36x365x41

You are warmly witty. Friends follow for a taste of your exuberant energy and sometimes a succulent sun dried tomato spread. You draw out bent-over-pee-my-pants laughter. When you move I'll miss you.

**

I almost took today off, but look: I didn't. You know what that means? It means you have to leave a comment. Uh-huh. Does to. Mooooom...

36x365x40

Haiku for you:

We met at eighteen
freshman initiation
before school started.

We lived together
and walked through the Boston streets
meeting the people

We sat and we wrote
rambling lines of poetry
colorful and new.

36x365x39

I think you are crazy, not in the "haha how silly" way, but in the "hold my children close so you won't make them eat Chef Boyardee" way. Though smiling, you never ever meet my eye.

36x365x38

We met during your last Boston visit. Almost 2 decades later I imagine you across the ocean "precariously perched" on curiosity. It took time, but we popped the bubble of perceived perfection. You should call him.


***
Really, you should.

36x365x37

I think you skip school and smoke more than cigarettes. I think you're alone often and fall squarely into the "at risk" box. I think you'll get into life changing trouble. I pray that you won't.

36x365x36

By day you taught 5 year olds in my daughter's school. One night your husband discovered you in the darkness kissing a man and a woman. I hope your own daughter has strong sober role models.

36x365x35

I sit outside stealing your wireless because ours is down. But I'll tell you when I see you and you'll laugh. You lend your things and offer help with practiced ease. A good and generous neighbor.

36x365x34

We sang the Violent Femmes so loudly- and The Police. Odd pairing. We didn't fit in our skins so we were mean. Not usually to each other. We were close but now are not. It's okay.

36x365x33

Is it wrong to question your motives? You stand by cleaning up her messes and reformulating who you are. You've made your share of mess, both full of fault, it's hard to imagine happily ever after.

36x365x32

Friend I've yet to touch, I drink your words.

You mourn your dead dad with painful eloquence and expose your vulnerability with grace.

We'll meet on the Cape and our kids will play at the beach.

36x365x31

Dear friend, years pass between hugs and weeks morph to months without any contact. But my core knows that I can call you to give and get support. It's not enough. Separated, we can't really know.

Tangent: Consciousness

I feel like this place is for 365's now, but that leaves a space where I should be writing more that I'm just not. So, here it will be. Hodge-podge is fitting, no?

Remember the miracle of turning the water into wine? When Jesus told the servants to "fill the jars with water" the servants (without question) filled the jars to the brim.

And a friend has me thinking about what that means, what it can mean, to fill a jar to the brim. Because the jar isn't always a jar. Sometimes it's helping your sister or tucking in your son. Sometimes it's listening to a budding reader make sense of the letters. Or listening to the far off lyrics of your daughter's made up song of the day. Sometimes it's cooking dinner and calling your mom and making time to talk to the guy you married. Sometimes its completing a proposal or planning a trip. Sometimes it's a swim or a water balloon war. Sometimes its connecting with old friends and reaching out to new ones. And yes, sometimes I guess it must be laundry and bills and sweeping and folding and the monotonous tasks that make life smoother when it needs to be.

And what would change if I were doing those things that I do "to the brim?"

Am I the only one who needs constant reminders to live consciously and celebrate what I have?

Just thinking.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

36x365x30

No one deserves the pain you face. It started so long ago, not fitting right, not trying, not knowing how to try. I am so scared for you and for your family. I'm sorry. So sorry.

36x365x29

The boys in child care asked about your mustache and smiling you said someday they'd grow one, too. I wanted you to wax, so they would stop asking. You worked too long and saved too few.

36x365x28

Dead dads are not much fun. Less today.

He was life and strength and devotion, so full of shit and laughter. He raised me to know what lies in the center.

Faith and Family, ever together.

36x365x27: Saturday's on Sunday

My husband tells me stories of respect and of passion. Of commitment and of the extreme sport of dedication. You write your 365 of goodness and positive influences. And sir, you have made him a collector.

36x365x26

Your generosity of time, energy, affection and gifts gave focus to a hollow time. You brought a ham dinner (with wine) for 20 to the ICU the night before dad died. After, you faded into black.

36x365x25

A life juxtaposed by the mother you deeply want to be, and the reality of your troubled life. You need to hold your children far too close. I think you are paralyzed by fear of loneliness.

36x365x24

At 14, I smoked and wore a pin that read "Make Love, not Smoke," not knowing what "make" meant. I pointed to it when you told me not to smoke. Silent dear friend of my dad.


(who lives in North Reading?)

36x365x23

You shared your family's recipe for rice and beans and your baby was sweet and happy. Her father hit you and you got pregnant again, but you didn't have that baby. I cried when you graduated.

36x365x22

You found your father dead in the car when you were 6. My mother said I was drawn to troubled kids. I was and you were. We talked for hours in the dark of the stairwell.

36x365x21

I couldn't figure out how to let you go, so I held fast for far too long. Now, I Google you and seek some silly sign of who you became. I'd like to meet your wife.

36x365x20

We leaned against the yellow walls in AP English. And you, with your wide comb over and subtle smarm sat among us. Teaching. I can't believe she fell for you, lived with you or loved you.

36x365x19

I knew when I spoke to him over the bonfire in October that he was he and that you were you. Better together. I wept at your wedding. Watching him watching you. The past only ashes.

36x365x18

Smoking day care lady, playing favorites with the children. Criticism lies always in wait on your lips.

And yet you are kind and dependable with your neighbors: offering to care to tend to help.

An oxymoron.

This Seems Perfectly Reasonable to Me.

36x365x17

I judge you: selfish, shallow, disloyal, dishonest, and mean. You took the love of my people and you shit on it. You are broken but I am sad and angry. I cannot forgive you yet. Prick.

36x365x16

Tired teacher taught for too many years. You seemed twice your age. Then I saw you with your grandchild at a concert and you were full of vim. I wonder when you started longing for retirement.

36x365x15

It was absolutely no surprise when you passed out during a party in 1993. As promised your friends shaved your head. 10ish years later you walked out of the closet and ran back to the army.

36x365x14

You really did walk into the party like you were walking onto a yacht. Rock star in your mind, you played the harmonica and played the girls. Handsome and talented. Fun to watch but decidedly insincere.

Subscription Options

I hope I didn't just blow up my blog. I noticed that my daily visitors are hopping up a little bit and so I added a "subscribe by email" thingy on the side bar. And don't worry about the spam thing, it's all automated.

So, now you can use an RSS reader or get posts via email. Because really, who would want to miss this magic?


Ok, and also: who keeps finding their way here by Googling my name? Because you should really say hi. Especially if I haven't seen you in awhile.

36x365x13

I cried at a dance when you played the theme to Say Anything, avoided your eyes during Is she really going out with him? You played and wrote and made music and I loved you first.

A related to but not x365 post

I am getting a lot from this writing project. It provides an opportunity to reflect and remember and connect. It's short and usually very quick. The challenge is in writing about certain people. In some cases too much to contemplate. Sometimes a great temptation to say more. Knowing just what to pick out from either years of stuff or a brief foggy moment. So it's not always simple, but I think it's good for me.

My list can use some editing and I've been doing that a little. I was admittedly scraping the bottom of the barrel (not with Ron) but with the waitress at a restaurant I go to with the girls.

I love reading what others are making or made of their projects. The original x365 is Dan's and he paints a pretty picture. You should read his words.

And here's what else I am thinking about: Judgment: a seemingly constant struggle. Kindness: too often a struggle. So there is that.

36x365x12

Your married boyfriend hit you often and hard. You lived with me with black and blue pride and a bleeding sense of self. I called an abuse hotline. You came home with flowers. I was 20.

36x365x11

You married your husband in your apartment wearing your pajamas. I don't know why. Your father wore a suit. We talked about the children you might have and the word divorce was always prefaced with if.

