Birthday Week

What a difference a year makes!  This time last year, I was engulfed in a constant sea of moving madness.  It was all packing, getting the ridiculous buyers’ list of inspection to-do’s done and yet still somehow (sorta-somewhat-maybe?) functioning as a mother to three in the midst of little league season to-boot! 

 

My birthday is on Friday.  Last year’s birthday was spent in a serious fog of stress and tears.  I remember Mom coming over in the morning to watch Kayli so that I could get last minute packing done before the buyer’s came to do their RE-inspection (ON my birthday – the nerve)!  We left the next day for Memorial Day weekend in Port Ludlow and spent that weekend stressed out about the inspection HERE, signing documents on-line and sending them back and forth to our realtors.  Then we left Sunday night, for one last night in our home, got up early on Memorial Day Monday, picked up our moving truck and the real work began…what a difference a year makes.

 

This year on my birthday all I really want to do is have normalcy.  The kids and I will go to Rebecca’s for the day where I know – as usual – I’ll get spoiled by an amazing gourmet lunch and such a fun time.  This is actually pretty standard for our playdate’s: delicious, gourmet, home-made lunch with a glass of wine.  Check!  The kids will be so happy to play together as during the schoolyear the boys don’t have as much time to do that. Then, we’ll come home Friday night to our usual, normal Friday night plans.  We’ll have Family Movie Night with the kids and do something easy for dinner.  The kids go to bed, Mike has his weekly on-line computer-game playing time with the guys, and I either take a bubble bath and read, paint my nails and watch a movie or chill in my pajamas and happily waste hours on such time-sucking marvelous black-holes-of-time as houzz.com or pinterest.  Mikey got me Les Mis on Blu-Ray so I’m thinking I may watch that again.  Yes, I’m looking forward to having just a normal Friday night for my birthday.  Mike asked if I wanted to do something else, but honestly, a quiet night at home sounds perfect. That must make me officiall OLD.

 

This is the first Memorial Day weekend in a while that we’re not heading to Port Ludlow.  I was just there with the kiddos over spring break and, with baseball in full swing, we have been going-going nonstop on the weekends.  A three day weekend at home to chillax-slash-be-productive sounds magical.  And next week, holy cow! Let the fun begin!

 

Monday (Memorial Day): we’re having our friends Cathi and her son Nicholas for dinner.  Cathi’s hubby Chris is deployed to Qatar or some middle easterny place like that, and we’re honored to get to spend Memorial Day with their fam.  Tuesday night: I host book club.  I’m planning on making one of my very favorite dinners for the girls! (‘Purple pasta’ – grilled chicken and pasta with red grapes in port, cream and gorgonzola.  Rich and delicious!).  Wednesday: we have a baseball game so it’ll be easy dinner night.  Thursday: I get to go play Bunco with the girls (a bunch of super fun moms that I’ve gotten to know from baseball and the boys’ new school).  Friday: yet another baseball game.  Saturday morning: baseball game followed by my super lovely, dear friend Katherine and her 3 year old daughter arriving for a three day visit!!  Katherine is my birthday buddy (hers is two days before mine) and we’ve spent a few of them together…especially when her hubby Dan (who is in the Special Forces) is deployed.  We’ve met up in Chicago and gone to Lake Geneva in Wisconsin, she’s come here a few times and one of my very faves was when I visited them in Monterey and Katherine and I dined with Clint Eastwood (sort of) in Carmel.  Ahhh, lovely, lovely memories and so many more yet to come! 

Mawesomeness

I look like a freak thanks to my mom.  No, really, I do mean THANKS to my mom!  I’m not ashamed to admit that yesterday afternoon, I called my mom and fighting tears and pretending to mostly joke (although not joking AT ALL), I told her, “I need my mommy!”  And I did.  And sometimes that really is who and what we need.

 

Yesterday morning, while running with my running partners, Andrea and Diana, I totally bit it.  I stupidly tripped on a stupid lip in the stupid sidewalk and stupid fell like a stupid-head on my stupid face.  Actually, no, thankfully, I saved my face and chin THIS time (as opposed to June 5^th, 2011, when I split my chin open on a 12 mile run and got to experience stitches for the first time).  This time, instead of landing on my knees and chin, I landed primarily on my right knee and left hand.  The knee was bad but not THAT bad and thankfully I was wearing Capri-pants and not shorts, so I didn’t have to dig dirt and gravel out of my knee.  The hand, on the other hand (yuck yuck) was another story.  A HUGE flap of skin was ripped and hanging there and underneath was a red, angry, gravel-dirt covered hole.  AWE-Some.  Once again, I amazed myself and shed no tears (those came once I was home and attempting to clean up with Mike’s help).  I stood back up and looked up, up, up our huge-ass neighborhood hill that I tripped at the very bottom.  Nothing but uphill from there – the whole way home.  Nearly a mile of pretty dang steep hill.  Cool.  Somehow, I managed to run home with the gals laughing and joking about how I managed to get through the uneven trail part of our run only to fall when I hit (yuck yuck) the smooth, paved part. 

