Carried Away

Right where I'm meant to be.

2010-10-29T22:34:00.004-05:00

My mom mentioned her blog the other day and I thought "Oh yeah, I have one of those." That was over a week ago so I've written this entry several times over in my head.

The condensed version (cuz that's all I have time for): I'm right where I'm meant to be. I am supposed to be a SAHM when I grow up...which means I'm all growed up, I guess;). It's the hardest job I've ever had but the smiles on my face throughout the day are my paychecks. It's not all peaches and cream (I'm crazy tired!) but mostly I find myself in awe of the new life I get to lead.

Some non-face pics of our recent family vacay:

The spot.

The view.

Self portrait.

The sunset.

...well...sort of.

2010-09-24T14:27:00.004-05:00

I've made a liar of myself again.

The final days as a working mom are wrapping up but happen to overlap my new life as a SAHM and part-time Customer Care Specialist. Until some normalcy, and sleep, preside over my schedule, the hiatus remains. Sorry to disappoint.

Blurbs:

Gray said over 30 words in speech therapy Wednesday! Words being only understandable to his parents and therapist but 30 no less!
Mack has developed quite a little personality. He's learned the expression of surprise and uses it at the most unexpected and opportune times. Very cute!
Baby #3 is almost 23 weeks and making the Mama very hungry. I'm eating everything in sight and it showed at my doctor appointment today. I'm over it.
Former SAHD is back to the grind and a much happier man for it. He comes home tired and dirty every night and happy as snot for it.

The Hiatus is OVER!

2010-09-03T13:59:00.003-05:00

Despicably it’s been over a month since my last post. All faithful readers are long gone…moved on to more current cyber somewheres. I don’t blame you. In fact, I’m probably my only remaining reader. Well deserved.

A month is a long time to catch up on…and quite a month it’s been. I’m not sure where or how to begin but my gut says go chronological. And so it is.

Literally hours after my last post, I received a strange call from the senior worker who had been called back for a vacancy instead of my husband, the worker who had accepted and was returning to work on Monday (regardless of his felony status…sorry). Why was he calling ME? I have nothing to do with any of…HOLY CRAP HE’S NOT COMING BACK! And guess who’s next in line!

Although it’s the last place on earth my hubby would choose to work, who in their right mind would turn down a good paying municipal job with no probation and immediate benefits? Not my man. Oh no. Pride swallowed, enough said.

The week before we found out my father-in-law had prostate cancer. After a hospitalization and long recovery from a ruthless infection caused by the biopsy, the results were not what anyone expected. I don’t know about the rest of you, but in my world parents are immortal. Life is unimaginable without them. So seeing my father-in-law in a hospital bed was an awakening I wasn’t ready for. Top that off with the C word diagnosis and my anxiety wandered to places I’d rather not revisit…ever. The good news is, after successfully removing his prostate, the doctors confirmed the lymph nodes are cancer free and it was contained to the prostate. Praise the Lord!

Meanwhile, we’ve been keeping a little secret. Grandparents weren’t privy until almost 10 weeks, some friends around 11 or 12, and all of you until right now…now being week 19. Baby Hansen #3 is due January 23, 2011! Of course, being the owner of an ironclad cervix, he or she will not arrive until February but who’s counting and bitter? Not me, silly. And contrary to popular first reaction, we’re very excited and feel extremely blessed to have another miracle on the way. For the record, we’re aware we may be certifiable.

The timing of all this quickly took on it’s own voice. I’m not one that typically picks up on signs but these were speaking loudly, almost screaming at us. Let me explain: My husband looses his job for seven months forcing us to live on an extremely reduced income, he’s called back to work by two unlikely turn of events (someone leaves and the felon no-shows), his father is diagnosed with cancer leaving us with a very minor problem by comparison…daycare. Factor in that asking our parents to wrangle three little ones two days a week is simply unfair and that traditional daycare isn’t an option we’d like to entertain for many reasons and you’ll find that only one real solution presented itself.

Just call me SAHM (that’s Stay At Home Mom for all you acronym rookies)! Two weeks ago I marched into work, knees shaking, palms sweating, and announced my pregnancy and resignation. My official last day should be October 1st, all things being equal.

As if this great big cup of deliciousness needs one, the cherry on top is a part-time job for the soon to be SAHM taking seasonal orders at a facility THREE MINUTES FROM MY HOUSE! I just got the offer today.

This is where I’d like to end with a “deep thought” but simply don’t have the time. I’m doing 32 hours of work in just over 16 hours a week. I’m pretty impressed I squeezed the time out for this. I’ll leave the sap for next week. Until then…AHHHHH.

The Ride

2010-07-30T14:13:00.004-05:00

It’s been a week, and I’m sorry, but I’m blog-gone boring right now. No, no I’m not. That’s a lie. My life has been a proverbial roller coaster lately, of which I don’t feel like sharing much…yet. I’m hoping we’re at the top of the ride about to throw our hands up, paste on a giant smile, and rush to the bottom right back to normalcy.

I wonder how many other people are blogging about unemployment….about how it sucks the life out of you and everyone close to you. I’m guessing a lot as there are 14.6 million unemployed Americans alone. My cousin is one. He’s been on the ride for three weeks. I’d like to offer some words of encouragement but being that we’re passing by week thirty, I’ll save my breath for the EOP (Employment Obtained Party). You’re all invited.

Most days my hubby and I are able to remind each other that a plan is already in motion, we’re just not privy to the schematics. We know it will ultimately be as it should.

Most days we’re able to remind ourselves that, unlike many others in our situation, we’re not in danger of going hungry or taking to the streets with our babies. We’ve been humbled many times over by the generosity of our family and support of our friends.

Most days I’m able to remind him that he’s still the man he was before he became unemployed…an even better man because he’s weathering this storm with strength and humility. If only he could remember that every day instead of most.

The Upswing

2010-07-23T13:29:00.004-05:00

We've hit an upswing, People! Or at least that's what I've decided it will be.

Happy News #1: Please refer to the "Quotable" at the right. Yipee!

Happy News #2: Gray was approved through medical assistance for his talker, key guards and a carrying case. He's recently been sporadically more frustrated with his inability to get his words from his head to his mouth. I think he's starting to have more to say beyond basic necessities and colors (He loves to tell you what color everything is.) meaning his hands/signs can't keep up with his head. We're hoping the talker will bridge this gap until his words come easier.

Happy News #3: The powers that be finally decided to extend unemployment. The Democrats blame the whiny Republicans for the delay and the Republicans blame the earmark crazy Democrats. I blame them both...just to be fair.

The Mothers' Advice

2010-07-16T14:39:00.013-05:00

The other day my mother-in-law told me, "When you get discouraged, count your blessings."

A long time ago my Mama told me, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all." (Mel didn't get that memo.)

I'm quietly counting. Good thing my blessings are abundant.

The Smart Gardener

2010-07-12T10:16:00.005-05:00

As you may have read, my hubby and I managed to get the garden in early this year. We were so proud, felt so accomplished. Weeks later, when nothing was growing except a few inklings of corn, we scratched our heads for a long while and finally concluded the birds must have gotten to the seeds. Or maybe all the rain we got right after we planted was too much and they rotted. Or maybe the seeds were defective.

No worries; we had plenty of time to replant since we were so timely this year. We procrastinated our second planting for far too long. We found other things to do besides slop around in the pig paradise our garden had become thanks to weeks of almost constant rain. Finally it dried out enough to let us in there without wading in mud up to our shins. We weeded and reseed. I bought cucumbers, melons and sunflower seeds…again. My hubby made mounds and hoed rows…again. I tore open the package and read the directions…again…and again…and again…and again.

“SOW in average, well-drained soil in full sun in spring after danger of fronts. Sow 4-6 seeds about 3” apart in hills 36” apart. Cover with 1” of fine soil; firm lightly and keep evenly moist…”

The first time I planted the mounds, I sowed 4-6 seeds 3” apart, four to six seeds per mound, one seed per hole. The second time, I sowed 4-6 seeds 3 “ apart, sixteen to twenty-four seeds per mound total, four seeds per hole. Germination anyone? Why so smart?

I just order Gardening All-in-One for Dummies from Amazon.com. Maybe next year we won’t have to replant a thing. Maybe

The Tired and Tantrums

2010-07-02T12:02:00.002-05:00

Mack finally stopped stirring around 4:00 a.m. this morning. I think I was up 12 or so times before then. So, although I have the will and the time, there’s no way anything blog-worthy will flare from my fingers today. Sorry to disappoint.

Until my next creative moment, here's something to make you feel better about your child’s tantrums…at least when you give in you’re handing your baby the toy or treat they’re freaking out about instead of a cigarette they’re addicted to. Whoa.

Smoking Baby's Lessons for Parents

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!

The Walker

2010-06-28T08:20:00.002-05:00

My youngest, Mack, is walking. He has been for about two weeks now and I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I’m so surprised to hear the pitter-patter of two sets of feet that it takes me a moment to realize it’s not the dog coming down the hall. It’s my boys!

Mack is very proud…or I should say was very proud. By now he’s an old hand at it. His first full week of walking was accompanied by the puffer-chest. He would stand up, puff out his chest just like a gorilla, and step out into the world…okay, just the living room but nonetheless. We called it a balancing technique but Mack is a lot like his father who’s been known to puff out his chest a time or two. Pride.