36x365x10

I walked in to see you, your thinness heavy on the bed. Closed down for days you opened and spoke and held my second son in the cradle of your limbs. A day later you died.

Sometimes there is so much more I want to say about a person.

36x365x9

She made you pee on your young son's leg because it's said to take the pain of the jellyfish sting away. And on our wedding day you drove alone and arrived late but not too late.

36x365x8

I missed yesterday, but technically I didn't because I thought about this in the ER:

I was embarrassed with and for you and the young religious educator when you asked what it meant that Mary was a virgin. I knew just enough not to ask. But now I await the question.

36x365x7

You walked in to the party like you were walking onto a ya-

kidding.

You wore black and white garb in a black and white kitchen and I stood behind you in the buffet line. You fit in, but when I pointed it out they gasped. Because nuns shouldn't laugh.

36x365x6

A severed life of troubled sadness. Marked by ink and drink and cigarettes. Less than handsome, more than light. Feigning danger. Your aunt found me in Boston on a warm spring day because you were dead.

36x365x5

We met in 9th grade, my first high-school crush. We flirted boldly in civics class, even after the teacher separated us. At our last reunion you were neither handsome nor tall and you bored me.

36x365x4

Gray haired volunteer of kindness, leaning in welcome, meeting his eye with warmth. In a voice thick with years of tar and maybe gravel you said, "You must be Clam." But my son's name is Clay.

36x365x3

You found your voice in Pennsylvania, overcame the common grunt to speak with clarity, confidence and humor. Now you're unpacking a suitcase of hangovers from 4 years in college and looking for a place to fit.

36x365x2

The bad ass who came to the beach at night with Marlboro Lights and a sweetness undisguised. I was drawn to you. Then, when I was gone you lost a brother. I never found you again.

Focus: x365

A comment link at GNMParents led me to a new blog, Carolynbahm.com. Carolyn is doing a project whereby for a full year she writes a short vignette about a person each day. Her project led me to x 365 and I began my list.

So, here begins my own 36 x 365 whereby I will attempt to write 36 words about 365 people over the course of the year. I am doing this because reflecting is good. Because focus is good. Because daily writing is good.

36x365x1

Before you died your breath was heavy. In a half embrace, I needed you to feel me. My mother held your other half, and guided my good-bye. Her mother, her daughter, herself. Her last great loss.

Webby Fiction

There's a girl who lives up the block. She wears a lot of purple. Purple socks or a dress or a t-shirt or a ribbon in her hair. She passes by our house on her way to the bus stop. She's in second grade. When she climbs on the school bus she sits in her assigned seat and stares out the window singing purple rain.

I made that part up. She's far to young to know Prince, or even the "artist formerly known as." But she stares out the window and her lips move in song.

When she gets to school she walks in a line and writes on the lines and colors inside of the lines because she knows how to follow those rules. She is quiet and neat and never silly. Her teachers pass by, smiling in her direction. Because she does what she's told.

She's a good girl. And a good girl she'll stay. She won't drive without her license or smoke behind the backstop. She won't date a troubled boy or ever cut a class. She'll be polite to all her family and never say a swear. She'll apply to community college and excel in all her classes. She'll add up all those numbers and remember all the dates. She'll hand her papers in on time and a typo won't be found.

She'll do what she does because that is who she is.

Clutter

I haven't been writing enough. Hell, if I am honest I have not been doing enough of anything: writing, sleeping, thinking, pausing.

I won't pretend that it's because I am always running around tending to others.

It's a lot because my mind gets so cluttered that it's hard to pick out what needs picking. Like the meat tucked into the belly of the lobster. When you can extrapolate it the reward is sweet and tender. But sometimes it's too entwined with the cartilage and you end up chewing the plasticy parts. Completely unfulfilling.

I am very cluttered right now.

Unable to pick out any of the good stuff.

Politics and Kids and a Great Giveaway!

In case you missed it, GNMParents is hosting a book giveaway for my friend Sue's new book See How They Run.


Great book, great timing. Leave a comment at GNMParents today (please and thank you!)!

And, if you have a school aged kid please ask them to complete her quick KIDS SPEAK OUT survey.

The Library

I don't know that many people who blog. Well, I know a lot of people who blog but I haven't met them face to face. And the few people I have met in real life who blog, began blogging after I knew them, or I met them in real life before I knew them through their blog.

Still, there are people that I've come to know, people I'd love to sit with and drink wine with and bake cookies with and walk with and most enjoyably talk with. Because this blogging thing presents us with a library. A place to browse and open to random pages, reading thoughts and stories and life philosophies. We crack the binding looking for words to pull us in and help us to learn and connect and grow. We look for words that allow us to spend time with others who inspire and entertain and comfort us.

But blogging offers us something library books don't. We have the opportunity to turn from page to page and not only read the author's words, but we're also allowed- no- invited to reflect and share and add our own words to theirs. Yet, I haven't spoken to most of these people. We haven't sat together or just been together.

But that's about to change. In two weeks the Honorable Reverend Swanson is bringing his bride for a visit. And so I will put a voice and a bunch of expressions to the words and photos I've been reading. And with a little duct tape to keep the kids in line we might even be able to have a "real" conversation. And I am looking forward to that. Although that implies our online communications are less than real, but that is not the truth.

We'll be reconnecting with the beautiful Brogan bunch as well, who we always enjoy seeing. We'll talk and eat and watch and listen and walk and who knows what else?

Or that's the plan.

I wonder if it will be at all awkward when Jon learns that not only does Rob not exist, but that I also made up all 3 punks and I am actually a 78 year old man living in Duluth. We shall see.

In other news, I took this photo of a big fat bee on one of my bleeding hearts today and the imaginary kids and I really liked it:

Almost

Yesterday I was killing time waiting for a prescription to be filled for Lucy's ear infection. I decided as a treat I'd zip through the Dreaded Donut line for some tea for me and sugar for the Punks. Typically, it was a very crowded poorly planned parking lot. And, tossing the donuts back to the kids, I had to stick the snout of my car out around a van that was parked on the street right next to the parking lot exit.

But the exit was a little hill and so I went out a little farther than I should have. And when I did, I stared into the grill of an enormous Mack truck, and a quick glance in my mirror showed with another car on my bumper, I had no room to back up. And the truck, close and fast, was set to hit my door. And then I would die.

And while they took me to the morgue, or the hospital or wherever they would take me, I was overwhelmed with fear for my kids. Because if I was dead and Rob was away would my kids sit, scared and on an adrenaline and sugar high in the back of a patrol car for hours until they found someone to come? And could 8 comfort 6 and 3? Would they huddle together or sit in silent terror?

But by the grace of God the driver was aware and reacted and stopped just in time. The truck jerking still. And by just in time I mean that if I rolled down my window I would be able to touch the truck's grill. With ease.

And I sat with my hands tight on the wheel and my eyes stuck on the truck. With the clouds reflecting on windshield I could not see the driver's face. And we sat until I pulled out of his way, and so I could park on a side street, repeating a prayer, shaking, reassuring, and crying with fear and relief and whole hearted gratitude.

And I shook for hours.

And at night, when I tried to sleep I couldn't breathe and I dreamed I got run over by a little white car.

Tightening

I am looking at efficiencies still. Yesterday I reduced my blogroll from 100 to 62. My goal is to have it below 50 by day's end. It's not easy and it doesn't really make me feel good. Except that it does a little. Because regularly I have 683 gazillion unread posts glaring at me. And so while I enjoy stopping in from time to time to see what's new, I can not maintain connections with so many people.

