Not as luxurious as I imagined.

This precariously crooked tree is the result of not having a man here to saw the lower branches off and screw the darned thing in. My ailing back was incapable of making this work, and while Cameron and Ethan did their best to help, we are simply unable to set the tree straight. Andrew will fix it when he gets home, and until then, we are hoping it doesn't fall on any of the babies - unless they keep grabbing at the ornaments, and then I'll just push it over on them. Teach them a lesson, you see.

And speaking of things that we can't do until Andrew gets home, we are sitting here in our cozy living room with the sun shining on the snow and sending blinding light into our living room - the perfect lazy Sunday - and we're not allowed to watch any Christmas movies without Andrew. He put us on strict orders not to watch a single one without him. Seeing as he misses out on a lot of family stuff since he works on Saturdays, I am obeying the rule. Miracle on 34th Street would be so lovely right now. However, he's been enjoying himself tremendously without us, and is at this very moment enjoying an IMAX showing of A Christmas Carol. So why we should be miserably abstaining, I don't know. Except we took the kids to see that movie last weekend, so maybe it doesn't count?

I had some high hopes for this weekend. There were so many things that I wanted to do with Andrew away. Like sleep diagonally in the bed. (Drew is sick and is rooming with me, so that's not happening.) Or read for hours straight. (Kids are still here, so that's not working.) Have no one leave their belongings strewn all over right in front of the front door. (We had to do a lot of rearranging to make room for the tree, so that matter has actually gotten worse.) But I'll tell you what - the one thing that I wanted most out of this weekend is perfectly attainable. We have not had the television on a sports channel for twenty-four hours straight. And by the time the man of the house returns, it will be a solid sixty-eight, at least. That right there is a huge triumph as far as I'm concerned. The weekend will not be a total failure.

Anyway, I guess I'll go do the dishes now so that I can make dinner in a while. We are so having lasagna for dinner. Andrew will be having steak, so the lasagna won't make him very jealous- until he finds that I am saving the mac and cheese and chili dogs for when he's here.

If I may make a geeky reference to Harry Potter; I really could use a pensieve.

Much of my weekend was spent in a muddled frame of mind. I've been thinking so much about family relationships and mortality and strange looking diaper rash that I can't quite seem to pull two rational thoughts out of my head and piece them together in an intelligent fashion.

I have always been fully aware that death is an unavoidable part of life, and I have wondered at the luck of my family in avoiding any close encounters with catastrophic diseases. How many people in the world get cancer? Why have none of the statistics touched my close circle as yet? Where can I find a piece of wood to knock on?

My father nearly killed me when I alluded to the infamous Kit Kat story in his birthday post in August, so I won't earn myself any reprimands by going into what went on with him this weekend, but suffice it to say that I never imagined my parents being anything but full of life and vitality, so a little scare, hopefully little, snapped me into the full reality of how fragile life is. I am not fond of fragility, but it does make me want to embrace my loved ones with more intensity and frequency, and to never waste a minute of any day.

Which leads me to my next quandary. I am so keen to appreciate my family, and yet there is a relationship that I cannot seem muster up a contrivance to mend. All the issues that drove a wedge between us initially have long since been over and done with, but it seems that there is always a reason to keep my distance. There have been a few encounters in recent weeks, but each of them have left me feeling like there is good reason to keep the barrier in place. Just when I begin to miss the camaraderie, another warning flare blazes in and blocks the way. I can't yet get my bearings enough to know if more time is all that's needed or if circumstance will have to change.

In other matters, it is a lucky woman who has a veritable army of family support to rely on when there are mysterious rashes to diagnose, favors to ask, and problems to talk about. My mom is Super-Woman, my sisters never fail in sympathy for my hang-nails and household frustrations, and my mother-in-law is a generous fountain of knowledge. My unending hero of a husband is all of that, minus the tights, plus custom-made companionship and a handful of good sense. Yep, that lucky girl is me.

And finally, I've been blessed. My family has been blessed. We're all working together with a practiced mechanical precision, and only the occasional gear grinding. There's a lot of good, a lot of harmony, a lot of gratitude going on in our family. I feel so glad to be in the imperfect place that I am.

And that concludes the exodus of my thoughts out of the black hole from which they were derived. For tonight, anyway.

A late night question...

What exactly is "frozen dairy dessert"? I thought that's what ice cream is, but if that were the case, then the carton would say so. But the carton says, "frozen dairy dessert", so now, even if it is just ice cream, it tastes like not ice cream.

