My dad

This is not a blog post I ever imagined writing…and certainly not soon.  Tuesday morning, November 26^th, after going to my weekly indoor cycle class at the gym, Kayli and I were going to run a few errands.  I’d just parked the car in front of the shopping center and had opened Kayli’s door when my cellphone rang.  It was Mike.  He sounded weird or mad or something.  He asked where I was and asked if I could come home he needed to talk to me.  Well, obviously, I wasn’t just going to drop everything and head home unless I knew what was up. 

He just kept saying, “I just really need you home.  I don’t want to tell you over the phone.  Do you want me to come there?”  Eventually, after a pause and my brain catching up it clicked that something was very wrong.  I asked, “What’s wrong?”  After a long pause, I asked, “Did someone die?”  My first thought was of my mom’s brother, Phil – the amazing uncle that the boys call “Uncle Phuzzy.”  He’s had all sorts of medical stuff going on and hasn’t been doing great. 

"Yes,” Mike said.

I kind of gasped and said, “Who??”  I could tell that Mike didn’t want to tell me.  There was another very long pause and then he quietly said, “Your dad.”

I can’t really describe the feeling that I had.  I kind of let out one of those guttural throat-sobs that just escapes without your meaning it to.  I didn’t care.  I didn’t know.  I couldn’t really process.  I sat back in the car and said some stuff like, “What?  What?  Wait, my dad?  Did you say my dad?  Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Oh my God.”

Mike went on to say that dad had a heart attack.  The priest had called Mike; he was with my mom at the hospital.  Mike asked if I wanted him (Mike) to come get me.  I said yes.  Then no. There was no way I could just sit in the car and wait.  I had to get home as soon as possible so that I could get to the hospital as soon as possible. 

I did my best to be conscious of safe-driving.  I was sobbing and gasping, but I kept forcing myself to take deep breaths and to try to not lose it too much so that I could see and drive and somehow survive this.  I called Rebecca so that I could talk to someone while driving.  So, yeah, sobbing and on the cellphone and in shock…probably not the smartest, but I couldn’t really do much else. 

Kayli and I got home – after what felt like an eternity (really a 10 minute drive).  Mike was pacing in the driveway.  We hugged, I sobbed, and then I came in to call my mom.  I just needed to get there.  She sounded calm-ish on the phone.  She told me to come to the ER and tell them dad’s name and they’d take me back. 

Since I’d gone to the gym, I was sweaty and gross and super hungry.  You’d think these things wouldn’t matter, but I did have the forethought that it would be a long day and if I didn’t at least change I’d be freezing.  I changed, threw on a hat and grabbed a granola bar and two small oranges and ate them while I drove.  I tried not to lose it.  I just needed to get there.  I was shaking the whole time. 

I arrived at the ER and didn’t manage to hold it together at the check-in desk.  I didn’t care.  I was so confused and knew I needed a parking pass or my car would be towed – the stupid, mundane things that you still worry about.  The girls at the desk were great – they’re used to this – got my car model, color and said they’d take care of it.  I was sent back through an automatic door and eventually found the room with my mom…and my dad.

……………………………………………………………………..

Mom and Dad had attended daily Mass at 8am Tuesday morning just like they always do.  Afterwards, Dad stayed to volunteer with a group of men that do yardwork around the church.  They were going to be working on the priest’s yard at his house across the street.  Dad had told the guys that he was feeling light-headed and thought he might go home.  He took a few steps down the driveway and fell to his knees, basically right in front of the statue of Mary.  I didn’t find out until later that the priest – Father F – was the one who performed CPR on my dad.  Dad  was basically gone right away though.  There’s nothing they could’ve done.  What a way to go!  Having just received Communion and then dying doing the Lord’s work.  We take comfort in that.  As I’ve been saying, “Well, great.  It’s awesome for him…just sucks for the rest of us!”

My mom – thankfully!!!!!! – was with one of her very best friends and just a 10 minute drive away.  They received a call from the church secretary saying, “Therese, Bob collapsed.  Father F is here with him and the aid cars are here.”  Kathy was able to drive my mom, be with my mom; my mom was never alone.  Kathy stayed with us at the hospital all day, making calls to family, arranging friends to meet us with dinner.  Kathy picked up my brother Chris for us.  We are so, unbelievably grateful that she was there.

Really, there are so many things we are thankful for in how this all happened.  My dad’s been spending a lot of time at the Port Ludlow beach house.  He’d go for a few days during the week to get work done. If it’d happened there, who knows how long it would’ve been until we’d found out, gotten to him, etc.  Of course, friends and family have all been unbelievably amazing, and I certainly haven’t forgotten that we’re all going through this together.  My parents have been blessed with a huge group of friends from church, from Port Ludlow, from all over the place.  Everyone else is just as shocked as we are.  Dad was seriously the healthiest person I’ve ever known.  He did everything right.  No one – NO ONE – would’ve put him down as the first to go (of all their siblings/my aunts and uncles, their friends, etc.), that’s for sure. 