So, last night I read a lot. I caught up and I made choices about who was adding what to my online time. It was a good process and I remembered why I blog-rolled a lot of people to begin with. And I remembered why I started this blog and how uplifting and inspiring the running and tri connections that I made were. And then I was overcome with a sense of failure because I stopped. And they didn't. And when I "knew" them they were learning to run 5ks, like me, but now they are running half marathons, marathons, and Olympic distance triathlons. And they ROCK. And I can say I knew them when. But my goals have changed and while I am again working on becoming fit, I do not feel compelled to compete or write about it.

While I kept some of those feeds, I got rid of some, too. And that feels right.

And speaking of write. I know some talented folks who offer inspiration and example and I want to know them better.

While there are many, I'll offer just one example: Kate knocked me over with her love letter to her niece. And I completely relate to her less than appropriate sense of humor. I love the way she recounts conversations and I appreciate her writing skills and style. A lot. And so she stays and I look forward to spending time with her. Because if I reduce and tighten my blog-roll I can actually participate in the community.

Theoretically.

Reflections

I am inefficient. I spend too much time turning from task to task to task and at the end of the day I've done nothing extremely well. Every day. Online and off. Work and recreation.

The less structured summer is coming and when I woke up this morning I was listening to my son sing along to Crocodile Rock on his new iPod Shuffle that he bought with his own money after depositing an equal amount of money into his savings account and the problem with that is that he shouldn't be old enough to do it.

But he is.

And so I am looking at my scheduling and my growing time markers that live with me and I am afraid. So, I am focusing my energies on simplification. Reduce. Reduce my beloved blogroll. Reduce objects. Reduce wasted time and energy. Reduce incessant email surveillance. Reduce piles and stored objects.

And instead of focusing on expanding, I need to focus on tightening. Tightening my community circles. Tightening my obligations. Tightening my faith. Tightening my abdominal muscles. Tightening my time.

It's spring. Time to wake up.

Vacation

We're in a house that's not ours to clean.
The 3 are asleep.
The wine is fine.
The view of the ocean is clear.
No one is sick.
The tvs are off, and now so is this machine.
Enjoy.

Waah...

I am trying to get my groove on- or back- or whatever.


I, like the 3 small ones in my house, am sick again. It's viral pharyngitis. A sore throat. Which describes perfectly the fire that has been burning in my throat for the past 5 days. Who names these things? If it were me this would be double diagnosis of viral throatonfiritis with a little can'tstayawakus. The kids are just wrapping up some spring colds, and they each have a lingering cough. No Big.

On another medical front I have been preoccupied by the idea of living without a uvula. A possible treatment for sleep apnea involves a uvulopalatopharyngoplasty. Now this sounds like a great way to spend a day, no?

The real question is, can I lead a long and fulfilling life without my uvula?

Disclosure

My father died 10 years, 11 months and 17 days ago. I remember it and sometimes feel it as though it were a month or 2 or 3 ago.

In the past few months I have been thinking about writing in a different way. And in the past few weeks I have been thinking more about writing my stories. My mother wrote her autobiography for a college course when I was 13 and she was 50. I just finished re-typing it and having it bound and copied in her honor for her and my siblings.

So, here where I used to talk about my fitness efforts (which I still think about), I am now recalling stories from the distant and recent past. Maybe it's a step towards an autobiography of sorts. Maybe its a series of writing exercises.

Thanks for your thoughts and condolences on what I wrote yesterday. They soothe in the same way they might if this was a more recent loss. Fact is, my father's death is neither recent nor distant. It's constant and permanent. So, thank you.

Just After

I called my sister in the middle of the night, on a wire stretching from one coast to the other. I stood in the dim hospital hallway leaning against the ICU nurses station, not looking back into the room I'd just left.

I told her that he died. I don't recall telling her that when we got the phone call at home we crammed in a car, flying over bumps and though lights, never seeing another vehicle. I don't recall telling her that we pulled up to the emergency room entrance, abandoned the car, doors ajar, and chased each other at full speed up two or maybe three flights of stairs.

I did tell her that he was still alive when we got there. I did tell her that we stood, touching a part of him- foot, shoulder, arm, hand, head. And that we prayed the Our Father for our father until he was done breathing.

I don't know what she asked, but I offered her what I thought I'd need if she were there and I was not.

Walking

When I was very small I walked with my mother. This was before every family required 2 cars. We walked to the JCC, where my Catholic mother taught Jewish customs in my nursery school. Most days after school I took swimming lessons and played in the water while my mother swam a mile. It took her a really long time and so I became quite a good swimmer. Our skin was wrinkled when we toweled off. And the soap could not remove the lingering smell of chlorine.

Then we walked the mile and a half home. We used to pass an ugly little ranch style home, and I remember telling my mom that it was my favorite house in all the world. It was the brightest red paint that I had ever seen.

I am so anxious to move my body. The days are longer and the snow is melting and I want to walk again.

Skipping Hippos Giveaway!

I'm sorry, I just can't resist. Mom Views is having a poncho giveaway. The ponchos at Skipping Hippos are painfully sweet. Check it out:



I don't spend $46 on myself let alone my 3 year old... but heck these are unique and handmade and just freaking adorable- and you might not be as tight fisted as I... but if you are, it's a giveaway! So, spread the word, enter the contest, and support a mom.

Good Luck!!

Signs of Spring

I've been sick. So sick. But today offered signs of healing and of spring:


I'll be back soon. I have naps to take before I sleep...

Depot Pond

There is a small pond in a small town near a windmill on Cape Cod that defines vacation. Back when sand dunes were steep we drove from Eastham to Welfleet and hiked down to the ocean with all of the accoutrements necessary for a family of 9 and a few friends. We used that beach for hours. Walking, building, digging, swimming, riding, running, rolling, surfing, throwing, chasing, eating, searching, soaking, sleeping, reading, burning until dinnertime approached. Panting and sweating we dragged what we brought back up the mountain to the car, while our t-shirts scraped the sea salt into our sunburned shoulders.

We jostled down the long unpaved driveway to the pond, bursting from the car before it stopped and racing, racing to the water. Reaching the shore at full speed, diving without slowing into the cool pond, gliding until our bodies rose to the surface. A fresh water cleanse.

A sensation that is deeply a part of me.

As a girl I lit fire to my room because I had to read.

Now, instead of sneak reading with a towel draped over the lamp, I sit in the glow of the computer screen, writing.

In the first hours of the day I wonder that I am too late, it is too much, I have too little.

For tonight, I am too tired.

He ain't dead yet...

Yesterday I wrote today's post for GNMParents. It was fun to put into words what I've been feeling for the past few weeks. Energized. Thankful. Creative. Example: for months I have been thinking of buying wall stickery things that said "Scatter Kindness." Instead, I made something. And it feels good.

Yesterday was a landmark for my husband. He is now 1 day older than any Hatch male in at least 2 generations. His heart is healthy and his biggest risk factor is his history. Did I mention that he's 37 years 4 months and 11 days old?

This part is disgusting. It's hard to confess. I've known about his dad and grandfather forever, and so I regularly entertain thoughts of becoming a widow. I have for years. Where would we live? What completely inappropriate thing would I say? Who would drive his car? How many fewer load of laundry would I have to do every week? Would I still eat dinner sitting with my kids at the table? Would I have to shop for black things? Who would I call? What would I say? How would I be?

Would I ever bury the darkness?

Blech.

It's not so much entertaining as contemplating. I love him. Enough that I can never actually answer any of those questions. They just float around. Like specks of dust.

I'll tell you one thing I would do: I'd use the insurance money to hire someone to clean my house. (That was a joke). I am happy that he made it to today. (That was an understatement).

Seriously, I got pretty sappy about him here. And then more recently I was bragging all about us here. I already said that I love him. I guess there's only one thing left to say:

Hey Rob, I'm glad you aren't dead. Mwah.

