the 50-50 risk of failure. If one strives to be perfect and unerring, it is essential to make only "safe" choices or those deemed to have the least risk factors. Although this perspective has its own validity, I find it stifling and limiting. I also feel that life is still too unpredictable for any life to truly be safe at all. Ultimately, the biggest fear (death) is awaiting all of us no matter how cautious we are.
On the other hand, there are those who take big risks and, speaking in cliche, throw caution to the wind. Blown from one whim to the next, their lives run the risk of being aimless and immature as they avoid being grounded in responsibility as they repeatedly make choices that help them escape themselves and their troubles.
I can't help but ask myself whether I'm more cautious or more whimsical with the choices I make but I find it hard to separate what it is I believe from what I think important people in my life believe about my choices. As I try to untangle the answer to this question, I can't help but feel I'm a mixture of both and that I often fluctuate back and forth between the two. I have noticed that I feel more calm about major decisions in the day when I'm fully rested and more insecure and cautious at night when I'm tired and trying to sleep. I'm not the first to notice that anxieties manifest themselves more dominantly at night. I believe it was the Navajos who had an expression along the lines of "even spotted leopards look black at night," or something along those lines.
Rather than viewing a choice in its simplest form, I can't help but ponder judgments regarding whether decisions are viewed as good or bad by ourselves and by others. Lately, I have listened to a variety of opinions about our moving to Salt Lake City. The more cautious a person is the more negatively they view our moving. The more adventurous they are the more they support it. However, we do have a few friends who I would neither characterize as overly cautious nor overly flighty who feel that, although there is risk involved in our move, we made the decision after very careful consideration. Perhaps I'm seeking support here but I would have to agree with them.
As the coming week unfolds out in front of us, I'm a bit intimidated by the many, many things we need to take care of. From packing, closing on the house, and moving to getting a biopsy (the mammogram was inconclusive) three days before we leave, I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. As much as Chris and I support each other and our decision, I can't help but desire support from those who are, at the least, ambivalent or, at the most, are unsupportive altogether. Ultimately, the choice has been made and we intend to follow through as long as it is meant to be. I guess I have to make the choice to trust myself and my husband and to know in my heart that we're not making a reckless choice by trying to provide a better life for ourselves and our children.
So, as the time approaches 11:00 p.m., I'm reaching for a peaceful mind that will not only allow me to have a restful sleep but one that accepts the misgivings of others without taking on their feelings as my own.
For those who chose to view the world in terms of good or bad, choices can be a frightening dilemma since there is the 50-50 risk of failure. If one strives to be perfect and unerring, it is essential to make only "safe" choices or those deemed to have the least risk factors. Although this perspective has its own validity, I find it stifling and limiting. I also feel that life is still too unpredictable for any life to truly be safe at all. Ultimately, the biggest fear (death) is awaiting all of us no matter how cautious we are.
On the other hand, there are those who take big risks and, speaking in cliche, throw caution to the wind. Blown from one whim to the next, their lives run the risk of being aimless and immature as they avoid being grounded in responsibility as they repeatedly make choices that help them escape themselves and their troubles.
I can't help but ask myself whether I'm more cautious or more whimsical with the choices I make but I find it hard to separate what it is I believe from what I think important people in my life believe about my choices. As I try to untangle the answer to this question, I can't help but feel I'm a mixture of both and that I often fluctuate back and forth between the two. I have noticed that I feel more calm about major decisions in the day when I'm fully rested and more insecure and cautious at night when I'm tired and trying to sleep. I'm not the first to notice that anxieties manifest themselves more dominantly at night. I believe it was the Navajos who had an expression along the lines of "even spotted leopards look black at night," or something along those lines.
Rather than viewing a choice in its simplest form, I can't help but ponder judgments regarding whether decisions are viewed as good or bad by ourselves and by others. Lately, I have listened to a variety of opinions about our moving to Salt Lake City. The more cautious a person is the more negatively they view our moving. The more adventurous they are the more they support it. However, we do have a few friends who I would neither characterize as overly cautious nor overly flighty who feel that, although there is risk involved in our move, we made the decision after very careful consideration. Perhaps I'm seeking support here but I would have to agree with them.
As the coming week unfolds out in front of us, I'm a bit intimidated by the many, many things we need to take care of. From packing, closing on the house, and moving to getting a biopsy (the mammogram was inconclusive) three days before we leave, I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. As much as Chris and I support each other and our decision, I can't help but desire support from those who are, at the least, ambivalent or, at the most, are unsupportive altogether. Ultimately, the choice has been made and we intend to follow through as long as it is meant to be. I guess I have to make the choice to trust myself and my husband and to know in my heart that we're not making a reckless choice by trying to provide a better life for ourselves and our children.
So, as the time approaches 11:00 p.m., I'm reaching for a peaceful mind that will not only allow me to have a restful sleep but one that accepts the misgivings of others without taking on their feelings as my own.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Spilled cheerios
Nothing like a good, old fashioned breast cancer scare to make life a tiny bit more dramatic. With a family history of breast cancer, I felt it was only smart to get a mammogram after I turned 35. I'm sure it's probably nothing but they need a more detailed mammogram of an area in question - one week before I move out of my home state.
When I'm feeling sorry for myself, which is unfortunately too often these days, it's hard not to laugh at how ridiculous my life has been over the past few years. From twin babies, hospital stays, an ovarian cancer scare and subsequent surgery, the death of my grandmother, putting our house on the market, 52 showings, packing the house up and the emotional ramifications of my moving away from my family, I thought that perhaps I had had enough doo doo thrown my way but apparently not. One thing that I have learned is that my childhood idea of an easy life has evaporated into a stressful, amazing, insane, wonderful, nutso life and the best way to enjoy the best parts are to push my way through the crummy ones.