 

Mike tried – he really did – to help get me cleaned up.  I'm not the easiest patient to work on.  We poured on Hydrogen Peroxide – the meanest creation in all of history – and I cried and writhed as it bubbled and foamed and…failed in helping us extract some of the dirt.  I decided I’d rather die of a gravel-dirt-induced infection than continue in trying to dig stuff out of my flesh.

 

Later in the day, I attempted a hot bath which many claimed would ‘gently loosen’ the debris.  Lies.  I scrubbed like crazy through my tears and realized this just ain’t gonna happen.  That’s when I called mommy.  Mom was already planning on coming over later in the afternoon to stay with Zachary and Kayliana while Mike and I went to coach Matthew’s baseball team to (yet another – 3 in a row! – victory!!)  So, I called Mom and asked her to stop at the store and find some magically numbing solution, to bring her First Aid supplies and to bring her Mom-awesomeness.  Her mawesomeness.  Seriously, sometimes, you really just NEED your mom.

 

She denies it, but I’m pretty sure she totally gagged when I uncovered my nasty wound.  She said a prayer (I said lots of prayers and some not so nice words in my head as well) and she began spraying and gently digging with a needle.  We’d put on a tv show to keep the kids entertained as I didn’t think that their watching Grandma dig in mommy’s open wound seemed like a good family bonding activity.  Matthew had started to come in the room and I said, “Matthew, go watch the show.  I really don’t think you want to see this.”  A little bit later, Zachary was heading towards us and Matthew yelled, “Zach, you really DO NOT wanna go in there!” 

 

After working her magic and extracting most extractable pieces of non-me that were in me, Mom bandaged my hand up and announced that I was to wear a vinyl glove for the next day or so.  The open wound is really hard to cover well as it’s JUST at the top of my palm; right underneath my fingers, keeping germs out is a good plan.  And if it means that I look like a left-handed surgeon who missed the OR, oh well! 

 

Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without having my parents close by.  At Saturday’s baseball game, they surprised us by showing up, and as I tried to run the dug-out (as is my Assistant Coaching gig during games), I had to deal with Kayli who’d skinned her knees on the playground – twice!! OUCH, I feel that pain!  -- and then a bit later, I look up to see Zach running towards us covered in blood.  He had a gusher of a bloody nose.  What I would’ve done without them there to help is beyond me.  Then, yesterday, despite the off and on pouring rain we still had our game.  If mom hadn’t come here to be with the kids I would’ve had to somehow deal with a sorta-non-functioning left hand, a dug-out full of wild 7-9 year old boys, a wet and miserable toddler and a beyond bored, full of attitude (and also cold and wet) seven year old as well.  THANK GOODNESS for moms.

 

This idea of ‘sometimes all you need is your mom’ is reassuring to me on so many levels.  I think about a conversation I had last year with Kayliana’s birth mom, Mia.  Mia, as an adoptee herself, talked about how, despite now building a relationship with HER birth mom, there’s just nothing like your MOM.  She understands and recognizes that while she WILL get to have an ongoing relationship with Kayli, when it comes to wanting MOM, I’M the one Kayli will want.  MOM is the one who raises you, comforts you when you have a nightmare, kisses your owies, rubs your back when you’re puking, digs random dirt-crap out of the open wound in your hand…she’s just sometimes exactly what you need.  Thank God for MOM.

Garage Sale-ing Success!

The day before Mother’s Day, Matthew and I seriously scored at a couple of garage sales.  I got some much needed clothes for Kayli (who, officially now 2.5 years old, is wearing 4T and up sized clothing).  Matthew got some awesome retro Star Wars toys that his Star Wars action figures fit in perfectly.  We got a few really nice Playmobil toys for Zach – a Viking ship, cargo ship, and police airplane.  And then I – nearly elbowing a guy out of the way – got the EXACT kind of baker’s rack I wanted for a little gardening station.  Let’s face it, the whole area is not ready for a Martha Stewart-Homes and Gardens-Pinterest worthy photoshoot, but it’s still awesome.  AND! We ended up picking up a REALLY nice recliner!  Mike has essentially worked through the pain, but never fully forgiven me for donating his pink, cigarette-hole-burned (thanks to a college roommate)  Lazy Boy recliner.  Hopefully, this will ease the sting a little and we can move past it. J

Zach's apology note

See below post for the reason I made Zachary write an apology note to his teacher.  His speaking bubble in the cartoon says "Bla Bla Bla."

Mombie (Mom + Zombie)

At least once a day, Zachary says or does something that cracks me up.  The kid is a character to say the least.  I’ve called him “Monkey Pants” since he was a tiny babe and the name still fits. 

 

On his seventh birthday, a little over a week ago, he announced his latest plans for when he’s a grown up.  He said, “I’m going to be an actor in the movies.  And then when I’m not doing that, I’ll be that person that decorates and puts furniture in a building after they build it.”