Vacation's Over (thank God)

Last week was February vacation. It was everything I dreamed it would be. And by dream, I mean the kind that wakes you mid scream. Dramatic? Yes. Kid #1 came down with a fever on Monday which progressed into a croupy cough with fever spikes reaching 104. Three days later Kid #2 joined in the fun, and then 1 day later Kid #3 got gooey.

Our days consisted of sleeping, bubble bathing, snuggling, and consuming copious amounts of media. Our nights consisted of sleeping on the couch with a fevered body cradled on my lap, holding a kid almost upright to reduce coughing. This was almost as good as the original plan for vacation, which involved some sledding, a fishing derby, some other local adventures, and an ultra rare visit from my brother's family. Yes, this was almost that good.

Mid-week I took Kid #1 to the doctor to rule out bronchitis. The good news was that his lungs were clear. The better news was that the ultra high fever should last another 2 days. The best news was that the cough would linger for another 2 weeks. By Friday the fever broke. By Monday the barking cough had mellowed a little. His energy and appetite were back and he no longer looked like he was asleep on his feet.

According to school rules a child has to be fever free for at least 24 hours before returning to school. And he has to feel well enough to be there. So when the bus pulled up this morning he climbed aboard and waved as he pulled away.

I stood holding a crying snot nosed #3 and the hand of the feverish coughing #2. I felt a sweet warm wave of utter relief wash over me. I rode that wave. I sent the most well one away. And then, predictably, the wave dragged me over the rocky coast of guilt.

Should I have kept him home longer? Even though he was fever free for more than 2 days. Even though his cough had mellowed. Did I rush him out because it's easier to care for 2 sickies than 3? Would he have benefited from an extra day? Should I have kept him home for 2 weeks? Until his cough was gone?

Regardless of school rules, had I done right by my boy? I have no freaking idea. But when he got home he was none the worse for wear and was celebrating some of his successes from the day. So, I am reflecting on that and, in the spirit of yesterday's post, I'm letting those questions go. I took good care of him. That's what I did.

Being better every day

It's easy to fall short of the person you're trying to be. Or it's impossible to become the person you're trying to be. Or wanting to be someone that you aren't yet is the impetus to get up and out. Without wanting to do better we are asleep. Aren't we? Reaching for Holden's brass ring is what we're here for. Be a better mother. Wife. Believer. Daughter. Sister. Friend.

Our goals shift so often that we forget the one we didn't quite finish before we've added 17 new ones. Play more. Clean more. Write more. Watch more. See more. Volunteer more. Wash more. Exercise more. Call more. Make more. Comment more. Compliment more. Buy more. Travel more. Cook more. Read more. Be more.

The perpetual efforts to be and do more and better mean that we can never succeed. We can never be the person we strive to be. There is always another thing. We can only ever fail. Is this why everyone is taking pills to relax and be happy?

We need quiet. We need to stop listing what we don't do, and start looking at what we do. What we are.

Great. I needed another goal.

**Updated**
Please go read Jon's Should post. It's really very connected to this and re-frames it beautifully.

Friendship

I have written a lot of words about the importance of friendship. About moms needing moms and women needing women. I've also expended a lot of calories cultivating friendships. They are important. I would be less than me without them.

Having ended my 36th year I wonder if it is a universal truth that there is a segment of a woman's psyche that simply never graduates from grade school. A particle of insecurity and self-consciousness that becomes trapped inside every interaction. I know it's possible, but is it common for women to maintain bonds that aren't cluttered with doubts?

Lack of Communication is a surly beast. It slithers into relationships and entangles itself withing the limbs of security and honesty. It compromises the stability of the bonds that are growing. It makes it difficult to develop in good health. It makes it difficult to want to. The strongest of us can not always quiet the beast. We require rest.

Friendship takes energy. On the planet of Parenthood and Marriage, energy is not found in abundance. It is expected that within a relationship that energy will ebb and flow from one partner to another. It is true and right. And the bond of friendship necessitates honesty and clarity. That is true and right. And we are hiding in the girls bathroom avoiding the cafeteria because we are unsure and lonely. And that is true and wrong.

It's true that moms need moms and women need women. And Oscar Wilde said, "The truth is rarely pure and never simple."

Sicknesses

Sickness is here for a visit. My boy burns. His body shakes as his teeth grind and the heat releases from his hands. 101,101,101, 104, 101, 99, 103. The cough starts, barking until it hurts in his everywhere. So tired of the cough, he shrinks it to a whisper, but still it overpowers and barks, in defense or on attack.

And I watch. And I question. And I hold. And I stroke. And I rub. And I serve. And I call. And I cradle his too long limbs on my lap through the too long night. My arm deeply sleeping as it holds him upright.

I look and I try to see the fever burning the sickness, boiling the invading germs, doing its job.

And I am overwhelmed by this visitor, who overstays its welcome. My eyes run and my mind invents reasons to feel sad and angry and so very hurt. Reasons outside this home. And with the palm of my hand monitoring the heat, I am less lonely.

Scatter Kindness

We lost power last night in the great ice storm of 2008. We struggled without television, computer, light or heat from 10 pm until 2 in the morning. We survived with nary a scratch.

I have complained about winter this week as though the complaints will melt the snow. Clearly they won't. By means of description rather than complaint I will tell you that when I walked to the middle of the yard today to rescue my stuck daughter, I sunk to mid thigh. And I think I was standing on about a foot of hard packed icy snow. The snow banks are so high on my street that you can not see the houses from the road. From the house you can not see a car traveling on the road. At every intersection you must slowly inch out to the middle of the road to determine if you are about to be pummeled by a Ford F-150.

Today was lovely. Sunny and a balmy 35 degrees. The icicles melted. We spent several hours outdoors today. The Punks stripped snow from the swing-set and mounted mountains of previously plowed snow. I thought I'd conquer the driveway, needing to glimpse the black of the pavement to secure my sanity. After 2 hours I had managed to clear 3 squares of snow and ice approximately 3 feet in diameter. My back was seizing and my wrists aching. I had stripped down to a thin fleece and tossed my hat to the side. I was sweating and breathing harder than I had any right to breath. Cue loader. Big Yellow Machine grinding it's plow over the hard packed ice in effort to expedite some melting and in the process rebuild the barrier between my driveway and the road. It was tall. It was wet. It was heavy. I was defeated.

And pissed. I cursed and cursed and cursed with every scoop. Each one was too heavy to remove. Back. Wrists. Pain. When the steam cleared the loader was on it's way back and I paused. I flashed to the start of this season. This season of first snowfalls when neighbors laughed and talked in the street as they cleared every speck of snow and ice from every conceivable surface. You know, 83 inches of snow ago. It took a lot of effort, but finally I conceded that this man in this machine might not have been put on this street to intentionally break my back. He did a job. An imaginably lonely job. A necessary job that kept my family safe when we turned out of the driveway. And so I straightened when the machine came. I offered a slight wave and slighter smile.

He slowed and tipped his hat (no, really). The horn beeped and suddenly the machine changed direction and the man changed the direction of his plow and he piled all of the snow from the foot of my driveway on top of the mountain. Not one sweep. Not 2 sweeps. Lots of sweeps and I felt the saddest euphoria.

I forgot that people are kind.

Today

So today I wrote a post for GNMP for tomorrow. That totally counts for this daily writing thing.. It's a series of Haikus. About how the snow is freezing my normally chipper attitude. So, today's post tomorrow and tomorrow's post tomorrow. And yesterdays post yesterday.

Late Nights

The thing about this daily writing, is that sometimes it's 9:15 pm and I am tired and full of crank, so writing is uh, crappy.

My boys wrestle. In a wrestling club. They started last summer and really seemed to enjoy it. As a sport. Not as late night entertainment or a way to dominate their brother. They wrestle on the mat, with a coach and very small wrestling shoes.

All summer they wrestled twice a week. Then school started and we laid off it because the timing wasn't great and they were adjusting to being a kindergartener and a second grader. We started up again the 1st of the year.