So, today I go in for the second mammogram. Although they reassure me that it's probably nothing, it's not easy for my mind not to go down the path of what if they're wrong. I'm waiting for them to prove the negative - that I don't have cancer - but until then I have keep on packing, pick up spilled cheerios and wait for the results.
When I'm feeling sorry for myself, which is unfortunately too often these days, it's hard not to laugh at how ridiculous my life has been over the past few years. From twin babies, hospital stays, an ovarian cancer scare and subsequent surgery, the death of my grandmother, putting our house on the market, 52 showings, packing the house up and the emotional ramifications of my moving away from my family, I thought that perhaps I had had enough doo doo thrown my way but apparently not. One thing that I have learned is that my childhood idea of an easy life has evaporated into a stressful, amazing, insane, wonderful, nutso life and the best way to enjoy the best parts are to push my way through the crummy ones.
So, today I go in for the second mammogram. Although they reassure me that it's probably nothing, it's not easy for my mind not to go down the path of what if they're wrong. I'm waiting for them to prove the negative - that I don't have cancer - but until then I have keep on packing, pick up spilled cheerios and wait for the results.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
High standards
I realized just now that my standards have really changed these days. I guess you could say that they've shifted away from me and toward my children. As I was preparing for a morning outing with the boys, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror: hair in a lazy bun, no makeup, teeth unbrushed, clothes covered in pancake mix and I decided that perhaps I could make myself look a little "less than shitty".
The sad thing is that is my new standard for myself. When I said those words to myself (in my head and not out loud - I do have a little sanity left), I was struck by how little regard I have for myself these days. It's not that I don't care about myself or how I appear to the world, it's that I seriously don't have time to. Actually, maybe I don't care. Well, maybe I do. Perhaps I'm not sure.
Anyway, so I took a moment and brushed my teeth, put on a bit of makeup. There. I'm still in pancake clothes but I'm at least a little less than shitty. I guess if I change clothes I could be a little less than crappy and if I put clothes on that actually are attractive I might pass for ok. The days of cute, hot or decent are over but at least my boys look good.
The sad thing is that is my new standard for myself. When I said those words to myself (in my head and not out loud - I do have a little sanity left), I was struck by how little regard I have for myself these days. It's not that I don't care about myself or how I appear to the world, it's that I seriously don't have time to. Actually, maybe I don't care. Well, maybe I do. Perhaps I'm not sure.
Anyway, so I took a moment and brushed my teeth, put on a bit of makeup. There. I'm still in pancake clothes but I'm at least a little less than shitty. I guess if I change clothes I could be a little less than crappy and if I put clothes on that actually are attractive I might pass for ok. The days of cute, hot or decent are over but at least my boys look good.
Monday, June 30, 2008
On a roll
The luxury of moving is that I am finding more creative ways to occupy the kiddos. From letting them "help" me pack (which involves giving them boxes for them to play with while I do the real thing) to rolling out old wrapping paper on the floor so they can slip, slide or color on it, I'm finding that packing up a house is tricky but is ripe with many silly opportunities for play.
Of course, with the full heat of summer beating down on us, I feel trapped in the house with three energetic boys and haunted by an unending list of to dos. I would much rather rest, put my feet up and cool off. As I listen to the sound of a neglected tv playing in the back of the house, I find myself looking forward to the changes ahead - if anything because it will be different than this right now.
As I wander the house, going from room to room to room, I am reminded of different days by the pictures I'm now packing away. Today, I packed our wedding photos which is only fitting considering today is our 7 year anniversary. Is it time for the 7 year itch? Nah. Chris and I don't have the energy to cheat on each other. Perhaps our 7 year itch has manifested in this move. I think we both need a change especially after the challenging years we've had. Although my relationship with some are being upset by this move, I'm glad to know that Chris and I have only grown closer and we're more committed to each other and our family as we prepare for a new, and hopefully, exciting future.
One wedding, one honeymoon, two houses, and three babies later, we're still on a roll. Happy anniversary, hon.
Of course, with the full heat of summer beating down on us, I feel trapped in the house with three energetic boys and haunted by an unending list of to dos. I would much rather rest, put my feet up and cool off. As I listen to the sound of a neglected tv playing in the back of the house, I find myself looking forward to the changes ahead - if anything because it will be different than this right now.
As I wander the house, going from room to room to room, I am reminded of different days by the pictures I'm now packing away. Today, I packed our wedding photos which is only fitting considering today is our 7 year anniversary. Is it time for the 7 year itch? Nah. Chris and I don't have the energy to cheat on each other. Perhaps our 7 year itch has manifested in this move. I think we both need a change especially after the challenging years we've had. Although my relationship with some are being upset by this move, I'm glad to know that Chris and I have only grown closer and we're more committed to each other and our family as we prepare for a new, and hopefully, exciting future.
One wedding, one honeymoon, two houses, and three babies later, we're still on a roll. Happy anniversary, hon.
Saying Bye
Our fate has been decided and we’re moving to Salt Lake City. Although we go about our daily routine of feeding, clothing and playing with our babies, our house is slowly emptying as towers of boxes climb to the ceilings. Trying to maintain order during a time of deconstruction is challenging but we’re doing it in stages in order to allow ourselves and our boys to adjust to the changes.