We spent the whole day at the hospital.  They moved us – and dad – to a private room.  The hospital staff was phenomenal.  One amazing thing: my dad is an organ donor (just as I want to be and have down on my driver’s license).  Mom spent about 25 minutes talking to someone – who was amazing and kind and patient – about the donor business.  We found out that dad’s corneas will help two different blind people and up to 40 people will benefit from tissue and bone.  He’s the gift that keeps on giving.  As my brother Timothy (the ‘green,’ pro-Earth architect said), “Well, it looks like I had an effect on his recycling habits.”

This is another thing about us – humor.  We’re blessed with the stupid ability to never, ever run out of tears.  There’s an endless reservoir.  Just when my eyeballs start to dry out, they must panic and go, “Oh, we haven’t been washed for a few minutes…let’s turn the water back on.”  But we’ve also laughed.  We’ve needed the comedic relief and it’s also how dad would’ve been.

Timothy and his wife Rebecca were able to drive up and arrive within three hours (record time considering the potential pre-Thanksgiving traffic).  We let my brother Chris, finish out his work day and then Tim went with mom’s friend Kathy to pick him up.  We had no idea how my sweet, gentle (and Special Needs) brother would handle this.  We still don’t really know.  He was great at the hospital –even making some jokes.  The next morning, we went to Mass together and met with the priest afterwards.  We all cried and I saw Chris shed some tears too…that’s a good sign.  I think he does understand what’s going on.

Mike, in the meantime, has been amazing – of course.  He’s been on nonstop kid duty so that I can be with mom and my brothers.  He was the one to tell the boys in the evening what had happened.  I arrived home a little while later.  Matthew, of course, our sensitive one, has cried a lot. Zachary, of course, our more wild-animal/resilient one has been tough.  That night, like most nights, we read a saint story with them.  Matthew said, “Well, someday there will be a story of Saint D-dad.”  (That’s how he could say “Grandad” when he was little and the name stuck ever since.)

On Thanksgiving morning, we went to Mass with the family.  Kayliana turned around to the lady behind us and said, “D-dad is gone…in heaven.  With Jesus.  He’s very fragile.”  I don’t get the fragile part so much, but if anyone should talk about being fragile, it’s Kayli. 

After a quite nice Thanksgiving – with laughter and tears – we got home late and went to bed.  At 3am Kayli woke up crying.  Mike went in and saw that she had her left arm pinned underneath her.  He thought it must’ve fallen asleep and was tingly-hurting.  He gently pulled it out from under her and she freaked out, crying in pain.  A year ago, August, we’d gone through the nursemaid/dislocated elbow thing with her, but that was her right arm, and she was bending her left elbow so we knew it wasn’t that.  She was pointing to her wrist.  After not long though she fell asleep and we figured it must’ve just been tingling or something.  However, she woke up screaming yesterday morning and wouldn’t move her arm.  I ended up taking her to the doctor where they did XRays.  The doctor – despite not really seeing anything too clear on the film – is convinced that she likely has a fractured elbow.  She’s now in a splint and sling  I  take her Monday morning to see the Children’s Hospital Orthopedic people for more Xrays and possibly a cast.  ‘Cuz, you know, we don’t have anything else going on.  L Poor thing. 

All, I’ve been able to say about all of this is, “Surreal.”  At least ten times a day, I think or say, “It’s just so surreal.”  It’s a weird bad dream from which I’ve yet to awaken.  Through all of it, though, I take so much comfort in our Catholic faith.  Catholics ROCK death.  We have so many beliefs and traditions that help the living cope with the dead and I don’t know what I’d do without them.  The funeral will be Wed. Dec. 11^th, so we’re busy getting ready for that.  All the while, shaking our heads and thinking, “This is just surreal.”

I put this picture up on my facebook page.  It’s one of my favorites.  When I took dad camping with me and the kids this August (a trip, I’m extra thankful for now), he helped the boys construct this ridiculous ‘rope swing’ (in the hopes that they would stop bickering and driving us bonkers.  It sorta worked).  But really, the best thing I got out of it was this photo.  A couple of weeks later, I gave dad this picture in a frame with the caption, “CAMPING: it makes you feel like a kid again!”  The picture is still on his desk.

 

Our (almost!) three year old!

I’ve been tired.  Pretty pooped.  Kayliana (and Matthew) have had a nasty cough-cold situation for four plus weeks now.  Kayli started hacking everynight between 11pm-1am-ish.  Like clockwork.  We finally slept through the night Sunday and Monday.  It was amazing.  When you’re having interrupted sleep, finally slumbering for hours is the most magical thing ever. Then last night/this morning it was Matthew – nasty-coughing at 4:00am.  I was supposed to go for a run at 6 and therefore my alarm was going to go off at 5:30.  Needless-to-say, I didn’t quite make it up (after finally falling back asleep at 5:20). Anyway, I’ve been a little tired, but that’s not going to stop me from enjoying this week and celebrating our sweet little girl who will turn THREE on Friday!

 

I’m extra excited for her birthday this year.  See, November happens to also be Adoption Awareness Month.  On Saturday, we will be meeting up with Kayli’s birth mom, Mia, at the celebration day that the adoption agency hosts every November.  We’ve never been able to attend before.  They have a professional photographer providing free family portraits, face painting (for after the photoshoot, I assume!), live music, treats, etc.  It’ll be such a fun way to celebrate Kayliana and WITH her birth mom!