It’s proving difficult but Mack is trying like mad to keep up with his big brother. If Gray leaves a room, Mack pops into his shortstop stance and is moving those pudgy little legs as fast as his body will allow. He gets so frustrated when Gray’s already on his way back from his destination before he’s hit the mark. He’ll get there…long before I’m ready, I’m sure.

I watched them play this weekend…Mack on his new legs and Gray with his new words. My babies are gone. Just like that…in the blink of an eye…life changes. A reminder and promise one in the same.

The New Name

2010-06-25T10:38:00.002-05:00

We’ve been taking Gray to a private clinic that deals with sensory integration through occupational and music therapy. We’re on our second set of exercises and music. The first set of exercises is modified wrestling and rocking and the second set involves an exercise ball. Gray loves both. The first CD was a nature soundtrack, very pleasant to listen to. The second is a distorted version of many kid’s songs sung by a lady with an accent I cannot identify, not so pleasant to listen to. Gray doesn’t seem to mind and that’s all that matters.

Finding the time to do 30 minutes of modified play (a.k.a. exercises) and two 30-minute listening sessions shouldn’t be hard, right? Oh, but it is. Amazingly, it is. Nonetheless, we’ve been as diligent as the two little ones will let us…Daddy especially.

I thought this unconventional therapy would be a hard sell for my husband. After all, he is a conservative Republican. But amazingly he is really interested in learning about this stuff. The therapist and her techniques really do make sense. Yes, she’s a bit crunchy…and yes, the “facility” is an old, smelly victorian house…and yes, the price is heart-clenching, BUT IT’S WORKING!

In the last two weeks Gray has said “ba-ba-ba” for ball, “ieeemmmmmm” for the letter M, “i” for the letter I, and “ba-bye” for bye-bye. His most recent accomplishment, and my most favorite, is “ma-ma-ma” for Mama! I almost passed out the first time I heard him utter those words and realized they were directed at me. Sure, he’s been making the “ma-ma-ma” sound at random for a long while now but only in the last few days has he been able to correlate it to me….his Mamama.

I love my new name.

The Hair

2010-06-24T09:02:00.003-05:00

SAHD got, not one, but two “F-U letters”, as he so delicately puts it, in the mail last week. Both were pretty big blows. He’s still mending his wounds this week but managed to put a relatively happy face on for Father’s Day. When asked what he wanted for Father’s Day his response seemed simple, buzz Gray’s hair.

He’s been making this request for some time now. Gray has some killer cowlicks combined with very fine, thin hair. Despite my trained techniques, I’ve failed to prevent it from looking a little bouffant on most days. Short of dousing his head in egg whites, it’s inevitable that at some point during the day a golden crown of hair an inch or two thick develops. It glows in the sunlight.

We ran out of time Sunday so foolishly I thought Gray and I were in the clear. No such luck; Daddy made the request again yesterday. "His hair looks ridiculous,” he said with almost as much disgust as he has for the economy, “and I have to look at it all day.” ‘Geez,’ I thought, ‘maybe I’m missing something.’

I wasn’t. Without enough thought, I buzzed Gray’s hair last night in a pathetic attempt to bring some joy to my husband’s days. I am ridden with regret and anxiety. It looks...I can't even bring myself to tell you what it looks like. It's not good. At all. If I’m lucky, it’ll be Christmas before I can run my fingers through his hair again. I’m sick…just sick, I tell you. If I thought Gray could pull off a weave, he’d have one already.

Daddy is no longer in charge of anyone’s hair but his own…which by the way, is gone as well. He threatened to take a Bic into his own so I appeased his request to shave his head as well. He called it a cleansing exercise…a new start. Whatever makes him happy. He’s just lucky he’s so damn handsome.

The Talent

2010-06-18T07:52:00.008-05:00

A custom made toybox and bookshelves...my parents are insanely talented. Papa made the toybox substantial enough to hold a small elephant. It even has industrial wheels. Boo was in charge of the amazing art work. The other side (which I should have been smart enough to take a picture of) has an awesome Mickey Mouse scene on it, toodles & all.

Notice the bookshelves have large cubbies on the bottom to fit even the tallest of board books. The jealousy is creeping in, isn't it? Go ahead, double click the pictures.

"G" is for green cupcakes, "R" is for rabbit...

"A" is for acorns, "Y" is for yo-yo. What's that spell? GRAY!

The toybox was a gift for Gray's second birthday and the bookshelves a gift for Mack's first birthday. I've put an order in for bunkbeds post Papa's retirement.

I'll see what I can do about taking orders for the rest of you. You know you want some.

I aspire to be a grandparent as wonderful as they are.

The Familial OCD

2010-06-14T08:06:00.002-05:00

People have commented on my cupboard contents a number of times. Well, actually, they’ve commented on how the contents are “displayed”. These people are humorously struck by the organization: labels faced, rows neat, like items filed together. Apparently many people put things away at random. Sillies.

Both my cousin and his wife commented on my last blog entry. Neither understood what was so unusual about the picture. Either the people who find my cupboards funny are the minority or OCD is familial. I’m going with the latter.

I’m so checking out my cousin’s cupboards next time I visit. ;)

The OCD

2010-06-11T20:36:00.000-05:00

Apparently this is not normal.

The Wish

2010-06-10T10:31:00.001-05:00

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

My husband recites this quite often. I must wish out loud a lot. He learned it from his Grandmother who I’m told also recited it quite often. I asked him once what it meant and he gave me a rather vague definition which led me to believe he’s not entirely sure himself. Funny, though, he always uses it in appropriate situations.

I found myself wishing this morning and was reminded of the proverb so I decided to google it. I have no idea what a “Roud Folk Song Index number” is and don’t care enough to find out. What I do understand now is that my wishing is likely useless. Good thing I’ve been praying, too.

Instead of wishing, I should be taking action. Makes sense, I guess. Sometimes you have to make it happen. Thing is, I can’t make the phone ring and I can’t make the caller be someone offering my husband an interview or a job. Well, maybe I could but that would involve a weapon and a hostage. I’m pretty confident that would be a poor interpretation of the proverb. I’ll chalk this up to another lesson from the Lord in patience.

That’s what I get for praying for more patience. Rats!

The Cherries

2010-06-04T08:31:00.004-05:00

I loved them…for a minute. That’s about 58.5 seconds longer than I’ve loved any other template I used. Progress. Nonetheless, my distaste for the look of my blog wasn’t far behind its reveal. The non-white text background and the idea that I am not savvy enough to change it frustrated me. It should be white, just like sheets. Only WHITE sheets. Then it was the title font. Blech. The baby-diarrhea-green color didn't help my feelings for it either. Eventually the polka dots grew old. So did the poofy gold dots. Etc., etc., etc.

Here’s the problem: http://sj.blogs.com/busybee/
I love, love, love the look of this blog. The amazing pictures probably have a lot to do with it but her backdrop is PERFECT! I tried to find other cute backgrounds mimicking the busybee color scheme but came up with a hand full of frou-frou and folk art. Not what I’m going for. I started to wonder where she found this background and why I couldn’t. Then it dawned on me that maybe I could “borrow” it.

I sent a slightly single-white-female-esque email asking if I could skip the whole reinvent the wheel thing and COPY her blog style. I never actually got an official go ahead which I deduced to silent consent and chalked the lack of response up to the launch of her new photography business. (Congratulations!)

Again, it took me a ridiculous amount of time to implement the look of my new blog digs. Frustration took over several times but thanks to google search I DID IT! And I LOVE it! For a long while, I hope. What do you think?

The Garbage Trucks

2010-06-03T11:07:00.007-05:00

My oldest son loves garbage trucks. Gray is on high alert come garbage day and at the slightest sound of the diesel engine that hauls away our rubbish, he literally drops everything (except his bottle) and runs full speed ahead to the nearest window. It’s quite a sight to see. His little feet pitter-patter from room to room until his neck can no longer stretch to catch a glimpse of the retreating truck.

The same scenario is played over again when the recycling truck comes through. Recycling trucks are equally as exciting and more so if the truck needs to empty it’s bin within sight of our house. Gray giggles with anticipation as the giant mechanical arm turns the bins up over it’s bucket to dumps them. The whole truck rocks and so does Gray with excitement.

Lately, Gray has been less than interested in eating, particularly his morning cereal. It’s become quite a process to get him to finish it and we’re starting to think he’s taken on the habit of eating like his Grandmother…at a snail’s pace. Oh dear.

This morning Darren sent me a text that read, “Did u know that garbage trucks wont come unless u eat your cereal!” I let out a belly laugh that was hard to explain to my boss as work related. I can only imagine how quickly Gray emptied his bowl. Nice work, SAHD!

The Sweet Smell of Manure

2010-05-28T15:00:00.001-05:00

When I was in middle school and people asked where I was from, I had a hard time answering. I was twelve when my family moved from a town of maybe 900 to what may as well have been New York City. After relocating, I proudly respond to an inquiry about my roots with the Indian name my small town was given. It only took about a year of watching people’s faces glaze over with “Huh?” or “Where?” to realize I would be better off claiming our new college town as home. And eventually it was.

