Leapin' Along...

Happy Birthday to our little Leapster, Owen

Owen is four today....or maybe one.  Take your pick.

I'd rather go with four, because that is much easier than one.

And I love four.  My favorite age, ever.

Owen, for as moody as he has been lately, seemed to be the most level and good-natured little boy today.  What a blessing - because I have been looking forward to this birthday for a long time.  Like around four years...  Seriously.  During his first year I was Googling Leap Day Birthday party ideas, just to get a feel for how people roll with having a Leapling in their midst. 

I still think it is the coolest thing ever that Owen was born on Leap Day.  We didn't plan it - that was just the way it worked out.  (or else it was because I could not go another day with the horrendous Braxton Hicks contractions I was having.)  Owen was actually due on the 28th, and was named in honor of his great grandfather Orin, who was born on that day as well..although not in a Leap Year.

We spent the day doing fun things that he loves to do.  He (and his brothers and sister) went to the park with his grandparents, who are visiting from OKC.  He took his little blue bike and ran around and had a ball.  I, in the meantime, hid lots of clues around the house for a scavenger hunt.  They came home and hunted down their clues... 29 in all.  :)

In the end, the two little boys found their birthday presents from their grandparents.  Colin had already celebrated on the fifth of this month.  Colin got sand toys and a Chuck the talking Dump Truck, and Owen got a MobiGo handheld and a Cars backpack.  Both were thrilled beyond belief.

Then it was off to Casa Bonita in Denver for a fun family dinner.  The kids all had a great time.

My three nephews.  Connor, the oldest, did a great job of chaperoning his little cousins around!

So much fun... and a little too much green frosting.  

(What are you kidding?  The awesome frog cake was made by a friend.  I can't even frost a sugar cookie correctly...)

Letter to Colin, 2 Years

You are the master of at least a thousand expressions






You have given us a run for the money this year, kiddo.  We started out continuing to pump you full of calories so that your weight would bounce back and you would once again be on the charts.  You are now a delightfully chubby boy who loves to pat his belly.  I pinch your meaty little thighs on a daily basis (and silently give a prayer of gratitude) just to make sure you stay that way.  In fact, you've grown so much this past year that you are outpacing your older brother, Owen, when he was your age.  You've outgrown all the shoes and clothing he wore.  If you keep it up, we will soon be buying you and Owen the same the same size of clothes and shoes.  People will mistake you guys for twins!

You are the most self-sufficient of the bunch, at this age.  You regularly push a kitchen chair around to different counters in order to gain access to whatever it is you need.  A cup, a cracker or granola bar, some candy... I will routinely find you, standing there in front of open cabinet doors, digging into boxes to get stuff.  You just look at me and say "Cracker".  You don't even phrase it like a question - more like you are just informing me of what you are up to.  You also retrieve your own clothing items, when you are serious about getting dressed.  You grab up a pair of pants, a shirt and socks and bring them to me.  If you want to go outside, you will bring a coat, mittens, hat, scarf and boots and dump them in a pile on front of me and say "Outside?".  The funny thing is, all of the items you bring me are a conglomeration of bigger brother or sister-sized items that were left laying around by the back door.  You also love to help clean.  If you see a spill on the floor, you will grab the kitchen towel and wipe up the mess.  You pitch in when your older sibling are picking up toys.  You also don't like gross stuff.  The other day the cat threw up on top of the little kids desk, and you came running over to me, pointing in the direction of the desk, saying, "Yuck, yuck".   You would not rest until I had cleaned it all up - you supervised the entire process.

You don't like it when I sit at the computer and you are in need of something.  If you want some juice, you walk up to me, point to the kitchen, push the sliding shelf with the keyboard away from me and pull my chair around to face the kitchen.  When you want juice, you mean business!

You love reading stories.  You are at that precious age where you repeat everything.  Point and say vocabulary books are your favorite right now.  You will take a board book with you to bed every night, and hold on to it as I rock you to sleep.  When you are being too quiet, I will often find you sitting amongst a pile of books.

You love music.  You dance and spin right alongside your big sister.  Coldplay, Lady Gaga and Mumford and Sons are favorites.

You love food - but you definitely have a grazing style to your eating habits.  I will prepare a plate of food for lunch, and it will take about an hour's time for you to finally finish - if the dog doesn't get it first.  You just grab a bite and go.  You have a banana almost every day - as well as chocolate.  You ask for each, by name, at least ten times a day.