 

At (almost) three years old, there are things that I want to remember about Kayli at this age:

 

-  Since her first giggles at six weeks old, Kayli STILL gets the hiccups after a serious belly laugh.

- Kayliana is very complimentary.  She told my mom last week, “Grandma, I like your pretty yellow hair.”  She yelled across the street to a woman walking her dogs: “I sure like your tiny little dogs!”

-Kayliana is pretty much 100% potty-trained now.  Woohoo!  She picked out cupcake/cake-themed underwear at the store.

- She is NOT shy.  She likes to talk to people in the line at the grocery store and almost always includes the tidbit: “I’m getting bigger, and I’ll have gum like my Matthew and Zach!”

-Kayli is often the first to say, “I love you” and it melts my heart everytime.

- Kayliana frequently uses expressive adjectives.  For example, she recently said, “These pajamas are so wonderful.”  She also uses the word “thunderous” – we’re still not quite sure exactly what she means by this but it’s usually positive.

- Kayli still can throw seriously impressive (and creative) tantrums.  I find myself having to say things like, “Don’t angrily drool, Kayli!”

- She’s getting more and more into pretend, imaginary play.  Last night at bedtime, she gasped, hopped out of bed and scooped an (invisible) “baby giraffe” that was apparently perched on my foot.  She ever so gently, cradled it against her and put it in a box on her book shelf. She made me check on the baby giraffe one last time before leaving her room.  I assured her it was sound asleep and she didn’t need to get out of bed to see for herself.

- Kayli sings along with EVERY song despite rarely knowing the words. 

- She’s gotten to be a bit of a picky eater and would choose fruit over almost anything else…except maybe lollipops and Snickers.

-Right now, for her birthday Kayli will say she wants a “chocolate one.” (Cake – that’s my girl).  And if you ask her what she wants for Christmas, her current answer is, “Halloween candy.”

- Kayli loves wearing her princess dresses and when she does she calls me “Mommy Tiana Princess” (her – and my – favorite Disney princess).

-Kayliana is a crazy, active girl who we have to tell MANY times a day to stop climbing and jumping on the furniture.  We also, still have MANY near misses due to her active-nature and clumsiness.  Thankfully we haven’t needed to go in for stitches since her two days in a row in August.

- Kayli absolutely adores her big brothers and, despite bugging them often, they, thankfully, still find her more cute than annoying.

-Every week at church, she shows our priest, Father Todd, any new boo-boo’s or bandaids that she’s sporting.  This began the Sunday after her stitches when Father Todd, ironically, had also needed stitches that week.  They have quite the bond apparently.

-Without fail, even when she’s driving me bananas, I can’t believe the gift that Kayliana is to our family.

 

Dream Walk

What needs to happen: is I need to not freak out.  I started sort of freaking out – about this going back to school business.  I was freaking about big things like: how will I manage to do this?  Can I really learn and master college math when Math is my sworn enemy, my arch-nemesis, the ultimate evil?!  Why would I leave Kayli to do my student teaching during HER last few years at home before she’s in school full-day?  (This one was REALLY upsetting me).  But I also started freaking about some smaller things (but still realistic issues): If we’re both working full-day, how do I stay on top of the laundry (which even now as a ‘stay at home’ mom consumes many hours of my days)?  How will we get healthy dinners made?  (Again, now as a mostly at home parent, I’m able to spend some of my time – typically earlier in the day – doing at least some dinner prep to make our afterschool/homework/dinner/evening time less chaotic and stressful.)  How will I survive without my weekly Tuesday morning Spin class at the gym?! A class that I’ve attended for six years now!  Needless-to-say, I was starting to freak out. 

In the end, I don’t have answers (yet) to these questions, though I did realize that it’s okay for me to just SLOW DOWN.  I will have MANY years when Kayli is in school.  That day is coming, it’s just not here yet.  And I don’t want to be there yet.  I want to enjoy these last couple of years with her at home.  (Next year, she’ll do two half-days of preschool; the following year she’ll do 3-4 half days, the school year after THAT, 2016-17, is when she’ll start Kindergarten).  So, for today anyway, I am NOT freaking out; and we had a wonderful day.  Kayliana helped me make muffins and pumpkin smoothies.  We played with my felt board stuff from music class.  We had a mini-dance party.  I did about 35 minutes of arms/abs P90x while she watched a PBS cartoon. (Yes, I’m trying to defend her watching of TV mid-day).  Then, I decided to do that thing that I actually have been looking forward to for YEARS.

When we bought our first house (in 2002), we were told that the empty lot at the bottom of the hill (about two blocks away) would eventually be the location of our city library.  I couldn’t wait!  I dreamt about walking the kids down for storytime (and the inevidable schlep back up the hill with the wagon full of books).  Well, my dream didn’t EXACTLY work out as I’d imagined.  They didn’t build the library for a while…like a long while.  The doors didn’t open until December 2012 (slightly off from their goal of 2008).  We moved away in May 2012.  We only moved two miles east, but still!  So, while we’ve still benefitted immensely from the new library, my dreams of walking down and back never came to fruition…until today. 