I just got back from my 1st ever practice. It's been Rob's job. Tonight I went. It wasn't the best experience. There were a lot of new kids there, and at 6 and 8 my boys are two of the younger wrestlers. Rob is usually out on the mat with the kids helping them to stay focused and implement the moves. Not I. Oh no, not I.

Participating in this sport is a lifestyle change for us. It's from 7-8.30 at night twice a week. My kids are always in bed and usually snoring by 8:30. I worry for their teachers tomorrow. I wonder if this is the best thing for them. I wonder if the benefits of learning and participating in this sport will outweigh the sacrifices.

It's not just wrestling. Kids activities consume more family time than ever before. Hours on the weekend, multiple nights a week. Birthday parties. We're steadfast in allowing only 1 activity per season, and we madly hope that the boys will always choose the same activity. And Lucy when she's older. (Yes, wrestling is co-ed, although there aren't any girls currently participating).

There are things that are non-negotiable in our schedule. Family time. Sunday school. Holidays spent with extended family. Eating together nearly every night.

I worry for the challenges that face us to maintain the commitment we've made to each other.

Blech.

Shut Up and Listen

I am never quiet. I awaken in the morning with exactly the amount of time needed to usher the kids to school. My computer is switched on before breakfast and off again at the very end of the day. During the day I play and read and cook and occasionally clean. I break frequently to check mail, read a blog, write a post. Never quietly. When It is time to settle down in the evening I watch tv and read until my lids are heavy.

It is one week into the Lenten season and I have been seeking silence. Stillness. It's about my faith and it's about all of my relationships. It's about embracing the quiet. It's about listening to what people are and are not saying. It's about giving people the silence to speak. It's about hearing.

Another of my Lenten pursuits is writing. Daily. Consciously. Carefully. I've abandoned Maine-ly Megin, focusing online calories on building up the parenting community at GNMParents. But now, I'll post here and see where it takes me.

A new day

Clay is doing much, much better:
He took his last dose of steroids today, so we'll watch closely for the next few days, but it's looking good!

The Hive Saga

If you read GNMParents then you may remember from a couple of weeks ago that I have a son with severe allergies. On the afternoon of July 4th our family was enjoying a quiet day at home. I was sitting next to my son on the couch when he started saying he was itchy. He took off his shirt and I watched as first dozens then hundreds of welts spread across his torso. Hives.

Oh, I've forgotten an integral part of the story. This was my other son. The one with no known food allergies. The one who eats peanut butter. The one who (wouldn't but) could eat haddock.


I dosed him with Benadryl and put a call into the doctor. We went through a long list of "could it be"'s and decided it was:

a. Progresso chicken soup
b. Something other than Progresso chicken soup
or
c. A complete fluke.

The antihistamine kicked in and Clay appeared to be fine. The hives cleared completely and he had no other symptoms. We actually headed to the neighbors for a swim.

That night Clay woke up at 11 pm completely covered in hives. They weren't extremely red, but they were raised and plentiful. He was itching like mad. I gave him another dose of the big B and put him in a baking soda bath. We were up for an hour or 2 and then he slept again. When he awoke we gave him some more B and he proceeded to upchuck it into the toilet. We put in another call to the doctor and after a bit gave him some more medicine. The hives were growing in size and in number. My boy was scratching away. He spent a good portion of the day in an oatmeal bath as sat and I watched. The Benadryl was providing minimal relief and it was only lasting an hour or 2. The doc called in a script. This proved to be even less effective that the B.

By 5 pm the hives had gotten even worse and we headed to the urgent care clinic. It's about a 20 minute drive and I did my best to distract my boy who was writhing and screaming intermittently. The folks at the clinic were wonderful. They pushed us in immediately. The doctor decided an oral dose of steroids were called for. But first Clay needed to eat something. A tiny bite of graham crackers and a couple sips of juice went down and came back up immediately.

When the doctor mentioned epinephrine... as in Epi-Pen... I swallowed my panic. They administered a shot of steroids and the epinephrine. Within 10 minutes Clay's skin was clearing and he was acting himself. He scarfed down a Popsicle and talked my ear off as we waited for him to be discharged. A few minutes later we were on our way home, prescriptions for an antihistamine and oral steroids in hand. I was sure we were over the hump. We got home and Clay ate a big dinner and headed to bed. I breathed a sigh of relief and went to bed myself.

Then Friday came. From the time he woke up until he went to bed that night Clay sat curled on my lap. Except when he got up to vomit... which was about every 20 minutes. The hives were back, although less prominent and certainly less itchy. He couldn't keep anything down. We resorted to teaspoons of Gatorade given in 5 minute intervals. He tolerated about 4/5 doses before heaving it up again. 24 hours passed without food or liquid. Hello... can you spell dehydration? The evening came and I spoke to the doctor yet again. Together we decided to let him go to sleep but that we would bring him into the office in the morning. I checked on him 100 times during the night and he was resting well. When he awoke he was completely clear of hives and hungry! Hungry! Hungry! No hives + hungry= relief.

It turned out to be premature relief-ulation. Within an hour or so, the hives came back. We headed to the doctor's office (about 45 minutes away) and by the time we arrived he was almost as bad as it had been on Thursday. Still swallowing my panic, I talked to the doctor again about causes (no one knows) and treatments. We gave him the antihistamine and 1/2 dose of the steroids in the office, under the observation of the doctor. He immediately felt crappy and curled up into a ball on my lap. He slept.

We headed home with instructions to continue the steroids and the antihistamine for 3 days. If the vomiting returned or if the hives became worse we were to call. We stopped for a slushie on the way home. I'd've bought him anything he wanted. I was so bloody sick of being helpless. I was so bloody tired of wondering if I was doing the right thing. I would've bought him anything.

For the next day the hives came back sporadically as did the nausea. But he was himself for long periods of time. And though his tummy seemed upset, he was able to keep the little food he ate down.

He's still taking the steroids. This is day 1 without the antihistamine. He is back to pestering his siblings and running all over the place. It's beautiful.

Second Post of the Day

Please take a moment to read Rob's post about the adventures of our son.

It's called The Sock Bone and you will laugh.

It's April 4th

This is the email that I woke up to this morning:

Good morning! The snow that is currently falling may accumulate up to two inches this morning before tapering off after 9:00am. Please drive carefully as roadways will become slippery.

In the meantime, the Weather Service has posted a Winter Storm Warning from 6:00pm tonight until 10:00am Thursday morning. Expected accumulations are between 6 and 10 inches of heavy, wet snow. This combined with winds of up to 30 mph could cause power outages.

Public Works has called for a Parking Ban from 7:00pm tonight until 1:00pm on Thursday.

It is April 4th and I am d.o.n.e. with snow.

Aidan's Tunes

My boy responded to my tag and shared his favorite 7 songs of the moment.

I love the contrast between Centerfold and Hi-Ho.

Good stuff.

Music of the Moment

Chantal tagged me for a music meme. Before I start, I suggest you all go over and read her "real Mom" post. It is so on the money. This post isn't nearly as fascinating as hers. You actually don't even have to bother coming back.

Oh... you're back? Okay then-

Instructions: List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what they are. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

So here are the tunes I've been enjoying lately:

1. Buzz Buzz- Laurie Berkner (They said their names were Kay and Ray and Fay and they went buzz buzz buzz.)
   
2. Not Ready to make Nice- Dixie Chicks
   
3. The Future Soon- Jonathan Coulton
   
4. I Will- the Beatles
   
5. I Walk the Line- Johnny Cash
   
6. Gallileo- the Indigo Girls
7. Flowers on the Wall- the Statler Brothers

I can't tag 7 people... do 7 people read this neglected blog? ok- Stu, Erica, Wes, Ma ma ma Mia, Whit, Wanna Be, and my boy, Aidan.