 

The other day, he and I were reading a book together before bed.  In the story it was ten days before Christmas.  Knowing that this would get a reaction from him (because it always does), I said, “Ahhh, no fair!  I want it to be ten days before Christmas!”

 

“MOM!  You ALWAYS want it to be Christmas!”  Then, making a high pitched voice (because apparently that’s how I talk), he teased, “I’m Jenny and I want presents.  Mine, mine mine!”

 

“Hey!” I said.  “I don’t love Christmas just for the presents.  I love the magic of the whole season.  You know, someday, if I die – OK, well, when I die – if I die before you which, sorry, but hopefully I will – everytime Christmas comes around you’ll think about me and how much your mom LOVED Christmas.”

 

“Maybe,” Zach said, “If you’re lucky, you’ll DIE on Christmas! And then…” with a twinkle in his eye, he continued, “Every year on Christmas we can have a funeral party at your grave and we’ll leave presents there, and you’ll be a Mom-Zombie and you’ll be all…” he extended his arms like a zombie and in monotone-zombie voice, said, “Euuuuuuuh, I’m Mom-Zombie and I like my choo-choo train present…”

 

I shook my head, “First of all, I won’t be a Zombie because I’ll be in heaven after I die.  Second of all, I SO would not want a toy train.  Maybe a new purse or something.”

 

These are the kinds of conversations that we have in our house.

This afternoon, Zach came home from school with an “S” on his daily calendar indicating that he had difficulty with “self control.”  (For him, this means, he was talking when others were).  When I asked him what happened today he said, “Well, I just sometimes run all out of goodness, you know?”

 

Baseball!

Baseball, baseball, baseball.  That’s really all I can think about, talk about and deal with for right now.  Mike and I were somewhat cornered/forced into helping out more than we really wanted to this year and are assistant coaches for Matthew’s little league team.  While I LOVE it – the games, playing catch with the boys on our team, watching them improve – it’s also full of stupid stress, ridiculous drama and the time commitment is riDONCulous.  This week is the most insane of all.  We had a game last night (at which Matthew got a hit each at bat including an RBI AND scored a run!); we have practice tonight; we have a game tomorrow night; we have a game Friday night, and we have a game Saturday morning.  And while I’m not complaining about the beautiful weather we’re having (yesterday was 85!), of all weeks to have a game or two rained out this would’ve been a good one.  So, we’re just slathering on the sunblock, putting on our hats and gloves and playing LOTS of ball.  (I’m already hoping – and am fairly certain – that Kayliana has a big T-Ball and Little League career ahead of her).

How things turn out

Sometimes we make plans and they SO don’t work out the way we thought they were going to, and that’s actually a GOOD thing.  Other times, not so much.  Yesterday was an example of both.

 

In the morning, I was making a mental list of all the errands and to-do’s I was going to accomplish that day.  I had big plans to be all sorts of productive.  About ten minutes before we headed out the door for the bus and round one of my errands-productivity, the phone rang.  It was bff Rebecca.  Usually a call first thing in the morning means one of us had a hell of a night or is having a craptastic start to the day and needs to vent in order to shake it and face the day without continued feelings of dread.  I braced myself and answered in (what I hoped was) a sensitive and caring, ‘uh oh, what’s wrong’ “Hello?”

 

Instead of the expected response, a perky, “Hi, whatchya doin’?” greeted me.  We chatted for a sec, and I told her that I was just trying to figure out what all I was going to get done.

 

“Well, I know what you SHOULD do,” Rebecca said all cheeky-like.

 

“Oh really?  What’s that?”

 

“You should really just drop everything and come spend the day at the beach with us.  It’s going to be 70 today.  You really SHOULD be at the beach.”

 

“Oh REALLY?  I should, huh?  But I have so much to do…I want to…but…”

 

“I’ll make us a delicious lunch…” she bribed.

 

“Yeah, but…I don’t know…let me think about it…I want to but…”

 

“I’ll bring wine.”

 

“OK!”  And that’s how my day turned around!  Little did I know that I was the one REALLY needing to shake off a bad night and a rough-ish morning. 

 

We’ve been having a kind of lame week.  Both boys have been giving us some major attitude.  Matthew’s comes in the form of moody, emotional grumpiness.  And Zachary’s ‘tude is all freak out-and-tantrum-throwing when he doesn’t get his way.  (Yes, this is the kid who will turn seven in two days and yet has been throwing down toddler-type-tantrums at the sign of his not being the boss of the universe.  The irony is that our ACTUAL toddler-tantrum-throwing two-year-old has taken a step back from tantrums this week.  Maybe she’s so fascinated by Zach doing it.  Or she’s taking notes.  Crap).