Let me paint the picture:  we now live two miles (exactly) from our old house/the library/our little downtown area.  But these aren’t just two miles – these are two miles with an elevation change of 400 feet.  Our house is perched at 800 feet.  Downtown is at 400 feet.  These numbers don’t really mean anything to me…until I walk out the front door for a run…or load Kayli in the stroller, throw on my empty backpack and fill it with books at the library and a few essentials from the grocery store and head back home.  Then the numbers mean something to me.  Needless-to-say: it.is.a.walk.  Downhill the whole way there and then up hill the whole way back. 

To further illustrate the scene for this hike: it’s been really, really super foggy in the Seattle area lately.  For some reason last year, when we had a foggy spell, it kind of weirded me out.  I felt a little claustrophobic driving down the street or walking to the school bus stop and not being able to see very far ahead of me.  This year, I LOVE it.  Huh! Go figure.

 Let me wax poetic for you (on you?) a moment. (I’ve never liked this expression: wax poetic. I know it has to do with the kind of wax like a ‘waxing’ and not ‘waning’ moon, but it just makes me think: Am I putting poetic wax ON you?  Anyway, here goes).  As Kayli and I descended through the fog – huge maple leaves crunching under the strollers’ tires – we noticed the shimmering spiderwebs bedazzled in dew like millions of tiny chandeliers adorning the trees.  (See, I told you I was gonna get my poetic on!)  The leaves were fifty shades of not gray.  Every bright color conceivable hung on the trees.  We went down the steepest part of our neighborhood hill.  I looked to my left and saw a very life-like statue of a young buck – antlers and everything.  There are tons of deer in our neighborhood (we back to an enormous state park.  I’ve also experienced one bear sighting if you’ll recall), so I honestly thought that this statue was to scare actual, real deer away from the plants and garden of these homeowners.  Kayli and I slowly continued by the house and then I saw another deer statue – but then this one moved.  OK, I sound like a moron, because we do see deer frequently, but honestly, I watched the buck for quite a while and it didn’t twitch at all; I couldn’t even see it breathing and we were pretty darn close to it!  So, as soon as this other deer moves, I look back at the buck and watch in awe as it majestically stands up…and then starts to slowly saunter towards us.  I quickened my pace a tad and we continued down the hill. Where, at the side of the next house, I spy two more bucks, a doe and a still youngish looking fawn.

Beautiful!  The fog.  The intense fall colors.  The crisp air.  It really was breath-taking.  (And, seriously, climbing that 400 feet back up to home, literally took my breath away).  As I was finally nearing the end of our ascent, another (or one of the previous) bucks and a doe go leaping around the yard about ten feet to the left of where I was. I could hear the sound of their hooves as they crunched through the leaves bounding so effortlessly into the misty fog.

 All I could think was: seriously, are we in Narnia?!  This is amazing.  And for now, anyway, I am not freaking out.

BIG decision(s)

I sincerely apologize that I’ve left you wondering.  I’m sure you’ve lost sleep since my last post – tossing and turning with the unknown verdict: Will she or will she not cut my hair?  Will she really commit to growing it out in order to donate 8 inches for Cancer patient wig making?  Well, fear not, I’m here now with an answer.

 

Away she grows!  I’ve decided – and you’ve heard it hear first (or from my mouth if you’ve been blessed as a person with whom I’ve discussed my hair in deep detail) – that for the next 1.5-2 years I’ll grow my hair.  I’m also going to get Kayliana a good trim in the next few weeks and grow hers as well.  She has such gorgeous hair and I think it’s a pretty amazing thought that a little girl could help someone in need in that way as well.  (Obviously she doesn’t really ‘get’ the plan, but oh well.  Plus, it’ll sure save us both on hair cut costs!)

 

So, a big decision has been made, oh, and another maybe just slightly more significant and life-changing one as well: I’ve decided to go back to school.  WHA?!  I know, right?! I really need to finally buckle down and get my teaching certificate.  That’s right, I’ve taught without for years now – I’m an illegal teacher! (Well, not actually, just a non-certified one).  Having my certificate will give me the ability to – once the kids are all in school full-time – sub occasionally and then eventually should it become necessary or desired I could teach full-time in a public school.  Ideally I will also – later down the road – get my Music endorsement.  The actual program that I’m looking at is on-line and typically only takes a year and a half.  I, however, need to do some Pre-Req work before I can even apply.  Plus, the last term is the full time 12 week student teaching bit, and I really don’t want to do full-day work until Kayli is in school full-day…which isn’t for a few years yet!

 

The part that freaks me out the most is MATH.  Math is the enemy.  I’ve bragged and boasted for years now on how I managed to graduate from the University of Washington without ever having to step foot in a math class.  Actually, I even worked it so I only had to take three years of math in high school.  I’ve not been in a mathematics course in SIXTEEN YEARS.  I really did think that I would just relearn math along with my children.  So far, that’s worked pretty well and I’ve been able to keep up with Matthew’s 4^th grade load!  However, it’s going to take a little more than that to get my Post Bacc in Elementary Education.  I have to have two college level math classes.  Initially, this thought to me sounded so awful, I’d rather have someone slowly spork out my eyeballs.  However, I’m actually starting to warm up to the idea.  I even spent an hour last night doing some math review and practice problems.  I’d like to say, “Thank goodness! It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it’d be and I’ll be just fine!”  But no, it was hard and I’m embarrassingly rusty/inept. BUT, I do feel more ready and excited with the prospect of really committing myself to this whole plan. 