Yesterday, on my return trip, in the air condition-less Chrysler, I was enveloped by the smell of manure. Suddenly I was six years old walking down the Lakeshore Drive hill with my mom. We stopped at Buzzer’s Barn every time to moo at the cows. The same cows that on occasion, when Buzzer’s pasture fence failed, visited me at my sandbox.

I let my daydream flood me as long as memory allowed. When my mind made it back to 2010 I realized I was strangely relaxed, I felt safe remembering my hand in my mom’s as we talked to the cows…I was home. And the sweet smell of manure took me there.

Even when you leave a home behind, you get to take the memories with you. And with a little help from manure, you’ll never be too far from home.

So see, my title isn’t dripping with sarcasm after all. Do you think they make manure scented candles? Probably not.

The Motto

2010-05-27T14:43:00.002-05:00

Not much time to write. Saw this bumper sticker today. It might just be my new motto.

The Swingset

2010-05-21T13:56:00.002-05:00

Reaching new heights!

The Basics

2010-05-20T13:07:00.018-05:00

During the process of becoming a mom, I became more aware of the way we live. I started to think about what we eat, how we store food, what products we use, how we clean, what we recycle, etc.

My first "eco awakening" was about bisphenol A (BPA). I was 41-weeks pregnant, hooked up to every monitor an OB’s office has, reading an article in Parenting magazine about BPA in baby bottles.

As I read the article, and all the negative effects BPA has on humans and our environment when it leaches into our food and water supply, anxiety swept over me like a quick hot breeze. I had been gifted bottles at my shower, bottles I registered for, bottles that were the best…until I read the article. I was OVERdue and didn’t have time to be returning and researching bottles! Lucky for me, the article listed the only maker at the time of BPA free bottles. I was literally in the hospital when my sister-in-law found a local distributor and gifted us a Born Free Starter Kit.

My BPA craze led to the purchase of all glass food storage containers and several Sigg water bottles. Baby food was bought almost exclusively in glass jars. We did what we could within reason and budget but soon learned that BPA was everywhere, even soda can liners! It was overwhelming. I reminded myself to take one step at a time.

I wouldn’t label us a green family…not yet. But we’re trying, implementing greener ways of living a bit here and a piece there. Going green can be expensive and we’re not in a place to incur any more expenses. But we have done what we can without shelling out too much dough. In fact, some of the changes we’ve made save us money. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

My favorite kid/eco friendly tip brings me back to the basics…baking soda and vinegar.
When Gray was a baby I would scrub the tub with a powdered cleaner, rinse it, fill it up and throw him in. I also cleaned our counter tops with a spray kitchen cleaner. I started to think about Gray sitting in a tub filled with chemical residue. Cue the anxiety. Then I started to think about our food and utensils contacting the countertops I cleaned with chemicals. Bring on the OCD. Lining the kitchen with paper towels would not reduce our carbon footprint. So, a quick google led me to the alternative.

I use both baking soda and vinegar to scrub the tub. It does a great job and I especially like the fizz you get when they mix. For kitchen cleaner, I use a mixture of 50/50 water and vinegar. It, too, works wonderfully. The only time I use anything else is when the kitchen’s been contaminated with eggs or raw chicken. Then I use Clorox Anywhere…followed by a rinse of vinegar and water, of course.

Call me crazy, paranoid, whatever. I just feel better about what I’m doing and the way I’m doing it. I like getting back to the basics, that's all.

This blog entry was inspired by mother who thinks my green baby steps are worth writing and reading about. If you think so too, please pass my blog along. Hate the smell of vinegar? Add a drop or ten of lemon juice.

The Dawn of a Done Debt

2010-05-14T15:15:00.005-05:00

The insurance fight is just that...an endless, exhausting fight. Every now and then, you find someone you don't have to fight, someone who hears what you're saying, someone who considers your situation.

Today her name is Dawn. Dawn was kind enough to care and patient enough to listen. And when all was said and done, Dawn realized that due to hospital policy regarding medical assistance she could wipe our debt clean. Twelve hundred dollars deleted. Zeroed out. Gone. I cried with relief.

Happy Friday!

The Mood

2010-05-11T15:24:00.007-05:00

A good mood just isn’t possible every day, even for the perpetual optimist. I’ve had two under par days in a row. Yesterday I’ll chalk up to returning to work. Today it’s insurance. I can hardly bring myself to blog about it at all. By the time I’m done with the Insurance Nazis, I’m spent. Recapping the incompetency, injustice, and insane process I just went through is like a nightmare that wont end no matter how many times you wake up. I’ll call my lack of further explanation “sparing you the details”.

The weather isn’t helping. It’s cold and wet, just like a dog’s nose. Speaking of, Gray’s new favorite book is Bad Dog Marley. He’s not quite patient enough for me to actually read the words but sure likes my summary of the story. For those of you familiar with the book, he does NOT like the page illustrating the thunderstorm. We skip right over it. And the picture of Marley looking sad is almost more than his little heart can bare. That page is turned quickly to get to the illustration of Marley as a happy hero.

Last night, my hubby and I sandwiched the boys on the couch and read books. As I watched them study their daddy with pure admiration, I thanked God for moments just like this…moments that help you turn the page to a better day.

The Garden

2010-05-06T15:54:00.001-05:00

It’s in! Amazingly, the garden is in BEFORE Memorial Day. I guess the potential frost will decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

We planted sunflowers, corn, cantaloupe, cucumbers, and carrots…tomatoes and jalapeno peppers to come. Yum! That’s just what’s on the menu at our house. We’ll be planting, zucchini, watermelon, pumpkins, and gourds at my in-laws. I really need to get on learning how to can…or at least freeze.

My Betty Crocker husband has already made a rhubarb crisp with the early-ripened perennial. His sister was the captain and he the shipmate. Both should get credit for the delicious treat I returned home to last Saturday.

After all the seeds were sewn, we sat on the porch admiring our work until the sun no longer let us. It was nice to be able to sit and talk…or just sit with each other. This time last year, we were in the throes of life with a colicky baby. There wasn't much sitting going on. Oh, what a difference a year can make!

The Great Move of 2010

2010-04-30T08:57:00.003-05:00

My parents are moving. In most any other circumstance, I would feel sad or nostalgic for my tweenhood home. In this circumstance, I’m crazy with excitement because my parents are building a house closer to me, practically next door!

They likely have no idea just how crazy with excitement I am. It’s still a secret. I’m reserving myself until ground has been broken. Then I shall explode with the anticipation of decorating a house with my Mama, fishing with the boys and my Papa, and Sunday dinners on a whim. Not everyone’s dream, but sure is mine.

The Great Move of 2010 (coined by my Papa, creator/writer of the Top of the Heap) will be happening sooner rather than later. My folks sold their house in six days…unheard of in this economy. Obviously meant to be.

At present, they’re choosing a builder and reviewing their temporary housing options. I’m campaigning for builder “A” and a travel trailer in my back yard. “Imagine sharing your bathroom with two more people,” my Papa said in an email yesterday, as if it would be a burden.

I can imagine it, and it’s wonderful. Nightly family dinners from the garden and the grill followed by smores around the fire pit. Movie screenings, a game of Sequence, and good old-fashioned conversation around the dinner table with a cup of coffee. It would be a sweet prelude to the aforementioned dream.

A travel trailer, you inquire? My parents can cut it. They’re from the original crew of hippie-dippies. A few months in a travel trailer with all the amenities of a full service facility steps away…CAKE! So let the campaigning begin. A dream come true is right around the corner.

The Big Boy Bed

2010-04-27T13:38:00.009-05:00

After an hour and ten minutes laying next to him on the floor, a frozen and stiff Daddy got Gray to sleep in his BIG BOY BED last night! It's amazing the inflation a small victory can give you!

The Best Bottle on the Planet

2010-04-27T13:30:00.009-05:00

This must be the best darn bottle on the planet because NEITHER of my boys want anything but IT. No sippy cup, no straw, no nothing but the darned Born Free bottle.

It was bad enough when one was winning the battles of the Sippy Cup Movement, but now two! I'd throw in the towel but I need it to dry the TWELVE bottles I wash a day. Not to mention the 10+ sippy cups we keep reintroducing in hopes a bottle hiatus in in our future.

Oh, the deflation.

The Manners

2010-04-20T09:09:00.008-05:00

We’re working hard with Gray to make sure he uses good manners. He signs please, thank you, and I’m sorry. He's doing very well...so well, in fact, he's turned the tables on us.

Lately, when you ask Gray to come to the table for dinner or bring you his empty bottle, he pauses, snerks, and signs please while patiently waiting for you to add a “please” to your request..."Bring Mommy your bottle, PLEASE."

Last night, when Daddy came home, Gray made him say please before he gave him a kiss. Stinker. I guess he's got it.

The Winner is...

2010-04-19T14:39:00.010-05:00

My youngest turned one last Sunday! His party was a smashing success. Kids were playing, adults were eating, everyone was laughing, and the weather was absolutely perfect!