Affection is your middle name.  You love to give hugs.  You will clamp onto any available leg and say "Hug, hug", and then run away - only to return about five seconds later for more hugs.  You like to sit in my lap and place your hands on my cheeks and just smile at me.  You are so nice - you don't squeeze or smoosh my face - you just hold your hands there and gaze at me.  I love those moments the most - and luckily they occur often, at the moment.

You love to dig, play with trucks, eat chapstick, race around the house on your tricycle, dress your sister's Barbies, steal your older brother's trains, wear dress-up high heels and dig gum out of my purse.  Putting on shoes is your most favored activity of all.  Any body's shoes - it doesn't matter.  When we go to karate, you will go around and try on every body's shoes, which are typically laying in a jumble on the edge of the mat.

Emotions run very strong for you.  When you are mad you hit, cry, yell, and throw.  When you are sad you bury your face in your hands and prostrate yourself on the floor.  When you are happy your entire body just wiggles, and when you are curious you are quiet, and you take your time to investigate.  You love to take things apart - but then you scatter the pieces far and wide. 

I love you to pieces, little one.  I don't have the heart to make you grow up, since you are the last.  I thought we had kicked the bottle and binky habit several weeks ago, but then you got sick and they were the only comfort items that would do.  I will have to steel myself to tackle this, but the end is near, I'm afraid.  You love that little binky so.... Yet you hold it in the most awkward position in your mouth and the front of your shirt is wet with drool. - yep, the binky has to go sometime soon.  Sorry, buddy.

Your third year is sure to be filled with lots of fun and learning.  Potty training, two-wheeled bike practice and lots and lots of investigating.  Maybe even a medical emergency or two.  You are definitely the child we need to worry about - you have no fear of anything - especially of heights.

Love you little boy!!

Pssst....

So, I hope I'm not the only one out there who stashed all her notes that she passed back and forth in Jr. High/high school.  For 27 years I've been schlepping around a bag, stashed in a keepsake bin, of every tawdry/boring thing that happened in my pubescent life.  Emphasis on the boring.  That pile pictured above is about half of what it used to be.  Every once in awhile in the past few years I would read a few, either bless or curse the person who wrote it, and then shred it.  But now all of it, as of a half hour ago, is gone by the way of the shredder. Why?  Well, it is part of a declutterting mission for the month of February:  if it doesn't make me feel good to have it in the house, get rid of it.  The 'note bag' has been sitting on top of a book case in our bedroom for almost a year.  No idea why I put it up there, except to get it out of the way when I was sorting through a bin.  But I've looked at it, every day, since then.  I knew the memories that lurked within, and I finally needed to put them to rest.  Also, you just can't leave evidence of that stuff laying around for little prying eyes to read and wonder who the hell their mother really is.

Heck, I wondering the same thing right now.

For the past hour, I've been mentally wandering the halls of my Jr. High and high school, lounging in the bedrooms of my friends (back in the day), standing before lockers and sitting in uncomfortable desks.  It all came back, in bits and pieces.  And yet - I don't ever care to go back again.  So into the shredder they went. 

The intricately folded notebook papers.

The locker numbers and combinations.

The complaints about boring teachers.

The suggestions for boys who might like me.

The suggestions that so-and-so is a bitch.

The suggestions for the horror movie we need to watch on our next sleepover.

The fights.

The spats.

The tiffs.

The "I'm so glad you are my friend - let's be best friends 4-eva!"

The slam books. (remember those?)

The attempts to guess at who you were going to marry.

The attempts to guess at how many kids you were going to have.

The attempts to guess at what your job would be, the car you would drive, and how you would die.

The attempts to guess at how good your sex life would be.  (really?  In 8th grade?)

The opinions about the person in front of you, beside you and behind you in class.

The fear of getting caught passing notes.  (But you did it anyway).

The critiques of the reproduction films shown in Health class.

The attempts to write in code. (Jenelle's specialty)

At the end of my reading session, I had a multitude of feelings.

I didn't like myself very much.

I felt like some of my choices in friends were pretty poor. 

I wondered how I ever passed eighth grade.  I didn't seem to be too concerned with homework.

I hated all of the bickering/sniping/bragging/complaining/comparing that was going on - especially during the high school years - and most of it was because of me.

I struggled to think of any good memories from those days - apart from band.