Kid Blogging

My son, Aidan (7), has been researching dragons. He has a new post on his neglected blog, Information about Stuff. Leave him a comment, he goes nutty for them.

Kid blogging is fun. Aidan struggled with some of his spelling, but whenever he saw an underlined word, he knew to try again. He needed some help, but he figured out a lot of it himself.

Researching "stuff" is fun. It must be done together, to be sure he's finding appropriate sites. He's learning about not only the "stuff" he decides upon, but also about spelling, and creative commons licenses, and punctuation, and navigating the web, and using the computer. It inspires him to ask questions and to find answers. I love the deductive reasoning he closed this post with... if King Arthur battled Dragamont, and Dragamont was real, than dragons are real.

Does your kid blog? Do you know any kids that blog?

Donations Encouraged!

I just wrote a post at GNM Parents about how little I enjoy asking people for money. Truth is, I am currently raising money for 2 very worthy organizations. Please read about why I support these programs, and make a donation here. These are worthy causes and I fully appreciate your support.

Big Brothers Big Sisters:

And:

The Arthritis Walk

Thank you, sincerely.

Overheard at our Dinner Table

Aidan (7): Where on the chicken is the wishbone?

Papa: Somewhere near the breast.

Clay (5): Oh, so it's a girl chicken.

National Sex Offender Registry

I can't sleep.

The people in our neighborhood have been getting phone calls to notify them of a registered sex offender who lives about 1/4 mile from my house.

I knew there was an issue with his teenage step daughter, and I knew he went to jail and now I know that he's back... living with the poor kid's "biological mother." What I don't know is what to do with this information.

Being a parent is scary.

Family Watch Dog tells you where the sex offenders live and work in relation to your address.

GNMParents has a post up about keeping kids safe. Sometimes it seems impossible.

Dreaming of Vacation

Our family is not a vacation family. Every February for the past 5 years I have said the same thing: maybe next February we'll go someplace warm. I now say it again. February is a long short month.

Our family's making a choice right now- you know, investing in the family and all of that. It's good and it's where we want to be. Really. Money's tight but we are doing what we need to to make this work. It usually works for us.

Except sometimes I want to go on vacation. Our last vacation as a family was 4 and a half years ago. We went to the White Mountains in New Hampshire for a week and spent a couple of days playing in the most amazing rocky river ever. It was so lovely. Relaxing and full of each other.

When I was a kid we spent 2 weeks a summer on a little pond in Eastham, MA (on Cape Cod). We'd have long days at the ocean and even longer days never leaving the water of the pond. Those 2 weeks were like 2 months. My mom might say otherwise. She and my Dad were the ones dealing with the operational side of the vacation. But as kids, it was pure heaven.

Over the past few summers we have had a good number of days playing in the surf on the coast of Maine and lounging on the shores of some really breathtaking lakes. Those are like mini vacations.

Today I am longing for days spent together in vacation mode. I wonder what we can do on a dime to get that feeling now. All of my vacation memories have to do with water and time. We are going to make some more of that happen in 2007. We are.

We are... and next February, we're headed someplace warm- even for a few days.

For You

A Wish List For You:

That you never ruin a batch of brownies by greasing the pan with rancid Crisco.

That you never stumble to answer the question "What is a booby?"

That an (all but) virtual stranger a friend will send you beautiful baubles.

That you never realize at 11:15 pm that you forgot to shower (again).

That your choice to walk to the bus stop when it's -7 (with the wind chill) instead of taking the car doesn't backfire and you don't end up with 3 wicked sad kids before 8 am.

That when you go to bed dreaming of a snow day, you'll awaken to a day of blankets, snow forts, and hot cocoa.

How ARE you?

Revealing Inadequacies

Yesterday I went to church alone. This doesn't happen very often. When I go, it's usually with the whole family. I spend a good portion of the time juggling books and silent toys in effort to ensure that the Punks aren't disturbing out neighbors, or wisking a noisy kid off to the cry room when it just isn't working. Although I am not able to focus on every word, I leave still feeling as though it was an hour well spent. I am comforted by the predictable rhythm of the mass. Oh, and I love me a good hymn.

On occasion I go to an evening mass alone. I sink into the rhythm and immerse myself in the rituals. It's quiet and my mind responds as you may or may not expect. As a stay at home mom there is very little quiet in my life. During mass I spend a good deal of time assessing where I am and how I am doing- my mind races.

Lately it seems during this time that all of my inadequacies are revealed.

By communion I am more often than not a bit weepy. In fact, my priest has commented on several different occasions that it must be a terrible cold I have.

We have only been a part of this community for a little over 2 years. It is strange to attend mass when I cherish being a part of the community yet when I am there I sink into the solitude. Today I feel a bit torn between wanting to go alone and work through this stuff and at the same time wanting to go with the family and relish the familiar and comforting rituals.


Just what I am thinking about.

Memory Lane

I hope you'll indulge me for just a few moments. I've been scrolling through old photos and I came across pictures from a day trip we took to an island off the coast of Maine. Aidan was 4 months shy of his 5th birthday, Clay was a month shy of 3, and Lucy was 2 months old. The kid's grandmother and aunt and uncle and 5 month old cousin came as well.

We spent the day walking around the island. It was warm but not hot, a beautiful September day. We had a lovely picnic lunch in a secluded back yard. After poking around the streets and neighborhoods we spent a couple of hours exploring the tidal pools and rocks and shells on the beach. Lucy was still ultra portable and was digging her sling. I love to remember the days that we carved out specifically for each other.

These memories help me to shift my focus away from the daily stress and crap. They help me to look ahead to the next opportunity we have to relax and just be together.

Ok, and can you believe the chunkamonka that was is my lovely daughter? Have you seen such beautiful skin?

Have a great weekend, folks.

The Thing: purely a journal entry

Here's the thing: I uh, stopped blogging here when things picked up at GNMParents. It's been a great outlet for parenting related stuff and for connecting with other parents.

Kind of like this site was a good outlet for exercise related stuff and connecting with other exercisers. Except I seem to have abandoned exercise.

So I am presented with a bit of a dilemma. It's my own thing but since I'm processing it I figure I might as well do it here.

I have made no significant progress towards completing my weightloss goals for the past 6 months (maybe longer). This is amazing considering I am pretty close to the finish line. It's like quiting a 5k with 15 yards to go. I have 5 lbs to meet my official goal and 5 beyond that as a cushion. So 10 lbs total.

Last time I ran was at the Jingle Bell run at the beginning of December. Before that it had been months. I was sore for 2 days after the 5k. I ran 3 days a week all summer long. Ok, so I hated it mostly, but I did it. Is it really just the weather? That's a pretty lame excuse seeing as up until this week we've had no snow to speak of and lots of warm days. (On a side note it is currently 2 degrees outside my house!)

The dilemma is this: do I scrap this place and say goodbye or do I use it purely to keep me accountable for my daily activities in effort to motivate myself to hit my goals?

I am not sure.

New Look

I really need a new look on Maine-ly Megin. I know.

In the meantime I am absolutely thrilled with the new look at GNM Parents.

Do you like it?

Do you think it's a problem if I am half in love with most of the contributors over there?

I am off to begin our Christmas celebration this weekend with my in-laws. It will be fun and happy. I hope you have a great weekend, too.

Who Wrote the Book of....?

What, in the name of all that is good and right in this world, was I thinking?

So, my 2nd meme in a week- again started by the talented Chicken Lady- a collaborative story... and it hits me it time for dialog? Dialog? (I can't "do" heavy today, folks...) I apologize only once.

(by Mrs. Chicken @ Chicken and Cheese)
I thought I saw him at the grocery store. It was raining that afternoon, and he had an umbrella. The red and white triangles that made up his portable shelter partly obscured his face, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes. Those eyes. Huge, blue and empty.