As I place one of our possessions in a box, I can’t help but remind myself that one day I’ll be pulling that same object out in a new home. I know how I’m feeling now – although I can’t really define it since it’s comprised of many emotions – I wonder what I’ll be feeling then. I can’t help but worry that I’ll be sad and filled with regret but I hope I’ll be optimistic and excited about our new life in SLC.
As we pack up our belongings, we’re also saying our farewells to our loved ones. Last Saturday, we met with some of our closest friends at a local bar. With the breeze of an afternoon shower bathing us in coolness, our hearts were warmed with the love of friendship and our appreciation of our shared histories. The night was ripe with giggles as we let our guards down and just shared the evening together just one more time.
Heavy with sleepiness, good beer and food, we drove home (Chris was designated so he had only had a beer or two hours before) later than we had in a long time. Feeling the vibration of 75 below us, I was soothed by thoughts of our friends. Spending time with our friends was like slipping into our childhood bed and snuggling in a nice, warm blanket. I was at peace despite not knowing when we’d see them again. I know our friendships are enduring and that the critical component is love and connection and I knew we had that.
As I place one of our possessions in a box, I can’t help but remind myself that one day I’ll be pulling that same object out in a new home. I know how I’m feeling now – although I can’t really define it since it’s comprised of many emotions – I wonder what I’ll be feeling then. I can’t help but worry that I’ll be sad and filled with regret but I hope I’ll be optimistic and excited about our new life in SLC.
As we pack up our belongings, we’re also saying our farewells to our loved ones. Last Saturday, we met with some of our closest friends at a local bar. With the breeze of an afternoon shower bathing us in coolness, our hearts were warmed with the love of friendship and our appreciation of our shared histories. The night was ripe with giggles as we let our guards down and just shared the evening together just one more time.
Heavy with sleepiness, good beer and food, we drove home (Chris was designated so he had only had a beer or two hours before) later than we had in a long time. Feeling the vibration of 75 below us, I was soothed by thoughts of our friends. Spending time with our friends was like slipping into our childhood bed and snuggling in a nice, warm blanket. I was at peace despite not knowing when we’d see them again. I know our friendships are enduring and that the critical component is love and connection and I knew we had that.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Bitter and sweet
I’m struck by the word bitter tonight. As I feel the many emotions I’m experiencing about our upcoming move, I think of it as bittersweet. How can one person have such conflicting emotions? On one hand I’m very excited about the many adventures that lie ahead of us, while on the other I’m honestly scared about leaving my home state, my family and friends. I feel like the compass that guides me is calibrated for Texas and that, by moving, I’m not going to know my way – at least not for a while. Meanwhile, I’ll still be the busy mom I am now and have to function. I can’t afford to fall into despair or panic.
During the day, my heart beats excitedly about the many beautiful things I’ll be able to see in Salt Lake City, the fun things I’ll get to do with my husband , children and in-laws, the many opportunities for us to do things we can’t do here. At night, though, my chest tightens with anxiety, my stomach clenches and I worry about how I will ever be able to make SLC my home.
As Webster’s defines it, bittersweet is pleasure alloyed with pain - how succinct and how appropriate for my situation.
Tonight, in addition to my usual concerns, I’m thinking about someone very, very close to me. For the sake of anonymity I won’t identify her. She essentially accused me of pretending to be sad about leaving. Although I have not cried openly, this heart of mine sinks when I think of what, and mainly who, I’m leaving behind. It is not a pleasant feeling but I can’t provide a window into my heart large enough to prove it to her. I know she hurts and I hate that. I think she thinks I’m cold and that I don’t love her enough to stay. Unknowingly her own bitterness pushes me away and influences me to appear cold and unloving – fulfilling her prophecy and hurting us both.
Tonight, the sadness that is always present is burdened even more with feelings of being misunderstood, of feeling disconnected and angry. I’m at a complete loss as to how to rectify the situation since I still grasp at the illusion that I could fix the situation if I tried. Ultimately, despite how much I love her and how much I know she loves me, only she can let go of her bitterness and dare to trust the strength of our relationship and my commitment to it. Until then, I can’t take her pain on as my own because I have enough of my own to handle. I can only we’ll both awaken one morning soon with a sense of peace and untainted sweetness in our hearts.
During the day, my heart beats excitedly about the many beautiful things I’ll be able to see in Salt Lake City, the fun things I’ll get to do with my husband , children and in-laws, the many opportunities for us to do things we can’t do here. At night, though, my chest tightens with anxiety, my stomach clenches and I worry about how I will ever be able to make SLC my home.
As Webster’s defines it, bittersweet is pleasure alloyed with pain - how succinct and how appropriate for my situation.
Tonight, in addition to my usual concerns, I’m thinking about someone very, very close to me. For the sake of anonymity I won’t identify her. She essentially accused me of pretending to be sad about leaving. Although I have not cried openly, this heart of mine sinks when I think of what, and mainly who, I’m leaving behind. It is not a pleasant feeling but I can’t provide a window into my heart large enough to prove it to her. I know she hurts and I hate that. I think she thinks I’m cold and that I don’t love her enough to stay. Unknowingly her own bitterness pushes me away and influences me to appear cold and unloving – fulfilling her prophecy and hurting us both.