I missed some of my friends very much - but the geographical distance and passage of years has taken it's toll.

My best friend from early Jr. High years, Juliette, was the absolute best at folding and decorating notes.  She moved away to Montana before we moved on to high school.

My best friend in high school, Sheila, had the best handwriting, hands down.

I didn't like the nickname "Larry"

Those years were so hard to navigate for me, emotionally.  I think that a lot of the 'baggage' that I carry around - to this day, is directly related to how difficult those years were for me.  I was an instigator of a lot of the fighting between friends.  I expected friends to take sides, I held grudges, I was sooo passive-aggressive in how I handled arguments and I was too easily swayed by peer-pressure - and I used peer pressure to my advantage as well.  I grew up years before I should have - and I blame mostly myself.  What saddens me most is that I didn't place an ounce of importance on my education.  It was all about the socializing.  I can count on one hand the educational achievements that I am proud of from those years.

If I am to take anything away from this trip down memory lane, it is only that I will do my absolute best to steer my children away from ever entertaining the thought of going to public school. The social angst of those 6-8 grade years is just absolutely ridiculous.  No - I don't think that my kids would make the same mistakes that I did, but school is even more of a sketchy social haven today then it was back then.  They get enough of a workout with their interpersonal skill-set as it is, despite being a homeschooler. 

Call me overprotective - but seriously - would you ever want to revisit to your Jr. High days?

In closing,

here is a test of acronyms from the note-passing days.

S/S/S (which can mean two different things)

L/Y/L/A/S

W/B or W/B/S

I must be getting old, because I can't remember any more.  And I can't go sift through the note pile and look for more, because they are shredded.  And I am thankful for that.  :)



Happy Birthday Colin!

Colin turned the big 'two' on the 5th.  We had originally planned, a long, long time ago, that we would take the family to the Denver Aquarium (just like we did two years ago when Owen turned two), and then celebrate with dinner out afterwards.

This birthday wasn't exactly a disaster, but nothing went according to plan.

1. In November, the scout troop drafted their new activity calendar for the coming year, and we saw that Colin's birthday fell on the last day of the Klondike campout.  We vowed to carry on.  We would just delay the festivities until Dean and Jordan got home at noon.  Now that we have experienced what a Klondike is like, we know that the thought of doing anything after that experience is a mistake.  After shivering in sub-zero temps for two solid days (and not be accustomed to doing so), you are absolutely physically drained.

2.  The Superbowl.  Nice to know that the two events  (Superbowl AND Birthday) will likely coincide every few years.  I suppose that blending the two would make it double the fun - in the future.  But this little guy was turning two and he isn't much into football yet (no matter what his daddy says).  I had already sent out the Evites to the family when I realized that the Superbowl was the same day.  To my family's credit, everyone said carry on with the party - we'll be there!.... (unless the Broncos are playing).  This would have actually worked out quite well because the aquarium would have been considerably less busy on a Superbowl Sunday afternoon.

3.  Snow.  Lots of it.  Snow started to fall on Friday eve.  While we got 8 inches here, down in Denver they got about 22 inches.  The restaurant we had made our reservation with was closed on Saturday due to the adverse conditions.  No idea if they would be open on Sunday.  With all of that snow, driving and parking would have been a nightmare.  The snow and frigid cold also meant that Dean and Jordan were having just that much more of an ordeal on the Klondike.

4.  Drama.  I hate drama.  Whenever it happens, it just seeps under my skin and permeates everything with an ugly sort of pallor.  I can't focus on the happiness at hand.  I'm busy drafting arguments and rebuttals in my head.  I'm tense, forgetful and completely distracted.  There has been too much drama lately about a personal matter, and it came to a head that weekend - and my husband (my sounding board and my tether) was gone camping, so it got extra mean and nasty.  I was angry, angry, angry.   So very angry.  An angry momma can't really get into the birthday spirit.

I called off the party on Saturday afternoon (in light of the snow), and decided we would make the best of it at home and enjoy the Superbowl as well.  Low and behold, on Sunday morning, my dad called and asked if he and my stepmom could bring over a birthday breakfast spread.  (Yes!!).  I held my baby boy, kissed his two year old cheek and wished him a happy birthday.  Soon enough my dad and stepmom were coming through the door with waffle irons, sourdough batter, bacon, cherry syrup and more.  I was on the phone, hashing through the previous night's drama with a friend, and as I did dishes they cooked up a storm and soon enough we were eating a wonderful breakfast.  It was such a relief that I was in tears.  I was also really, really tired.  Too many sleepless nights and high doses of stress.