When he left me I remember searching their vast cerulean expanse for some sign, some flicker of love. It rained that day, too. Why does it rain when you lose someone you love? My tears left him unmoved. I don’t know why that surprised me.

The baby kicked in my cart and I let my gaze fall on her face. Her father’s eyes stared back at me. Green eyes, warm and full of life.“Mamma?” she said. “Mamma!”

(by Binky @ 24/7)
The question-turned-exclamation jarred me out of my reverie. There was pressure in my temples and behind the hazel tint of my colored contact lenses. "Mamma's here," I cooed. My voice was a manufactured kind of soothing. I leaned in and brushed a kiss over Bethany's forehead, where a drop of rainwater hung like the tiniest Swarovski pendant. Its chain was made of fine blond locks.

"What do you think, baby girl?" I asked as I pulled her into my arms. "Is it time to go home?" Her searching legs and center of gravity found all the right contours as she settled atop the jut of my hip. I tugged at her coat until the hood framed her face, then I stepped into the rain. A small deluge of water streamed off the curve of the lowercase "o" on the Save-A-Lot sign and landed at the back of my neck. I could feel the tag from my shirt sticking sharp and soggy to my skin.

I sighed against Bethany's face and tried to avoid the bigger puddles on our way to my twenty year old Civic, which was miraculously close. One row over and three cars ahead, I saw a familiar red and white umbrella spanning the gap between an open door and the driver's seat of a rusty 4Runner that had to be as old as my own piece of junk. They guy I'd mistaken for Paul sat sideways and watched the rain as he talked into a cell phone.

(by Tony @ Creative-Type Dad)
Hastily reaching into my purse holding Bethany firmly, I could faintly hear the sound of his voice. His mumbled words were almost too reminiscent of Paul’s. The way he laughed as he said “Gouda” into his plastic phone brought back imagery of the two of us, sitting together last winter on the living room floor, sipping Merlot watching “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous”. Occasionally Paul would jokingly burst out vocabulary in his comedic English accent – expressions like “Don Perignon!” and “Caviar Dreams!” oh, how I loved Caviar and that faux bear skin rug.

With keys finally in hand, stumbling to open the rusty car door, I could sense this stranger's stare against my cheek. His phone chatter abruptly ended and I could hear the sounds of squeaking cowboy boots crushing the wet pavement.

(by Occidental Girl @ The Occidental Tourist)
My mind was suddenly full of so many thoughts vying for my attention at the same time that I couldn't think straight.

It can't be him, I thought, no way. What would I say? What do I look like? What am I wearing???

The answers came in rapid succession: It could be him, it's okay if it's him because I'm not angry anymore; I could talk about my fulfilling life that I've enjoyed since knowing him, like this beautiful child I created with someone else, without him; I look like shit but since I'm too hard on myself in general, I probably look just fine; men - especially Paul - don't notice what women are wearing unless it's nothing at all. Then, they notice.

When you coincidentally encounter someone you loved once, a long time ago, the traitorous mind tends to retrieve only the good memories and leave the battles and frustrations out of it. This leaves us to wonder what in the world we ever thought was wrong and maybe it was a mistake to end the relationship. After all, doesn't every relationship have ups and downs? Ours certainly did. It was passionate, without a doubt, but in every area: the loving AND the fighting. It was when the fighting overtook the loving that we fell apart. I wonder if he ever thought about all of that, even now. Paul didn't seem to notice many thing unless they were stark - naked or otherwise.

And yet, here he was - maybe - coming over to talk after all this time.

I took a deep breath, then turned around.

(by Meg at Mainely-Megin):

"Hey." He practically whispered.
Oh. My. God.
"Hi." Was it relief or despair?
"I wasn't sure you'd remember me."
"No, I..." Not Paul. Not Paul. Not Paul. Who the hell was it?
"Peter Johnston, I sat behind you in statistics freshman year."

Peter freakin' Johnston. I felt my pulse in my neck, and I focused my breathing the way I had 15 short months ago in labor. Not Paul.

Peter held his umbrella over me and the squirmy Bethany. Idle chat. Wife, 3 kids, new job, just moved into town, wife hasn't met anyone yet. Not Paul. Not Paul. Peter was bursting with the need to share his happiness, which allowed him to simply see an old acquaintance, not someone's former lover plagued by mere memory.

"Dinner sounds great, I'd love to meet Lisa and the kids."

With the baby buckled in and my door as close to closed as it got, I watched Peter close his own door. The rain rushed down the window and distorted the images. It blended the head and brake lights of the cars winding their way through the parking lot.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now, it's your turn:
Bethany

You guys are next.

Christy
Heather
Michelle
Mrs. Maladjusted
Kristi
Desitin's Child
Tater And Tot
Word Girl

A Me-Me For-For You-You

This is my first me-me- an early holiday gift from the talented Mrs. Chicken (Go introduce yourself, I promise you will love her. She also writes as Amy at GNMParents!).

5 things you don't know about me:

1. This very morning I washed a pull-up in the washing machine. You see, I love laundry passionately, and the 5 loads in addition to the baby's crib sheets (yes, almost every morning she wakes up wet) that were waiting for me were not enough. I really wanted to rewash that load. Twice. On my short list of things I wish I was better at, house-keeping is in the top 5. On that list you'll also find mothering, writing, technical "stuff" (including but not limited to: web design, audio and video how to, and auto-repair), and the ability to fully embrace poverty.

2. Of my 3 children, only one was planned. The other 2 have been "glorious surprises." Let no measly little patch limit my fertility! Since we are on this topic, I know precisely the "event" in which each of them was conceived. Yeah, that's all I'll say about that.

3. If I allow the thought or image of flan, oatmeal, custard (or anything with an icky texture), linger in my mind for more than a moment I throw up a little. How do you people eat that crap? On the topic of food? I (heart) brownies. Alone, hot under ice cream, filled with fudge. frosted, with or without nuts, homemade, store bought... get the picture?

4. At times the loss of my own father still brings me to my knees. I miss him madly and my heart hurts to think that my children do not know him.

5. I love The Carpenters. There. I said it.

Bonus: I spent over 7 years of my life pregnant and/or nursing.


5 things you don't know about my kids:

1. Aidan was due on Christmas Eve and joined us reluctantly on January 4th. Clay was a week early and Lucy was 2 days early. Combined their labors total around 77 hours.

2. At various times my children have wanted to be the following when they grew up: firefighter, police officer, wrestler, warrior, chef, dancer, Santa's helper, and a hippo.

3. Aidan spent the 1st 24 hours of his life in the NICU. It was a long journey for him and he was a little shaken up by it. He recovered quickly and we went home when we were scheduled to.

4. My children are my mother's 19th, 22nd, and 24th grandchildren.

5. Our very favorite family activity is to spend long days together relaxing and playing together at the beach.

That's it! Now what? I tag someone else? Mia, my friend, you've been too quiet lately!

Jingle Bell Run

Did it, survived. Considering I've only run a couple of times since August I was surprised I was able to run as much as I did. Slowly, but still. I'd never run in the cold. It was very different. It was really a beautiful day- mid 30's and perfectly clear.

Running buddy and I finished a second apart. We totally won.

If winning means finishing a 5k in about 40 minutes :)

Music makes a world of difference... (Matt, Dawn: love, love, love, love!)

My Package

Chris has a fun idea. I'm playing along. Here's what I would love:

- a great running MP3 file or Cd or whatever. What do you love running to?

- a couple of easy favorite recipes- anything from appetizers to desserts to beverages.

- a list of the top things you like to do with your kids. Do you have made up games? Describe them to me.

- a quote that you think I might like based on what you know about me.

- a book you've read that you think I might benefit from or just enjoy.