Tonight, the sadness that is always present is burdened even more with feelings of being misunderstood, of feeling disconnected and angry. I’m at a complete loss as to how to rectify the situation since I still grasp at the illusion that I could fix the situation if I tried. Ultimately, despite how much I love her and how much I know she loves me, only she can let go of her bitterness and dare to trust the strength of our relationship and my commitment to it. Until then, I can’t take her pain on as my own because I have enough of my own to handle. I can only we’ll both awaken one morning soon with a sense of peace and untainted sweetness in our hearts.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Stretch and contract
We may be moving after all so I have started packing just one day premature. As I was going through one of my bedside tables, I found a notepad that had numbers listed all over it. Example:
1:40
1:45
2:05
2:30
2:45
3:50
and so forth until it stops at 9:15. It took me a second to realize these were my hastily written notes about the contractions I was having while in the hospital the four weeks before the twins were born. There are pages and pages of these, some written legibly and others written slanted and scribbled - indicative of how my energy and comfort level waxed and waned throughout the several weeks worth of bed rest.
After flipping through the pages, I then found something I had written semi-coherently to my boys. It's not art but it does show how I felt the weeks before I had Evan and Dylan. As I was ready for their birth, I was also sad to be away from my oldest, Neil:
My body aches
stretched beyond
my womb clenches
and the baby boys dance
My eyes droop
spent energy throughout
but I see a drawing
you made on my arm
I'm filled with my love for you (this was after a visit from Neil where he drew on me)
The love for the twins
growing in me
love for my husband
who shares all this with me
his unwavering committment to all of us
I'm a long way from those days. My twins are bouncing on the bed and eating graham crackers and my oldest sees me more than he doesn't. My love for my husband is even stronger and our committment to each other and our family has become even more evident as we prepare for our great adventure to Utah.
1:40
1:45
2:05
2:30
2:45
3:50
and so forth until it stops at 9:15. It took me a second to realize these were my hastily written notes about the contractions I was having while in the hospital the four weeks before the twins were born. There are pages and pages of these, some written legibly and others written slanted and scribbled - indicative of how my energy and comfort level waxed and waned throughout the several weeks worth of bed rest.
After flipping through the pages, I then found something I had written semi-coherently to my boys. It's not art but it does show how I felt the weeks before I had Evan and Dylan. As I was ready for their birth, I was also sad to be away from my oldest, Neil:
My body aches
stretched beyond
my womb clenches
and the baby boys dance
My eyes droop
spent energy throughout
but I see a drawing
you made on my arm
I'm filled with my love for you (this was after a visit from Neil where he drew on me)
The love for the twins
growing in me
love for my husband
who shares all this with me
his unwavering committment to all of us
I'm a long way from those days. My twins are bouncing on the bed and eating graham crackers and my oldest sees me more than he doesn't. My love for my husband is even stronger and our committment to each other and our family has become even more evident as we prepare for our great adventure to Utah.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Twisted
I was simply turning to explain some nonsense to the boys when my knee decided to be rather uncooperative. I can't really even explain what happened but I had the sensation that my knee temporarily dislocated, I heard an icky pop, and I was immediately in a lot of pain. From standing to falling in mid-sentence, the boys thought their mommy was being funny. As I tuned out the world and felt the pain, I tried to figure out what had just happened and tried to figure out how I was supposed to take care of my boys when I didn't think I could even walk. As they all swooped in like puppies on a person who has laid down on the ground for wrestling time, I tried to fend off my babies in order to protect my now throbbing knee. As I got my senses back somewhat, I pulled myself across the kitchen floor and made a one-legged attempt at standing and reaching the phone.
Meanwhile, my husband saw our home number pop up on his work phone caller ID and he prepared himself for either a stressed-out wife or a casual conversation about one of his son's most recent antics. Instead he heard a wife in pain asking him to come home now. He left but it was going to take him an hour and a half to get home since he bikes and takes the train. (In Dallas, an hour commute is common so an hour and a half isn't that big of a deal.)
I couldn't figure out how I was going to take care of the boys for an hour and a half so I called my mother. Answering the phone she heard her normally cheerful daughter beg her to come over to help. She would be here in 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes isn't that long unless you have 3 boys 3.5 and under. I managed to make my way to the couch nearest the front door and laid down. All 3 boys joined me and I explained that mommy hurt her leg but that Mammaw was coming over. I asked them to be very good for me and, with the exception of one brief toy-stealing battle across my lap, they were. My leg screamed with pain and I tried not to stress out about what the heck I had done to my knee (and ultimately what the hell were we going to do if I did hurt myself badly). Gaining a little more confidence with the situation, I began to slowly bend and straighten my leg to see if I could do it. Completely absorbed in the task of cautious movement, I was initially unaware of Dylan, the one child now remaining beside me (Evan and Neil were busy doing something else). As I bent and straightened my knee, I happened to look at Dylan at the foot of the couch: My little almost-20 month old baby was laid back on the couch bending and straightening his leg too.
My distressed and anxious heart warmed and I laughed. Looking at me, he laughed then bent and straightened his leg again and again, each time followed by a giggle. My little precious babe was so cute as he did this and I relaxed and decided that we would be fine no matter what I did to my knee. He gave me what I really needed: not just an ice pack, pain meds and an x-ray but a pure, sweet and simple laugh.
A few minutes later my Mom showed up and corralled the babes, gave me the ice pack and the pain meds that I did actually need. I decided rushing off to the ER wasn't necessary and that I likely just sprained the tar out of my knee. An hour and a half after my call, my sweaty husband (from riding in the hot weather) rushed through the door to see how I was doing and to take on the nightly baby duties. Shortly after that, my Dad came to bring crutches. We then drank beer, ate nachos and put the babies down for the night.