Soon after the breakfast dishes were cleared it was time to pick up two very cold and tired campers.  Jordan earned a combined total of 90 frost points for the campout.  Some gear was still frozen solid.  The plastic windows in Dean's rainfly cracked from the cold.  Lots of food, that froze inside the cooler, had to be chucked.  But the campout was deemed a success.

Rylan and I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands and then I came home and started prepping the food for the game.  We had hummus dip with flatbread, cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers, chips and salsa, and pulled pork sandwiches.  My mom came over just after the game started, with a beautiful chocolate cake in hand for the birthday boy.  I had intended to make a cake (I'm a stickler about that), but I just didn't have it in me that night.

Colin was doing great until about the time we were ready to eat.  He was tired and cranky and then he just lost it.  A major crying fit ensued, and it was difficult to get him to pull it together in time for the birthday video chat with his grandparents in Oklahoma.  He managed to stop crying and take an interest in his cake, so we lit the candles and all sang while he took swipes at the chocolate frosting with his finger. 

The Birthday do-over

So this past weekend was the do-over.  We met my aunties at the Denver Aquarium on Sunday afternoon, and took a leisurely pace through the exhibits.

Here was Owen on his second birthday two years ago:

Here was Colin, just this past Sunday, one week past his second birthday:

Colin with his great Auntie Cheryl

Notice anything?  I swear I didn't dress him.  Jordan did.  Although at this point, Colin is too tall for the brown overalls portion of this outfit, and outgrew those boots (passed down from Owen) last summer.  Colin *LOVED* the aquarium.  We had seven adults in our party, and four kids.  Even with that ratio we were outnumbered.  There were kids darting everywhere, and we were constantly switching it up as to who was watching out for who.  Chaos and fun at the same time. 

Owen spent quite a bit of time with his favorite pal...

Owen just loves this guy.  He did NOT want to leave him.  We spent a good twenty minutes looking at him.  I think he remembers him from last time...

We finished the day with an awesome meal at Cinzetti's, where we were joined by several more family members.  I made a Grasshopper Cake (white cake with mint flavoring, a layer of hot fudge topping and topped off with tinted whip cream and Andes Mints.) and Colin and his great Auntie Kathy each blew out their candles.  (Aunt Kathy's birthday is tomorrow)

A MUCH better day, all the way around.  Colin (ahem) asked for birthday money this year so that he could put it towards an annual family membership to the Denver Zoo.  He has enough to get the membership and purchase a nice gift at the zoo gift shop.  Can't wait to go - he LOVES the zoo!

So I think this was definitely a success.  It fit all of the important birthday party criteria:

1.  It was not at my house.  (don't have to clean!)

2.  We went to a restaurant.  (don't have to cook!)

3.  I made the cake.  (this is just a personal thing for me - I love making birthday cakes.  I didn't say I was good at decorating them - I just like homemade cake)

4.  We kept it simple: party favors were little Valentine bags filled will several pieces of Valentine candy, enough for every person there (not just for the kids). 

5.  And most important of all: family was there to make it special and fun - which is what matters most.







Happy Hearts Day

I told my husband no roses, no card, no big candy heart this year.... I wanted to do something different.  He verified the details at least three different times, just to make sure that I hadn't changed my mind and would be disappointed if none of the above appeared today.  My husband has had a stellar record so far when it comes to Valentine's Day.  Beautiful bouquets of long-stem roses, candy, beautiful cards... a favorite CD.  I am a very, very lucky girl.

Ever since we became a family and grew by leaps and bounds, the holiday has changed quite a bit - it became more about the kids to me than just romantic love. So this year, I came up with a different way to go about it. 

1.  Do away with the expense.  Let's face it, after going through FPU, there is no way I could feel it was justified to spend as much as we used to on the cards, candy, flowers, dining out and so forth.

2.  Do away with the stress.  No more party planning for me.  It used to be that I would stress out that the kids would be missing out on the party aspect of it.  My own memories of the classroom Valentine Party thing - with mailboxes for little cards, games and too much red food coloring were clouding my own sense of reason: the kids won't miss it because that is not their norm.  It was mine.