You know what I'd like from my family? Instead of random tchotchke? I'd like babysitting. My time with my husband is way too infrequent. I don't need anything. Babysitting is such a lovely gift. I'd also like them to take a kid overnight- just one at a time. This is a lovely gift for the kid. Something they will remember more clearly than a set of legos. It also lends itself to more one on one time for the 2 that are left behind. A bonus gift.

I love and I hate this time of year for so many reasons.

Event Announcement!

I am going to re-launch my running with the "Jingle-Bell" run next weekend. It'll be a bit of a scientific experiment to see what the time difference will be between now- not running and last summer, running.

I miss this blog. Wow, I miss this blog.

Here's where I am and what I'm doing: GNMParents. I know a lot of you are parents as well as athletes... so consider this an invitation.

Have any thoughts on the toys in your lives? Share your ideas!

I love two

It's a chilly rainy day in Maine. I spent a long while snuggling with Lucy on the couch under a warm blanket.

She calls her elbows her elmos.

She is so so soft.

She pretend snores.

She is fascinated by her nipples and (much to my dismay) has stopped calling them hippos.

We've begun the preliminary potty training process- you know it's your 3rd kid when she wears her brother's underwear to potty train!

She and Clay have had such a lovely morning playing that I keep putting off her nap. There is nothing more warming on this planet than watching your kids play together happily.

Another day at our own pace, snuggling and lovin each other.


Hope your day's good, too.

Great Source for Holiday Gifts

I never really push products or companies, BUT... I do love to share really great experiences.

I ordered a travel coffee mug for my mother-in-law for her birthday. Here's my deal- I love giving photo gifts of the kids to people who I think would like them, but I am really very bad at getting an acceptable photo in the appropriate time frame so that I can order without paying an arm and a leg to ship it today and receive it a week ago.

I ordered the mug on Tuesday, it shipped on Wedneday, and I had it in my hot little hands on Friday without paying any extra shipping charges.

The mug itself was about $20. I was very pleased with the quality of the mug AND with the quality of the photo. I had to email my pictures to the company and there was a bit of a delay due to my email. They tracked me down to make sure I re-sent them. Then they let me know thru personal email that they had gotten the images and that the mug had shipped out. My interactions with the folks at the company were just fantastic and that is what it's all about. The company seems pretty small, and in my experience they are doing it all right.

Need a photo gift? Check out MarvelousMugs.com. They are currently offering a pre-holiday special (10%) as well as discounts on duplicate orders. (Coupon code: Holiday06).

If you place an order, share your experience with me! I think these folks rock!

Best Food I've Made Since Summer Ended

This recipe is nothing but fan-freakin-tastic and if you don't try it, well, shame on you. I made it for a whole mess of people, and just guesstimated the measurements, but the original recipe went something like this:

Crock Pot Thai Chicken

1 lb chicken breast cut into bite sized pieces (place in crock)

mix together:
3/4 cups Salsa
2 Tablespoons fresh lime juice
1/4 cup sunflower seed butter (I've also made it with peanut butter, but the sunflower seed butter added a whole new dimention)
1 Tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons grated gresh ginger

Mix into chicken. Cook on high for 3-4 hours. Serve over brown rice or couscous or even whole wheat spaghetti and garnish with fresh cilantro (ok, use a lot and mix it in YUM!).

Should've taken a picture, but we ate it all.

How are you guys, anyway? Share a favorite healthy fall meal here, would you? My diet needs some inspiration.

October WHAT??

Here's what I am working on:

1. Home organization: defining systems for laundry and other household chores, complete re-org of the bathroom closet, bedroom closet, children's dressers, planning on tackling the home away from home (aka the van).

2. Being with my kids. Fully engaged.

3. Staying on the healthy food choices wagon.

4. Getting back on the running wagon (I've run twice and am having a passionate love affair with my splashy new iPod). I got scared away by the rain this weekend.

5. Thinking about starting a local mom's group. Winter's not easy for me, especially in Maine. I need a plan.

6. Making some changes with the other blog, moving from careermomradio.com to GNMParents.

7. Scouting and recruiting new contributors for GNMParents. I have found so many talented bloggers. Want to meet some of them? Check out Crankmama, Mom Writes, Scribbit, Diary of a Playgroup Dropout, The Lazy Organizer, Mommy off the Record, Stu News and Photos, There are more. I'll introduce you on another day. (Oh, and if you know a great blog that touches on some issue relating in any way to parenthood, please send it to me... Oh, you're interested? Let's talk!)

8. Anxiously counting down the days to an overnight girls trip. We're not going far, but it's nice to have a day off to look forward to.

9. Halloween costume making: pirate zombie, Hercules, and a red kitty cat.

10. I am sure there is a tenth... what could it be?

Photo courtesy of Jimmy via flickr.

Being God...

Clay (5): Mama, do people get married at a wedding?
Me: Yes, Clay.
Clay: Mama, how do people get married?
Me: Remember how Ian and Nel stood in front of the church and talked to each other? And to Uncle Scooter (Uncle conducted the ceremony)? They were getting married.
Clay: Yes, but HOW?
Me: Well, they stand up before God and each other and they promise to love each other forever and ever.
Clay: Oh, so Uncle Scooter was being God?

All 3 Punks were in the wedding. They did so great. A, who's 6, refused to even loosen his tie or remove his jacket for hours and hours. The groom, all of the wedding party had long disrobed. Not A. He was all about posing for the camera and cuttin' a rug. Clay was a little more reserved. The music was a little loud for him and he only danced once. Lucy walked down the aisle throwing rose petals like a champ. She wanted her dress off pretty early, but wanted to dance with us all night long.

Rockin'

Running with music r.o.c.k.s.

Yeah, you read that right. I ran.

Gratitude

I got a really nice letter last Sunday. I don't always look for affirmations that I am doing things well. That's a little lie. I do. I look for affirmations in my exercise and in my parenting and a little bit in my friendships. But they are simple and I do not dwell on them:

exercise: can I make it a mile without cursing?
parenting: can my Punks work out a conflict without my help?
friends: do people seem to want to be with me?

When my answers are "yes" then I can affirm that I am doing a'ight.

I don't look for affirmations like the one I got on Sunday. It was a lovely letter written in blue crayon from a dear friend. It was unexpected and heartfelt. I cried as I read it and for a good while after. I felt this huge washing sigh go straight through my bones.

It's really nice to know that you are living your life well. That you love your family and your friends and they know it and return it. That even without grand gestures, but simply making the efforts that feel right and come naturally you are being good. (Good parent, good family member, good friend).

I will cherish this letter. I will keep it where I can see it as a reminder to live right, and to acknowledge when other folks are livin' right. I am so thankful. I have an immediate family that I not only love but also like. I have an extended family I love and (often) like. I have a chosen family of friends that I love and I like.

I want to go on record that that letter, written in blue crayon on lined notebook paper was the best gift I've received in a really long time. The iPod Nano that came with it blew me away. Unspeakably generous. Thoroughly excessive. Just... I don't know what to say about it.

The Thing

Here are the things:

I'm still struggling with allergies but I'm done whining about them.

I'm frozen on the exercise front.

Career Mom Radio is fun and exciting and time consuming. I stay up late working on it, then I can't get up early enough for exercise. I am jazzed about this developing community and I love getting to hear/read these new voices. Are you working on a submission? There is a place for non-moms to contribute to so none of you have any excuses.

I have a lot to say, just not the stuff I've been saying. I'll be back with a whole lotta new stuff soon.

Just adjusting.

Career Mom What?

Ah, yes. Pop on over to Career Mom Radio. For your listening pleasure episode 6 offers lots of meat regarding working from home: home office organization, publicity strategies, and a million dollar give away.

Don't believe me? Give it a listen. And leave a freakin' comment while you're there! Oh, and subscribe. Watch that space- because starting this week the blog is putting on a little weight. I love you guys. Really.

disclaimer: i am totally lying about the $1,000,000.00