 

I’ve teeter-tottered back and forth the last few days (while looking into the program and going back to school in general).  I’ve gone from – eh! It’ll be a piece of cake! To Holy Crap! I can’t even do basic math, what if I can’t even get in??!  I mean, not only will I have to brush up on math in order to be ready for taking college level courses, but I have to actually pass two different assessment exams that both have math sections.  I’ve kind of freaked out.  I’m still kind of freaking out.  And yet…I think I can do it.  I know I can do it.  I have yet to not do something that I’ve really set my mind to.  (Now, we’ll just see if I can actually grow my hair as well.  It’s going to be a busy few years!)

HAIR

I’m weird.  I’m really weird about hair – especially my hair.  But also hair in general.  Hair, once off the head, disgusts me…like irrationally grosses me out and kind of freaks me out.  But, for now, let’s talk about the hair on my head.  I’m fairly certain I think about my hair way more than is normal or necessary.  For a while now – about nine years – I have had short hair.  I have thick, naturally curly hair and, for whatever reason, once it gets “long” (for me – which is like just below my chin) it starts to drive me nuts and I chop it off again as quickly as possible.  I have, in the past, come from a hair cut that I wasn’t happy with and took scissors myself and went to town.  I LOVE short hair on women and I spend an unhealthy amount of time google-searching, bing-image perusing, Pinteresting “short curly hair,” “curly pixie haircut,” “curly short hairstyles 2013…” You get.  You name it; I’ve searched it. 

The other weird thing about me and my hair – especially short hair – is that while I love it and think I look better with a short, sassy ‘do I also have what I like to call “short hair low self-esteem.”  This can be traced back to my glory days of 7^th grade (terrible, awful 7^th grade) when I didn’t understand thick, curly hair yet.  I didn’t know how to use good product to keep the frizz down and I had a not so good short haircut.  Like it was a border-line old lady short hair cut and I was in the throes and woes of awkward adolescence.  My hair cut was such that, one of the, mmm, probably 50 year old gals, who worked at the middle school, complimented me nonstop, asked where I’d gotten it cut and came in to work a few days later with a carbon copy cut. Crap.

My relationship to my hair can be traced back to those awkward days and also hearing the (at the time) “mean girls” make fun of me.  I was chubby, I had acne, and when all the other girls had long straight hair, I had a short, poofy coif.  Another “friend” referred to me as (and I perfectly word-for-word quote because I’ll never forget it) an “egg on toothpicks.”  So, essentially, while I think I look better with short hair, I still constantly question and am plagued with self-doubt as I look around at the moms at the bus stop (all with their long, straight hair and also all tall and thin…and gorgeous), I wonder, “Do I look like an egg on toothpicks with a poofy old lady frizzy ‘fro on my head?”  Honestly.  These are the thoughts.

Now, for nearly two years, I’ve been going to a new salon where the owner, Karly, TOTALLY knows curly hair.  She’s magical.  I’m a huge fan.  As I’ve said, my hair has been short-ish for nine years.  Last summer, it was closer to my chin, -- the angled curly bob look that I’d rocked for a few years.  I decided to take it even shorter.  But another problem I have is: I do love change.  When I get my haircut I want it to look like I’ve gotten a haircut.  I wish my hair grew CRAZY fast so that every single time I got a haircut it would look really different.  I don’t grow out my hair to have longer hair.  I grow out my hair so I can chop it off again.

Well, this past spring, I got my shortest ‘do yet.  But pretty soon, I started to feel antsy (again) about having short hair. It also didn’t help that we were coaching Matthew’s baseball team and I didn’t feel like the haircut looked good under the baseball hat everyone saw me in several times a week. Karly suggested we grow it out – like REALLY do it – just to see if maybe I like longer hair again.  For a change.  I’ve also always wanted to have long enough hair to donate for cancer patient wigs (this requires cutting off at minimum 8 inches in a pony tail).  I’ve had a few friends do it and I’ve always wanted to.  Karly even pointed out that if I was willing to cut it SUPER short, then 8 inches isn’t necessarily CRAZY long hair.  The thought of cutting it SUPER short gets me so excited.  I can’t wait…and yet, again, I get plagued with my self-doubt: “I’m young(ish) now.  Shouldn’t I have long hair while I’m young? Old ladies have short hair.  I’ve got the rest of my life to have short hair…but I love having short hair.  I feel sassy and fun.  When my hair gets longer I actually feel kind of frumpy and mleh….but do I DESERVE short hair?!  Am I thin and spunky enough to pull off a sassy, maybe even edgier short hair cut so that it doesn’t look like an old lady ‘do…but I should really grow it out….but it takes so freakin’ long to get long…but I really just want to chop it off already…but short hair doesn’t look as good under hats and I do love hats….but should you really base your haircut on how it will look under hats…but can’t I just commit myself to growing it out for donation?  I mean, in the big picture, growing it out for two years isn’t THAT long of a time….EVERYONE has long hair, don’t I want to fit in…but I want short hair…but….”  Do you see what I mean when I say I think WAY more about my hair than is normal?  I mean, I can even write a whole blog about it!