Today, I awoke with a really sore and stiff knee but I think it's improving - either that or it's the pain meds I'm on. Either way, we'll be ok even if my knee isn't completely great. At least I can walk somewhat, I can definitely laugh and I have precious babes who can help me do so.
Meanwhile, my husband saw our home number pop up on his work phone caller ID and he prepared himself for either a stressed-out wife or a casual conversation about one of his son's most recent antics. Instead he heard a wife in pain asking him to come home now. He left but it was going to take him an hour and a half to get home since he bikes and takes the train. (In Dallas, an hour commute is common so an hour and a half isn't that big of a deal.)
I couldn't figure out how I was going to take care of the boys for an hour and a half so I called my mother. Answering the phone she heard her normally cheerful daughter beg her to come over to help. She would be here in 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes isn't that long unless you have 3 boys 3.5 and under. I managed to make my way to the couch nearest the front door and laid down. All 3 boys joined me and I explained that mommy hurt her leg but that Mammaw was coming over. I asked them to be very good for me and, with the exception of one brief toy-stealing battle across my lap, they were. My leg screamed with pain and I tried not to stress out about what the heck I had done to my knee (and ultimately what the hell were we going to do if I did hurt myself badly). Gaining a little more confidence with the situation, I began to slowly bend and straighten my leg to see if I could do it. Completely absorbed in the task of cautious movement, I was initially unaware of Dylan, the one child now remaining beside me (Evan and Neil were busy doing something else). As I bent and straightened my knee, I happened to look at Dylan at the foot of the couch: My little almost-20 month old baby was laid back on the couch bending and straightening his leg too.
My distressed and anxious heart warmed and I laughed. Looking at me, he laughed then bent and straightened his leg again and again, each time followed by a giggle. My little precious babe was so cute as he did this and I relaxed and decided that we would be fine no matter what I did to my knee. He gave me what I really needed: not just an ice pack, pain meds and an x-ray but a pure, sweet and simple laugh.
A few minutes later my Mom showed up and corralled the babes, gave me the ice pack and the pain meds that I did actually need. I decided rushing off to the ER wasn't necessary and that I likely just sprained the tar out of my knee. An hour and a half after my call, my sweaty husband (from riding in the hot weather) rushed through the door to see how I was doing and to take on the nightly baby duties. Shortly after that, my Dad came to bring crutches. We then drank beer, ate nachos and put the babies down for the night.
Today, I awoke with a really sore and stiff knee but I think it's improving - either that or it's the pain meds I'm on. Either way, we'll be ok even if my knee isn't completely great. At least I can walk somewhat, I can definitely laugh and I have precious babes who can help me do so.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Endangered self
As the idea of our moving seems more probable, I find a stillness in me, a calm sense of waiting for my future to present itself. As we discuss our potential move with others, their emotions whip around me. I'm affected by it, obviously, but if I stay centered I don't get sucked into it. I guess you could say I'm in the eye of the storm and I'm trying to stay there.
From my sweet friends who express their sadness of our departure while stating their unconditional support (thank you, guys!) to my 88 year old aunt diplomatically supporting me while making it clear she won't be living much longer. Although she wants me to be happy, I don't think she thinks I'll be happy if we move. I guess that's what I have to find out for myself.
My parents recently told me that, according to an author whose name escapes me at the moment, Chris and I are from the "me" and "endangered" generations. The fact that I'm choosing to move with my husband and children to a place my family isn't thrilled about could be seen as a "me" sort of thing to do. The fact that we're concerned about the future of the economy and our country's livelihood with the oil crisis (whether people want to face that fact or not) could be seen as our feeling "endangered". I suppose we could be just living our lives predictably, following a course through our age and state of mind but it doesn't feel like we're intentionally following a set lifestyle. We live in this age as every human has - in our time. We're influenced by the world around us and we interpret it thus, whether we believe the earth is flat or being assaulted by humankind.
The only thing I know how to do is to live my life, stay informed via as reputable sources as a person is capable of finding, and make choices that feel right to me. Trust in news sources, in opinions about critical life changes and the ones we love is a tricky thing but, ultimately, you have to take a leap of faith if you want to live a full life. Risk avoidance is just as risky as careless risk taking. In my opinion, making critical life choices involves dissolving irrational fears, calmly evaluating the choices and following your gut instinct. As much as the feelings of others is important to a point, no one can live your life for you and you can't live your life for others to the exclusion of your life's passions, interests and loves.
As I drink a glass of wine, I am rocking away in our glider trying to find that center of the storm. As I feel for those who are sad about our leaving, particularly my family, I am truly sorry for the loss that they may feel. Meanwhile, I retreat into myself and enjoy the idea of what our future may hold and am hopeful that the transition will prove to be less traumatic for everyone.
From my sweet friends who express their sadness of our departure while stating their unconditional support (thank you, guys!) to my 88 year old aunt diplomatically supporting me while making it clear she won't be living much longer. Although she wants me to be happy, I don't think she thinks I'll be happy if we move. I guess that's what I have to find out for myself.
My parents recently told me that, according to an author whose name escapes me at the moment, Chris and I are from the "me" and "endangered" generations. The fact that I'm choosing to move with my husband and children to a place my family isn't thrilled about could be seen as a "me" sort of thing to do. The fact that we're concerned about the future of the economy and our country's livelihood with the oil crisis (whether people want to face that fact or not) could be seen as our feeling "endangered". I suppose we could be just living our lives predictably, following a course through our age and state of mind but it doesn't feel like we're intentionally following a set lifestyle. We live in this age as every human has - in our time. We're influenced by the world around us and we interpret it thus, whether we believe the earth is flat or being assaulted by humankind.