Mack’s Auntie Leesa was the party planner, as she was for Gray’s first birthday. She is, by far, the best birthday bash thrower I have ever known. Somehow she’s able to tap into the part of your imagination that’s stifled by adulthood; the part that changes an ordinary tub of trial mix into pig slop and turns bags of confetti into fun instead of a vacuuming nightmare. It’s the same unchained thinking that moves her to buy five giant farm animal balloons rather than one, or make three amazing deserts to go with cake and ice cream. It’s that freedom that makes her so awesome with kids, such an amazing Auntie. I envy that.

Mack received a bundle of gifts. Both my boys are always showered with clothes, books, and toys for almost every occasion. No thanks to their parents, though. We usually play the conservative card knowing family and friends will not do them wrong. And right it was this time around, again.

I was desperate on the hunt for a set of birds of his own for Mack for his birthday. My BFF sent me a CL link to a listing on the far east side. For birds, I would travel to the east side of just about anywhere. Still, it was proving tricky. The seller checked her email about as often as I do making arrangements to spend an extra hour in the car after work tedious.

Mack’s birthday came and went without birds. He didn’t know the better, but I was disappointed. I failed to get them for him. And let us not forget that sleep training was to begin the very next day. We NEEDED those birds.

Meanwhile, my BFF was in sudden need of a cradle and doll her girls had left at our house from the party. I mentioned that I was happy to hold on to them until our next visit but my suggestion fell on deaf ear. These things were suddenly and increasingly important. The urgency of the safe return of said doll and cradle was strange, but there’s been stranger.

I obliged the request to meet my BFF at a gas station on my way home. The doll and cradle moved from my car to hers, I had a wonderful conversation with her oldest about the joys of bringing inside toys outside to play, then hugs, kisses…record scratch, not so fast. A snerky (think sneaky and smirk…I can make up words whenever I want) smile came over my BFF’s face as she announced she had a surprise for me.

If you were an observer, you would have thought by her expression she was about to give me that Balenciaga handbag I’ve been daydreaming about. By my reaction you would have thought she just handed me Jennifer Hudson’s entire wardrobe…including the handbag! I even jumped up and down WHILE squealing like a little schoolboy. Thing is, I don’t think Hudson’s wardrobe will fit in a Miller’s grocery bag…BUT THE BIRDS DO! Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, she did. She really did. She even sent me on a wild goose chase for east side birds to get me off the hot trail of the birds she had already scoped out. SHE GOT ME…I mean, SHE GOT MACK THE BIRDS!

A BFF of the Month winner has been selected. Thank you for your participation. Winner(s) were selected in a random drawing from all eligible entries received on or about Tuesday, April 13, 2010, by Sponsor(s), whose decisions are final and binding in all matters relating to the drawing. Odds of winning depend on the number of eligible entries received. Potential winner(s) will be notified by e-mail or mail on or about Monday, April 19, 2010. Each entrant selected as a potential winner must comply with all terms and conditions set forth in these Official Rules, and winning is contingent upon fulfilling all such requirements.

The Hitch

2010-04-15T15:50:00.002-05:00

So much to blog about and no time....except this.

I followed a rusty, old trailer hitch on my way to work today. Not that unusual, right. Wrong! It was attached to a newer model, sporty, silver Mercedes Benz. Picture that. Huh. That's all I have to say about that. For now.

The Birds

2010-04-09T14:39:00.019-05:00

When you’re pregnant, usually you have a shower or two. Gifts come home by the herd and you wonder where you’re going to put them and what a human smaller than a watermelon could possibly do with this much stuff.

I remember trying to explain to my husband that we needed to “make room” before my shower and he just couldn’t understand what for. When the first semi truck arrived, he began to understand. When the fourth semi truck arrived, he filed a building permit.

Deciphering the world of all things baby can be a full time job and seems to be getting more complicated with time. Throughout my baby gift receiving era, I remember thinking several times, “What do we need this for?” In short, “Heh?”

That thought lingered on several occasions well after my first son was born. Being a new mom, I was still learning about all the things I need to rear a child. Having been raised correctly, that thought was a fleeting moment, gone long before I smiled appreciatively and thanked the good-giver.

I had this thought when Boo picked up a Fisher Price Flutterbye crib toy and declared Gray must have it. We were perusing Once Upon a Child, which I think is mostly grossly overpriced, when we came upon the 13-pound crib toy that was apparently worth it’s weight in dollars.

Although I wanted to verbalize the heh? moment filling my head, I did not and graciously said, “I’m sure he’ll love it.” At the time, I had no idea it would be the key to our release from the throws of bedtime trauma.

It’s quite an amazing little toy. It’s a vintage piece and therefore is no longer available on the shelves of anywhere. It’s also capable of putting any child to sleep in under thirty minutes. Seriously.

After realizing the sheer, amazing necessity of it, we quickly searched Craig’s List and Ebay for two more units. Clearly we needed one of these buggers at both Grandparents’ house. My dad found one on Ebay for the reasonable price of roughly $25 including shipping. Auntie Leesa found the other on Ebay, too, but I don’t think she made out quite as well.

You may think it’s ridiculous to have over $65 invested in redundant systems of the same crib toy. But think again, Thinkerton. Crazy it is not. In fact, I’ve begun another birdie search to find at least one more unit for my youngest. I’d pay upwards of $40 to get it. (Don’t tell the sellers, please.) I’m hoping, wishing, praying that a Flutterbye of his own will be the beginning of the end of sleep training for Mack. Oh, please, let it be the beginning of the end.

And so it is that I’ve learned I’m always learning. A lot of people know a lot more about a lot of things than I do. And I know more than someone else. Pay it forward. Share what you’ve learned. Save your heh? moments for another day. Give it a shot. It’s the only way you'll get to The Birds.

The Easter Update

2010-04-05T14:24:00.005-05:00

I’ve been on a blog hiatus for a week or so now. I took some time off before Easter and here’s what I did:

My husband and I went on our first overnight without the babes. It was wonderful but we were very glad it was only for one night.

We spent an evening at my in-laws cabin and took many walks with nature. It’s amazing how quiet it is in the country. And the stars…wow!

The boys and I had a play date with their girlfriends (my God daughters). We set up the new bounce house and they loved it. Gray only attempted the slide and shamefully I never took Mack in. The weigh limit has me second-guessing shedding my shoes.

We did Easter on Friday with my fam. It involved many errands since I was “in town”, haircuts, and a lovely breakfast which my bro even attended (7am is an early wake-up call for a socialite). Next time, I vow to skip the errands and solely enjoy the company.

Easter day we returned to my in-laws for an egg hunt and lunner (it’s like brunch but different). Gray caught on to the hunt as soon as he realized that all the eggs had snacks in them. It was so much fun!

Back to work today. I keep waiting for my money ship to come in so I can say sayonara to this place. I can’t hear the foghorn yet though. Rats!

Randomness:
You know you’re a grown-up when you serve coffee with your cake. Let’s just say I must be a grown-up. When did that happen?

Check out Boo's latest entry (http://idle-awhile.blogspot.com/). I helped; therefore I no longer have an excuse. Maybe a pic by the end of the week…then again, maybe not.

The Super Mom

2010-03-25T10:23:00.015-05:00

Disclaimer: Those without children, you may want read this after you’ve conceived. Those who have grown children, here’s a reminder. Those who take for granted your spouse, relative, or friend who’s a SAHM or SAHD, their job is harder than yours. Send flowers.

Yesterday I played Super Mom…and today I’m paying for it! I’m so tired. Thank God I’m not that productive everyday.

Mack was up, as per usual, at 6:00 a.m. wanting his morning bottle and diaper change. Miraculously he went back to bed until 7:30 a.m. Gray was up at 7:00 a.m. but was kind enough to let us sleep.

Time to get up and get started! Diaper and clothes changes for all. Make beds, open shades, turn on Signing Time, spend five minutes on myself getting “ready”. Yawn…nap time. Just kidding…if only. Break open a Diet Coke instead.

Breakfast, cleanup, wash bottles, make bottles, more diaper changes…someone pooped. Twenty minutes preparing to get outside, 10 minutes scooping dog poop. Five minutes later Mack is done. Twenty minutes getting back inside. Gray screams bloody murder and scares the Orkin man.

Undress, bottles, check diapers and shoes…someone or something smells like poop...again. It’s Gray’s shoes. Sweet. Diaper changes anyway. Nap for Mack. Sleep training is so fun…lots of crying. Miscellaneous house chores including battery changes in toys. Shamefully, this is a monthly event.

Lunch for Gray, then nap. Begin cookie dough for my deprived husband. Mack’s awake. I discover he HATES the mixer. More bloody murder screaming. I contemplate abandoning the task but it’s too late to turn back now...the eggs are in. Many more meltdowns corresponding with the switch on the mixer.

Lunch for Mack. Still melting down. No clue why. Not even Mickey Mouse fixes this one. Jumperoo? Yep, that’s the ticket. I clean up my flour-covered kitchen and get ready for speech therapy. Bottle for Mack. Gray wakes up. Get him ready, too.

Move the car out of the three-quarter stall garage for easier loading. Diaper changes, jackets, hats, mittens, bottles, diaper bag, car seats. Whew. Drive two miles to the hospital. Why not walk, you ask? Because I’d need a 26 hour day to accomplish that. Umbrella stroller, unload, hold hands, cross parking lot, get into elevator which may as well be a death chamber according to Gray. More crying. Slowest elevator on earth. Frick!