And this is just how I feel about my hair.  I haven’t even delved into the commentary that I get from others.  While Mike has been supportive and is always complimentary about my short hair, I know for a fact that he does prefer longer hair (as most men do).  So, then I’m like, ‘well, shoot, I know that my hubby would prefer me a different way….’  Then there’s my mom.  Ahh, mom.  She was the one that initiated my short hair middle school days that will forever live in my mind in infamy and regret.  She had my best interest at heart, obviously.  And I think she, too, really didn’t have a good grasp on hair product and care for my super thick curls.  I mean, it took me nearly thirty years to figure it out!  She’s also made it abundantly clear that she thinks I look much better in short hair.  When I was discussing with her last week this plan to grow it out but that I struggle with it because I do think I look better with shorter hair, she interejected, “You can just pull it up all the time.  You don’t look very good with long hair.”  Oh.  I see.  I thought I looked BETTER with short hair; I didn’t realize that I looked BAD with long hair.  Oye vey.

So, here we are.  I went to Karly for a hair cut/trim last week convinced that I was going to throw in the towel (after only a few months of attempting to grow my hair).  I was ready to just say, “Forget it.  Take it the shortest it’s ever been.” But she talked me out of it.  She encouraged me to just try a little longer.  She did shape it and give it more style so I don’t feel so blah about it…but…but…my next hair cut is November 26^th and I’m already thinking and wondering – way too much – about what I should do to my do.  I really don’t have a lot of hope in myself in this whole ‘I’ll grow it out for two years’ plan.  I just really don’t think I can do it.  But then, am I being selfish?  I mean, people going through Chemo would love my thick hair! But it is, still technically, my hair so shouldn’t I wear it the way I want it?  But then, can I pull it off?  Plus, longer hair takes longer to style.  I want my long hair-styling time for Kayliana now.  She can be the one with long hair.  Yeah, I’m totally chopping it off…or maybe I won’t…but…ugh.

The facts: Long hair Jenny (so youthful, so free)

 

Medium length-haired Jenny

 

Short, sassy haired Jenny (yet 'mature' = old??!)

 

This is what a nerd I am about this: I would appreciate your input and opinions!!

Life, man. Life.

It’s crazy talk that it’s already October!  The weather here has been awfully fitting for the season – cold, rainy, windy – but there’s still a part of me that is maybe stuck back in summer wanting more days of warmth and sunshine and the chance to get more projects done outside.  Oh well!  I’m also happy to be wearing sweaters and scarves and tall boots and drinking more tea and eating soup and anything pumpkin or squash-themed!  (Zachary, on the other hand, cries when I make soup and questions my love, and is definitely NOT thrilled with food this time of year).

This weekend was insanely stormy and yesterday brought endless rain and high winds.  I had my first music class of the year at a new Montessori school like I’ve lined up.  Kayli and I left plenty early to drive up to my parents’ place (where she would hang while I went to teach).  While driving we came across not a puddle, nay, but essentially a small lake, that was smack dab in the middle of my lane.  I had no choice but to drive through it.  I’m sad to admit that the first words out of my mouth were of the rather colorful language persuasion and THEN after that I switched to praying (sorry, God).  Thankfully, Kayli didn’t repeat my words (I’m sure they’ll randomly be said sometime when least optimal….like she’ll loudly proclaim it during church), but she did say afterwards, “Woah, enormous car wash!”

 

My first days back at teaching are always a honeymoon stage.  I was so happy to be back at it and these kids were so freakishly cute and well-behaved…of course, I have done this long enough, that I know that will likely change in the weeks ahead as they get more comfortable.  But one little boy…oh. My. Goodness.  I want to bring him home and put him on my shelf he was so stinkin’ cute.  He was about three years old and was wearing a pair of corduroy pants. I’d noticed that they looked a little big and loose on him when we were up dancing for our first movement song.  Afterwards, once sitting back down on the floor in our circle, I did a double take when I glanced over at him.  There he was just happily chillin’, sitting on the floor in his little blue striped underwear.  His pants were all the way down around his mid-thigh region and he couldn’t care less…or didn’t even notice…and no one else did either.  When we stood back up for our next movement song, I made sure he got them pulled up, obviously, but the thought of him just chillaxin’ in his ‘roos in music class cracks me up. 

I’ve spent more time this year – than any other – trying to line up additional classes.  I called 27 Montessori schools (and either left messages or was politely turned down – either they already have a music enrichment program or they don’t have the space for one, etc.).  I successfully landed this one new one and also had my same school from last year on the schedule…only to find out that the school that I was returning to can’t actually have me right now (they’ve been moving locations and a bunch of stuff is just up  in the air for them).  My plan for later this week is to a.) lock Kayli and I at home and potty train (a plan in which, I’ll admit, I’m not very optimistic seeing as she seems pretty darn stubborn and that she WILL be the one kid heading to kindergarten in three years in diapers) and b.) call every library within a twenty mile radius (and that’s quite a few, mind you) and try to line up some gigs there. 