 

So, after spending a perfectly, splendid hot sunny day at the beach with Rebecca, I was ready and happy to greet the boys from the bus after school.  Thankfully, my good mood (or just their nice days) had rubbed off and we had a lovely afternoon and dinner when Mike got home.  It was still so nice out we decided we should head out for a walk and family trip to one of our neighborhood parks.

 

We’d discussed that maybe Matthew would ride his bike and Zach wanted to ride his scooter, but by the time we’d all gotten socks and shoes on and finally were ready to go, we decided that it’d be quicker/easier if we all just walked.  (Matthew’s bike was still hanging from the garage rafters and would need the tires pumped, etc.  Plus, when Zach brings the scooter we inevitably end up carrying it for most of the time.)  When Zach found out that we’d opted not to have his scooter along the fit began.  It began and lasted and lasted…out of the garage…up the driveway…up the street…around the corner…next to the golf course…along the sidewalk.  He and I had stopped a couple of times to “talk” (so he could continue screaming and yelling and I could scold him for his riDONCUlous handling of disappointment), but he wouldn’t stop.  He just wouldn’t.  His fit, his full on freakin’-tantrum was escalating.  I was done, so I just continued walking to catch up to Matthew and Mike (who was pushing Kayliana in the stroller).  Zachary planted himself ON THE GROUND on the sidewalk to bask in his fit-throwing glory.  Mike gave me the stroller and walked back to try his hand at calming Zach.  I was done.  I was SO done.  Kayli, Matthew and I kept going.  We walked around the corner and stopped to visit for a few minutes with some fellow school bus stop/neighbors.  (They wanted to show us the dead baby bunny they'd found.  Totally super exciting!) No sign of Zach and Mike coming around the corner.  We kept going and slowly walked towards the farther and “little park” which was our destination.  We’d opted to go to that one earlier instead of the “closer park” that we usually go to.  

 

Eventually, with Kayli yelling increasingly louder and more concerned, “Zachy! Daddy!  ZACHY! DADDY!” I thought we should just stop and wait for a bit.  We waited and waited.  No Mike.  No Zach.  Finally, I decided, “Well, they must’ve had to go home,” and, thinking that Mike probably could use some back up, we turned around and walked back home. 

 

Well, then, I was dealing with a more and more upset Kayli who realized that we were returning home after not having gone to the promised park.  She was starting towards re-embracing her role as tantrum-thrower in our family.  Matthew ran inside and came out a bit later reporting that Mike and Zach were, in fact, not home.  I’d already gotten Kayli out of the stroller in the garage, so we headed back up the street on foot.  Matthew was able to get ahold of Mike on my cellphone and was able to (sort of) understand that they’d ended up going to the closer park thinking that maybe we’d gone there.  Well, unfortunately, we get terrible cell service up here on our hill (that is apparently a black hole for cell phones).  We arrived at the CLOSER park, only to discover that they were NOT there.  There was no way we could keep walking to the farther little park (especially now that we were stroller-less).  So, we stayed and played.

 

A few minutes later, Mike calls and says that he and Zach had just arrived at the farther little park since that WAS our original destination and since we weren’t at the closer park when they’d first gone, and figuring we must’ve continued on, well……we were at different parks.  Yup.  Fun family outing!  Then, Zachary started to get one of his awful stomach aches (he’s been having constipation-related issues again despite receiving daily “Poopy Potion” – Miralax).  So, I hear Zach crying in agony in the background.  “I’m going to have to carry him home.  We’re outta here,” Mike grumbles.  “Fine,” I grumble back.  “See you at home.” 

 

After a little more playing, I tell Matthew and Kayli that we better head home.  When I walk over to retrieve Kayliana she runs away yelling, “I’m pooping! I’m pooping!  Don’t get me!”  Awesome.  Eventually Matthew and I manage to corner her (and the accompanying stink).  I pick her up – kicking and screaming, full-on-tantrum-throwing – throw her over my shoulder and we start our second return trip home.  Eventually I’m able to put Kayli down and she walks singing a newly composed original tune to which the lyrics were, “Poopy owie bum.  Poopy owie bum.  Poopy owie bum.” 

 

And that pretty much sums up our family fun evening outing to the park. 

 

So, now if you want to be uplifted and read about how apparently awesome -- and happy, I guess -- I USUALLY am, check out this unbelievably kind and touching post Rebecca posted at HER blog: http://mammavintage.blogspot.com/

My plans

I feel like maybe – just maybe – God is trying to tell me something.  On Tuesday, while cutting the grass, I maneuvered the lawnmower in such a way that I had to walk backwards a few feet.  In the process, my foot got caught in this total hazard/danger-zone of a drainage pipe that sticks up above the ground a tiny bit.  (It’s just one of the many wonky things about the house that wasn’t done well by the pevious owner, Trevor.  We haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.  Whenever something goes wrong with this house, we shake our fist and as if cursing him, groan, “Trevor!!”)  With my foot caught, I started to fall backyards and quickly realized that I was soon going to be pulling the lawn mower down on top of me.  In an effort to not mow myself, I did some sort of weird tweaky jerk forward and to the right.  I was able to extract my foot, NOT lawn-mow myself, BUT in the process I felt a sudden awful pain in my lower back.  It hurt so badly and suddenly I nearly cried.  Oddly enough, the sharp pain only lasted a few moments.  It turned into just a dull pain after that and I finished cutting the grass.  When I got inside, I sat with the heating pad on my back and realized how lucky I was that I’d not been more hurt.   