Lessons I Learned Today

#1. Allowing your kids and four of their friends to eat pixie sticks on the living room rug when your vacuum is broken is a bad idea.

#2. Talking to your kids about maybe inviting their friends over for a party sometime soon is interpreted by children as "We're having a party tomorrow, so we better go invite all our friends right now. No need to tell Mom, it was her idea."

#3. Parties give me headaches. They also fry my brain so that after the party, I have to stare at my kids for several moments to try to decode any simple question they ask and conjure up an appropriate response.

#4. Picking fights with family on Facebook will nearly always make you look bad.

#5. Men are wimps. Well, in some regards. But this I already knew, so not really a lesson I learned today.

#6. Having a 2 year old who speaks some made up language is just as difficult as having one who throws tantrums at every turn to try to get what he wants, and I have both, all rolled into one. I'd like to think that the tantrums come from my inability to understand this made-up language, but having learned other lessons on other days, I know that the truth is probably that I have just let him become a brat. Maybe tomorrow I will learn how to correct that, but right now, I am going to buy some kind of cheap fast food for dinner because the kitchen is a mess, my head is still recovering from all these lessons, and I don't feel like cooking.

The Four Slice Toaster and Other Exorbitancy

About a month and a half ago our toaster stopped heating on the inside coils, so only one side of each slice of bread would get toasted. No matter, I was perfectly capable of toasting one side and then flipping the bread over and toasting it again. Then 2 weeks ago, the other coils went out, so there was to be no toast. We went on as though we had suffered no loss. Ethan grieved on the mornings that he had to eat eggs or cereal instead of his beloved toaster waffles. Last Friday I began to miss the toaster enough to tell Andrew that I would not go another day without one. So after we went to dinner for date night on Saturday, (thanks Joel, for the gift card and Kellie and Matt for babysitting), we went to our friendly, neighborhood Wal-Mart and looked for the cheapest toaster we could possibly find. What's the point in spending a lot, right? All it has to do is heat up the coil things. Nothing fancy. So we found two that were the same price...but one had four holes instead of two. It was a brand I had never heard of, but once again - hot coils- who cares? We got that toaster home and the next morning I had waffles toasting for both Ethan and Drew at the same time. It was phenomenal. I never knew that I had been missing out on one of the greatest luxeries that life had to offer - four slice toasters.
So this got me to wondering what other basic luxeries I had been missing out on.
Paper towels, of course. Why spend money for a disposable towel when I can use a real towel or rag, wash it, and use it again?
New pillows. I wonder what that feels like? The kind that sink down when your head rests on them instead of just emanating that "clunk" sound.
Metal or wooden cooking utinsils. I've had these black plastic ones since I got married, and they work fine for most dishes, but they lack the strength to really mix up a batch of Rice Krispie Treats or anything heavy or sticky, really.
My very own razor. I just steal Andrew's. I'm sure he loves it.
A full length mirror. Oooo... I had one in high school and I remember it being nice to see what I looked like from head to toe. These days I probably don't really want to see my lower half anyway.
But you know, I could still do without the luxery of cooking four waffles at once, and doing without the above listed items is not causing me to shed tears. I have it pretty good, I guess. Here are some luxeries that I never need to have and would absolutely rather do without:
Automatic car doors. If I am ever too lazy or unimaginative to figure out how to open or shut my car doors when my arms are full of children or groceries, it would be a disappointing day.
A maid. I know, I have wished and longed for one in the past. OK, every day. But just now I am deciding that it's plain silly to wish for someone else to clean up after you.
A massage at a spa. If I need anything rubbed, I'm sure my husband would oblige. I do not ever want a stranger massaging parts of my naked body while I lie helpless under a sheet. I know that most of you will say that I don't know what I'm missing until I try it. Ignorance and I get along well.
One of those space pod vacuum cleaners that looks a bit like a frisbee with a brain that roams around your living room while you aren't home. Seriously, how long does it take to run a vacuum over your floor? And good ol' fashioned vacuums aren't creepy in the least.
A chauffeur. Where's the fun in that?
A pedicure. I am sure I need one, but I don't want one.
A colon cleanse. Whatever is up there can stay there. I don't need to know about it.
An electronic organizer. If you are busy enough that all your events do not fit into the little day squares on a regular wall hanging calander, then you probably need to cut back anyway.
You know something though? I woudn't complain if I had a commercial grade snow cone machine.