So, yesterday, I had my first day back at work, my one whopping music class.  THIRTY whole minutes of work and after getting home to Mike and the kids I was questioning everything.  How do families do this when both parents work full time?  Granted yesterday was a little extra crazy – it was my first class, Mike has a deadline for work and is really stressed out, the weather made traffic so bad for Mike that I had to rush home to be sure one of us was at the bus stop for the boys and THEN I had to drive back up to get Kayli from Mom and Dad (so I had probably an extra hour of driving), both boys had had a rough day at school so they were a hot mess, plus Mondays – now that we’re into the school routine – is big homework night.  The packets come home and we have everything for the week which is nice but also a little overwhelming.  Anyway, I HAD rocked and gotten dinner going in the crockpot so at least I didn’t have to come home at 6pm and make food.  But I felt like a failure.  A failure as a ‘working’ parent (my whole WHOPPING THIRTY minutes of work) and a failure as a mostly-at-home parent.  Lately, because I DON’T have music classes, I’ve been able to be home during the day to get dinner at least prepped, if not made, so that the short window after school of homework, dinner, playtime, family time, showers, bedtime, etc. isn’t quite so chaotic, but all I could think yesterday was: How do people do this?!  And how will I do this???  Especially as the kids get older and homework gets harder and there’s more of it.  Matthew’s already struggling to get it done as it is…and for crying out loud I struggle with some of his math and he’s only in fourth grade!  How are we going to do this?!  (When these panicky thoughts really started to freak my freak I realized that it was well after 5pm, so pouring that glass of wine DID take the edge off a little, but still…still!).  How ARE we going to do this?  It’s not even basketball season (for Zachary) or baseball season (for Matthew)…yet.  We’re not doing swim lessons…yet.  We don’t have three kids with homework…yet.  We don’t even have a dog who needs to be walked...yet.  How, pray-tell, do people do this?  I need to do some research. 

 

But this is life, man.  I need to get on board.  I need to figure this thing out.  In the meantime, I’ll do what I know to do: be selfish and take care of myself so that I HAVE something to give to everyone else.  I’ll go to Spin at the gym, get myself a sassy short haircut (and give up on this whole silly plan to grow it out…we’ll see) and get my first pumpkin latte of the season.  Now THAT sounds like a day I – an apparently extremely self-absorbed person – can handle!  

This week's (mostly lack of) accomplishments

I’ve got myself a sleek new shnazzy laptop.  Name yet to be determined. This laptop arrived in the nick of time – for my week of being an absolute couch potato.  After last week’s insane yard working extravaganza, this week was pretty much the complete opposite.  My butt barely left the sofa.  I’ve had the nastiest cold that was accompanied by the most annoying hacking cough that ya ever did hear.  Really. So annoying.  One night I was hacking so much at 3am, I woke Kayliana up.  She told Mike, in a very concerned voice, “Mommy’s coughing.” Yes, yes she is.

This week, Matthew lost his, I don’t know, 50^th tooth (our boys are freakishly ahead of losing teeth – they’re very advanced.  I should brag about how amazing they are and so above average in this way.  It’s a gift).  He left a note for the tooth fairy that said, “Dear Tooth Fairy, Insted of money, please give me the Lego Star Wars Commander Rex. Love, Matthew P.S. What do you look like.” 

So, here’s what I don’t like: stinkin’ overachieving parents.  Yes, you know who you are.  You’re the ones that do not just one but ALL the over-the-top mom-of-the-year ideas that you find on Pinterest.  You make the rest of us look really bad.  And I don’t appreciate it.  How dare you!  My parenting plan is to set the bar so low, to keep my childrens’ expectations in the pits so that when I do anything above and beyond the call of duty (for example feeding or bathing them) that they are pleasantly surprised and touched with my level of love and commitment to their well-being. 

With the boys being in school for a few years now, they come home with more and more of these elaborate dreams based on what other kids tell them.  “Oh, the Tooth Fairy left me $20.” (Suddenly those two shiney quarters next to Matthew’s alarm clock lose their luster).  “Oh, the Tooth Fairy brought me a brand new Lego set.” (Matthew starts wondering what he ever did to the Tooth Fairy).  “Oh, the Tooth Fairy brought me a Ferarri convertible.”  (Matthew probably starts considering moving in with another family to see if this improves his standing with the Tooth Fairy).

Well, I have news for you, over-achieving parents: I don’t appreciate you and you smell bad.  You stink!

 

Matthew came down the next morning with shoulders slumped and bottom lip protruding.

 

“What’s up, kiddo?” (Knowing that I would just have to hear about how lame I am).

 

“The Tooth Fairy totally ignored my note.  She didn’t even do anything but leave $0.50…like usual.”  Stupid, lame Tooth Fairy.  Ahh, well.  Like I said, I’m not about to start being awesome with my oldest kid.  Then, I’d just have to continue the charade of awesome parent for years to come.  And, let’s face it, that’s just exhausting.