 

Mike and I are in charge of baseball for a week (two practices and two games) as our head coach is out of town.  Since we have all the equipment – including the pitching machine – we decided to take advantage of the opportunity and took the kids to a field Tuesday night in order to give Matthew some extra practice.  Well, my back was feeling, OK, so I thought it made perfectly good sense to take a turn batting.  I have to say – those balls come fast!  The machine is set to 45 miles an hour.  OK, yeah, it’s half of what the major league players tend to bat at, but I’d not batted with a machine in a long time…or maybe ever.  Out of 30 balls, I managed to hit 5 or 6.  

 

After my baseball-playing action I was feeling a little sore, so, I opted not to go for my morning run as my back was still feeling quite ‘touchy.’  On Thursday, I decided for my P90X workout that instead of doing the Legs/back/abs/core dvd that I was supposed to do, instead I’d do the Shoulders/chest/triceps one.  I was being SO smart, right?  Later that afternoon, despite the pouring rain, we had baseball practice (under cover).  I played catch for over an hour.  Yes, you see where this is headed.  Shock of all shocks, I woke up Friday morning, in quite a bit more pain.  Thankfully, the only thing required of me was getting to the grocery store, so I was able to have a pretty restful day and spent a lot of it on the heating pad.

 

After an awful night’s sleep last night – I woke up in pain EVERY time I needed to move or roll over –morning arrived.  Game day!  I’d spent the late evening listening to the rain pounding on the skylights and windows and praying that we’d be rained out.  Um, yeah, today my back is hurting SO badly.  Ya think?!  Unfortunately (or fortunately), Mike was very on top of things and left early to go prepare the field (as we were the home team and we’re required to).  Shortly after he and Matthew left and right before our babysitter arrived to relieve ME so that I could head down for the game, an email was sent out saying that all games before 11:30am were rained out due to the conditions of the field.  My prayers were answered!  But because Mike was busy dragging the diamond, he couldn’t feel my repeated calls to him attempting to say, “The game is off, come home, ya nut!”  Soooo, I drove down and communicated this message.  (Actually, he finally called me back right as I pulled into the parking lot, so we talked over our phones despite the fact that we could see each other).  I stopped at Safeway before coming home and stocked up on Icy Hot back patch thingies and all sorts of different pain meds to try out (but not all at the same time, I promise).

 

So, just what is God trying to tell me?  Well, in some ways the timing is not at all awesome as Mike REALLY needs my help with baseball – we’ve got another practice on Monday – not to mention I teach music in the morning.  BUT, in some ways, the timing is good.  What's that saying?  "You know how to make God laugh?  Make plans..."  I’ve been obsessed with trying to work out plans to start building our stone walled-raised vegetable beds.  Yes, STONE walls.  Meaning each brick/stone weighs 20-40 pounds.  Hmmm, maybe not a good plan with a hurt back, yeah?  I was really hoping to get the project done in time for planting this year, but I’m pretty darn sure, that’s not in the cards.  Duh.  Obviously there’s no rush.  I can spend the summer, fall, winter (and NOT BASEBALL SEASON when we have games-practices 4 times a week!) preparing the beds and getting ready to plant NEXT year…or even the year after.  We’re going to be here a LONG time, so just chillax, will ya?

 

I also think it’s ironic that my back sitch is happening right now.  If this had happened last year at this time I would’ve been SCREWED.  We were painting and doing endless projects for the horrible buyers and packing and lifting and then moving….having a bad back would’ve been a near deal breaker.  So, while this is not awesome, I’ll take it as a sign that – as much as I can – I need to slow my butt down and sit on it every once in a while.  (And put some ice or heat on my back while sitting here). 

We’re nearing the end of Spring Break.  It’s been good but way too short, as usual.  The kids and I spent a few days with my parental units at their Port Ludlow beach house.  I have spent this little ‘vacation,’ as often happens, exhausted and coming down with a cold.  It’s impressive but also frustrating that somehow my body ‘knows’.  I haven’t had to use any of my built-in make-up days for music class this year as I’ve managed – when I have not felt well – to do so only Tuesday-Sunday or during vacation.  It’s convenient and yet annoying at the same time.

At any rate, the biggest thing going on with me lately is my constant thoughts of house projects!  I don’t know if it’s the Spring that brings this on (you know, new beginnings and all that) or the fact that I still have a couple of big house projects lingering from post-move last summer, but I’m ITCHING to have endless resources and endless time to do endless projects.  Obviously, none of that is realistic, but a girl can dream, right?  And dream I have!