A Family Update - Hold On, It's Terribly Exciting.

Summer began for us on Monday when the kids were officially out of school. I'm not yet thinking that it's time for them to go back, but I can tell those feelings are not far off.
Ethan seems to feel like summer entitles him to all kinds of freedom. Everything from no bedtime and teeth brushing being optional to following Andrew to all his activities and helping himself to whatever he can find in the kitchen at all hours of the day and night. Each of his actions is rationalized by throwing a "come on, Mom, it's summer" at me. I'm not buying.
Cameron, on the other hand, has become the Super Helper. He lugs grocery bags in from the car, shucks corn, takes out trash... Tonight he admitted that he is only doing it in hopes of being rewarded with computer time. He loves to play some crazy Star Wars game that my dad gave him, but I'm convinced it screws up my computer so I don't often allow it.
Drew is up to his usual stunts. Yesterday he dumped all my laundry detergent onto the kitchen table and was drawing in it with his fingers, and today he was squirting Trent's formula out of his bottle onto the carpet. Small stuff, really. I think he's taking it easy on me until I fully recover from the dryer incident.
Trent is his usual happy self. Cries so quietly that no one hears him, is happy unless he's hungry, and is so tubby that he still hasn't mastered sitting up. He's got a lot of bulk to wrangle.
Andrew spends almost all his time either working or working out. I appreciate both. Supporting a family of six is a big job and keeping his heart healthy so we'll have him around for more than another 25 years is a daunting task that he both acknowledges and carries well.
I am struggling with my summer schedule. Not only are the kids here all day, but Drew has stopped taking naps, (the dreaded day finally arrived when naps meant Drew being wide awake until ten at night, so we had to cut them), and in 20 more days I will be taking care of my 8 month old nephew, Bryan, while his mommy and daddy are at work. I'm insanely looking forward to having Cameron and Ethan plus Drew, Trent and Bryan, because it will force me to run a tight ship around here and hopefully order will equal peace. I already have a schedule hung on the wall in the kitchen so we'll be in gear when Bryan becomes part of our daily lives. Trent can't wait to have someone new to stare at and drool on. Drew can't wait to feed Bryan, steal his toys and try to sit on him when I'm not looking. It's gonna be good.
Goals for the next three months? There's a bunch:
Help Ethan learn to ride his bike without training wheels. This is long overdue.
Try to prevent both Ethan and Cameron from forgetting how to read.
Stop unnatural growth of flab on my stomach; force it into retreat.
Keep from killing Drew.
Keep Drew from killing Bryan. (Kellie, I promise, he'll be protected...)
Have a clean house to wake up to every morning.
Not lose my head due to lack of sleep when we go camping. Last year I failed miserably here.
Remember not to unload on Andrew as soon as he walks in the door.
Have fun!
Wish me luck...I'm gonna need it.

Where Does the Time Go?

It's 11:13 p.m. as I begin writing this, and as I am just about to get in the shower for the first time today, (eew), I am wondering how the day got away from me? What did I do? I know there were a few errands, taxiing children around to school and scouts and baseball games, and just a little bit of typing and proofing, and that's all I can come up with! Diaper changes don't take all that long, so where have all the hours gone? I feel robbed. And exhausted. So maybe I did more than all this, and just can't remember it? Let's hope so. If not, then I have no reason to be exhausted, unshowered and still staring at the pile of unfolded clothes that has been haunting me night and day for a week. Tomorrow is another day. One that will hopefully be more visibly or memorably productive.