One hour of speech therapy. Gray rocked! Mack rolled! Nice.

Reload, home, undress, pick up mess, check for dog trouble. None. Good. Start oven, bottles, diapers, nap for Mack. Not so much; no second nap today. Mickey Mouse it is. It’s the only way cookies will be baked.

Scrub tub, bath prep, load dishwasher, check on kiddos, take their pics because they’re the cutest babes on the planet. Get mail, prep dinner (ring bologna, American fries, and, mixed veggies)…all while baking cookies. Wait for Daddy.

Hubby is very happy with cookies and dinner (if I don’t burn it), shares cookie with Gray while I start Mack’s bath. Daddy offers to do kitchen clean up…I can’t do everything and he knows it. Start dinner while Mack splashes. Switch. Gray’s turn. Finish dinner while Gray splashes. Make more bottles.

Mack’s had it and wants a bottle and bed. Daddy and Gray eat. Dinner’s good. Amazing! Daddy takes Mack so Super Mom can eat. It IS good! 3.2 minutes of relaxation. Daddy offers to clean kitchen…again…but I have calls to make so I multi-task. Headset on, hands-free calling. Thanks, Mom!

One last diaper change for Gray, Mack’s already passed out on Daddy. He loves him some Daddy, and vice versa.

To bed with the babes. Collapse in the recliner…oops, I’m not done yet. Lunch for tomorrow. Rats! Up and at ‘em. Turkey sandwich, cottage cheese, yogurt, and a Diet Coke. Brush, floss, fluoride. Back to the recliner.

Modern Family is on! So funny. Missed the first ten minutes…that’s my new motto. I want to be BFFs with the gay guys. Love them! American Idol…I guess so. Sorry people, we have no cable. Too tired for this, too tired to get up to go to bed. Contemplate sleeping in the recliner. My neck answers no. Hubby returns from the garage and puts me to bed. He’s a wonderful man.

If I didn’t have to work, I’d have gladly done it all over again today. Exhausted, but glad. Someday.

The Title Change

2010-03-19T15:26:00.010-05:00

If you’ve been with me from the jump, you know I’ve been less than excited about the original title of my blog, "I HAVE A STORY TO TELL…". Bor-ring! I knew it was so from the beginning but had nothing better to use. I had title-block likely caused by the narrator in my head who starts every single story with “I have a story to tell.” Painfully redundant.

My mom recently started her own blog and has the coolest title I’ve ever seen. I’m no blog title expert, as I much prefer to write blogs than read them, but I dare you to find a sweeter title than “Idle Awhile”. I was motivated by my title envy to come up with a new one but still nothing hit me.

Enter my BFF. She was equally unhappy with my blog title. In fact, it kept her up at night. Strange since she is an excellent sleeper. This could be explained by our intermittent ESP. Nonetheless, when she told me she was awakened by lingering blog titles bouncing from her brain, I was shocked. Right then, I knew my title had to change.

She had brainstormed several options, all of which were very clever. She’s the master of word bending and acronym deciphering. Actually, two ideas were so good I had trouble choosing. Eventually I settled on “Carried Away”. This will have more meaning to some of you than others. If the meaning is lost on you, check out my blog address. It’ll point you in the right direction. I’ll ramble a bit while you review it and put 2 and 2 together.

Ramble: My car has stopped trying to cook me…for now. The weather is turning yucky…again. It’s payday…but it’s already accounted for. It’s time to clip coupons, make a list, and head to Wally World…sorry Cousin Barb. Tomorrow is Saturday…finally! I’m 167 hours away from garage sale heaven…praise the Lord. I gave up salt for lent…this is HUGE! I almost ate a beef stick today…but remembered before it went down the hatch. I’m waiting for my mom’s first blog pic post…ah-hem. The new banner only took me 40 minutes…I’m learning! I better stop…I’m getting Carried Away;).

You back yet? Got it? Good. Clever, huh? And so it is. Thanks, Teres!

The March Update

2010-03-18T15:33:00.002-05:00

Enough about the weather already! It’s time to talk about something else. Particularly since I haven’t enjoyed the weather much due to illness and/or dog poop. Yes people, we’re all sick AGAIN. We’ve been sick since the middle of January. How can this be! Even if we felt good enough to wrangle kids in the backyard, it’s full of poop...a winter’s worth of poop. Any suggestions on how to fumigate my house or poop-train my dog to do her duty in a designated area?

The Sippy Cup Movement has been on hiatus for quite a while due to the above-referenced illnesses as well as lack of progress. Once Gray's well again for the fourth time, we’ll re-implement the movement. When we hit the bottom of the success-less barrel, we’ll have to withhold the bottle altogether, only offering the sippy cup. That will likely coincide with the switch to a toddler bed. Should be interesting.

My car is trying to cook me again. I’ve made four trips so far today and three were sweltering. Awesome. Can’t wait for summer. I miss my Honda…all of them.

I’m about to go in on a bounce house with my BFF! Just in time for Mack’s birthday. Then Tigger (A.K.A. Mack) can do what Tiggers do best. BOUNCE!

Tomorrow will be more interesting. I promise.

The Hibernation

2010-03-15T15:57:00.001-05:00

The hibernation of 2009-2010 is over! Yesterday we opened the windows, dusted off the double stroller, and sat in lawn chairs on the patio. The sun danced on our pasty faces until we looked fresh and revived…awake again. And we were!

Courtesy of Wikipedia: “Hibernation is a state of inactivity and metabolic depression in animals, characterized by lower body temperature, slower breathing, and lower metabolic rate. “ I’d say this describes my winter hibernations to a T.

In the winter, here where we have real winters, there are no gardens to hoe, no flower beds to weed, no plants to water, no parks to walk to, no grassy yards to roll around on, no BBQs to prepare for, no garage sales to scour, and no house repairs to be done. In turn, my activity level plummits making my only winter activity a hike with my husband. I covet them all season; they’re few and far between.

Metabolic depression explains the 10 pounds I pack on every winter. I thought it had something to do with the indulgant eating I do beginning October on vacation continuing past Thanksgiving and Christmas right through to New Years. Alas, the guilt of such indulgence can be gone!

Many a winter my husband has questioned the effectiveness of my circulatory system nicknaming me Ice Queen. Lucky for him, that has to do with my popsicled hands and feet and not my cheery disposition. I think.

As I fill my lungs again with the sweet breath of spring, I can feel it’s engergy renewing me. I see it touching everthing around me making this the most promising time of year.

The GBoo Blogger!

2010-03-11T14:15:00.006-06:00

I feel like a PROUD Mama…except I’m the daughter and my mom’s the Mama. (Imagine that.) My Mama finally started her blog today!

GBoo (short for Grama Boo) loves blogs, as she describes in her first entry. In fact, she’s the pushing force behind my blog. So when she mentioned that she attempted to start a blog and was unsuccessful due to, well, I’m not sure, I promptly assisted her by setting up Idle Awhile (see link at right).

Isn’t that a cool name? Much cooler than mine. Turns out it’s recycled from her grandfather’s cottage name…which just makes it even better. I love familial names. I’m a bit jealous.

Idle Awhile sat empty for two or three weeks before I shamed her into starting. I threatened to blog about her blog so she’d have to write something for my readers to read. I guess it worked!

Being that GBoo LOVES blogs filled with pictures, I fully expect that we will be seeing slices of her life soon. Maybe when she masters the art of posting pictures she can show me how to do it. Lord knows she’s been begging to get something besides words out of me.

I’m her first follower, which I thought would make me privy to entry notifications. I don’t believe I received any such notification. However, I did just get a strange phone call from my Mama asking me if I was going to blog today. The question itself is not that unusual but the manner in which she asked it had me replaying the conversation. Something was up. I knew the topic was blogs, so I checked Idle Awhile and there it was! Her first entry!

It feels so good to know that she finally believes me. She IS funny. She IS smart. She IS creative. She IS a good writer. Blog on, Mama…I’m listening!

The Dog

2010-03-09T12:52:00.002-06:00

I have to show my dog more love. I have to remind myself that she was my baby first. I have to make her a priority, again. It’s been long enough.

We watched Marley and Me last night. Marley was a terrible dog. He made my dog’s incessant licking of my babies and constant need to stalk me seem inconsiderable.

It’s not that I don’t love my dog, Bitzie, it’s that she loves me…us too much. She desperately wants to be a part of everything we do. We live in a modest, two-bedroom house, maybe 1100 square feet. There’s not room to include a 95-pound, black lab in everything we do. Unfortunately, we remind her of that often. My reminders are quite often less than gentle. And yet, she still acts as though I’ve been away at war when I come through the door from getting the mail.

The mom in the movie had her moments with Marley, some of which included suggesting he “go to the farm.” A suggestion I’ve made more than once for Bitzie. I was relived to see someone else have the same feelings about their beloved dog. I was also sinking fast into the mouth of guilt. I have not been a good dog-mom lately.

On the occasions I’ve asked my husband to take her away because I’ve had enough, he kindly reminds me that she took good care of me when I needed it most. She did. He also reminds me that it’s likely in less than a year Bitzie will be the boys’ best friend. He’s absolutely right; she will. I’m just not thinking about that while I’m wiping up a pool of dog drool or tripping over her toys.