Thanks to the time-suck that is Pinterest (pinterest.com, if you don’t know it) and thanks to a tip from my book club friend, Molly, a – dare I say? – even-more-magical-than-Pinterest website called houzz.com (perfect when it comes to all your house-planning-dreaming needs), I’ve spent probably an unhealthy amount of time planning projects that will last me the next ten-twenty-plus years (but in my head I can somehow manage to do them all by myself this summer).

My first priority project is getting our master bathroom painted and the big mirror reinstalled.  When they remodeled the house before we moved in, they’d taken down the enormous wall-sized mirror above the sinks and vanity (and put it in the garage) and installed two small oval mirrors.  Sure, they’re cute and all, but they’e tiny…and low.  Mike actually has to KNEEL to see himself for shaving. Because of how they installed the little mirrors (with light fixtures above), we will also have to rework the lighting.  I’m all about the painting and easy projects but the more involved stuff like lighting will require Mike’s help.  We’ve had the paint – a very light sky blue – since last summer when I was on a total project-roll, but then, huh, funny! For some reason, getting our old house ready to move (with tons of projects to do from the inspection list), plus packing, then moving and then painting nearly every room here and then Deck Restoring the entire quite large deck, I just kinda ran outta steam.  Weird!  But, now I’m ready!  In addition to the light sky blue on the walls, I’m going to paint the long vanity a deep, dark teal.  My mom had done that at their condo at Port Ludlow and it looks fabulous!  There’s also an old ladder in the garage and I’m toying with the idea of removing the boring ‘ol towel bar and painting the ladder the same teal to use for a multiple towel rack between the shower and tub.  It would fit perfectly and (at least in my head) look awesome.  Get on board, Mikey!  I’m getting all sorts of crafty! 

 

I know, technically, you shouldn’t post crappy, junky “before” photos ‘til you can at least show a good “in progress” photo or, even better, an “after” picture, but seeing as these projects will take me a while and I want you to be able to see what I’m talking about, I’m going to break the rules! 

One outdoor dream I have is to upcycle or repurpose some old cabinet, table or shelf thingies and install a big potting bench/garden storage area on the ugly backside of the garage (which is also by the office window).  Nothing grows well there due to the shade and because of the swamp nature of that particular part of our yard, so it’d be a good place to put it.  Plus, the empty walls are ugly, it would be convenient to have my gardening stuff out there AND it would open up storage space in the garage.

Just below the deck (where those four square stones are), we removed a small maple tree that was planted WAY too close to the house.  We replanted it at the bottom of the ravine and so far it seems to be doing great!  In that open bark spot, I’d like to put a small stone patio and either build or buy (either second hand or end of the season sale) a fire pit.  So fun!

 

Another huge project right now is building an L-shaped raised vegetable bed in the backyard just beyond the deck.  The longest part of the L (along the retaining wall where those three pots are) will be about 16 feet long; the shorter part (right below the deck) will be 10 feet long.  After lots of research (thank you, Pinterest and Houzz), I think I’m actually going to use the same retaining wall stone blocks that we had at the old house.  I know how to work with them; they’re sturdy and permanent and look good.  But they weigh a butt-ton and figuring out how many we’ll need and how to get them all here is tricky…and again, will require Mike’s help.  It’s not that Mike doesn’t want to help, he just has other things (like working, installing new garage door openers and assistant coaching Matthew’s little league baseball team) that he needs to be doing.  I’m also thinking that I’ll upcycle the sides of our old crib (that we can’t donate due to the now-illegal drop-down side) to use as a small fence along the back of the garden bed.  They can also be used for plant trellises.  I’ll sand them down and stain them with some of our maroon deck stain.  The garden stones will be gray, the little fence maroon – do you see how it will all perfectly tie in with the deck colors?  I know no one cares about these details as much as I do, but oh well.  You’re reading my blog, you’re along for my ride!  Plus, it’ll be fun for me to look back and see how I wanted things to be…and compare to how they actually turn out. 

 

 

I know this project is way bigger than it seems in my head (where I actually think I might be able to get the bed built AND planted THIS season.)  Huh! We’ll see about that.

 

 

 

In conclusion, I’ll post a picture of the one little beautifying project that I have done recently.  Thanks to some seriously frugal finds I was able to set this up at the front door.  The pillow, vase and dried fleurs were all found at a thrift store and are the PERFECT colors for us and I bought the chair at Lowes for less than $20.  I’m a huge fan.  This is my new morning coffee spot as the sun is actually on that side.  I can still sit on the deck (once the weather warms up).  Plus, I can sit here and wait for the boys as they come home from the bus stop (on the one day a week they walk home sans me but with their neighbor buddy).

Easter 2013

It’s been a big week and today is an important day for our family.  It’s my dad’s birthday.  Today also marks the day that Mike’s mom died.  Yesterday was Easter.  We had a two and a half hour baseball practice on Saturday…I am  pooped!