One Man's Trash

At my grandfather's request, I took a box full of old cards and letters home from his basement and sorted through them to get rid of "junk". I think he's a little overwhelmed at how much stuff there is in that basement and doesn't know what to do with it all. So, home the box came, and sort I did. There are now approximately 1600 greeting cards from about 1950 to present in my trash can outside. I have to say that I felt a little guilty throwing them out, and I now understand why he is at a loss for what to do with all of that well organized clutter in his basement. My grandmother must have saved every single greeting card that she or Grandpa received over the last thirty years. What impresses me is that they were all organized and neatly placed in boxes. These cards were obviously not junk to Grandma. They were symbols of someone's love or appreciation for her, and she kept them because she didn't want to toss out someone's words and feelings for her. And now they are in my trash can. (Grandma, when I see you again, please remember that it was Grandpa who told me to do it, and there's no hitting allowed in Heaven.) So I got to thinking: I have no idea how much a greeting card cost in, say, 1960. Nowadays, they range from $1.50 to $4.50, on average, I would guess. So let's take a fair, mid-range number and use it as a sample cost for all those discarded cards. (Hee, hee.) Let's go with $2.00. (That may be a high price for way back in the day, but keep in mind that some of those cards were way fancy.) 1600 greeting cards, (not an exaggeration, it may be low, actually), at $2.00...we're looking at $3,200.00 in my garbage. My price estimations may be ridiculously off, but we get the idea: are greeting cards a waste? I confess that I have not purchased a greeting card in years, with the exception of needing to mail one with a gift card or a measly amount of cash stuck in it for a sibling living far away or some such thing.
However, I found other things in that box from Grandpa's basement that, without hesitation, survived the trash pile. They were hand-made cards and good, old-fashioned letters. What a treasure it was for me to be able to read letters from my mother to my grandparents telling all about how our family was doing and what us kids were up to. Such a pity that those letters have become extinct in this day of e-mail and text messaging and all this other technology.
I propose an alternative to the money wasting, guilt inducing, clutter causing greeting card...for every holiday, every birthday, and even on an ordinary day, send your loved ones a hand written letter telling them what you love about them, why you appreciate them and that you are glad they are in your life. Those kinds of things are worth keeping because they tell so much more about your life and those you love than does an impersonal card with a hastily signed name at the bottom. That's what I'm going to do. Sorry Hallmark.

Mysteries

There are two things that I will never understand. One : Why does my husband have an aversion to using the trash can in the kitchen? Empty soda cans are placed, without fail, on the kitchen counter or in the sink. Cough drop wrappers are left on the counter. I could go on and on, but I just want to know why? Why can't he drop his garbage in the trash can instead of on the counter? It requires no extra effort. He does not need to open a cupboard or lift a lid. Just drop. I don't get it.

Secondly, I have one of those standard electric ranges in my kitchen with the coil burners. It isn't my favorite thing in the world, but I can't do anything about it. It works. I just want to know why the burners can never sit flat! Seems like a reasonable desire, but it is impossible to achieve.

That's about it for now. I'll be positive next time.

This Is What You Get When You Just Let Your Brain Leak Out Onto The Page

This morning I lay on the kitchen floor, all skiwampus, (someday I'll have to post a dictionary of all the made up words I inherited from my mother), and told Andrew to just leave me there to die. Why? Because there was Sunny Delight all over the kitchen table and it was dripping into an enormous puddle on the floor. I could not take it. Why?!? Why does my house have to be in a constant state of squalor? I must be doing everything wrong. I think this is the reason that flame-throwers are not available to the general public. It must also be the reason that so many mothers are on meth! That's what I need; a good dose of methanphetamine to get me going! Actually, what I really need is just a good night's sleep. The past few days I've been up way past my bedtime fixing the refrigerator, a window, the swamp cooler, and my baby's eating habits. So tonight there are no projects unless another gadget or appliance goes haywire, so I intend to be in bed at 8:00 with a unisom in my system to make sure I don't lay there thinking about the bathroom rug that needs to be washed or all the weeds in the yard or the hours of transcribing I have to do on my grandpa's personal history. Crap. I just had to think of that. Now there's no way I will be able to go to sleep without having worked on that. Thanks, blog. Ah, I do have date night to look forward to tomorrow night with Andrew. Thank you Matt and Kellie! And when you get here, please do not open my bedroom door, because that is surely where I will dump everything that needs to be hidden to make the place suitable for viewing by family. None of the closets are big enough.

Ah, Sweet Coolness

Just got the swamp cooler running. Yey for cool air! Boo for the dirt it blew all over my hardwood floors! What is the big deal about hardwood floors, anyway? I hate them. They are eternally dusty, they do not feel good under your feet, and ...well...I guess that's all I can think of right now. I just don't understand why so many people love them so much. I will say that they look fabulous if they are the sort made of actual, nice wood. They are not comfy and livable, though. I just want some good ol' soft, fluffy carpet under my feet. But back to cool air - I like it. Now I don't have to resent the warm weather that I have been so looking forward to. Bring on the summer! Also, Cameron and his 102 degree fever are bound to be more comfortable in the swamp cooled house. Hmmm...just realized that I don't quite get the swamp cooler name. I know there's water running through it, but why call it a "swamp cooler"? There's no mud or crocodiles or droopy plants up there that I am aware of. Another thought: don't post on your blog if you're sleep deprived or you're sure to ramble on and end up no where.