 

While I may not spoil my children (in some ways…in other ways, I’m sure, many would argue they are spoiled rotten), I DO plan on spoiling a new child in my life.  I shan’t elaborate on details as they aren’t mine to announce (and I know we do share some of the same readers), but last night I was blessed beyond belief to be with our best friends, Jason and Rebecca, as Rebecca gave birth to her fourth child, the newest member of our clan, and Mike’s and my Godchild. (The Baptism will be in November. I can’t wait!)  Rebecca, as always, was incredible and I’m just so touched and moved that she loves me enough to ask me to be there.  I LOVE this baby SO very much and can’t believe what a joy it is to have such incredible friends who really are family.

This week's accomplishment

My cranky old man laptop, Filbert, hath bit the dust. I'm currently typing this on our Netbook which is kind of a big pain to type on.  Not my fave.  At any rate, I was all ready for this first full week of school.  I was going to do lots of prep for my upcoming session of music classes (starting in a couple of weeks).  I spent a couple of evenings starting to organize my music on iTunes so that I can put my playlists on my iPod.  I've been using the same cassette tapes (yes, I made 'lil 'ol mix tapes for my music classes) for the last several years.  When Filbert died I lost what progress I'd made. Erg.  So, maybe a blessing in disguise, with no easy laptop situation this week, I gave up on the music class prepping plans and spent three days in a row outside doing yardwork.  It also helped that the forecast was amazing, so I made the most of it.  For three days (two that were above 88 degrees) I battled with a rose bush and a huge juniper shrub.  I wanted those bad boys gone.  They put up a good fight -- with crazy, thick deep roots -- but they had no choice but to give up when facing this gun show.  I eventually got them out and have planted about 10 new things (in that whole area - not just where the shrubs were) including some bulbs, and then I added some fresh bark as well.  It was a ton of work. It was so stinkin' hot. I have blisters on my hands, my back, legs and arms are super sore and I've had a sore throat/cold the whole time...but I did it and it's done!  After days of hot yard work and not feeling awesome, yesterday I showered (not the first time in three days, I promise, but it must've looked like it) and wore a sun dress down to the afternoon bus stop.  Honestly, it was like people didn't recognize me at first.  Apparently, I've looked like such a sweaty, disgusting, dirty, barky mess, that just my bathing impresses people!  

Here we go again!

Another school year has begun.  We walked the boys to the bus this morning for their first day of school.  Matthew (on, this, his 10^th birthday eve) is looking forward to 4^th grade and improving his math skills and reading outloud abilities).  Zachary (7 years old) is starting 2^nd grade.  This year he wants to work on writing.  He’ll also have a big year with First Reconciliation (for which he seems to be compiling an extensive list of sins! J ) and First Communion in May.  Kaliana (2.5 years old) is also looking forward to an epic year.  We will do potty training (God help us) and maybe, just maybe, we’ll see a decrease in toddler tantrums.  That’d be amazing.  Yesterday, in the pouring rain, while walking from the car to the boys’ teacher meet and greet, Kayli had an epic display of two-year-old angst in someone’s front yard.  It was a full on, throw herself on the ground, kick off her rain boots and roll in the muddy grass tantrum for about 12 minutes.  We were late, drenched and cranky for our first impression meetings with the boys’ teachers. Awesome! 

 

Other than the mud-rolling tantrum, we spent yesterday preparing for the school year and Matthew’s birthday.  We celebrated last night with my fam and my Godmother, my mom’s sister, Ann who is in town.  Thankfully, Kayli was (mostly) tantrum-ed out by last night’s family dinner!  

Camping

 The kiddos and I had an awesome ‘lil camping trip with my dad last week.  We were on Whidbey Island at Deception Pass State Park.  The weather was mostly cooperative (as were the children…dad was on pretty good behavior as well).  The state park is near the naval base and the boys LOVED getting to see the fighter jets doing practice fly by’s over head. One highlight (for the boys – and maybe dad) of our camping trip was the rope swing that they fashioned in our camp site.  The highlight for me was our last night.  I was able to get the kids in bed earlyish and dad and I enjoyed a couple hours of quality time by the campfire.  It was a clear night and the amount of stars visible was amazing.  The camping trip with my dad may just become an annual event.  (That is, if he’s willing to spend that much quality time in the woods with US again)!   

Update :)

Today was stitches-removal Day 2.  We went in yesterday so that Kayliana’s first round ‘o stitches could come out.  I have to say (though it IS the smaller of the two wounds and the fewer stitches – just three), it looks fantastic already.  I really think that in just a matter of days it will be hardly noticeable.  Today’s wound (and stitches removal) may be a different story.  It was the deeper, more stitches (5) scenario, so we’ll see.  I’m sure both will be a bit of a scar but nothing too major.  Today’s doctor was the one that did day one’s stitches and popped in to see us on day two.  She is WONDERFUL. 

 

She gave us a present!!  It’s a beautiful book that’s as girly as they get.  The note she wrote in it says, “To Kayli, Matthew and Zachary, The best family ever during not 1 but 2 emergencies.”  Well, so, we maybe handle them pretty well…doesn’t mean that we need to keep ‘em coming!


(Again, I apologize.  I don't know why things aren't in the correct orientation...they say they are on my computer and then when I upload the photo they're all vertical and totally wrong! erg).