The only thing I know how to do is to live my life, stay informed via as reputable sources as a person is capable of finding, and make choices that feel right to me. Trust in news sources, in opinions about critical life changes and the ones we love is a tricky thing but, ultimately, you have to take a leap of faith if you want to live a full life. Risk avoidance is just as risky as careless risk taking. In my opinion, making critical life choices involves dissolving irrational fears, calmly evaluating the choices and following your gut instinct. As much as the feelings of others is important to a point, no one can live your life for you and you can't live your life for others to the exclusion of your life's passions, interests and loves.
As I drink a glass of wine, I am rocking away in our glider trying to find that center of the storm. As I feel for those who are sad about our leaving, particularly my family, I am truly sorry for the loss that they may feel. Meanwhile, I retreat into myself and enjoy the idea of what our future may hold and am hopeful that the transition will prove to be less traumatic for everyone.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Adrift
At times, I find myself feeling groundless and separated, floating in a psychological eddy, not sure where I will settle. Sometimes I don't mind the state of mind but other times, like now, I find it stressful and annoying. When I fight it, I think I only prolong it, like a dog circling his tail endlessly. Feeling that, since this is occurring in me, I then must fix it so I focus inward, nagging myself to death as I try to find my footing. As many times as I have done this, I almost always find relief only when I reach out to another: my husband, my parents or friends. Tonight, although I didn't realize I was doing it consciously, I found myself grounded after spending a very pleasant evening with a friend.
Having shared our youth together, then separated and then reconnected, I am comforted by our similarities, amused by our memories, and proud of what we both have managed to overcome at those difficult times in our lives. As grown women with full lives as wives, mothers, daughters, our young souls have evolved deeply and richly. Hours before, I was exhausted and anxious by my hectic life, but having spent an enjoyable few hours with her talking, I feel refreshed, energized and grateful that we are yet again in one another's company.
As my eyes droop and my body insists on sleep, I am content to settle into this restful state. Thank you.
Having shared our youth together, then separated and then reconnected, I am comforted by our similarities, amused by our memories, and proud of what we both have managed to overcome at those difficult times in our lives. As grown women with full lives as wives, mothers, daughters, our young souls have evolved deeply and richly. Hours before, I was exhausted and anxious by my hectic life, but having spent an enjoyable few hours with her talking, I feel refreshed, energized and grateful that we are yet again in one another's company.
As my eyes droop and my body insists on sleep, I am content to settle into this restful state. Thank you.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Dried and frozen
As Thomas the Train plays in the play room, I feel the need to toot my own horn. You see, I'm new to the homemaker business and, with a long history of feminist leanings (if not totally tipped over), I have rebelled against domesticity like most men. In the last few weeks, I have discovered that I actually quite enjoy it and am eager to learn how to be a better master of my trade. (What else am I going to do since I don't have time to pursue a paying career at this point, plus, this is such a critical time in our boys' lives that I want to do my best for the boys.)
From canning, dehydrating food and making homemade (and yummy) popsicles, I am thoroughly enjoying finding ways to preserve food so it lasts longer, making healthy and tasty treats for the boys, and learning new ways to make home fun, comforting and a pleasure for all of us. (Of course, I say this as one of my boys is whining but you understand what I'm saying.)
Although I canned the salsa weeks ago, we don't get to try it until this weekend (it required sitting a spell for the flavor to reach its peak). As for drying foods, my favorites so far are mangos, watermelon, peaches and bananas. Since we're beginning to purchase more locally grown foods, though, we'll have to eventually give up mangos and bananas. Today, my dehydrator is plugging away on honeydew. So far, it promises to be good as well. Interestingly, dehydrating foods makes the flavor of the food become more concentrated and the final product is an easily transportable and healthy snacks for the boys.
As for the popsicles, I have tried two recipes so far from Mormon Chic. (I figure since we're considering moving to SLC, I might as well see what these ladies know.) I have made the "Dripless Popsicle" which is tasty but, as Chris points out, is full of chemicals. The other one I made is watermelon popsicles. They are definitely healthier and all the boys seem to like it.
I feel that my slow transformation to domestic chic is timely because I think it's going to become increasingly necessary to preserve our food and waste less as oil prices continue to rise and our current food transporation system becomes challenged by it. (I highly suggest reading Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver which addresses issues related to peak oil and food security.) Buying locally grown foods and learning how to preserve food before circumstances actually require us to do that might make the transition a little less stressful if we are already confident in our abilities to take care of ourselves and our families.
Although I'm doing this as a way to expand my skills, ultimately I'm doing this because I feel that soon it may be necessary and I want to be ready for it. If things end up being fine and my concerns are unwarranted then the worst thing that happens is that we save money, waste less and our family eats a healthier diet than that found in processed, packaged goods made by people who don't know my children. If they don't, I'm hoping that what I'm learning will help us make the most of what's available so that we may have full bellies in the years to come.
From canning, dehydrating food and making homemade (and yummy) popsicles, I am thoroughly enjoying finding ways to preserve food so it lasts longer, making healthy and tasty treats for the boys, and learning new ways to make home fun, comforting and a pleasure for all of us. (Of course, I say this as one of my boys is whining but you understand what I'm saying.)