Funny thing is, I have no problem wiping up baby spit-up or stumbling over a house full of ankle-breaking kid toys all day long. Why is that? Bitzie loves us…me unconditionally. She gives her whole heart every day and I have to stop pushing that, and her, aside.

And so: I will appreciate my dog more. I will show her more love. I will make her a part of our family instead of one more thing to do. In short, I will try to become as good a friend to her as she’s always been to me.

The Finger Paint

2010-03-04T12:19:00.002-06:00

If you were anything like me as a kid, the first time you finger-painted you were struck with the genius idea to mix all the paints together imagining you would get the most amazing color. And you were sorely disappointed when you ended up with a disgusting brownish pool of yuck. Pure yuck. That’s what it looks like outside right now. Everything uncovered by the melting snow is the same color…disgusting brownish yuck.

I can hardly wait for this month to be over. I hate to wish a whole month away, but I always do this time of year. March is the longest month of the year for me. I crave the day I can open my windows and watch the last six months of stagnant, illness-infected air get sucked out and replaced with clean, fresh, crisp, life sustaining, spring-is-almost-here air. Oh please let it be April soon.

Most everyone I know has a winter month they detest. For those of us who live in states that experience actual season changes, it’s our right. We suffer through half a year of involuntary, partial hibernation while the rest of the states complain about it being “so cold”, all the while their thermometers read 62º F. Really? I bite my thumb at your “cold”. In my world, temperatures don’t qualify as cold unless there’s a minus in front of them. Contrarily, I suppose they can say the same about our summer months. I can’t imagine nearly a whole season of three digit temperatures. Holy hot.

Although this weather is starting to make me feel like Paul Sheldon in the movie Misery, I wouldn’t give up the season changes for anything. I can’t imagine missing the first smell of spring, watching the leaves change colors, rain on my birthday, or Christmas without a fire in the place. Seasons are a reminder of the cycle of life. They’re a reminder to appreciate what each day brings…even if it is a disgusting brownish pool of yuck.

The Garage Sale Season

2010-03-02T14:48:00.001-06:00

It’s upon us again! Being the bargain addict that I am, I can hardly wait! I feel like a schoolgirl again at the head of the recess line waiting for the bell to release me into blacktop heaven.

The first of the season is my church’s sale on March 26th. I went for the first time last fall. I realized immediately that nothing was priced so I asked the check-out attendant how the prices were determined. She indicated that a price for the whole lot would be agreed upon at the check-out. Rats!

BUYERS BEWARE: Garage sales with prices not pre-determined can be a huge waste of time and money!

I was hesitant. In fact, I was practically out the door when I heard a young girl inquire about the cost of a jean skirt. “How about twenty-five cents?” My head poltergeisted around to see that the attendant had made this suggestion. Jack pot! Nothing is twenty-five cents anymore…not even at garage sales! Okay, hardly ever, anyways.

I observed a few more transactions while I perused the kiddo clothes. All were equally as generous. Graces hadn’t been given to the girl for her age after all! For $15.00, I walked out with a diaper box and grocery bag heaping with clothes AND a kids stool. It took me three loads to get it all washed. I think I averaged twenty-seven cents per item. Not bad!

Part of being a good garage saler is knowing what something sells for originally. If you know the Garanimals brand is sold in stores for roughly $3 a piece, and usually goes on sale at the end of the season for $1 or less, then you surely shouldn’t pay $1 for a used Garanimals anything. Similarly, I don’t believe in paying more for a Gap sweatshirt simply because it cost more initially. If I feel the quality is superior and worth the mark up, so be it.

Negotiation is essential, particularly at the sales where the sellers believe their seconds are worth exorbitantly more than their neighbor’s. Don’t be afraid to bring these folks down to size. Obviously they aren’t shopping garage sales themselves.

You should be familiar with the going price for used items. If you’re a newbie to the garage sale scene, searching Craigslist before you venture out will give you an idea of what things are selling for second hand. If you find what you need but it’s overpriced, use the art of negotiation or move on. You’re bound to find it at a fair price down the road.

Of course, demand plays a part as well. For example, I’m in the market for a toddler bed…NOW. If I happen across one that I like and it’s reasonably priced, I will not hesitate to snatch it up. Buyer’s regret is an awful thing. However, if I can’t find one reasonably priced then I’ll buy new. (Gasps!! Crazy, I know.) But if I can get a brand new toddler bed for $59 and the best price I can find for a banged-up, used one is $40, well, I’d rather do my own banging up. Besides, Santa brought me a $50 gift card I’ve been saving for such a needed item.

My first bargain extravaganza is 24 days away. Wish me luck. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m counting on this one being the mother load but a bust is always possible.

The Pennies

2010-03-01T15:48:00.003-06:00

Everyone finds money, coins usually, here and there. Maybe a couple times a year, maybe a bit more if you’re lucky. I was no exception until my Grandpa died. The first month after he died I found pennies by the handful. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen a day! I found them everywhere: my apartment, my car, parking lots, my pockets, everywhere. Always pennies. Some might call this a coincidence. I’m not some.

As time went on, and my grief lessened, the frequency and quantity of which I found them lessened, too. A few days might pass before I found two or three, then a week before I found one.

My Grandpa died almost thirteen years ago so I don’t find his pennies daily, not even weekly, anymore. Still, I do find them when I need them most. Always pennies. Always when I need them.

The Rookie Blogger

2010-02-26T11:16:00.000-06:00

I think I’m doing fair to well with the writing part of my blog. As for the design, I suck. I really suck. You would be embarrassed to know how long it took me to modify that pretty little banner at the top of the page. Ridiculous! All for a blog theme you may not like.

Yesterday’s theme was voted down 0-1. I came across these cherries and decided they’d be today’s contestant. I love cherries! And I loved this theme initially. However, after hours, yes hours, with the banner above, I’m over the “honeymoon” phase and have moved on to the “whatever” phase. Maybe I’ll be in love again tomorrow. One can only hope given the exorbitant amount of time I spent on it.

Have I mentioned how long it took me to do the banner for today’s blog theme?

Although I greatly appreciate my lone voter, I’m going to need more than one of you to comment on my selections. I can guarantee banners and other such luxuries will not be added or modified until after the general theme has been determined. Don’t let your decision be biased by the amazing banner gracing this particular theme.

Comments, please.

The Pictures

2010-02-25T14:27:00.003-06:00

There won’t be any. Not of people anyway. Qualifier: definitely not of my husband or children, and probably not of anyone I know including myself, maybe of anonymous people.

I asked my husband if he would be okay with me posting a pic each of our babes. Although his answer was much gentler, boiled down it was, “Hell no!” He’s definitely not okay with it. I can understand his perspective, and share it to some extent, so I will respect his wishes. If for no other reason than they’re his kids, too.

My husband’s main objection to sharing our life (i.e. pics) online is the ambiguity we loose. His thought is that it’s easier to protect something no one knows about, or knows very little about. Valid point.

That said, you’re probably wondering how my husband feels about my blog. I’m not so sure, and neither is he. He has yet to read it. He says reading about himself is like looking in the mirror, something he does very little of as he’s not a vain man, although he could be. I don’t look in the mirror much either but I guess it’s different when you’re the one writing the perspective.

For now, we’ll have to be happy with the written word. Maybe I can spice it up with a few pics of non-human things, or my mom. She’s all about the pictures. First I have to figure out how to post pics though. This could be my goal for next week…or next month, depending. One thing at a time.

The Construction

2010-02-23T14:43:00.010-06:00

Well, I asked for comments and didn't get any. No fault of your own though. The rookie-blogger (me) had my settings are all messed up and therefore, all you commenting wanna-bes couldn't help me out. Sorry for that.

I've also had a request to liven up my blog. "Add some color!" Mom says. So, I am attempting that, too. However, the process is proving slow with two sick kids and now a sick husband.

Forgive me for being so neglectful. I promise to get back to business next week. Until then, check back for background changes. I'll be trying a few on for size, actually color, and I'm hoping to get some comments on who likes what best. That's assuming I've fixed my comment setting issue. Comment on, Cousin Barb!

The Editor

2010-02-18T13:26:00.003-06:00

That’s me, I suppose. So as the newly appointed editor-in-chief, I’m asking for your help. I can’t stand grammatical errors. I proof my posts many times before sending them to cyberspace. Still, there have been and will be errors. So, I’m welcoming your corrections. Counting on them, actually.

Some of you may have noticed that I’m trying my hand at colons and semicolons. I’ve read up a bit about how to use them and think I’m doing okay. But for those of you who are better versed than I, please correct my work. I only ask you be kind when pointing out my mistakes. I’m not always good with constructive criticism.

My research assistant, my mother, found some excellent websites for me to review about blogging. One of the repeating pieces of advice is to edit your work. Another is to let each post stand alone so newcomers aren’t lost without reading everything that came before them. That’s why I’m constantly repeating the names of my children. It isn’t to annoy my readers…all five of you.