3.  Do keep it simple.  Stay home and fix a nice dinner - a meal that is easy to prepare and a family favorite.  Throw in a fancy dessert that is a no-brainer.  Chocolate-dipped strawberries anyone?  Also, nine yards of pink tulle can do wonders for creating ambiance.  Not bad for $8.37.

4.  Do keep it meaningful.  Dean and I wrote out five little Valentines to each child and to each other. (So if you've lost count, that's 25 we had to do)  Using a simple cut-out heart, we wrote down a nice thought or appreciation about that person.  We taped a candy to each one.  Then I had each child write out 3 Valentines, in the same fashion, to each sibling and parent.  Then we put them all in a bowl.  During dinner, we each selected three from the bowl, read them aloud and thanked the person who wrote it.

It.  was.  awesome. 

Everyone liked to hear something nice - especially when it is coming from a brother or a sister.  We have many, many more to read through - I think we will just continue with reading three each night - it will be something to continue to look forward to all week.

I was so grateful for this opportunity to acknowledge how truly wonderful my husband and kids are - and tell them so.  And it is a practice that we can continue - long after the shiny paper hearts get peeled away from the cupboards.  Maybe every few days we could spend a few minutes, as we share a meal, to go around the table and share an appreciation or two about all of the other family members that are there.

It feels just as good (if not better) to say it as it is to hear it.

So, if you're reading this..

Mom, I love how you come over every Wednesday morning, regardless if the kids have practiced, to give them a piano lesson.  And that you have a Werther's to give to them as soon as you walk through the door - because you know that makes them feel special and that they look forward to that.  And that you think it is just as funny as I do that Colin runs around with Owen's underwear on his head.

Michelle - I appreciate how you take the time to put so much thought, time and attention to detail as you pull together each and every birthday present.  I LOVE the album you created for me on my birthday.

Kirk - I love that you have just the right kind of advice to give when it comes to me wearing my emotions on my sleeve.  You always help me put it into perspective.

Dad - I love how you keep me well-stocked with tomatoes every summer, and canned peaches every winter.  Your gardening advice means the world to me.

P & V - I love how you line up projects to do with the kids each and every time we (or you) visit.  It makes the visit all the more special - and the kids remember it and talk about it long afterwards.

Love you all!!

Shush



No.

This is my space.

My corner of the world that is just for me.

I created it to have a place for me to leave the good.  the bad.  the funny.  the unpleasant.

Because life is like that.

It is not always neat, pretty, creative and cozy like a spread in a magazine.

Remember?  I'm not p#^!*#t.

And neither are you.... or you....or you

Because there are a lot of 'you's' out there

You came here looking to commiserate or celebrate

You came here looking for ideas, to feel superior, or (hopefully) to laugh

and more significantly, nod your head in agreement.

Life in recent months has not been easy.

Lots and lots of drama

and I brought it all here, to lay it down and sort it out,

and shout it from the rooftops when I was mad as hell

or as proud

I will not gloss life over and pretend my kids never pick their noses, that I don't have piles of laundry on the floor, that my bills are all paid on time, that I am never late and that I have never disappointed my friends or family at some point and time. 


Some people have that one best friend.  Or a jogging partner.  Or a sister.  Or a cat that will ignore you but you just carry on and pretend she is listening.  Anyway: Somebody to turn to when the troubles hit.


For me, I prefer to write about it.  That is what helps me the most, because I absolutely hate confrontation.  I think of this space as my personal pensieve - free from censorship - to let me drag out those thoughts that give me the most grief and give them a place to rest. OUTSIDE MY HEAD.  I may call a friend or two and ask for advice on occasion (and vent... - many thanks to a certain few - you know who you are).  And most importantly I have my husband to talk to, who knows exactly how I operate.  He knows to give me a bag of chocolate when I've been too quiet (ie. silent treatment), and I'll talk his ear off.  I might even admit that I was wrong.

What can I say?  I am a Leo. 

I am a passive-aggressive dramatist.

Okay, I'm done ranting now.  Thank you for reading.

We will now return to our regularly scheduled program of schoolwork, food items in muffin tins, kids in karate outfits, a random recipe series that I will forget to finish and ideas and opinions about anything and everything under the sun.  Some of which will likely piss people off.  Just the usual stuff.

Regret

It is with great sadness and regret

that I share with you the tragic news

of the death of my spine