Although I canned the salsa weeks ago, we don't get to try it until this weekend (it required sitting a spell for the flavor to reach its peak). As for drying foods, my favorites so far are mangos, watermelon, peaches and bananas. Since we're beginning to purchase more locally grown foods, though, we'll have to eventually give up mangos and bananas. Today, my dehydrator is plugging away on honeydew. So far, it promises to be good as well. Interestingly, dehydrating foods makes the flavor of the food become more concentrated and the final product is an easily transportable and healthy snacks for the boys.
As for the popsicles, I have tried two recipes so far from Mormon Chic. (I figure since we're considering moving to SLC, I might as well see what these ladies know.) I have made the "Dripless Popsicle" which is tasty but, as Chris points out, is full of chemicals. The other one I made is watermelon popsicles. They are definitely healthier and all the boys seem to like it.
I feel that my slow transformation to domestic chic is timely because I think it's going to become increasingly necessary to preserve our food and waste less as oil prices continue to rise and our current food transporation system becomes challenged by it. (I highly suggest reading Animal Vegetable Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver which addresses issues related to peak oil and food security.) Buying locally grown foods and learning how to preserve food before circumstances actually require us to do that might make the transition a little less stressful if we are already confident in our abilities to take care of ourselves and our families.
Although I'm doing this as a way to expand my skills, ultimately I'm doing this because I feel that soon it may be necessary and I want to be ready for it. If things end up being fine and my concerns are unwarranted then the worst thing that happens is that we save money, waste less and our family eats a healthier diet than that found in processed, packaged goods made by people who don't know my children. If they don't, I'm hoping that what I'm learning will help us make the most of what's available so that we may have full bellies in the years to come.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Banana straws
Recently I invested in a food dehydrator. Just the sound of that makes me feel that I'm definitely not cool anymore but, anyway, I not only bought one but I like it and I use it regularly. So far, my favorite things to dry are mangoes, bananas, and strawberries. Although I ultimately want the kids to enjoy them as snacks, I find myself eating way too many of them as I peel them off the trays. I justify it that I'm testing to see how dry they actually are. "Hmm....that one was dry. That one was dry. That one was dry. Let's try one more. . . ."
When I first did this, all three boys swarmed me as I handed out the dried goods. Now, the twins are the only ones swarming and my oldest emphatically denies even trying one. Well, until I had a moment of mommy brilliance! He'd seen the plate full of dried bananas (which up until now I called "banana chips" to pretend they were unhealthy enough for his appetite) so I knew I needed a new disguise. Recently, my husband had bought some veggie chips that were in the shape of straws. The boys found them fun to whistle before they ate them. "Ah-hah!" So, with a little extra effort, I rolled the slices which are very nice and pliable when dried into little straws. Not only did he enjoy whistling through them, he gobbled them up. The funniest thing to me was that he saw me rolling them - the same bananas that were yucky looking beforehand. Shows how a little change in perspective can increase a stubborn kiddos appetite.
Ending with a silly pun, I guess I need to roll with the punches when it comes to feeding these little rascals.
When I first did this, all three boys swarmed me as I handed out the dried goods. Now, the twins are the only ones swarming and my oldest emphatically denies even trying one. Well, until I had a moment of mommy brilliance! He'd seen the plate full of dried bananas (which up until now I called "banana chips" to pretend they were unhealthy enough for his appetite) so I knew I needed a new disguise. Recently, my husband had bought some veggie chips that were in the shape of straws. The boys found them fun to whistle before they ate them. "Ah-hah!" So, with a little extra effort, I rolled the slices which are very nice and pliable when dried into little straws. Not only did he enjoy whistling through them, he gobbled them up. The funniest thing to me was that he saw me rolling them - the same bananas that were yucky looking beforehand. Shows how a little change in perspective can increase a stubborn kiddos appetite.
Ending with a silly pun, I guess I need to roll with the punches when it comes to feeding these little rascals.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
What was I thinking?
The house was quiet - eerily so. This house should only be quiet when we're gone or when the smaller 3/5 of the house are sleeping soundly. Neither of those applied so I knew something wasn't right. I was in ear shot of all the guys and I had been paying attention to their movements for a while but then what I thought was a temporary lull in activity extended into the dangerous territory of being quiet for too long. It was time to investigate.
I found the eldest playing quietly by himself - good job! That left the twins. Nothing more dangerous than two mobile boogers teaming up in their mischievous pursuits. I saw signs of them before I actually tracked them down. They left the telltale sign of my bad decision to let them eat popsicles in the house - what was I thinking? A little drop of green here, a red drop there. I quietly followed the drips to the music room where they had closed the door. Hmmm.... I didn't want to open the door and find them playing nicely together and risk disturbing a wonderful moment for me! I also didn't want to ignore what my mommy instinct told me was too risky to ignore. They were just too quiet.
I slowly opened the door. No babies but I could hear them now talking twin to each other. They were at least fine so that was good but what were they doing? Ahhh. The bathroom. Joy. Our once clean, white bathroom was now a rainbow of popsicle. Lime and strawberry flavored toilet and floor. How lovely. I herded the little rascals out of the bathroom and they were agreeable thankfully. Of course, they went immediately to the rug on the floor and a huge glob of popsicle splatted on the rug - at least it was the lime one instead of the strawberry one. As I closed the door to the bathroom behind me, noting to myself to remember to return to it to clean it, I paused as I turned back to look at the two little rascals with their messy faces and shirts. It's hard to be annoyed with them even when they're that messy. They simply looked adorable, adorably sticky and colorful.