Admittedly, I am bad speller. Horrible, actually. As I draft this in Word, about half of what I’m typing is underlined in red and a quarter in green, leaving an accuracy rate of about 25%. Clearly I was not the seventh grade spelling bee champ and did not improve with age. Everyone has their talents. If yours is the written word, comment on, friend. Thanks in advance.

The Faith

2010-02-16T12:03:00.004-06:00

Everything happens for a reason. I truly believe that. You have to have faith to believe that. Having faith is hard. It takes practice. For some, more than others. I don’t think you can ever stop practicing to believe and trust in something you can’t see and may not understand. I practice faith everyday, some days ever minute. That doesn’t mean I’m always good at it. But I try and my faith grows.

Although my husband’s current employment status (unemployed) is a hardship in many ways, it happened for a reason. The reason may be big or small…time will tell. Yesterday he witnessed our youngest, Mack, pull himself up in the crib for the first time. I could see the pride in his face as he told the story. Not only pride in his son but also pride that he was there, that he shared that moment with Mack. A moment he would have missed if he were at work.

I learned a few years back trying to orchestrate my life doesn’t work. Life is filled with unforeseeable surprises. Just when I think I know the path ahead, it changes and my map no longer applies. Scary until I remember I’m not lost without it. I just have to let the road take me where it’s going and have faith that I’m right where I’m meant to be.

The Grocery Getter

2010-02-12T14:45:00.002-06:00

It’s a 1997 Chrysler Concorde LX…and it’s trying to kill me. No longer are the days of leisurely naps while my chauffer drives me to work. Since my husband was handed status of unemployed SAHD, I must drive myself to work, leaving the handsome Honda Odyssey and it’s car seats at home with the boys. Bother.

The barely pre-200K Grocery Getter has been protesting the cold weather for a few weeks. The screaming is intermittent. It’s particularly awesome when I’m on my new, rock star, blue tooth headset making phone calls. Usually I’m talking to my mom or a friend, but sometimes I’m talking to the doctor’s office or the insurance Nazis. When the screaming starts, I let them go abruptly for fear they’ll hang up first and call 9-1-1. I’m always surprised when I make it home without the State Patrol pulling me over for a report of possible murder in progress.

Yesterday, the screaming was the worst it’s been. If I thought the drive to work was unpleasant, I was mistaken. I was only two or three miles into the journey home when I realized it was getting insanely hot at a rate that was unimaginable. At the next stoplight I reviewed the controls. “Off.” I said affirmatively as I hit the corresponding button and breathed a sigh of relief.

Off nothing! The darn thing kept pumping out equator-like heat. I started to sweat…unusual for someone whose extremities are typically popsicles during Wisconsin winters. Again, I waited for the next stoplight, turned off my lights to be sure I could read the display. The display…what display? There was no display! Great.

I considered my options; drive the remaining 40 miles home with the windows down or try a shutdown/restart. It works on computers, why not cars. I put the car in park and turned ‘er off just as the possibility of her not restarting flashed across my little brain. No worries though, she starts like a champ. But I still have air blasting at me hot enough to melt an iceberg in 3.2 seconds. “Turn off the vents.” my husband directed. Swell idea, except the heat was pouring through the floor and defrost vents. Not so much manually turn-off-able. Murphy’s law.

Picture this: I’m wrapped in my shin-length, black parka with fur trimmed hood, gloves and sunglasses on. The sun is bouncing off the fresh snow but I hardly notice as my hair is wiping around me in a swarm of madness and my eyes are as dry as a popcorn fart. One arm up to contain my hair, the other on the wheel. My eyes will have to wait. Only 40 miles to go. Think Planes, Trains and Automobiles?

Right before I pulled over to leave the darn thing on the side of the road and hitchhike home, the screaming started again. “What!” I yelled at it. It carried on as if it hadn’t heard me. So I started pushing it’s buttons, literally. Lo and behold the heat wave ended! The temperature of the vehicle changed from a sweltering 156 degrees to four degrees in milliseconds. Windows up, hair down, home before I knew it.

Although, the trip in today was uneventful, I live in constant fear that it will happen again. Funny, right? How many of you can say your car tried to cook you? That’s what I thought.

The Four-Entry Day

2010-02-11T09:48:00.004-06:00

I have blog entries spewing from my head: The Mr. Mom, The Followers, The Editor, The Snow, The Baby Whisperer, The Disclaimer, The Insurance Nazis, The Non-Napper, The La (this one could change everything), The Scary Driver, The Catholic, The Littlest, The Duplication Revisited, The Sippy Update. If these were visible I would look ridiculous with all of them floating around me…people would stare. I’ve started writing them down to try to clear them out and make room for the big stuff. Not that blogging isn’t important; it’s just easily trumped.

If you count this entry, and the other shorties to follow, they make four. Cheating? Maybe. But I’m pretty sure I make up the rules so I say it’s a four-entry day. Read on!

The Sippy Update

2010-02-11T09:48:00.003-06:00

Monday – bottle in the morning, bottle before nap, bottle before bed. Offered water in the bottle and milk in the sippy at every request. Would not touch the sippy. There was crying.

Tuesday – bottle in the morning, two bottles before bed. Offered water in the bottle and milk in the sippy at every request. No snacks ALL DAY. Touched the sippy reluctantly hoping it would count enough to get him the bottle. It didn’t. More crying.

Wednesday – Dad did snow removal duties and released Mom from enforcement of The Sippy Cup Movement. Gray was very please.

Thursday – It’s on again. I’ll report back tomorrow with the day’s details.

The Duplication Revisited

2010-02-11T09:47:00.002-06:00

It’s not as bad as it sounds. All the big medical words make it seem worse than it is. Here’s a breakdown of what they really mean:

· Verbal apraxia = motor speech disorder. This has the most affect on Gray. His only word is M&M (smart boy;), but we’re making progress. Communication is challenging but he’s learning new signs every day.
· 12p12.1 chromosomal duplication = no other recorded case so no one knows what it means. It’s likely causing the verbal apraxia but that’s only an educated guess. There could be hundreds, maybe thousands, of people walking around with the same duplication with no affects and therefore have not had genetics counseling and are unaware of the duplication.
· Hypotonia = low muscle tone. With the help of physical therapy he’s getting stronger every day.
· Macrocephaly = big head, thanks to me. No effects except that shirts can be challenging.
· Pectus excavatum = depression in chest. No effects.
· Global developmental delays = some of the above have caused him to be slightly behind his peers. However, he’s made amazing progress in a short amount of time. He’ll catch up soon.

If the big medical words are so scary, why use them, you ask? Well, there’s a chance that someone may google one of those words looking for more information. They may find me. And if they find me, maybe we could share information that would help each other. When we got the 12p12.1 chromosomal duplication diagnosis I googled it and found a blogging mom with a son who has a similar duplication. Her son also has verbal apraxia. Gray’s doctors were very interested in this.

Not having answers is hard but sitting idle is harder. I’ve just started revving my engine.

The Littlest

2010-02-11T09:45:00.003-06:00

My littlest is 10 months old today! How can that be? Everyone was right. Time does go faster when you have kids.

His name is Mack. Mack lives to bounce. He bounces from the time he wakes up until he goes to bed. He bounces everywhere: in the jumperoo, in the high chair, on your lap, in the bathtub, even during diaper changes. Everyday he has playtime when we sit him on the floor surrounded by toys, encouraging him to reach and get into the crawl position. Most often, he’s too busy bouncing to make the effort.

Maybe we’ll get a bounce house for his first birthday. His first birthday will be here before I know it. If only I could slow down time…make month ten last a little longer. My husband always says, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” I’m not entirely sure what that means but I better stop wishing and start ignoring the housework so I don’t miss my babies growing up. I heard once that life is about living with as little regret as possible. Trading a moment with my boys for a clean house is not a regret I want to have…ever.

The Sippy Cup Movement

2010-02-09T11:25:00.008-06:00

We’re in the middle of a movement at our house…a “Sippy Cup Movement”. Part of the google definition of movement is ‘a natural event that involves a change in the position or location of something’.

We are desperately trying to change our two-year-old son’s position on the bottle. Gray’s unemployed SAHD (Stay At Home Dad) has declared this the week of the sippy cup. His prediction is that Gray will cave and accept the change on Thursday. Possible? Maybe. It will be a meeting of the minds. Both are stubborn, persistent and hate change. It should be interesting.

Change is hard for a lot of people. It is particularly hard for my husband…and now my son. In Gray’s defense, he does have the sensory thing working against him (he has verbal apraxia). But being that little ones usually switch from a bottle to a sippy at about a year, making us 15 months behind schedule, it’s time to press the issue.

I’m confident that Gray is not the kind of kid who’s going to wake up tomorrow and request his milky in a sippy cup. So it’s likely he’ll require a lot of exposure and certainly some unwavering persistence on our part.

We’ve been “exposing” Gray to sippy cups since his first birthday when we gave him a really nifty one. It was unsuccessful, as have been the rest since. To date, we’ve purchased or received at least 12 different kinds of sippy cups. All have failed…miserably. On a good day, he’ll let one sit in his space for 5-6 minutes before he realizes the intruder. Then it’s all out protesting until it’s removed, usually for the remainder of the meal. Like I said, it should be interesting.