 

 It’s been a FULL few days – weeks, actually.  I haven’t cleaned the house in…who knows how long.  Two weeks ago I was sick, right after that we were gone all weekend for an Engaged Encounter retreat.  Then last week was crazy nuts with basketball, baseball, a playdate, I had ladies’ Bunco night and Holy Week services.  I’m ready for summer vacation!!  We only have five more days until Spring break though, so at least that’s coming.  Last night, after getting home from Easter dinner at my parents’, I checked the calendar to see what this week has in store.  I was elated that we only have one thing on each day.  This morning it was just my 6am run with Andrea and tomorrow is Spin class at the gym.  Is it strange that I can’t WAIT to clean this house and do some serious yard work (yet at the same time all I really want to do is nap also)?  The place is a pit though so any picking up will be a vast improvement.

 

We did have a lovely Easter yesterday.  The day was GORGEOUS and super warm – 70 (basically bikini weather for Seattle)!  The cherry tree in front of our house is in full bloom and the daffodil bulbs that I planted in the fall are up and perkily blooming.  We had a good little photo shoot before heading to noon Mass where, thankfully, we were able to get seats without arriving TOO early.  We were asked by one of the ushers to bring up the gifts which we’ve done a few times but felt even more special to get to do on Easter Sunday.  Sitting in front of us during Mass was a family with two boys and a girl.  The boys looked to be about the same age difference as ours but older (probably 14 and 12ish), and then the youngest – the girl – is maybe 10 or 11…and obviously going through Chemo.  She had a nasal feeding tube and a pretty floral scarf covering what little wisps were left of her hair.  My heart broke for them…Especially any time I saw the mother look down at her daughter and put her arm around her little girl’s thin shoulders.  After Communion, the music group sang “Lord, Prepare me to be a Sanctuary.”  That song always gets me, but one of the lines in the chorus: “And with thanksgiving, I’ll be a living sanctuary, for you,” really hit me.  I could see this poor mother in front of me as she repeatedly wiped tears off her face.  I don’t know these people and even if I did, there’s nothing that I could say to ease the pain they’re experiencing.  I wanted to wrap this stranger – this fellow mom – in a tight hug and cry with her.  In the end, all I could do was look at my three healthy children and say prayer after prayer of Thanksgiving.  Then I’d look at this family in front of us and pray and plead and hope that that’s enough.   

Full Moon Madness

It’s been a full moon, right?  That must explain some of the crazinesses that have been going down under our roof.  First of all, Monday night was Zachary’s last basketball game.  I’m bummed that the season is over – especially because Zach has just been getting better and better! – but I’m also completely relieved at the same time.  It was pretty frustrating to watch the other teams’ coaches actually coach their kids while ours couldn’t keep track of our players.  My mom and brother Chris made it to watch the last half of the game.  Ironically, we were playing the team that we’d played very first – you know, the team that’s apparently comprised of the semi-professional seven year olds.  While we still got our butts handed to us, you could tell that (despite the lack of coaching) our boys had come a long way. 

 

Zachary had the ball to pass it in to a teammate.  Most of the time he goes for a bounce pass rather than a chest pass.  His bounce pass involves taking one enormous step forward and then dramatically dropping the ball (often way too far away from his teammate). For whatever reason, Zach suddenly decided against the standard bounce pass and in front of all the players, family members and friends, he turned around, bent over, stuck his butt up in the air and passed the ball between his legs behind him.  The new patented ‘Zachary Martin Pass.’

 

Later that night, Matthew came down to talk to me in private.  And whew, sheesh, did I narrowly dodge a bullet!  He started to tell me how some kids were talking inappropriately at school – body parts talk especially about how boys and girls have different parts.  Matthew kind of asked some questions but then sat there waiting for me (I thought) to ‘lift the curtain’ so to speak.  Now, Matthew’s only 9 ½.  We’d planned on having The Talk (the birds and the bees one, yup, that ‘The Talk’ – as if there’s any other) this summer before he starts 4^th grade and turns 10.  I had my first sex ed class in 4^th grade and we definitely want to explain things to him our way – ideally before some kids on the playground beat us to it.  But we really didn’t want to tell him during his third grade school year.  I told him as such. 

 

I basically said, “You know, there’s a lot of stuff about body parts and why boys and girls have different parts and about relationships that we’re going to explain to you.  We were just hoping to wait until this summer.”

 

I asked him if kids at school have talked about sex.  He answered, “Well, yeah, I mean, they say ‘sexy.’”

 

“Riiiight…and do you know what that is?”

 

“Well, it just means like cool or hot.”  (Funny how those words are complete opposites).