They returned to being noisy again, especially after they fought being cleaned up. The bathroom was eventually cleaned and their sweet tracks wiped up. Rather than being annoyed with them for making a mess, I laughed at myself for being so stupid. Popsicles in the house? Seriously, what was I thinking?
I found the eldest playing quietly by himself - good job! That left the twins. Nothing more dangerous than two mobile boogers teaming up in their mischievous pursuits. I saw signs of them before I actually tracked them down. They left the telltale sign of my bad decision to let them eat popsicles in the house - what was I thinking? A little drop of green here, a red drop there. I quietly followed the drips to the music room where they had closed the door. Hmmm.... I didn't want to open the door and find them playing nicely together and risk disturbing a wonderful moment for me! I also didn't want to ignore what my mommy instinct told me was too risky to ignore. They were just too quiet.
I slowly opened the door. No babies but I could hear them now talking twin to each other. They were at least fine so that was good but what were they doing? Ahhh. The bathroom. Joy. Our once clean, white bathroom was now a rainbow of popsicle. Lime and strawberry flavored toilet and floor. How lovely. I herded the little rascals out of the bathroom and they were agreeable thankfully. Of course, they went immediately to the rug on the floor and a huge glob of popsicle splatted on the rug - at least it was the lime one instead of the strawberry one. As I closed the door to the bathroom behind me, noting to myself to remember to return to it to clean it, I paused as I turned back to look at the two little rascals with their messy faces and shirts. It's hard to be annoyed with them even when they're that messy. They simply looked adorable, adorably sticky and colorful.
They returned to being noisy again, especially after they fought being cleaned up. The bathroom was eventually cleaned and their sweet tracks wiped up. Rather than being annoyed with them for making a mess, I laughed at myself for being so stupid. Popsicles in the house? Seriously, what was I thinking?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Bedtime
On Mother's Day, my husband gave me the best gift a husband and father could give: a free day pass. He gave me a guilt-free, unlimited day to do whatever I wanted. With so few opportunities to have a day to myself, I struggled with what I was going to do with my day. Go on a day trip somewhere? Spend time with friends? Shop?
Although I always enjoy spending time with friends, I found myself craving time alone. Being alone is so rare these days. I cherish those few minutes in the day where I am completely alone and can relax. I also realized that I'm always doing something - whether it's taking care of babies, folding laundry or cleaning house, I rarely just sit quietly alone and rest. After a long weekend, I realized it was time for my special day. As coo coo as it sounds, I had the best vacation I could think up and it was free! I laid in bed, ate crackers, watched tv and napped the entire day. It was wonderful.
I have to say we're fortunate to have the house we have right now (even though we are trying to sell it) because the "grown up" part of the house is separated from the kids' section so it's almost like being in our own apartment when we're in our part of the house. That's ideal when solace is needed and I was enjoying it yesterday.
Although I was still in ear shot of the kids' tantrums and fussiness, they were surprisingly good the whole day. I enjoyed hearing them giggling with their daddy, knowing that they have a strong bond with him and that they don't solely rely on me. They're actually better with him. He says it's because they know they won't get as much from him as they do from me. I'm sure that's true. I probably make things a lot harder on myself by answering many of their needs, even when they're silly ones. It's the curse of being a mom. As Chris said to me before we had kids, "Moms are crazy." He didn't mean this in a bad way but I totally understand it now. We moms are nuts and our kids are lucky because we are.
So, I enjoyed my day. I knew I had had enough rest though when, as the evening approached, I was missing my boys, wanting to hold them and kiss them. I needed a break so I could enjoy them again and so I had something to give. I won't lie and say that I'm now stress-free and completely calm, because I'm not, but I at least I had a little while to rest and gain some perspective and to again appreciate what is important. I especially feel thankful that I have such a good and caring husband who gave me the best gift of all: rest. Thanks, honey.
Although I always enjoy spending time with friends, I found myself craving time alone. Being alone is so rare these days. I cherish those few minutes in the day where I am completely alone and can relax. I also realized that I'm always doing something - whether it's taking care of babies, folding laundry or cleaning house, I rarely just sit quietly alone and rest. After a long weekend, I realized it was time for my special day. As coo coo as it sounds, I had the best vacation I could think up and it was free! I laid in bed, ate crackers, watched tv and napped the entire day. It was wonderful.
I have to say we're fortunate to have the house we have right now (even though we are trying to sell it) because the "grown up" part of the house is separated from the kids' section so it's almost like being in our own apartment when we're in our part of the house. That's ideal when solace is needed and I was enjoying it yesterday.
Although I was still in ear shot of the kids' tantrums and fussiness, they were surprisingly good the whole day. I enjoyed hearing them giggling with their daddy, knowing that they have a strong bond with him and that they don't solely rely on me. They're actually better with him. He says it's because they know they won't get as much from him as they do from me. I'm sure that's true. I probably make things a lot harder on myself by answering many of their needs, even when they're silly ones. It's the curse of being a mom. As Chris said to me before we had kids, "Moms are crazy." He didn't mean this in a bad way but I totally understand it now. We moms are nuts and our kids are lucky because we are.
So, I enjoyed my day. I knew I had had enough rest though when, as the evening approached, I was missing my boys, wanting to hold them and kiss them. I needed a break so I could enjoy them again and so I had something to give. I won't lie and say that I'm now stress-free and completely calm, because I'm not, but I at least I had a little while to rest and gain some perspective and to again appreciate what is important. I especially feel thankful that I have such a good and caring husband who gave me the best gift of all: rest. Thanks, honey.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