The switch to a sippy will be a huge accomplishment. It may also save us some cash on orthodontia work in the future. At this point, I’d pay him the potential savings if he’d make the change. Too bad Teddy Grahams mean more than money to a two-year old! Funny how things change, isn't it? I’ll keep you posted.

The Coupons

2010-02-05T13:56:00.002-06:00

Just a blurp as I’m up to my neck in coupons. And so the topic is.

I love coupons.

My BFF loves coupons, too. She’s the master at scouring fliers to find insane store specials. These are the specials stores use to get you in the door, so they’re super-duper good. And when you pair them with manufacturer coupons, the deals can be unbelievable. Her discipline is making lists of these stores and their specials and only buying what she’s intended to buy.

I have perfected “stacking” coupons. I use store coupons in conjunction with manufacture coupons. For example, I’m headed to Target where I will save ten dollars on a pack of diapers and wipes (thanks to coupon swapping with my BFF)! Sometimes, when I’m at the top of my game, the retailers pay ME to take the product home. Cool, huh?

If we tag-teamed our shopping specialties, we would be the couponing dream team. Alarms would sound when our vehicles entered the parking lot and employees would race to the doors to lock them before we and our coupons could squeeze through. Until then, I better get back to stacking.

Told you it was only going to be a blurp.

The Duplication

2010-02-04T14:37:00.012-06:00

My son, Gray, has a chromosomal duplication. A 12p12.1 chromosomal duplication, to be exact. A rare duplication with no known previous literature described.

A duplication is better than a deletion but chromosomes aren’t something you want to find variance in. His duplication affects only four genes: BCAT1, FLJ32894, LOC196415, and SOX5. Two genes have unknown associations. BCAT1 doesn’t seem to be affecting him as the doctors tested for what they believe are the probable complications. The SOX5 gene, however, is likely a different story.

Gray has verbal apraxia, hypotonia, macrocephaly, pectus excavatum, and global developmental delays.

That sentence deserves to stand-alone. It’s hard to write. Terrifying, actually. The fear is consuming when I let it be. That’s not often, though. I don’t have much time for fear. I’ve been enrolled in a crash course on how to become the best advocate I can be for my son.

My health insurance thinks he can learn to talk in three sessions a year (more on my new found love for insurance companies later). Applications for medical assistance are lengthy, unconsolidated, and slow with decisions. Coordinating his therapies and doctor appointments could be a full time job. Researching all of this is a full time job.

Still the fear finds it’s way in sometimes. What if I miss something and he doesn’t get the services he should have? What if the money runs out and we can’t provide what he needs? What if he goes to school and the kids won’t play with him? Etc., etc., etc.

I can stop it though, the fear, with one thought. A wonderful friend once said, “Gray is the perfect Gray. He’s exactly as God intended him to be.” And he is. He is the most amazing little boy, perfect in every way. He is taking us on a journey we never could have imagined nor wished for. As I write this a better mother, Christian, wife, daughter, I am so thankful he chose us to travel with…so grateful for the path ahead and the road behind…so happy to be right where I am.

The Commute

2010-02-02T11:00:00.008-06:00

Four days a week I travel 90 miles round trip to work and back. I used to sleep on the way in and make phone calls on the way out. That was when my husband was employed. I have a government job and for almost two years, so did he.

For some, the thought of receiving a paycheck from the same place your husband does is horrifying. For us, it was insanely convenient. We didn’t work together; he worked outside and I work behind a desk so we really didn’t see much of each other. That’s probably why we reflect fondly on it.

I realized this morning, as I started my solo journey on a stretch of 15 miles of unplowed highway, how much I miss my chauffer. I missed him even more at about the 30-mile mark when I hit ice. It took me 35 minutes to go the remaining 15 miles. It’s amazing how much you can mentally get done at 25 mph.

Although I really miss the opportunity to have a conversation with my husband about something other than who pooped, ate, and napped when, the alone time does give me a chance to organize my thoughts, my life.

I love organizing.

I love organizing so much that I dream of things like owning my own label maker or a shopping spree to The Container Store or a pantry. I don’t think I’m an extremist but I do face my canned goods and baby food. (Never faced your canned goods? Horrors! Refer here: http://www.ehow.com/how_2271040_stock-grocery-shelves.html. Implement immediately!)

I’m really good at organizing, too. We recently took a 12-hour trip to see my husband’s brother and family. With two tiny kids, you have to take a ridiculous amount of “gear”. I am the packer and my husband the muscle. Previous to this trip, he loaded the car on the few journeys we’ve taken beyond the 40-minutes to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

On this occasion, we were leaving at 7:00 a.m. The loading began at 6:00 a.m. and by 6:13 a.m. he declared that there was absolutely no way he could possibly get all of our [expletive] in the van.

I was still packing the last minute stuff so I pumped him back up, assured him not only was it possible, but that he was the man for the job. He returned at 6:22 a.m. deflated and defeated.

Long story short, I finished what I was doing, headed outside and repacked the van. Although he bragged me up to his family, exclaiming I could get 40 pounds of [expletive] in a 10-pound bag, he declared the same impossibility while loading for the trip home. I managed to pack in the 40 pounds plus a ridiculous amount of Christmas gifts and hand-me-downs without trying too hard. A gift from my father. Thanks, Dad!

The When

2010-02-01T12:46:00.003-06:00

Four entries a week, that’s my goal. Reasonable, I hope. Not too lofty.

Weekends are pretty much out. Saturdays are usually full of obligations, occasionally pleasure. Most Saturdays include grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry, and clearing out the miscellaneous to-dos I’ve collected during the workweek. Doesn’t sound like much until you factor in my two year old and 9 month old; then it adds up. Sundays are reserved for family…sometimes friends.

Of course if my blog becomes famous, as my mother is sure it will, then I’ll add “blogging” to my list of Saturday obligations. And if it starts to make me money, as my mother is sure it will, then I might even up the ante to six entries a week. But Sundays are still out. Even with my name in lights and money in the bank, Sundays will always be out. They’ll keep me grounded when the publishers, movie producers, and Ellen come a-knocking. (I would so dance around her coffee table if she let me.) Until then, I’ll be running the grind and loving every single minute of it.

The Bits and Pieces Summarized

2010-01-29T08:30:00.008-06:00

I told my husband last night that I have a blog. My mouth was moving before I realized what I was doing. I thought about trying to grab the words and stuff them back in before he processed what I had said.

“A what?” he replied.

I couldn’t decide if he was horrified at my new online extravaganza or hadn’t actually heard me, which is often the case as the man’s hearing is…well, let’s just say it will be interesting to see how we communicate in our later years.

I thought about replying with “A dog,” which would not be a lie. We do have a dog. I had intended to keep my new adventure under wraps hopping blogging wouldn’t be so scary if I thought no one was reading.

Despite myself I managed to push out, “A BLOG.”

It had been just over 61 hours since I created my blog when I told him. My mom was privy right away. She loves blogs and I knew she’d love mine whether it was worthy or not. My husband, on the other hand, is extremely skeptical about several things, one of them being internet anything.

When he asked what I was going to write about, I told him in my most executive voice, “I’m going to write about 12p12.1 chromosomal duplications, PCOS, Christianity, coupons, health insurance, babies, verbal apraxia…just life!”

Still skeptical, and suffering from a solo day with our newly non-napping 2 year old and post-colic 9 month old, he was as supportive as he could be at that moment. Able to feel the emotional and physical place he was in, I accepted. It helped that I came home to a freshly vacuumed house and the smell of Lysol bathroom cleaner. He truly is an amazing man. I’m pretty sure I’ll write about him too…if he lets me.

The Title

2010-01-28T11:03:00.007-06:00

The narrator in my head (that’s me) starts every book with “I have a story to tell.” It’s said with confidence and conviction, as if I’m sure once you begin reading you will find my story so interesting, so relatable, that you won’t be able to put it down until you've lifted the last page. Even then you'll be wanting more.

When creating this blog, I wash shocked to learn that others have a story to tell too…and beat me to it. In fact, if you google “I have a story to tell…” you will get several hits. Every version of ihaveastorytotell.com seems to have already been claimed.

I considered several other titles. At the top of my list was “The Top of the Heap” in honor of the column my dad wrote in the newspaper he owned in the small, rural town I grew up in until we moved 7th grade. But, apparently his column title is not so unique either (sorry, dad). So, for as dry, bland, and common as “I Have a Story to Tell…” seems to be, I stuck with it. I like it. The narrator in my head (still me) likes it. My imaginary book fans (me, again) like it. The audience (guess who) at my never-happened book signing likes it…a lot. And so it is.

Tomorrow: The Bits and Pieces summarized. Thanks for reading (mom;).

The Inspiration

2010-01-26T08:44:00.004-06:00

I watched Julie & Julia last night. Julie was a blogger. She might still be. She started her blog on a whim and so have I.

I've had a story to tell for some time now. I've started it in my head a million times (with me as the narrator, of course); driving to work, washing bottles, seconds before drifting into sleep, whenever a new chapter hits me.

My husband has urged me several times to put it on paper and author a book so he can retire. But a book is overwhelming...HUGE. A blog is bits and pieces...easy, I hope. And so I've started.

Assuming I can find the time and words to follow through, there will be more bits and maybe even some pieces. Until then...