 

Anyway, I tried to get back to the BIG topic here.  So, Matthew’s understanding was: there’s this big TALK we’re going to have this summer about sex (whatever that is!) and boys and girls and body parts and why they’re different…

 

“Yes,” I said, “But, are you going to be able to wait for this conversation?”  We had already talked about how this isn’t something we want him asking friends about or talking about at school, etc.  Obviously, he knows that body part talk isn’t appropriate but… “Do you have questions?  Are you very curious?”  I asked.

 

After a LONG dramatic pause (gulp), he said, “Well, yeah.  I’m super curious.  I have all kinds of questions.”

 

Deep breath.  OK.  Here we go.

 

“Like, I wonder about math equations.”

 

Huh?  “You wonder…about math equations?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, like I’m really curious about how the tricky ones work.  There’s a bunch of stuff that I don’t understand.”

 

And that was pretty much the end of the prelude to The Talk.  It reconfirmed for me what I already knew: he’s a NINE year old boy.  One moment, he can be enjoying the endless humor in farting, the next moment he can wonder why boys and girls have different body parts, but before we’ve even delved into it he’s moved on to…math equations.

 

Phew.  

March 21st

It’s a funny phenomenon – the memoies that come flying at ya sometimes.  I’ve had the stomach flu for going on two days now.  Two days, in the big scheme of things, is not that long of a time...however, when the time is spent curled around the toilet or lying in bed whimpering and shivering because you’ve never been so cold in your life and then two minutes later, you’re sweating and cursing ‘cuz holy dooty, who turned up the heat?!...Walking hurts....Breathing hurts...Your brain aches like crazy...it feels like longer than two days.  It especially feels long when, not to toot your own horn, but you’re pretty sure the world (or at least the world of your family) revolves around you – or in the very least relies on you a heck of a lot.

 

Thankfully, I’m married to a husband-father rockstar.  Mike has totally rocked at taking care of the three mini-Martins.  Getting the boys off to school, entertaining a toddler who lacks any reason what-so-ever (and is still slightly disturbed by the shadow – of herself – that constantly follows behind her), making sure that I have everything I need, etc., etc.  He’s even somehow managing to work in and around all of this.

 

Hmmm, kind of reminds me of March, a few years back – seven to be precise – when I did a lot more than lie around for two days.  In fact, I laid around, in a hospital room for 49 days.  I told Mike this morning, that there’s no way I could’ve done bed rest at home.  It’s just too hard to chill on the sofa having to watch Mike take care of everything.  It’s too hard!  No wonder I was whisked away and essentially locked in a hospital room!    

 

Anyway, my current (and very brief, I pray) reminder of bed rest had me curious.  What was I doing seven years ago on March 21^st?  Well, lying in a bed, yes.  I’d been in the hospital for six days already, completely unaware that I still had six weeks more to go (not just 3 weeks as the doctors were saying at that time).  I also depicted an episode of the boys’ brotherly interaction (yes, Zachary was still in utero, cooking away in me, the mama oven).

 

Let’s take trip down memoy lane, shall we?:

Tuesday, March 21, 2006 1:44PM “Life without an IV is bliss! Who knew how easy getting up to go to the bathroom or taking a shower sans plastic covering and arm apparatus could be?! I'd certainly forgotten! So, that's the big news today -- I'm off the Magnesium IV drip (woohoo!) and have been put on oral meds that I'm given every six hours to keep those contractions down. Dr. Anton came to see me this morning and said that she definitely agrees with Dr. Walker that I need to be here on monitored bed rest at least until/through week 32. They'll be monitoring me along the way and if there are any changes, then obviously the plan will change. On average my graph/monitor reading shows that I have four contractions an hour (though they're very little and I don't usually feel them). The doctors said that they'd be OK with up to six an hour as long as they weren't getting painful or long. It's interesting to have the nurses explain my graph though. They can look back along the squiggly line and say, "Ahh, yes, and at 12:23 you had a contraction that lasted for 17 seconds." When we monitor Zach, they can look at his graph and tell me when he is in a sleep cycle, when he's awake, when he flips over thus accelerating his heartbeat, when he settles back down, and when he has the hiccups (which they don't need to tell me as I definitely feel those)! He's a very active little guy, that's for sure. Today Matthew had a good time bumping my tummy monitor (that was tracking Zachary) and making a big thumping noise come through the speakers over the sound of Zach's heartbeat. So, poor little Zachy is already getting abuse from his big brother! When Matthew first heard the baby monitor the other day he looked so confused. I said, "That's baby Zach in Mommy's tummy. It sounds like horses galloping, huh?" Matthew responded, "Yeah, horses in Mommy's tummy." So, now the already confused little man, thinks that I'll be having a horse-baby! As if this whole ordeal wasn't weird enough already. Guess we better start saving up for therapy. Who needs college, anyway?!”

 

Little did I know that my cute anecdote was, in fact, a very realistic foreshadowing.  Zachary is very active. Matthew does still inflict abuse upon him (though Zach dishes it back, for sure).   And, really, we should be saving up for therapy for all of us.  I bet even Suze Orman would agree that therapy would be a more sound investment than college!